Archive of Our Own

March ‘86

Steve has just finished rewinding all the returns when Dustin calls. He rambles on and on about the championship game, Steve can’t get a word in edge wise. Then Dustin mentions Hellfire and the stale, dusty air in family video fills with the fresh smell of pine woods and stormy beaches right before it starts to rain.

That short stage in between the quiet of the storm and the first harbingers of tempest coming down, when gusts of wind whisper sweetly and you can taste the first sparks of electricity in the air before they are discharged into the atmosphere when lightning strikes.

Steve has been high on that feeling for almost a year now, the tingle of protons dancing over his tongue and settling on sensory neurons in his nose, infusing his every breath until he could feel that surge in his chest. Thunder echoing between his ribs, competing, or no, not competing, booming in harmony with the beat of his heart.

“So are you free tonight to fill in for Lucas, because Eddie said he isn’t gonna move the game.”

Steve’s inner alpha perks up like a dog who overheard the words treat and walk and ball being said right in front of him; tail wagging, tongue out, panting, a whine building up in the back of his throat. The sound of Eddie’s name has essentially become his pavlova reflex or whatever it is called and Steve feels like he is about to drown in a puddle of his own drool. He feels sticky, like his finger tips are coated in slowly hardening tree resin.

“Can’t, have a date tonight,” Steve lies. His inner alpha flinches and Steve feels like the acid from his stomach has spilled up into his lungs, seeping into his bronchioles, like sparks getting caught in crown of a tree, setting it’s fragile twigs and leaves aflame, scorching his bronchi down to where their roots emerge from his trachea, biting smoke rising up to his larynx, making him choke on carbon monoxide. 

He coughs, once, twice, tries to stifle it. Not let it on that he’d like to hack up whatever is left of his lungs right now. It’s been bad lately, leftover damage from almost fatale pneumonia when he was a pup. Surprisingly, expired coughing syrup, covered in dust, in the back of his mother’s medicine cabinet did not really help back then. 

It’s almost funny how one silly infection turned him into a sickly child with a chronic cough and slightly raised temperature. And now as an adult he has still not managed to grow out of it. He blames it on the cold winter, on the spores of the upside down, on constant stress. 

Still, sometimes he thinks he should be better now. Stronger. Not always at the brink of another infection.

Dustin doesn’t seem to notice Steve’s trouble breathing, just whines, “Just move your date this one time, come on.”

His inner alpha is back to panting. He likes the idea of moving a date that doesn’t actually exist, just quietly mumbles something along the lines of Eddie and alpha and mate into Steve’s ear. Steve pretends it’s tinnitus and a high pitched ring actually drowns out his inner alpha. Apparently, those concussions were good for something after all.

“What, to hang out with you and Eddie the freak Munson? Yeah, I’ll pass.”

Steve can feel the lie, viscous and slimy, lodging itself firmly in the back of his gorge and pressing down uncomfortably against his epiglottis. He even has to clear his throat before he manages to tell Dustin that he has to go because some customers just came in.

He doesn’t wait for a reply, just hangs up and stares into the empty store. He’s always been good at lying, knows what people want to hear, what he has to tell himself. Can’t be left at home while your parents are on business trips without promising them that you can be on your own, or telling a concerned teacher that they’re just gone for the weekend. Boast to Tommy how cool it is to have the house all to yourself. Tell Robin you’re into female omegas only because you’ve always told everyone that you’re into female omegas only. Or well you never told them, they just assumed. You just told yourself. Told yourself it’s fine. The same way you told Eddie it’s fine to keep this on the down low. 

Steve has to cough again, more violently this time. Feels the burn in his chest and the scratch in his throat. It’s still weirdly cold for the end of March. Steve shivers, walks over to the thermostat and turns it up. 

As if he has a creepy sixth sense, Keith kicks open the door to his musty office and rushes over to instantly turn the thermostat back down.

“You’re not supposed to touch that, company policy,” he lectures Steve all high pitched, sounding like he is caught in a perpetual state of voice break. The pimply face and inability to grow facial hair doesn’t help. Steve sometimes wonders if he is actually managed by a sixteen year old because everyone has better career options than he does. It’s too depressing to think about so like with all bad thoughts and feelings, he doesn’t dwell on it. 

“Sorry,” he mutters without meaning it. He’ll get Robin to turn it back up once she comes in. Keith never nags her about anything. Makes Steve wonder if Keith has some weird crush on her. Makes Steve want to growl at him and punch him in the face. 

Protect and Pack echo through his mind over and over again. She’d call him out on it, going on about some macho alpha patriarchal nonsense, always conscious enough to omit the word bullshit. It’s kind and considered and Steve loves her for it, even though he is kinda fine with the word now. 

Every time the memory attached to it creeps up his back and drags its claws over the peaks and valleys of his spine, there is a sweet voice whispering into his ear how he is good, how he is beautiful, how he is perfect, how he is everything. 

His entire chest aches right now like the time Billy Hargove broke two of his ribs. Keith just wrinkles his nose and glares at him. 

“And get some better scent blockers, you’re stinking up the whole place,” he says before he goes back to his office.

It’s a good thing his beta nose can’t pick up any emotional states or he would be painfully aware of the inhuman state of misery Steve’s inner alpha is in. Woefully he still wines Eddie, alpha, mate like some sort of depressing mantra. 

Steve wishes he could just dip into his anger like into a cookie jar, take out the emotion and focus on that. Have his inner alpha posturing and coming up with six different plans to make sure Keith will never, ever think about Robin again. But it doesn’t work like that. He can’t control his inner alpha, and his inner alpha can’t control him. They are just two parts that coexist and unfortunately they coexist in disharmony.  Steve goes back to stocking the shelves. 

He is bored out of his mind when Robin finally comes in once she has finished school. The most eventful part of Steve’s has been his slowly increasing inability to breathe through his nose and to inhale without wheezing in pain. He still smiles at Robin, tries to tell her that he is fine. He’s always fine. 

She doesn’t buy it, knows him too well, knows by now when he is lying. Well, she knows most of the time. She lifts her cool hand against his forehead and her touch has him instantly more at ease. 

Pack, soulmate, pack, friend, Robin, pack.

“Shit, Steve, you’re burning up,” she says, worried. “Are you going into rut?”

Steve shakes his head. He’s not feeling horny, he’s feeling pathetic. 

“Not for another month,” he shrugs. “Maybe just coming down with something.”

“Then you should go home,” Robin shrieks. He can already see the wheels turning in her head, thinking about whether or not Steve has cold medicine at home, if her mom could make Steve a chicken soup because Robin sure can’t cook for shit, how many of his shifts she can cover now that school is back on. 

“I’m fine,” he says and pretends to go back to work. 

By the time he makes it home and collapses into his bed he feels like dying.

April ‘86

The hospital bed is surprisingly spacious. Or maybe it just seems like that because Steve is plastered against Eddie’s side, curled together like a baby hedgehog trying to protect the softness of its belly, head resting on Eddie’s torso. The bats mainly attacked below Eddie’s ribs, trying to get to the meat of his kidneys and the fat of his liver, so Steve can lay on Eddie’s chest without having to worry about pressing down on slowly healing wounds. 

This way, if he listens closely, he can hear Eddie’s heartbeat over the steady beeping of the machines. The rhythmic du-dum-du-dum-du-dum calms him down, reminds him of rain pattering against windows or pelting down on the roof of the trailer. In the quiet of the night in the empty hospital room where no one can hear them, Steve’s inner alpha starts purring in harmony.

Eddie is safe, Eddie is alive, Eddie’s heart is beating. 

Steve takes Eddie’s hand and kisses the back of it before he turns it over. He rests his mouth on Eddie’s wrist and feels Eddie’s pulse throbbing against his lip. Eddie’s scent is almost overpowered by the smell of disinfectant that clings to hospitals. But Steve can pick up that faint hint of pine and ocean. He nuzzles his face against Eddie’s wrist, tries to soak up as much of his alpha as he can.

He considers rubbing Eddie’s wrist over his mating gland, he doubts any of the nurses would notice. After all, they think he’s in here because mommy and daddy never loved him enough and some proper little omega like Nancy Wheeler broke his heart. It’s not like he can says, oh no, you see my inner alpha is just over dramatic and thinks he is being rejected every time my boyfriend can’t fuck me in public, I’m fine actually.  

He doesn’t complain about them keeping him in the hospital. This way he can keep an eye on Eddie and soothe his inner alpha. Steve could spend infinity like this, wrapped around Eddie, keeping him safe, looking at their intertwined fingers listening to Eddie gently inhale and exhale.

Eddie suddenly stirs, lets out a little groan and opens his eyes. Slowly he blinks at Steve like a cat before the corners of his mouth twist up and he croaks, “Hey baby.”

Steve stares at him, a bit shell shocked. For a second he thinks he must have fallen asleep and this is a dream. But Eddie feels so real beneath his finger tips, firm and warm and alive. 

He snaps out of his trance and quickly reaches for the plastic cup filled with water on Eddie’s nightstand. Gently, he lifts it to Eddie’s lips and watches as Eddie slowly drains the cup. His Adam’s apple bops and a little bit of water is dripping down his chin. Steve lifts the empty cup away, pulls his sleeve over the bottom of his palm and gingerly wipes the water away. 

“Thanks,” Eddie rasps, though his voice sounds less trained. 

“Better?”

“Much.”

Eddie has this gooey look in his eyes, sweet and sticky like toffee and Steve never knows whether he should soak up all the affection or if he should duck his head, feeling his cheeks burn.

Steve knows he should probably call a nurse, but he wants to enjoy this moment a little longer. This little bubble in time where it’s just the two of them, together on the tiny bed, in the sparsely lit hospital room. This kind of intimacy that only comes from feeling like you are the only two people alive that the quiet of the night carries.

They’ve not had a moment just the two of them in such a long time and Steve is just not ready to get back to sitting apart, pretending not to look and ignoring the painful ache that urges him to reach out and take Eddie’s hand in his own. 

Then Eddie’s soft look turns into a frown as he notices Steve’s own hospital gown.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” 

He doesn’t ask to you, so Steve slips through the gaps of Eddie’s rhetoric. 

“You were being cute even though I told you not to be,” he says. “You were also very brave, stupid but brave.”

Eddie was also dead for two whole minutes on the operating table. Steve doesn’t think about that. 

Ɛ8, ɥɔɹɐW

One moment Steve is holding onto the boat, the next something slimy wraps around his ankle and he is pulled underwater. He can’t breathe. It takes him a second to notice it’s not because he is still in the water, but because the slimy thing is wrapped around his throat, choking him. Then there is the excruciating pain of being dragged over rough concrete and sharp fangs tearing into him. 

He tries to break free but it’s too much, too much, too much. He is going to die here, he realizes as uses his last bit of strength to struggle against whatever upside down monster has him right now. He’s going to die here. He’s never going to hold Robin again or to bitch with Dustin or tell Eddie he loves him. He’s never going to tell his parents what horrible people they were, never quietly sneak out of the trailer when Wayne is awake even though he is pretty sure Wayne knows, he’s never going to have dinner at the Henderson’s again. His last thought is, shit, hopefully someone will be able to cover his family video shift on Monday. He is going to die here.

“Get fucking off him!” 

He doesn’t die. For a moment breathing becomes easier and Steve’s eyes fly open. In front of him is the most beautiful thing.

Eddie is standing above him, an oar in his hands, slapping the bats away from Steve with it. His curly hair is wet and makes him look like a wet poodle, jacket covered in grime and silt, blood splatters on his face, paling in comparison to the angry red flashing in his eyes. 

And maybe Steve did die because Eddie looks like an angel of death, ready to reap, fueled by fury and the need to protect what is his. Despite being on the brink of death, Steve’s inner alpha lets out a weak purr, looking up at Eddie. 

His mate, his little, brave alpha who not too long ago claimed to be a coward, someone who runs, someone who hides. He isn’t hiding now, fangs bared, muscles tense, about to pounce on whatever monster is trying to kill Steve. 

Another monster approaches and Eddie goes feral, chases after it, screams as his makeshift weapon collides with it. A second later Robin and Nancy show up next to him, also equipped with oars, attacking whatever comes close to them.

The fight is a blur. One second Steve can’t breath, the next he is slamming a monster bat on the ground, disgustingly sweet, cold blood dripping out of his mouth. He fucking bit that thing. It’s gross but maybe if he understood anything about poetry, poetic in a sense. It bit him, he bit it, tit for tat, bite for bite, and he’d kill for some mouthwash right about now.

He can feel the others staring at him. All four of them are panting. Breathing hurts and his sides ache. He tries not to wince. His torso is covered in blood and torn flesh.

There is a clunking noise as Eddie drops the oar and rushes over to him.

“Shit, Stevie, are you alright?” he asks. His hands are shaking as he gently cups Steve’s jaw, searching his face. Even this is fucked up situation, Steve sinks into the touch. Part of him wants to nuzzle his face into Eddie’s wrist, rub his cheek over Eddie’s scent gland. But he knows he can’t, not here. 

Eddie seems to have the same need to scent him, Steve can basically feel the itch in the tips of Eddie’s fingers on his face. But he doesn’t, just holds Steve in a way that is far too intimate already, too close to giving them away. But neither of them attempts to move.

It’s a small indulgence, small enough in the eye of almost death for them to throw caution into the wind. Not that Robin or Nancy would mind. But they said they’d keep it secret and they have for so long that Steve doesn’t know if he could even say it out loud.

“Yeah, they took about a pound of flesh off, but I’ll be fine.”

Eddie does not look convinced, his fingers resting on Steve, reluctant to let go. Steve’s inner alpha can’t help but preen.

He is touching us. He is touching us in front of people, he loves us, his inner alpha whispers. He is claiming us. 

If Steve could glare at his inner alpha he would. It really is not the time to put on pink, heart shaped glasses and sigh Eddie’s name dreamily. His inner alpha needs to stop getting his wires crossed anyways. 

Still, when there is another monstrous shriek and Eddie lets go of Steve to turn around, it feels like the bats are sinking their teeth into Steve all over again. He can feel a cough forming in the back of his aching throat. He probably swallowed too much water.

He tries to swallow it down and follows Eddie’s gaze instead. The stabbing pain in his sides turns into cold panic in his chest. There is no silver lining on the horizon, just a massive army of those bat monsters.

“Maybe we should run and hide,” Nancy suggests and that sounds like a fantastic idea in Steve’s opinion, so they run.

Steve has always been a good runner, even considered doing track instead of swimming in school. But Richard had deemed it too omegan which even back then had sounded like bullshit to Steve.

If omegas were meant to train to run away during the chase, then why could alphas not train to run after them? Though Steve had never understood the appeal of the chase in the first place. He never wanted someone who runs away from him, who has to be hunted down and caught. He’s always wanted someone who runs towards him, who wants to be near him, who wraps their arms around him, holding him so tightly like they never want to let him go again.

His injuries are slowing him down, the ache and the strain on his muscles too much. Breathing had been painful the past couple of weeks already, now every harshly drawn breath burns inside his lungs. He can tell he is about to fall behind. 

A hand wraps around his, pulling him along. He looks up and sees Robin, her grip on his wrist so tight her knuckles are turning white. She is running in a funny way, arms flailing, legs moving like a baby deer trying to stand up. God knows she is already struggling on her own, but she isn’t letting go. She is holding on to Steve and he is holding on to her.

They have almost reached the thicket and Steve isn’t sure if he can make it. He knows he has to. For her. She’d never forgive him if he let himself be eaten by a bunch of demobats. Her hand must hurt from gripping him with such force. Even once they are hiding in the safety of the woods she still doesn’t let go, clings to him as if to assure herself that he has made it, that he is here, safe, with her. 

Steve squeezes her hand once, twice, three times. He doesn't say thank you or I’m here, she knows. She doesn’t ask if he is alright. Instead she whispers, “Do you think those bats had rabies?” 

Steve loves her for it. She goes into a tangent about it, lists a bunch of symptoms, he can’t help but smile. 

“I’m fine Robs, I promise you I don’t have rabies” he says and takes a couple of steps, only to double over with pain a second later. There is a metallic taste on his tongue and black spots in his vision. Shit, maybe he does have rabies.

“You’re losing a lot of blood,” Nancy says, concerned, and tries to touch Steve. The second she takes a step towards him though, Eddie is right between her and Steve, growling at her.

“Jesus, Eddie, what the hell,” Nancy hisses. “I’m trying to help him.”

“You ever had to patch someone up in the middle of your living room because you can’t afford health insurance?” he snarls. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. So let me do my job, ‘kay?” 

Steve would find this little display of dominance kind of amusing, especially since a) Eddie has nothing to fear about Steve still having any feelings for Nancy whatsoever and b) Nancy could probably kill Eddie before he can say natural twenty. But he is in too much pain to enjoy the silliness of Eddie’s posturing.

Nancy backs up and goes to stand next to Robin, who’s been watching this little scene with furrowed brows. Something inside of Steve’s stomach twists. He can hear her thinking, knows she’s gathered clues now for a while, just waiting for Steve to come to her with a realization he already had several years ago.

The animosity Eddie had thrown into Nancy’s face becomes the softest tenderness when he turns to Steve. He tears the bottom of his hellfire shirt into stripes and Steve tries not to wince. He knows how long Eddie works on those shirts. 

“‘s just a shirt, swee-...Steve,” Eddie whispers and slowly accesses Steve's wounds. “Wish I had something to really clean you up with, we’ll do that once we get back.” 

Steve thinks about the medicine cabinet in the small bathroom of Eddie’s trailer. Wonders if Eddie has stocked up on the gauzes and suture material. Remembers the bloody prints he left on the sink the last time and how Eddie had to use bleach to clean them up. Misses the smell of Eddie’s three in one that infuriatingly makes his hair look more luscious  than Ferrah ever made Steve’s. Wishes they were back in the trailer, in Eddie’s bed, blankets dragged up around, a half-hearted attempt to ignore the fact that they were starting to build a nest. Tries not think how he failed at keeping Eddie out of all this.

“This is gonna hurt,” Eddie says and holds the stripes of his shirt up to Steve’s torso. Steve takes a deep breath and nods. Quickly, Eddie presses the torn fabric against Steve’s wounds and wraps it tightly.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, the pain is excruciating, but at least the dizziness stops somewhat. It still hurts less than when Billy Hargove beat him to pulp. Gingerly, Eddie traces over the bandages to ensure that they are sitting correctly. If they were alone he would sink to his knees and press his lips so gently against them, trying to kiss it better.

But he can’t, so he just slips out of his vest and holds it out for Steve to take.

“For your modesty,” he says with a badly concealed grin, as if Steve’s modesty has ever been a concern of his. Usually, he actually tries to get Steve out of his clothes, not into them. 

Steve still takes the vest gladly, rubs the worn denim between his thumb and his index finger before slipping it on. Something inside him settles.

It feels like breathing your nose for the first time after a cold, something that should be a normal sensation suddenly being the best feeling in the world because you have been robbed of it.

It feels like a claim. The only way Eddie could be more territorial would be if he gave Steve his bite. He isn’t sure if it would take between two alphas but he likes to imagine it nonetheless. Matching scars and nerdy vows, sunny trailer rooms and the sound of pups laughing, shitty jobs and shared lunch breaks, morning coffee and morning kisses, chaperoning school dances and teary phone calls during school trips. He imagines it all, mates, pups, a quiet little life together.

It feels silly sometimes, like he is a second away from getting out a diary with a glittery pen and write Mr. Steve Munson or Mr. Eddie Harrington with a heart above the i instead of a dot. Kicking his feet like a pre-teen and wrapping the phone cord around his fingers sighing dreamily whenever Eddie calls him. Like it’s the first time he’s ever been in love.

Maybe because he is. Yes, he loved Nancy but looking back it kind of feels like puppy love. Like he loved her the same way he loved Robin, so unfamiliar with love that he couldn’t feel the subtle differences. He knows better now, knows that not all love is the same now that he no longer hungers for it, now that he is no longer starved.

But the problem with hunger is once you know it, you’ll never forget. Steve knows what the empty pit inside his stomach feels like, fears the day he wakes up and it is there again, gaping and empty. He wraps Eddie’s vest tighter around himself, rubs the collar over his scent gland. His alpha loves him, his alpha wants him, he has to remind himself.

“So, what now,” he asks, trying to distract himself from the gnawing feeling that has nestled itself inside of him, just waiting to sink its fangs into the softness of his belly and start tearing.

Robin suggests grenades, Nancy offers guns. It’s quite a bit to walk to the Wheelers and Steve regrets getting rid of his shoes. He feels Eddie’s eyes resting on him, can feel his alpha fretting, knows that if they were alone Eddie would offer him  a piggyback ride and teasingly call him a princess. But they aren’t so Eddie focuses on Nancy, asking her questions about the upside down and Steve lets himself fall back with Robin.

“Soooo…,” she says after a while, way too chipper given the whole upside down situation.

Steve just rolls his eyes, giving her a look that’s asking her to just spit it out.

“Eddie’s jacket, huh?”

It’s like the last piece sliding into place on her mental red string board. He knows he should tell her, should have told me months ago. Dragged her into the dingy bathroom in Family Video, ignored Keith’s protests, sunk down on the floor together with her and just told her. 

If he asked Eddie if he could tell Robin, he probably would have been fine with it. Or Steve could have just confessed to her without naming Eddie. Just a simple oh hey, I like boys, alphas specifically, and that would have been it. Easy-peasy-done. 

But every time he had tried, his inner alpha had panicked and he had said nothing. It’s so stupid. On a rational level he knows she would still love him, will always love him. The same way he knows on a rational level just because he and Eddie can’t dry hump each other in public that Eddie isn’t rejecting him. That doesn’t stop him from feeling like a child whose parents have forgotten his birthday. He knows Robin and Eddie won’t leave, but it feels like it. And when it feels like they are leaving, Steve feels like he is dying. So he doesn’t tell her, he doesn’t tell Eddie, he just keeps quiet and hopes that the feeling will pass.

“It was a nice thing for him to do,” Steve shrugs, pretending to be dumb. 

“Steve, he growled at Nancy when she tried to touch you, he called you Stevie when everyone else only gets a last name,” she rants, exasperated, clearly not buying Steve’s obliviousness. “And he jumped into the lake right after you. Didn’t even hesitate a second. He was in and diving for you before Nancy and I could even blink.”

“He did?” Steve stops in his tracks. He was going to reply with something about alpha posturing but he is too surprised by the fact that Eddie apparently jumped after him.

“Yeah,” Robin says softly, like she can tell that Steve is surprised that anyone jumped after him in the first place. That is his job, to throw himself into danger, be their shield, be their tank, because that’s what he does best. 

“Steve—”

“Hey guys, over here!” Nancy suddenly calls out. 

“We should go,” Steve nods his head towards Nancy’s voice, glad to be saved by the bell. 

“This isn’t over yet,” Robin grumbles before she follows him towards the Wheelers’ house. “I still wanna know why Eddie jumped into the lake after you.”

September '85

Steve bats Eddie’s hand away and growls before Eddie can shove him down and press his face into a pillow. Steve tries to throw him off. He isn’t going to present for Eddie today. Sure, he loves being sweet for Eddie, to be his good boy, the same way Eddie loves to be sweet to him. But today Steve wants Eddie to fight for it, wants to be wrestled into submission, needs Eddie to force him to hold still and fuck him, fuck him so hard until his legs give out and his mind goes quiet and his body becomes pillant.

“Fucking hold still,” Eddie curses, his grip so tight it might leave bruises on Steve’s wrists. God, he hopes it’s going to leave bruises. Something for Eddie to kiss tenderly later and for Steve to press his fingers into as the purple slowly fades.

Steve manages to throw Eddie off with enough force that Eddie stumbles, loses his balance and falls down onto the floor. Steve is on him within seconds, pinning his arms down, pressing his legs against his hips to hold him in place.

“Make me,” he taunts, fangs flashing before he bends to kiss Eddie with so much force their teeth are clashing together. Eddie bites his bottom lip, enough to draw blood and Steve moans into his mouth.

Eddie licks the blood off Steve’s lips like it’s syrup, sticky and sweet. He grins, hungrily, white teeth stained red, tongue darting out for more, greedy to take all of Steve in. Normally, Steve would let him. But today he wants more, doesn’t just want flashed fangs and blood mixed with saliva. He wants Eddie feral. With want, with lust, with Steve. Needs proof of how much Eddie wants him. So he keeps holding Eddie down, denying him another sweet taste of the blood running over his bottom lip.

“Freak,” he spats and feels anticipation hum at the base of his spine as something dangerous glints in Eddie’s eyes. A second later, Steve finds himself on his stomach, pressed into the floor, Eddie’ kneeling on his legs to keep him still.

“You’re the one letting the freak fuck you,” Eddie snaps and tears Steve’s jeans off until they bunch at his knees. “What does that make you? My cunt? My toy? My hole?”

“Yours,” Steve groans, face pushed into the carpet.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers into his ear and in a moment of softness kisses Steve’s cheek, “ mine. ”

Then he sits up and slaps Steve’s ass, hard, and it feels so good Steve almost decides to be still and beg for a spanking, for another marking, another reminder. But that is not the game they are playing tonight. He bucks up, struggles, growls.

He tries to emit alpha pheromones, let his own dominance show, act like he is trying to mark Eddie’s territory as his own. His own scent should smell biting right now and make Eddie’s eyes water. But Steve knows that deep down under all the posturing his scent is giving him away, that saccharine smell of arousal glazed with nectar and desire dipped in honey. A hint of desperation like sea salt in caramel.

Steve might be struggling, resisting Eddie’s grip, trying to wrestle himself free, but they both can smell it on him. That frenzied plea to be held, to be kept, to be loved. For Eddie put his money where his mouth is and not just call Steve his but to actually take and make Steve his.

Sure, this fighting for dominance, rough housing to see who is the stronger alpha is a fun game. But it is more than that. It’s reassurance. Reassurance that no matter how difficult or bratty or needy Steve is being, that Eddie will still be there. That he will still want Steve no matter what. That Steve can try to run, to throw Eddie off but that Eddie will still be there, keeping Steve because he still wants to. So Steve tries to push himself up once more and Eddie off.

Eddie can barely contain him until he sinks his teeth into the slope of Steve’s shoulder and Steve’s entire body goes lax. Getting scruffed is one thing, getting scruffed with teeth is something else and Steve’s brain definitely has some wires crossed because the stinging pain of Eddie’s teeth in his flesh make his cock jump with excitement and he can feel himself leak.

“Stay,” Eddie hisses, just a hint of alpha voice tinging his words. They’ve talked about it. As another alpha it’s easy for Steve to refuse, to resist Eddie’s alpha voice. But he doesn’t want to resist, lets himself sink into the command like into a hot bath and stays still.

He can hear Eddie rummaging around, knees and one hand still on Steve, the Eddie suddenly pushes two lubed up fingers into him. It’s a lot at once and Eddie isn’t necessarily being gentle, but he knows he only has limited time until Steve’s body catches up again and Steve is going to try to throw him off again.

He has barely fingered Steve open before Steve can feel the tip of Eddie’s thick cock nudge his hole. He tries to thrash again, to move away, but Eddie’s grip on Steve’s wrists is brutal.

“This is gonna hurt, baby,” Eddie promises with sadistic glee, somehow it still sounds like a love confession. “So let me hear you cry for me.”

With one fast, smooth motion Eddie pushes inside of him until his balls slap against Steve’s skin. The stretch hurts but in that delicious way pain and pleasure dance together every time Eddie ravishes Steve. He can only pant and whine not knowing if he wants Eddie to slow down or to pull out and push back into him with everything he has.

Everything in Steve should scream, his inner alpha should be trashing, should fight this other alpha off. But Steve only feels safe, the weight of Eddie on his back comfortable, the way Eddie is holding him like he never wants to let Steve go again, Eddie’s heavy cock inside of him, hot and big and too much but in the best way possible. He is engulfed in everything Eddie and instead of the panic he should feel there is only love.

It’s too early, they’ve only really been dating for a bit over a month. Steve and his greedy, greedy heart. He knows he falls fast, feels attachment where there shouldn't be any. It’s like he is drowning, grasping for anything solid to keep him afloat. Maybe this time if he flays himself open and breaks his rips apart, if he holds out his malnourished, maltreated heart and begs, someone will love him back. Maybe this time falling in love far too soon will magically make the other person fall too. Maybe this time it’ll work.

It never works.

Being with Eddie doesn’t feel like drowning though. It’s more like a gentle floating on his back, sunbeams dancing over his face and swirling over his freckles, waves lapping on his skin, water slowly carrying him out into the arms of the open sea. 

It’s still too early but when Steve grabs the sledgehammer to open himself up, previous bruises marking the spot, Eddie gingerly takes his hands and shakes his head. Tells Steve not this time, tells Steve that there is no need for self demolition, tells Steve that he can hold his heart just like this. And he’ll put his hand on Steve’s chest, palm gently pressed against the evergreen bruise, and Steve feels like breathing for the first time. Like electricity is helping the lax muscles of his heart pulse and then beat. 

It’s too early to say love but that’s what it feels like.

“‘s too much,” Steve slurs, he is stuffed so full. Still he opens his legs as best as he can in this position, and taps Eddie’s hand three times. It’s not easy while Eddie is holding him down, but Eddie gets the message and briefly squeezes back reassuringly.

“Now imagine how my knot’s gonna feel,” he whispers into Steve’s ear before he starts fucking Steve in earnest.

Eddie slams into him with so much force, Steve is being pushed forward. He is definitely going to have carpet burn later. The friction is horrible on his dick and yet somehow not enough. Even with Eddie nailing his prostate with every thrust, Steve isn’t sure if he can come like this. He tries to wretch his hands free to touch himself, but Eddie holds him in place. 

“Uh, uh, sweetheart,” he grunts, “you come on my knot or you don’t come at all.”

Steve just whines, unable to form words. He can feel Eddie’s knot swelling with every push, knows it’s gonna burn even more. He is already so full, so torn open, unsure if he can take Eddie’s knot. With a half hearted attempt he once more tries to throw Eddie off, but Eddie keeps at it, knowing from the way Steve is squeezing his hand that Steve wants it. With one brutal snap of his hips, he bullies his knot inside of Steve and Steve wails.

“Full, full, full,” he babbles. He’ll never get tired of this, of Eddie’s massive knot inside of him, tying them together, making Steve feel like he's about to burst.

“Had enough yet princess, or want me to fuck my knot in and out of you,” Eddie threatens and pulls back until his knot tugs harshly against Steve’s already sore rim.

“You’re… hic …you’re a meanie,” Steve hiccups, vocabulary gone a bit silly since Eddie’s fucked him stupid. Eddie is a meanie though, for teasing Steve like this. Steve had basically begged him to knot fuck him but Eddie had refused, said they can do it when they take their time, when Eddie opens Steve up for hours first with his tongue, his fingers, maybe even his fist. So Steve knows that Eddie is just talking. The fantasy of Eddie ruthlessly pulling is swollen knot out of Steve and fucking back into him is hot though. And so is Eddie’s condescension.

“A…a…a meanie,” Eddie mocks, his thrust shallow by now, still cock rubbing mercilessly over Steve’s prostate. “A meanie, are you so cockdrunk you can’t speak anymore?” 

Steve appreciates how Eddie calls him cockdrunk or a slut for it or just all mush. He never calls Steve stupid or dumb  or makes a comment about his intellect. Steve had mentioned it once off hand while they were talking about something else but Eddie had noticed and remembered. 

It’s one of those little things that makes Steve’s heart swell and pump that warm fuzzy feeling through his entire bloodstream.

“Alpha, please” is all he is able to groan. Eddie’s thrusts have grown shallow but his knot is rubbing consistently over Steve’s prostate, getting Steve close.

Steve’s cry is enough to make Eddie play a bit more nice and he wraps his hand around Steve’s knot, thumb brushing over the swelling. Steve comes with a shout, making a mess on Eddie’s carpet. It takes one, two more thrusts before Eddie is coming as well, hot cum coating Steve from the inside.

With a groan, Eddie collapses on top of Steve, before gently maneuvering them both on their sides, spooning Steve from behind. One hand remains around Steve’s knot, massaging it gingerly. It’s nice, knotting outside of someone or a knotting toy can sometimes be uncomfortable and even though Steve never really had a problem with it, he won’t complain about Eddie taking care of him.

They both just lie there for a moment, panting heavily, sweaty bodies pressed together, enjoying the endorphins induced afterglow. Their scents have intermingled and the whole room reeks of sex. It should be gross, the same way lying on a dirty carpet in a puddle of his own cum should be gross. But Steve has never felt more at home.

“Ugh, I think you gave me carpet burn on my knees,” he breaks their silence eventually.

“And whose fault is that? Could have fucked you nice and comfortable on the bed, but no you just had to to be difficult,” Eddie sighs with faux-annoyance.

“You love it when I’m difficult,” Steve snarks back before snuggling closer into Eddie’s embrace. He can almost hear the way Eddie rolls his eyes before he starts peppering little kisses on Steve’s shoulder.

“Brat,” is all he says before he presses a long kiss to the bite he left on the bottom of Steve’s neck and nuzzles his nose into Steve’s scent gland just above it. “Fuck, baby you smell so good.”

“Should have knotted my mouth if you don’t want me to be bratty,” Steve mutters.

“Baby, you had a concussion five weeks ago, I’m not gonna knot your mouth while you still recovering from it,” Eddie says before he adds quietly, annoyed at himself, “shouldn’t have fucked you like this either.”

“Hey, no, Eds, baby,” Steve says and gently takes Eddie’s face into his hands so that Eddie has to look him into his eyes. “I wanted you to fuck me like, I asked you too. And while you are probably right and skull fucking me and knotting my mouth isn’t the best idea post concussion I’m also not like fragile, okay. I’m not made out of glass, I can handle some stuff.”

“Yes, Mr. big, strong, tough alpha, grrr,” Eddie deadpans. Despite the joke, there is still a hint of anxiety in his scent, like rotten fruit and foliage. 

“Says you,” Steve snorts before he interlaces their fingers and lifts their joint hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s knuckles. “I’m fine Eds, I promise.”

Eddie lets it go but Steve can tell that he is reluctant about it. It make Steve swallow hard. He can’t remember the last time someone cared so much about him, worried so much about him.

Eventually, both their knots go down and Eddie pulls his soft cock out of Steve with a groan. That is Steve’s least favorite part, when Eddie let’s go of him and the emptiness encloses him instead. 

“Shit, we’re gonna be late,” Eddie curses but Steve just can’t find it in himself to get up even though he is sweaty, covered in his own cum and leaking Eddie’s, lying on the uncomfortable, dirty carpet.

If he stays here the outside world isn’t real. Life, earth and all of creation is just contained in Eddie’s small, little room. There is no need to ever leave.

“Stevie, baby, c’mon or Robin is gonna be pissed that you are picking her up late,” Eddie says while he attempts to get dressed, hopping through his room on one leg, trying to get into his jeans. 

With a sigh Steve gets up. He sneaks a pair of Eddie’s boxers when Eddie isn’t looking before he gets back into his levis and polo shirt.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eddie mutters as he grabs his things and stuffs them into a backpack. “Have you seen my essay?”

“Living room, couch,” Steve reminds him, amused and font at how much of a mess Eddie is in the mornings. “I made you finish it last night before you bend me over the couch.”

“Right, yes,” Eddie says and quickly presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek before dashing into the living room. Steve just sighs, grins, and takes Eddie’s backpack with him as he follows Eddie into the front area of the trailer.

He throws the backpack at Eddie and puts his own shoes on. Normally, he wouldn’t leave them at the front where Wayne could see them, but Wayne’s on a fishing trip so it’s alright.

“What’s the name of your pups again?” Eddie asks as he shakes the toaster, probably hoping for it to finish toasting faster. “C’mon hurry up. Dustin, Lucas and…?”

“Mike,” Steve says, “but you don’t have to watch out for them, really.”

“No, no,” Eddie shakes his head and grins. “You asked me to look out for your pups and make sure they are alright, so I’m gonna.”

The fondness with which he says your pups gently caresses Steve’s spine. In the past he’s been on a couple of dates that found his relationship with the pups weird. Just went oh and raised their brows when he started talking about them. 

It’s not very King Steve of him, it’s not very alpha of him. And that’s who those dates wanted, not actually Steve, but this idea of King Steve, the most alpha to alpha around in Hawkins. And then they end up disappointed when he is not that but just Steve.

Eddie likes just Steve, has made that very clear and never hesitates to remind Steve of how much he likes him.

The toaster dings and Eddie groans with relief. 

“Fucking finally,” he says and just puts it between his teeth and keeps it there while trying to get into his leather jacket. “Okay, got everything?”

Steve nods, tries to ignore the dread of leaving the trailer, of leaving Eddie that settles on him like a second skin. Even though he is doing a good job at hiding it, Eddie sees through him. It should unsettle Steve maybe, how good Eddie has gotten at reading him. But Steve has never been able to escape Eddie’s gaze nor has he wanted to.

Eddie steps closer and grabs Steve’s jacket, pulling him in.

“Next time we’ll get up earlier so I can eat you out and clean up my mess properly,” he promises and gives Steve a quick, apologetic peck.

Steve doesn’t even mind the mess. Yes, the cum dripping out of him and seeping into his…well Eddie’s boxers, is uncomfortable but he’ll cope. It’s the parting from Eddie that he doesn’t like. The outside world where they have to pretend that they don’t know each other. The thought makes Steve’s lungs ache. He hates the outside world, hates the pretense. But he knows that he just sounds clingy and needy so he forces himself to smile.

“You better,” he says, hoping his scent is mild enough not to give away how he is really feeling. He kind of wants to ask if he can come back after he is done with work and Eddie is home from school. But once again that feels needy.

“How does tonight for making up and making out sound?” Eddie asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. It doesn’t sound clingy when he says it. It sounds flirty, promising Steve another night of filth and desire. “Or just making out. We could order some pizza, you could bring over some movies…”

“Careful Munson, you almost sound like you enjoy spending time with me and not just using me for my body,” Steve jokes, hates how close the statement hits home though. When they started this he had been afraid that for Eddie this was just about blowing off steam. He is still surprised when Eddie proves him wrong and Eddie loves to prove him wrong.

“I don’t like spending time with you,” he says, voice filled with cheek, “I love spending time with you, sweetheart. Love, need, want, time with you is like air. I need you to breathe, you keep my heart beating.”

It’s overdramatic, over earnest, and worst of all it’s true. As sarcastic as Eddie likes to be, there are moments of such unmasked, intense honesty that make Steve feel like he just ran into a wall, knocking the air out of his lungs. Eddie never hides how he feels, isn’t afraid to be vulnerable. Sure, he likes to put on a show in school, to keep up appearances. But he never hides how he feels in front of Steve, doesn’t hesitate to say what he wants to say, isn’t ashamed that he is not a perfect, emotionless mannequin that others can dress and rearrange into the poses they want him to have.

Steve is in awe of Eddie for it, envies him even.

“Spending time with you is vital for my heart, look I even have a doctor’s note that tells me to spend as much time with you as possible,” Eddie keeps going and takes out some crumpled up gum wrapper, proudly presenting it to Steve. Steve just rolls his eyes.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Tonight.”

“Promises, promises,” Eddie sighs but he steals one last kiss from Steve before he unlocks the door and they both step outside.

Steve gets out of the trailer park first, his car not needing five minutes to start up. Eddie really should get his van checked out, he thinks as he drives up to Robin. He makes sure to use a parallel road and turn one block past her house so it looks like he is coming north from Loch Nora and not south from Forest Hills. He doubts she would notice, but he likes to play it safe.

“Ugh,” is what Robin groans as she opens the door and lets herself fall into the passenger seat.

“Good morning to you too,” Steve deadpans which just elicits another groan from Robin.

“Just drive, it's no use anyway,” she says and presses her face into the headrest.

“I thought you liked school,” Steve asks and starts his car again.

“I’m good at school, doesn’t mean I like it. Like there are so many people and I get nervous and I don’t know what to say and then I say too much and I can’t stop talking and everyone thinks I’m a weirdo. And then I’ll stress about grades and everyone will think I’m even more of a weirdo because I stress so much but if I’m not having good grades and I’m not having friends then what am I gonna be good at?” she rambles, hands anxiously playing with the zipper on her backpack. “And like what if a pretty girl talks to me and I go even more clammy and then she’ll know?”

“She won’t know,” Steve tries to ease her anxieties. “Plus, you survived last year. You had friends then too, you’ll be fine.”

She mumbles something too quiet for him to hear.

“What?”

“I said I didn’t have any friends,” she snaps, a blush colouring her cheeks. “I didn’t have any friends, okay? You weren’t the only lone wolf out there. I hid in the auditorium most lunch breaks because I was too embarrassed to be seen eating alone.”

Steve doesn’t really know what to reply to that. Robin is like the coolest person he knows, it had never really occurred to him that prior to their friendship she had been just as lonely as he had been.

“You could always go sit with Jonathan and Nancy,” he suggests but Robin just huffs.

“Right, because your ex-girlfriend was so thrilled to meet me the last time,” she mumbles before her eyes narrow and she turns her head towards him. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Speaking of ex-girlfriends, you hooked up with someone last night!”

“What? No!” Steve squeaks, embarrassed at the noise. “Why do you think I hooked up.”

“You reek of sex, your hair is messy and there are bite marks all over your throat.”

His hand automatically flies to this throat, trying to cover up Eddie’s marks.

“Ha, I knew it,” Robin shouts. “There are no marks on your neck.”

Steve glares at her. Sometimes, she is just too smart.

“So? Who was it? Spill the beans, Harrington,” she demands and Steve feels like a trapped animal. 

They can’t tell anyone. Male alphas dating male alphas is the worst possible combination of primary and secondary gender when it comes to dating. Steve knows in theory that Robin will be cool about it, she is a massive lesbian after all. But he just can’t tell her. Can’t once again bring himself to be so vulnerable, to be so much in front of another person.

“No one,” he lies and he can feel his chest contract. “Just some random one  night stand. No one important.”

He can tell Robin is about to tease him, make some crude reference to the you suck/you rule board . But she doesn’t get to it because Steve has to cough violently all of a sudden.

He’s not been ill really in weeks. Now the all too familiar slivers of a cold and a fever are winding themselves into his nervous system. Steve feels sick to his stomach but he keeps driving. It’ll pass. Or it won’t. Nothing he can do about it.

April ‘86

The pups barrel into the small hospital room  with an eardrum bursting ruckus the morning after Eddie wakes up. One of the nurses taking his and Steve’s vitals glares at them, it’s a hospital after all, but the pups don’t care.

They just shout excitedly and basically topple over each other to sit on Eddie’s bed. The only one kinda quiet is Max in her wheelchair and El pushing her. With a lot of patience and physiotherapy she will be alright but just like Steve and Eddie she’ll have scars for life that won’t fade. She’ll need a cane and thick glasses. Maybe she and Steve can go to the optometrist together, hold each other’s hands even though she’ll roll her eyes at him. But he knows alone they are both too chicken shit to go.

El rolls Max right next to Steve’s bed instead of Eddie’s and Steve quietly holds up his wrist to scent Max. She nods, lets him rub his scent gland over her. Steve purrs, happy she is not pulling away again. 

His eyes glide over to Eddie who is basically drowning in a puppy pile. It makes Steve think about the Winnebago and six pups and how sad Eddie had looked when Steve mentioned it to Nancy. How he had pulled Steve aside in the upside down and scent akin to the bleakest November rain.

“I know being with me will make it pretty much impossible to get your six pups and I know that being with someone like Wheeler would change that…”

Steve hadn’t had time to correct Eddie. To tell him that he already had six pups. That it was more than enough. That being with Eddie was everything and that his dream was to be with Eddie. There was never enough time.

His heart aches at the memory, aches at the pain in Eddie’s face and the sorrow in his scent. His alpha thought Steve didn’t want him. The ache spreads from Steve’s heart into his lungs until it reaches his throat and breathing feels labored, like desperately scrambling to keep his head above water.

If they were alone he would just walk over and climb into Eddie’s bed, bury his face in Eddie’s neck and let himself be held. Exchange whispered affections with Eddie and promise that Eddie was enough, hoping Eddie would tell him the same.

But he can’t. Not with the pups present. The burning in his lungs spreads through his entire body, lighting him on fire. He sinks deeper into his pillows, exhaustion taking hold of him. Every single limb hurts. His vision goes blurry, his mouth dry. Despite the heat of his body Steve shivers, pulls the blanket up higher. It reeks of hospital and Steve hates it. Wishes he could get some fresh air, smell cool wind gently caressing his face.

It’s so loud too, too much chatter and screaming. Steve wishes he was alone, maybe somewhere at the beach with salt in the air and the waves crashing against the shore. That’s what their first trip should be. Eddie said he’s never been to the ocean.

But Eddie doesn’t want to go on a trip with him. Thinks that Steve should take Nancy instead. Another person who doesn’t want him. The realisation forces a cough out of Steve and fuck it hurts so much. His chest rattles as he tries to breathe but there is no air. He is choking alive, unable to move, to do anything about it.

The last thing he hears before he loses consciousness is a panicked, “Steve!”

The fever dreams are nasty. He is running through dark mirrored corridors. His mirror image is contorted, grotesque, monstrous even. He needs to get out of the house, he needs to find someone. But he is all alone. So alone. Because who could love someone like him? The twisted Steves in the mirrors all start laughing. Then one after one all the mirrors burst, raining glass shards down onto him, cutting through his skin. He bleeds out on the floor, so alone.

He is too exhausted to jolt up when he wakes. He is still floating in that fevery state somewhere between sleep and awake but at least he is no longer dreaming. He can hear muffled voices talking quietly.

“...thought it was injuries from the…serial killer.”

“...not allowed to disclose to you…”

“Please?”

There is a loud sigh, followed by, “He’s suffering from a severe case of rejection sickness. I’ve never seen such a strong reaction to it.”

Then there is deafening silence that only gets disturbed by quiet footsteps on linoleum and their door falling shut. Steve doesn’t open his eyes, isn’t quite sure if he’d be able to. 

There is some fabric rustling and the mattress dips next to him before something warm wraps around his body and pulls him closer.

“I’ve got you Stevie,” Eddie whispers, rubbing his wrist over Steve’s scent glands. “I’ve got you I promise. I don’t know how this happened, I’d never reject you!” 

It’s the promise that lulls Steve back to sleep. Instead of an empty home he dreams of pine woods and calk coasts, of stormy clouds and an oncoming storm. He dreams of arms holding him and when he wakes up he is still being held.

It’s just getting dark outside, Steve wonders if he’s only slept for hours of if days have passed. Probably hours based on how much Eddie clings to him, refusing to let him go. 

“Hey sleepyhead,” he croaks when he sees that Steve is slowly blinking awake. “Sleep okay?”

“Better now that you’re next to me,” Steve says and buries his face into Eddie’s chest. It should be the other way around, after all he isn’t the one who almost died. He should be holding and comforting Eddie. But he is too worn to beat himself up about that too.

They are quiet for a while, just holding each other, Eddie’s hand gently combing through Steve’s hair and occasionally pressing a little kiss to his forehead. Steve wishes they could just stay like this but he can basically feel the questions burning on the tip of Eddie’s tongue. So he decides to talk first.

“When I was a little pup I got really sick,” he says and he can feel Eddie tense beneath him. “Thought it was pneumonia but eh spoiler alert it wasn’t. It was isolation sickness. My parents were never home, I was always alone so yeah recipe for disaster for that.”

The memory feels like a second skin made out of ice encasing Steve and he shivers. Eddie pulls him closer, draps Steve’s blanket around them.

“I was sick a lot as a child. It got kinda better when I joined the basketball team and the swim team and had people like Tommy. Was kinda like using a band aid to fix a missing limb, but it helped at first. But it never fully went away. When I got in here the doctor said that it was probably chronic, shit you can’t heal from, you just kinda learn to live with it. Like a heart condition I guess. Even if my parents were to suddenly be super involved in my life it would probably not go away.”

Eddie growls at the mention of Steve’s parents. He’s made his disdain for them obvious several times. It’s kinda really cute how protective he can be. And that should be a reason why the next part should not be scary, why Steve should just open up to Eddie. 

But shame sits heavily in his gut and shakes hands with loneliness. Having severe isolation sickness is something you can maybe accept, but the crazy that results from it? Steve is not so sure about that part.

“So because I have chronic isolation sickness my inner alpha is like… messed up… kinda like immunocompromised?” Steve practiced that word over and over again once he had learned what it meant. “My inner alpha thinks it got rejected all the time because he couldn’t be claimed by you publicly. Because we couldn’t tell anyone. Which, like I get why, obviously and I know it’s so stupid but not being able to call you mine kind of killed me and I get that I sound probably crazy and–”

“You don’t sound crazy,” Eddie interrupts him and when Steve dares to look at him his eyes are shiny with tears. “Sweetheart, you don’t sound crazy. I am so sorry you went through this. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to sound crazy,” Steve croaks, also feeling tears gathering in his eyes. When they spill over Eddie gently wipes them away and takes Steve’s face into his hands.

“Your pain is never crazy, okay Steve? I need you to tell me when you are hurting, even when it’s scary. Especially when it’s scary,” he says and all Steve can do is nod.

He won’t make any promises but he will try.

“Also we can totally tell our friends,” Eddie adds with a little sniffle that turns into a chuckle. “Pretty sure Wayne already knows, we ain’t been sleek. And the way Robin has glared at me I think she too has a pretty good idea of what’s going on.”

Steve chuckles too. 

“Yeah, she cornered me in the upside down asking about your vest,” he says, the pressure in his lungs growing lighter for the first time in years. “You really mean it? We can tell the pack?”

“Of course sweetheart, I want the whole world to know that you’re mine and I’m yours.”

November '83

It’s cold, so cold. The house soaks up the cold the same way clothes soak up water. It sits heavily between the rooms, fills the void in the gap between furniture and walls, battles with the silence for the oppressive space it takes up until the two mingle in a tortuous dissonance. 

It is cold, so cold. It is quiet, so quiet. Steve is alone, so alone.

The house has always been cold, has always been quiet. Steve has not always been alone. There is the phantom presence of his parents in several photos cluttered along the house and that big family portrait that belongs in a gothic horror novel in the hallway. Steve always thought that it was out of place but by now his life feels like a horror novel too. 

There are monsters in his backyard, a dead girl in his pool, and the ghost of a little boy sitting on the floor, fitting in right in between the sheet covered furniture.

Steve was eight when they sat for that big, opulent oil painting. His smile is big and bright and almost toothy, the way kids show their teeth when grinning, trying to copy the adults, not knowing how to smile in a way that is deemed normal. His smile is close-mouthed in the other photos, he had learned by then. 

They took them because it would be weird not to have family pictures in the home, what would their guests say? Just like their pressed together lips attempting to resemble a smile the pictures are all fake. But hey, everything to seem like the perfect all American family. Not that there have been any guests in the house in years, not that Steve’s parents have been in the house in years. 

It doesn’t even smell like them anymore, scent eradicated by cleaning products and air freshener. Even their room only smells like mothballs and perfume and sickly sweet violets. Maybe that is what they smell like? Steve doesn’t know, hadn’t presented yet by the time they last had been here. And in his parents opinion there was no point in scenting a pup.

It doesn’t make sense to Steve. He has to reel himself in from rubbing his wrist all over Mike or Holly when he babysits them together with Nancy. When Mike’s little friends had huddled together after Will’s real body, breathing, warm, and alive, had been found and Mike’s magic girl had disappeared, all Steve had wanted to do was scent them, coo at them, mark them as pack.

Which is stupid. They aren’t his back, they are not his pups, and he is an alpha. If he was an omega maybe people would have batted an eye at his protective instincts. Another set of gender rolls that don’t make sense to Steve.

He likes being an alpha, doesn’t feel like an omega, doesn’t want to be one. But sometimes he wishes, wishes he could build a nest, wishes he could comfort the pups with his scent, wishes he was allowed to be soft. 

But he isn’t an omega, he isn’t allowed to be soft, and the pups are not his pups. That’s why they aren’t here, why it’s just him, the silence and the cold. Three is a party though, right?

It’s the reason he used to throw so many parties, to combat the loneliness and fill the house with life, if just for one night. Didn’t matter that he didn’t know or like half the people there, what mattered was that they were there. Facing the empty house again the next morning was always worse than any hangover.

Even though he fell out with Tommy he could probably still call people and get them to come over. Giddy, he tries to get up and reach for the phone before he remembers that it’s Christmas and no one would come. They have their own parties to be at.

Part of him wishes he had stayed over with Nancy. But she has a real family who celebrates a real Christmas and he didn’t want to intrude. Didn’t want to embarrass his absent parents by revealing that they are, well, absent. He thinks they might be on Aruba or was it Florence? If someone asks they are here, in Hawkins, in a house filled with colorful fairy lights, the scent of a real Christmas tree and gingerbread cookies mixing, while Santa Baby plays on an old record player. Of course, Steve’s mother cooked up a feast and Steve’s dad let him have a sip of mulled wine. 

It makes Steve laugh hysterically for a moment, allowing his teeth to take a break from chattering. Then the laugh turns into a cough, his lungs burn and hurt while his throat is on fire. He is forced to his knees, until his cheek rests on the cool tiles of the living room, panting, gasping for air. 

Even though his entire body is shivering, the coolness of the tiles feels so nice against his burning skin. He doesn’t understand how he can feel like a block of ice and set on fire at the same time. 

He crawls towards the kitchen, thinks there must still be some Advil and Niquil in some cabinet. He is just about to leave the living room when he senses it. He doesn’t know where he takes the strength, just rushes over to the sliding door and presses his palm against the cool glass, peering outside into the snowy night.

Something is out there. Not a monster, not a dead girl, but a pup. A pup in distress. 

Steve is out through the door in seconds, sprints through his backyards straight into the woods. He isn’t even wearing shoes, his bare feet rushing over the freshly fallen snow. He lets go, goes on instinct alone. It doesn’t matter that he is cold or sick, all that matters is the pup out there, alone and scared.

He runs through the woods, tries to emit as much calming scent as possible. I’m coming for you, he promises the pup. I’m coming for you, you won’t have to be alone.

Around him the snow fall grows stronger and it is hard to make anything out in the dark. It doesn’t slow him or stop him down. He needs to find the pup, needs to keep them safe. His whole body hurts, his feet are probably bleeding but he can’t stop. Not when a pup is alone and in distress and trapped in this snow.

Not when Steve struggles to sense them, not when their scent grows weaker. Not when they could die out here and it would all be Steve’s fault again. He struggles against the storm, struggles against his stupid weak body, struggles against all the guilt and the pain and the fear.

He runs and runs and runs until he suddenly crashes into something soft and warm and solid. He stumbles back surprised, thinking he has finally found the pup. But then a flashlight shines into his face and he hears a gruff, “Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington.”

Chief Hopper is standing in front of him, out of his usual uniform, wrapped in a thick winter coat, snowflakes caught in his beard. Part of Steve’s messed up brain and even messed up inner alpha perks up and goes pack? Because Hopper was part of this whole thing and to Steve that little group of kids and teens and two adults is the closest he has ever gotten to pack. Ever gotten to the happy little family he and his parents pretend to be in photos.

There is a whine building in the back of his throat, something desperate and small and pathetic. Something crying out for the pack alpha to take care of it. Something akin to the small little pup Steve was sensing. 

Fuck, the pup. Every signal, every sign of them has dissolved and Steve can feel the panic rising in his chest. 

“Are you alright?” Hopper asks and steps closer, a hint of worry visible behind the gruff facade he loves to hide behind. 

“There was a pup here,” Steve pants and turns frantically around as if the pup might magically appear. “They were in distress, I could feel them.”

He lost the pup, or he didn’t make it in time and the pup froze. If Steve had only been faster, now there is another person he has failed. It shouldn’t be a surprise that the other pups don’t want to be part of his pack. That Nancy doesn’t consider him mate material enough and goes to Jonathan for help even though he is a beta. That his parents won’t come home. Because all Steve ever does is fail.

There is a strong but firm grip on his arm and a big, warm palm pressing up against his forehead. He feels so small of a sudden, like maybe he is the small pup out here in distress. He looks up at Hopper, tears gathering in his eyes, and he wants to ask if he is in trouble, wants to say that he is sorry, wants to bury his face in Hopper’s chest and beg to be held and scented.

“You’re burning up, let’s get you home kid,” Hopper says and Steve lets out a whine he will be embarrassed about come the next morning. He’ll be embarrassed about all of this actually, write it off to some fever, bury it deep down inside.

He’s fine, he’s always been fine. That’s what he tells himself when he wakes up the next morning in his living room, a blanket that smells like average detergent, pulled over him. He ignores the fact that his inner alpha is in fucking misery. And he ignores the little boy, wearing sheets, sitting between the dust covered furniture. The house is still cold and still silent and Steve is still alone.

May ‘86

Part of Steve considers burning the house down, thinks that it could be  cathartic, like cauterizing an open wound. He decides against it, decides to let his parents come home to the same thing Steve did for years: a desolate building with no sign of life.

“You got everything, kid?” Hopper asks and Steve nods. 

He takes one last look into the dusty hallway before he pulls the front door shut and throws his keys on the doormat. Let the place get robbed and trashed, he no longer cares.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Hopper says and takes the last box from Steve and carries it to his truck.

Steve isn’t meant to lift heavy things. He doesn’t really own any, just some clothes, some knick knacks, a couple of tapes that’s it really. Still, Hopper insisted on carrying every single one of the three boxes Steve packed to his car.

“I’m not fragile, you know,” Steve had bitched when Hopper took box number two from him.

“Oh believe me, I know,” Hopper had grunted, “but you ain’t titanium either. Even if you pretend to be.”

That had shut Steve up and grumpily he had packed the last of his stuff.

Hopper lets him pick the music on the drive to the trailer park, even tolerates Judas Priest when Steve pops in the tape Eddie gave him ages ago, knows that Steve doesn’t like the quiet.

It’s a short drive to Forest Hills, it’s almost ridiculous how close they lived all their lives. Steve tries not to dwell on all the years they could have been together. The past is the past and the present is the present.

The pups are all outside the new trailer, painting in a nice light blue. Just Max is sitting on the porch, arms and legs still in casts, sipping a can of coke through a straw. Eddie had made a joke about Huck Finn when the pups had insisted on helping to set up the new trailer and cheered when Wayne allowed them to paint the outside walls. Steve had not gotten it but Robin had snorted.

Hopper is generous enough to let Steve carry at least one box. Mike eyes them suspiciously. 

“Is that all?” he asks and points with his brush at Steve’s belongings. “Dude, didn’t you live in a mansion? Where’s all your shit?”

Steve just shrugs.

“This is all I need.”

Mike just stares at him like Steve has lost his mind but before he can say anything else Dustin smacks him and tells him to go back to painting. Steve just grins and carries the boxes inside.

It’s not as cozy yet as the old trailer was, Wayne’s hat and mug collection still missing from the walls, no well sat through couch, and a kitchen that hasn’t been cooked in yet. But Steve can see the vision, knows that it’s gonna feel homey again real soon. Already feels like home to him.

The government was generous enough to spring a bigger trailer with more space and two bedrooms. No more pull out for Wayne. No more cramped room for Eddie. And Steve. 

Steve who gets to stay in Eddie’s room, in their room. No more waking up early and sneaking out before Wayne can notice. No more clandestine meetings and hushed whispers. Just Eddie and Steve, sharing a room and a home.

Hopper places one of the boxes politely behind Steve when they reach the door to his new room. Walking into another alpha’s den without an invite is stupid, walking into a den that is shared by two alphas is dangerous, walking into an alpha den when both alphas are heavily possessive and protective of their mate is basically suicidal. 

“I’ll drop the rest of your stuff here,” he huffs and Steve nods.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. The for coming back, for not leaving me, for accepting me goes unsaid, but Hopper knows.

“Any time kid” he says and then leaves.

Which just leaves Steve and the door. For a second he considers knocking but that feels silly. This is his home, his room, he doesn’t have to knock. Still, he hesitates. It will take some getting used to, knowing that he is allowed to belong. That he belongs. That they want him to belong.

He takes one deep breath before he pushes the door open and steps inside. Like the rest of the trailer their room is only sparsely filled. There are no posters or pictures yet on the walls, an empty bookshelf and a desk fill one side of the room, a couple of unpacked boxes in between and then there is a bed. A double. Big enough for both of them, no need to press against each other like castaways on a small life raft. Steve knows they will still cling to each other like and if they had three california kings to sleep in. They like being close.

Eddie is standing in front of their bed, fussing with pillows and blankets and clothes and it takes Steve a while to realize that Eddie is laying the bare bones for a nest.

“Are you…are you building a nest?” he asks, making Eddie jump.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart, I’ll need to tie a bell around you,” he curses, cheeks going pink. He looks so pretty flustered. Steve’s brave little flustered alpha. Sheepishly, he rubs the back of his neck. “But…uh…yeah, I am. I thought it might be nice, comforting after…after everything. It’s probably stupid, we can like put it away, if you don’t like—...”

“I’ve always wanted a nest,” Steve interrupts him. “I’ve always wanted one.” 

It feels like confessing a dirty, little secret. Something that should be shameful, something his father would have raised his voice and his hand for. Alphas are not meant to have nests. At least not in Richard Harrington’s narrow minded world.

But Steve isn’t in that world anymore, he is a real boy, and he can decide what alphas get to have and what not. Having a nest as a pup would probably have spared him two decades of isolation sickness and some. For a brief moment he can feel that anger again, that itching in his fingers, the smell of gasoline and tinder. The past is the past, he reminds himself, the present is the present.

“Can I help?” he asks and steps closer. They were already kinda building a nest together before all this, pulling blankets and pillows and clothes around each other in their sleep. Waking up warm and cozy and not talking about it. Now they can talk about it though.

“Please,” Eddie says and steps aside so that Steve can get a better look. It’s just a big duvet and some extra blankets, more pillows than Steve has ever seen and a couple items of clothes. It’s mainly Steve and Eddie’s stuff but Steve spots one of Robin’s Fleetwood Mac shirts and one of Wanye’s flannels. The pink cardigan definitely belongs to Nancy and the various other items just reek of the pups. It’s perfect.

Quietly they get to work. In the end it’s not perfect, probably not as sturdy as an omega’s nest but it’s theirs. Their place of comfort and belonging. So to Steve it is perfect. It is everything.

“I was thinking,” Eddie says while they fluff up some pillows.

“That’s dangerous.”

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes and gently bumps his shoulder into Steve’s. “I was thinking, you know how they have a drive in theater near Muncie? I know it’s a bit of a trip but I thought we could go next week. They’re showing Planets of the Apes. Could be fun.”

It does sound fun. Sitting in Eddie’s van, no one around to see them cozying up and maybe even getting a bit frisky if the movie is boring. Private but still somehow public. 

“Like a date?” Steve blurts and tries not to feel silly about it. For obvious reasons they’ve never been on a date before. But it would be nice, taking each other on little dates. 

“Yeah, like a date, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles. “Like I know we are already like together and all that but I thought it’d be nice.”

“Are you trying to woo me Munson?”  “I’m trying to sweep you off your goddamn feet, Harrington,” Eddie says and suddenly grabs Steve to spin him around but drops Steve back in an instant, both of them hissing when their stitches twitch.

“Okay, let’s keep the sweeping to the metamorphosical way,” Steve pants, clutching his side. Despite the pain he can’t keep the joy out of his scent, intermingling with Eddie’s. Wild blackberries in a summer storm.

“I think you mean metaphorical way,” Eddie points out with the softest of smiles.

“Pretty sure it’s metamorphosical.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Eddie says, doesn’t mention that English is like the one subject he never once failed, and steals a kiss from Steve.

Later that night once the pups have left, tanned from the sun and covered in paint, grinning more freely than they ever have during the last four years, Steve cooks dinner in their new kitchen. Wayne’s already left for his night shift, equipped with a big sandwich, sliced apple with peanut butter and some carrots with hummus. Amused he had mumbled something about school lunch but he had thanked Steve and pulled him into a big hug before he left.

Now it’s just Steve and Eddie in their tiny, comfortable kitchen. Eddie has been clinging to Steve all night, arms wrapped around Steve’s hips, chin hooked over Steve’s shoulder while Steve is preparing vegetables.

Every now and then Eddie will pepper little kisses down Steve’s neck, lips lingering over his mating glad, causing shivers to run down Steve’s spine. They’ve talked about it. Eddie having to grip the bedsheets in the hospital to keeping himself from biting Steve right then, right there because apparently he has been wanting to bite Steve for months now. Breathing had become easier once more at that moment.

They had considered July 4th, the night they got together, but had then decided that they couldn’t wait that long. So they landed on tonight. The first night in their new home. Steve has been itching with anticipation all night.

Then Eddie blows a raspberry on Steve’s skin and Steve just groans and tries to shove Eddie off him to no avail. Eddie clings to him with the intention of never letting go.

“Stop distracting me or dinner will never be ready!”

“Nope, need to show you how much I love you,” Eddie whispers into his neck. “Love you so much.”

Steve will never get tired of hearing it, will never get tired of Eddie’s arms snug around his torso, of Eddie’s lips pressing love into his skin. So he rolls his eyes but lets Eddie stay like this and distract him. Dinner takes a bit longer until it is done but it’s the most delicious Steve’s stew has ever tasted.

Even later that night, once dinner is finished and the dishes done, Eddie leads Steve back to their room and their nest.

Someone else might have imagined candles or petals or heart shaped pillows for this moment but Steve loves that it’s just them like this. Just their room, their nest, their scents intermingling. 

“How do you want me?” Eddie asks, suddenly almost shy, despite usually being the one taking control in the bedroom. It reminds Steve of the first time they slept together, when he had to convince Eddie that he won’t break, that Eddie can be rougher, can be in charge, that Steve has no issue submitting to Eddie whatsoever.

“I want you inside me,” Steve smirks and steps closer, hands unbuckling Eddie’s belt. “Your fingers, your mouth, your knot.” “I can do that,” Eddie says and lifts his arms as Steve pulls his shirt up and over his head. 

Steve places his hand on Eddie’s naked chest, can feel hints of a heartbeat. Sometimes he will now randomly grab Eddie’s wrist and search for a pulse. Instead of getting annoyed by his antics, Eddie will take Steve’s own wrist in return and kiss his pulse point, whispering, “still very much alive and kicking and beating just for you, Stevie.”

It’s horrendously cheesy but it manages to calm Steve down.

Steve lets his fingers trail down Eddie’s chest, over his sternum, his ribcage, the last bandage on his hip, down to the hem of his boxers. He sinks down to his knees, fingers tangling in the fabric.

“Think you can knot me twice?” Steve asks looking up at Eddie.

“You that desperate for it to take, baby?”

“Always,” Steve admits, unashamed, before he nuzzles Eddie’s cock through his boxers. “But I want you to knot my mouth first tonight.” 

“Stevie…”

“Didn’t get a concussion this time,” Steve points out, hands gripping Eddie’s thighs, refusing to let go. “Please.”

“Yeah, alright,” Eddie croaks and Steve can feel his cock harden even more through his boxers.

“Take your boxer off, go sit on the bed.”

Eddie almost trips as he scrambles out of his boxers and hurries to sit down on their bed. Steve allows himself a moment to take all of Eddie in. The pale skin marred with even paler scars, sutures, there is still one last bandage on his hip. There is very faint, dark hair on his legs, none on his chest. His pubes are lucious though, fluffy and curly and Steve can’t wait to bury his nose in them.

His cock is already hard, thick and long, veiny with a bit of precum glistening at the tip. Steve always thought that genitals were a bit funny looking but god Eddie’s dick makes his mouth drool. He never knew a cock could be pretty but the only thing that could make Eddie’s cock even more pretty would be a bow tied around it.

Eddie moves to the bed and wants to sit down on the floor but Eddie stops him.

“Wait,” he says before he grabs a pillow and puts it down on the floor. God, Steve’s alpha always takes such good care. A little purr escapes Steve’s chest and Eddie purrs in return.

“I love you so much,” Steve says before he sinks down onto his knees like he is getting ready for prayer. He places his hands on Eddie’s thighs, thumbs brushing over the pale skin there before he parts Eddie’s legs.

Part of Steve wants to dig in, take Eddie’s cock straight to the back of this throat and just choke on it. The other part of him wants to indulge, to take his time because they finally have time, so he does.

He places his lips on Eddie’s knees, peppers kisses up his thigh until he reaches the apex between his legs. Like a cat Steve rubs his head against Eddie’s thigh once, twice, before he buries his nose in Eddie’s pubes and kisses Eddie’s pubic bone.

Eddie’s hands find his hair, gently playing with it. Steve revels in the touch, in the sweet encouragement, and moves his mouth further down, lips grazing over Eddie’s slowly forming knot down to his balls. Steve gently kisses them, licks over them, moans at the smell of musk, sweat, alpha and distinctively Eddie. Others might find it gross, Steve could get drunk on it, could spend eternity here just worshipping Eddie’s balls before venerating his cock.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Eddie mutters and it makes Steve lick on is balls even more before he leans back a bit and gently grasps Eddie’s cock.

Precum is flowing out of Eddie, running down his shaft and Steve’s fingers and Steve bends down and kisses Eddie’s tip. Eddie’s always been very sensitive there so Steve swirls his tongue over the slit, teases it, drives Eddie insane with it before he takes Eddie’s cock into his mouth.

He’s missed this, missed the weight of Eddie on his tongue, the taste of his cum in his mouth, Eddie’s muffled curses and his loud praise, the gentle petting and rough pulling of his hair.

He could easily take all of Eddie with one swoop but Steve wants to draw this out. He slowly bops his head up and down, always taking only a little bit more of Eddie in, tongue wrapping around his cock, sucking on it like a lollipop.

Only when the head of Eddie’s cock nudges against the back of Steve’s throat, Steve allows himself to go faster. He takes all of Eddie, lets his dick slip into his throat and forces himself to go down until his mouth presses against the already quite big knot.

He could just go down further, wrap his lips around it and suck. But he wants something more, needs more of Eddie. He pulls off Eddie with a wet plop.

“Need you to pull me down and hold me in place,” Steve croaks, drool dripping over the corners of his mouth. “I’ll tap out if it’s too much, I promise, just please?”

Eddie nods, breath shallow. 

“Yeah okay,” he says and claps the back of Steve’s head. “Deep breath, sweetheart.”

It’s all the warning Steve gets before Eddie shoves his head down and buckles his hips, thrusting into Steve’s mouth and his throat. His swelling knot is past Steve’s lips already filling his mouth quite to the brim. It’s not big enough to lock, but it’s close. 

Eddie’s thrusts are shallow but hard, burning in Steve’s throat, pressing harshly against his tender esophagus. Steve lets it happen, loses himself in the repetitive motion, focuses on breathing through his nose. Eddie’s knot grows and Steve’s jaw starts to ache.

“Remember to keep calm and swallow like a good boy,” Eddie growls and it’s all the warning Steve gets before Eddie’s knot swills to his full size, too big for Steve and hot cum erupts in his mouth.

It’s a lot, it’s a fucking lot. 

“Swallow,” Eddie reminds him and Steve does. It hurts, feels like swallowing with a dry throat and swollen tonsils. Eddie’s knot is so big in his mouth, breathing is hard. But not impossible.

Steve swallows all of Eddie’s cum, manages not to choke and earns another good boy from Eddie. He is crying now, tears streaming down his cheeks and Eddie gently wipes them away. Tears mean a snotty nose and Steve tries not to panic when breathing becomes difficult.

“In through your nose and out,” Eddie gently guides him while tears form in Steve’s eyes. He can’t move, can’t open his mouth, can just kneel there, mind going blank and take it and he absolutely loves it.

“So good for me, my good boy, my lovely boy,” Eddie whispers, gently petting Steve's hair while Steve just kneels there, head bowed, unable to speak. It feels like prayer, like devotion. “Love you so much.”

Steve loves Eddie so much too and despite the cock down his throat he manages to purr. Eddie once again purrs in return, it’s kind of becoming their thing, their small little way of expressing affection.

Steve doesn’t know how much time has passed, could have been five minutes could have been a minute, when Eddie’s knot goes down and he gently pulls it out of Steve’s mouth.

“You good, baby?” Eddie asks, worried, and tenderly cradles Steve’s jaw in his palms like he is holding the most delicate, most precious thing in the world.

“So good,” Steve rasps, still all floaty, and then they both have to laugh about the state of his voice.

“That rasp sounds low key sexy,” Eddie chuckles and pecks Steve’s forehead.

“Only low key?”

“Aaaaand the brat is back,” Eddie grins before kissing Steve on the mouth. It’s chaste and soft and it’s everything. “Get up here so I can return the favor.”

Steve feels a bit like a newborn deer when he gets up, legs a bit shaky, body aching from kneeling for so long. Clumsily, he collapses next to Eddie, face pressed in the middle of their nest.

“Can’t believe you are still dressed,” Eddie mutters as he slowly peels Steve out of his jeans, his damp boxers and his sweater. Every new sliver of skin that becomes unwrapped gets greeted with a little kiss.

Once Steve is completely bare Eddie towers above him looking at him like he is some kind of renaissance masterpiece.

“You are so gorgeous, I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Eddie whispers, voice coated in awe and emotions. “My gorgeous little alpha.”

“‘m not that little,” Steve mutters, sinking deeper into the softness of their nest. Eddie just chuckles.

“True, you’re not that little are you,” Eddie says and sneaks his hand around Steve’s cock, drawing a whine out of him. “You’re such a big boy with such a thick, heavy cock aren’t you.”

He is slowly jerking Steve off, driving him insane by not gripping him hard enough and not moving fast enough, just slow feather light touches to tease him.

“And yet that big cock is so wasted because all you wanna do is get fucked, isn’t that right, alpha ?”

Steve shakes his head, too far gone to properly speak.

“No, you don’t wanna get fucked?” Eddie asks, amused.

“Nooo, don’t wanna get fucked, wan…wan’ you to make love to’m,” Steve mumbles and the teasing grin on Eddie’s face instantly softens. He lets go of Steve’s cock and leans up to kiss Steve deeply.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says once they part, “of course I’ll make love to you.”

He kisses Steve again, then moves to the corners of his lips, his cheek, his jaw and down his throat. He makes sure to kiss the two twin moles on Steve’s neck before moving onto his mating gland. Steve almost comes untouched when Eddie licks over it before his teeth graze over the slope of Steve’s shoulder.

He explores every inch of Steve with his mouth, uses Steve’s moles and freckles like a map to guide him. He sucks on Steve’s nipples until Steve whines and bats him away before he nibbles on Steve’s hip bones. It’s wonderful and hot and everything Steve has ever wanted. But he’s been hard and aching ever since he got his mouth on Eddie and while he loves Eddie kissing him all over he can’t help but grow impatient. So he reaches for Eddie’s hair and pulls slightly.

“Not that much love,” he groans when Eddie lets up from sucking hickeys into his thigh.

“Impatient, are we?” Eddie teases but he moves down further and slings Steve’s legs over his shoulders. “Don’t worry, gonna give you what you want now. It was fingers and tongue right?”

Before Steve can say anything, Eddie dives between his leg and licks over his hole. Steve can only let out a weak groan. Eddie loves to eat him out, to savor him, tease him by licking over his hole again and again before he finally pushes in.

Steve feels like all his nerve endings are on fire, electricity coursing through his entire body while Eddie eats him out. His hard and aching cock is twitching again, drooling with more precum than Steve is drooling with spit. Steve can feel himself get closer and closer to that edge.

“‘m close,” he whimpers, trying to get Eddie to stop and for one hopeful second Eddie lets up. But when Steve meets Eddie’s eyes he can only swallow because Eddie looks like a shark that has smelled blood.

“Then come for me,” he says before he pushes his tongue back inside Steve, hand clasping Steve’s knot massaging it gently. Steve comes with a shout, hot cum splattering over his stomach and over Eddie’s face, legs quivering and abs clenching. 

Eddie doesn’t let up, just keeps licking and sucking even though he knows how overstimulated Steve is. Too overstimulated to even say anything. He is just panting, gasping for air, trying to get away from Eddie but too weak to move or speak. He could tap out but why would he do that when Eddie’s mouth feels so fucking good even though it’s too much.

Steve feels delirious by the time Eddie adds in lube covered fingers to the mix and gently fingers Steve open.

“You ready,” he asks and Steve can only nod. He makes grabby hands at Eddie and Eddie gets the hint and leans up to kiss Steve. He tastes like lube and Steve and it’s a little bit gross but also a little bit perfect.

“Love you,” Eddie whispers against Steve’s lip as he slowly pushes inside Steve. There is almost no stretch, only the overwhelming feeling of fullness, of Eddie’s massive cock stuffing him. Steve moans and Eddie swallows the sound with another open mouthed messy kiss.

They don’t fuck often in missionary position, usually it’s Steve riding Eddie, or Steve prone and Eddie on top of him. If Steve is feeling bendy he personally is partial to a breeding press but this is nice too. The intimacy of staring Eddie in the eyes, being able to kiss so easily, the tenderness of it all.

“Are you good for me to move?” Eddie asks and as much as Steve loves it his bratty side can’t help but come out.

“You are still fucking me, not taking my virginity,” he deadpans only for Eddie’s eyes to suddenly flash red.

“Don’t,” Eddie hisses and presses his forehead against Steve’s, eyes pressed shut, sweat pooling over his face, “say things that will make me come on the spot.”

Usually, Steve would tease but right now he saves it for later, briefly wonders if he should go buy some virginal white panties, before he pushes the thought aside to be fully in the moment.

“You can move,” he whispers and kisses Eddie’s nose, his cheek, his mouth. “Make love to me, alpha.”

Eddie slides out gently, gently thrusts back in. They lazily kiss while Eddie fucks him slowly. For some reason the leisure tempo has them faster on edge than ever and Eddie’s knot is sliding inside of Steve within minutes.

“I love you,” Eddie says and Steve comes. When he returns the words Eddie coats his insides with hot cum too.

With a groan Eddie lets himself fall into the bed and carefully manoeuvrers there body so that they face each other, legs intertwined, knot only slightly tugging on Steve’s hole.

“Satiated now?” he teases before intertwining his hands with Steve’s.

“Very,” Steve grins and snuggles against Eddie. He feels so light, so loved, the last symptoms of rejection sickness finally gone. The knowledge that his alpha loves him is all that is left. Steve feels like flowers are blooming in his lungs.

“You know before you happened I never had this,” Eddie says and plays with Steve’s fingers. “Never had someone to take it slow with. Sex was just quick fucks in some dodgy alley and rough blow jobs in some seedy club’s men's room.”

There is something melancholy in his scent suddenly, like the soft ripple drizzle leaves on the surface of a puddle.

“I never thought I could have this, could have you,” Eddie continues voice suddenly heavy. “Good things don’t happen to Munsons and you’re quite literally the best thing, Steve.”

Steve feels like sand struck by lightning, slowly melting and turning into glass. All his life he felt so unwanted, so hard to love and so easy to ignore. And here comes Eddie and calls him the best thing. He doesn’t cry often, can’t really remember the last time he cried, thinks he came close when Nancy broke up with him but didn’t. But now he can’t help shedding some tears.

“You are the best thing too,” he whispers and burrows his face into Eddie’s neck. He’s never felt so safe, so held like right now in Eddie’s arms.

They stay like that for a while, just clinging to each other breathing each other in. Eventually, Eddie’s knot goes down, but before he can pull out Steve stops him.

“Want your knot inside of me when you bite me.”

Eddie nods, stays inside Steve and gingerly takes his face into his hands.

“You’re ready then?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers, “make me yours.”

Eddie kisses him once more before he noses down Steve’s neck, lips gently pressed against his mating gland. Eddie inhales deeply once and then sinks his fangs into Steve’s neck. A whimper escapes Steve as Eddie pierces his skin deeply but he holds still, can feel one half of their bond forming and singing. 

There is blood on Eddie’s lips when he lifts his head.

“Mine,” he says before he guides Steve’s face to his throat. “Now make me yours. Please.”

“Mine,” Steve echos before his lips finds Eddie’s gland and he bites. His mouth fills with the taste of copper, salt and something sweet and sticky like golden honey. 

He can feel their bond being completed, can feel their souls slotting together and their heartstrings intertwining.

“Yours,” he whispers once more.

“Yours,” Eddie repeats like a vow before their lips meet again.

They fall asleep like that, covered in sweat, cum and blood and happier than they have ever been.

July ‘85

The gravel crunches beneath Steve’s feet as he walks home alone. His legs hurt, his body aches, his bruises and split lip are pulsing. It’s still about four miles until he’ll reach Loch Nora, if he doesn’t collapse from exhaustion first.

Somewhere in the background he can still hear the occasional fireworks, the air is filled with the stench of smoke and bbq and Steve tries not to retch. It smells too much like burned flesh.

Grief sits heavily at the back of his neck, right between his shoulder blades, while the familiar grip of guilt closes tightly around his throat. It’s a push and a pull and Steve feels worn thin, frayed like a thread rubbed between thumb and index finger.

He’d like to have one year, just one year, where no shit happens. Where it doesn’t end with a new scar, a ringing in his ears and a vision that is going blurrier and blurrier with each concussion. Where he doesn’t go back to his empty house, lick his wounds, and cough his lungs out curled up on the kitchen floor.

That’s exactly where he is headed though. Robin asked if he would be alright and he lied. Told her not to worry, his parents would come pick him up any moment. They didn’t even bother coming to his graduation, so he doubts a call about his third concussion would motivate them to leave the Hamptons, he thinks. Or was it Tokyo? All he has to go by was his mother saying she was tired the last time they talked on the phone.

It was a short call, just his mother telling him that his father pulled some strings and got him a job. And that he would cut off the electricity if Steve didn’t show up. Steve wonders if he’ll be notified about Scoops burning down. If he’ll cut the electricity now. Leaving Steve in the dark.

It’s summer, Steve could probably survive for a while. He has money for food and he can take cold showers. It’s going to be a problem once it gets colder though. He pushes the thought away and tries not to worry. Those are future Steve’s problems.

Right now, he needs to get to Loch Nora, grab some frozen peas and pray that he won’t throw up again like the time Billy beat him senseless. Good riddance,  he thinks briefly, before guilt makes it impossible to breathe again. He sees Max’ tear streaked face, smells her distress, her pain. Grief is a complicated thing. 

Steve has to stop, tries to take a deep breath to calm himself. His ribs hurt. They aren’t broken but definitely damaged. The paramedics suggested that he should get them checked out and Steve just nodded. All you can do with a cracked rib is just let it heal and take pain killers and Steve can still feel the last bit of Russian drugs cursing through his system so he is not feeling the pain killers.

He feels the pain though. So much of it. He knows if he sits down now he will never get up again. But it seems so sweet to rest, to fall asleep. His head is pounding, his muscles are tired. He is tired. So tired.

He can hear a car coming closer, a shit car if the tailpipe noise is anything to go by. He considers trying to hitch-hike, but with his luck it’s probably going to be more demo-monsters or evil secret agents. Or who knows the US government taking them all out for good because NDAs just don’t do it anymore.

So he pulls his shoulders up and hunches, tries to make himself seem small. The car still slows down when it reaches him. Great. He is just going to pretend the driver isn’t there. He isn’t going to look at them or speak to them and then they’ll hopefully get the hint and leave.

“Lost your car keys, Harrington?” he hears Eddie Munson’s teasing voice and even though Steve just told himself he would ignore the driver, he can’t help but look up at Eddie, follows his voice like a moth to a flame .

The easy grin falls off Eddie's face instantly and he abruptly stops his shitty van.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Steve,” he gasps and before Steve can say or do anything Eddie is out of the car and gently cupping his face. “What the hell happened.”

“‘s nothing, paramedics said ‘m free to go,” Steve slurs, not sure if it’s exhaustion or Eddie’s warm fingers splayed over his cheek messing with his speech. 

They are touching, they have never touched before. Sure, there were occasionally fingers brushing when Eddie handed over the change and Steve gave him his ice cream cone, always the same two scoops: blackberry and honeycomb vanilla. 

At first Steve was convinced that Eddie was just there on a bi-weekly basis to bask in his humiliation. King Steve degraded to ice cream slinging sailor. And sure at first Eddie was grinning from ear to ear like he won the lottery, asked why Steve didn’t want to be his captain in the ocean of flavor? 

It was annoying and childish and Steve hated Munson’s little visits. Until he didn’t. Until the biting comments aiming for humiliation turned into teasing flirtation and Stevie was no longer dripping with condensation but rather drenched with affection. And Steve had thought that maybe, just maybe he could get one mark in the you rule column by the end of summer.

He had planned to tell Robin too, to confess his little infatuation and his preference for male alphas but then Dustin had burst into the bathroom and Robin’s muppet lover confession had been the only one of the night.

The whiteboard probably went up in smoke too but Steve’s crush on Eddie is very much still alive and even though the fire to cover everything up never touched Steve, Eddie’s touch feels like flames licking over his skin.

There is also something fiery in Eddie’s eyes as he searches Steve’s face, heated anger, rage that makes the scent of fireworks in the air smell faint.

“Who did this to you?” he growls, voice cold. The stench of upset alpha should smell bad to Steve. Other alpha’s in general should smell bad. But there is something special about Eddie’s scent, something warm and calming. Like being a little kid, standing barefoot in the woods, closing your eyes, hearing the birds and taking a deep breath. Right now it feels like a soft blanket, wrapped protectively around Steve. “If Hargove did this, I swear if he touched you again…”

“What, you gonna fight him for me, alpha ?”

He is aiming for sarcasm with the alpha, it’s a pet name usually only reserved for omegas to use, but it ends up affectionate. Because Eddie makes him want to be affectionate. 

Eddie is a lanky nerd with noodle arms, if Hargrove was able to beat Steve black and blue he probably would have kicked Eddie’s ass too. But there is something feral in Eddie’s facial expression, sweet dork turned predator. It’s unexpected but not unwelcome. If Steve is honest it’s kind of hot. And sweet how Eddie wants to defend his honor.

Only that dead men cannot fight. He doesn’t really want to get into the whole actually, Hargove is dead thing, so he just shrugs.

“No one did this, accident at work,” he says and gently takes Eddie’s hands off his face. He knows he should let go but he keeps holding onto them. Partially, because Eddie still looks only a second away from going feral, and partially because Steve doesn’t want to let go. 

Eddie doesn’t want to let go either, his grip firm but not uncomfortable. He takes a deep breath, probably trying to calm himself, but a hint of red remains in his eyes. Steve shouldn’t find that as hot as he does.

“Let me drive you to a hospital,” Eddie asks but Steve shakes his head. He is done with hospitals and doctors. If he so much as sees another needle he might pass out.

“No hospitals,” he whispers, feels like a petulant child. But who cares, the world tried to end again, Max lost her brother, Hopper is dead, Steve doesn’t want to go to the hospital.

“Okay, but then just come with me, please? So I know you’re not gonna choke on your own vomit in your sleep?”

“Beautiful picture your painting, Munson,” Steve deadpans, trying to hide how appealing that actually sounds. How much he wants to go home with Eddie, to a warm, little trailer where he sticks out but somehow also fits in like mismatched cushions on a comfy couch. Not an empty house where he blends in perfectly with the ghosts haunting it.

“Steve, please,” Eddie doesn’t sound like he is actually asking and once more that tone of voice makes Steve shiver. Beaten up, somewhere on a random road in the middle of the night is not the time to get horny about Eddie Munson and his voice.

“Fine, take me to casa Munson,” Steve relents and lets go of Eddie’s hands. He feels untethered all of a sudden, legs quivering, body aching with exhaustion, so he hurries around the van and climbs inside.

Eddie’s scent is more intense in the van and it makes Steve’s head spin a little. Maybe it is a good idea that Eddie is going to keep an eye on him.

“Thank you,” Eddie says as he sits down and starts the car. Loud metal blasts from the speakers, startling Steve and making Eddie flinch.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and hurries to turn it off but Steve grabs his hand and stops him.

“‘s fine, just turn it down a bit, okay,” he says, “‘s kinda catchy.”

“Shit, how hard did you get hit in the head?” Eddie snorts but obliges and only turns the music down a bit instead of off. Steve knows he should now take his hand off Eddie’s but he doesn’t move.

Eddie doesn’t seem to mind either, just shifts gears and starts driving, before he intertwines their hands properly. It’s the bravest either of them has been so far. It makes Steve feel something underneath all the pain and the fear and desperation to survive all this shit, something he hasn’t felt in a long time, something like hope.

They are quiet as they drive through the night, only the rough screeching of metal echoing between their bodies. Eventually, Steve gives Eddie the government rundown of what happened. How he and Robin got locked in the mall, how there was an electric malfunction causing a fire. How some people panicked and he got trampled, hence the face and the concussion. 

It’s kind of believable if you want to believe. Steve can tell that Eddie doesn’t but he doesn’t push Steve. His voice falters when he mentions the two casualties. He hates that word. Casualties. Nothing about Hopper dying was fucking casual. 

Like oh one second he was alive and breathing and whoops the next second he is dead and his body evaporated. But like in a super casual way. Fucking bullshit.

They weren’t really close. Hopper didn’t take Steve in like El or something, after all Steve was not an orphaned pup. But they crossed paths a couple of times before all of this. When Steve was 15 Hopper caught him joy riding his Beemer and when Steve was 16 Hopper crashed Steve’s first big party.

He got off with a warning and a call to his parents. He did get yelled at over the phone but it was not enough to make them come home. Steve hadn’t been good at hiding his emotions back then and whatever Hopper had been able to read in his face was enough to make him go easy on Steve from there on.

Even asked Steve once about his cough but Steve had only shrugged and told Hopper what he always told everyone. Bad pneumonia as a child led to a chronic cough. He was fine. Hopper hadn’t bought it but he too hadn’t pushed either.

Steve wishes someone would finally push. Bare him being upset, bare him being nasty, just fucking bare him. At the same time he is glad that Eddie doesn’t push, doesn’t think he could handle it tonight.

The trailer park is pretty dark when they arrive, most people probably already asleep and even though there is no light on, Eddie’s trailer is like a beacon as they stop in front of it.

Steve has only been here once to buy some weed to help him sleep after the first round of the upside down. Before that Tommy had always bought his drugs so Eddie had looked very surprised to find a sleep deprived Steve on his doorstep.

“You sure smoking is a good idea with that lung?” he had smirked when Steve had caught through his order.

“I just need to sleep, man.”

“Of course, anything for King Steve.”

Steve is glad Eddie no longer calls him that. Instead whispers softly, “C’mon Stevie.”

With a groan Steve gets out of the van. Sitting down was nice but now his whole body aches all over again and he feels kind of like throwing up again.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” Eddie asks as he unlocks the trailer.

Steve tries to think. He and Robin shared some fries before operation elevator. Was that two days ago? Three? Time didn’t exist in the underground russian base and the only thing they fed them were drugs. He has brief glimpses of eating popcorn maybe? It’s all hazy. He is pretty sure he threw that up anyways. There are still some vomit stains on the bottom of his shirt.

“Don’t know,” he says and kicks off his shoes as he follows Eddie into the trailer. It’s almost comical how every part of him is grimy, and bloody and covered in god knows what fluids, but his socks are still white. “Definitely before we got…before the mall burned down.”

Eddie shoots him a look. They both know that Steve’s injuries are not from a fire but despite his probably never ending curiosity Eddie still doesn’t push and Steve appreciates that.

“Bathroom is here if you want to shower,” Eddie just says and pushes another door open. “I’ll leave some clothes out for you.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, itching for a shower, itching to wash it all off, scrub his skin clean from all the pain and all the loss, all of his failure until it is raw and bleeding. Only Eddie would probably be very upset if he returned from the bathroom in a worse state than he went into it. He doesn’t want to upset Eddie. So he’ll behave. 

“Do you want me to wash your uniform?” Eddie asks as Steve moves towards the bathroom.

“Burn it for all I care,” Steve says and thinks with everything that has gathered on the uniform it might be the best. Last time they had a brush with the upside down there were spores or some shit. He doesn’t want to spread anymore of that nasty shit around.

Eddie makes it noise, quiet, but just enough for Steve to hear it. It sounds like a pained animal. Steve can’t help but smirk, he knows that Eddie was kinda attached to the sailor outfit.

“I can wear all kinds of slutty uniforms, Munson,” he teases, “with much shorter shorts and maybe cropped shirts.”

Eddie clears his throat, his ears going pink.

“Just get in the shower, okay. There are towels under the sink.”

It’s usually Eddie who is all cool and has Steve flustered, it’s nice to finally have payback. Plus Eddie looks cute, all pink and flushed.

Steve locks himself into the small bathroom. There is barely enough space to stand in front of the sink which is fine with Steve. He doesn’t want to look into the mirror. Just strips as quickly out of his clothes as he can without hurting himself further.

The shower is surprisingly warm as he gets under the spray. He watches as the water at his feet slowly turns brown. His wounds sting but at least he is getting clean. For a second he considers sitting down but he knows he’ll never get up if he does that.

He can feel a sob building in the back of his throat and tears forming but he doesn't have the energy to cry right now. Doesn’t want to leave the shower all red eyed and snot faced. So he tries to distract himself and goes through the bottles of shampoo and body wash.

It’s nothing special, one three-in-one that smells like eucalyptus, a scent neutralizing bar of soap and to Steve’s surprise one bottle of curl conditioner. It’s a cheap shelf brand he doesn’t know, it’s not Ferrah but it’ll do.

He opens the bottle and smells roses. Eddie’s scent is woodsy, Steve doesn’t think he’s ever smelled roses on the other alpha. But the faint hint of flowers probably compliments his scent well.

Steve washes his hair and only steps out of the shower once the water has turned cold. He is too tired to truly feel bad about it. He turns towards the sink once he steps out of the shower but before he can get out a fresh towel he stops.

There are already two towels hanging in the bathroom. One smells unfamiliar but kind of nice. The other one smells distinctively like Eddie. Steve knows he shouldn’t, knows that this is actually kinda gross but he still presses his face in Eddie’s used towel and inhales.

The scent is so strong in the towel, almost as if Steve pushed his nose just straight into Eddie’s scent gland and god, Steve could get drunk off this scent. Despite everything that is wrong with his body, his cock twitches with interest.

He ignores it, too mortified that Eddie might smell it on him if he jerked off in his bathroom. Still, he uses Eddie’s towel to dry himself in a weak imitation of getting scented.

When he opens the bathroom door there is a bundle of Eddie’s clothes neatly sat down in front of it. Steve grabs it and gets dressed. It’s just a pair of sweats, an old band shirt and fuzzy socks. 

Everything is so incredibly soft Steve could drown in it and be happy. He smells even more like Eddie now. It’s comforting and somehow makes breathing easier.

When he returns to the living room dressed again Eddie gently guides him to the couch and makes him sit down. He quickly dips into the kitchen and returns with a slice of buttered toast, a glass of water and a bag of frozen peas jammed under his upper arms.

“Thanks, man, ” Steve says and takes the glass of water first. He hadn’t even noticed how parched he had been. The taste of bile finally leaves his mouth. He empties the glass and Eddie takes it from his hands and fills it up again. 

Steve slowly starts nibbling on the toast. It kind of is the best thing he’s ever eaten, even though it’s just slightly stale bread with some butter and salt. After his last few days it feels like a feast.

He is too exhausted to manage eating and holding the frozen peas up to his head so Eddie does it for him. It’s weirdly domestic sitting like this on the couch together, Eddie’s knee pressed against Steve’s thigh. Neither of them talking, Steve just chewing on his toast and Eddie watching him, carefully monitoring him as if Steve might faint any second.

“‘m not gonna drop dead, Eds,” Steve mumbles between bites, the nickname slipping out without permission. But if Eddie can call him Stevie, then Steve can call him Eds. “Relax.” 

“You sure look like it though,” Eddie grumbles but he sinks further into the couch, shoulders no longer tense. 

“I think you’re pretty too,” Steve deadpans even though it’s the truth.

“Do you now, big boy?” Eddie teases with a smirk, before he twirls a strand of hair around his free hand and coly bats his eyes lashes. “Is the hair giving you pretty, dainty omega vibes?”

Steve rolls his eyes and regrets it when he briefly feels dizzy. Sometimes flirting with Eddie is like playing a game of chess or pretending to be secret agents trying to understand some secret code, which is not Steve’s strong suit as he just learned.

This time however he gets what Eddie is trying to do. He is testing the waters while also wrapping ten life jackets around himself for protection. And Steve gets it. Putting your heart on the line is scary already. Putting your heart on the line for another male alpha is terrifying. 

“No, you’re not giving omega vibes,” he says and puts down the empty plate before he shifts and swings one leg over Eddie’s thighs, seating himself in Eddie’s lap. Eddie lets out a squeak, his hand with the frozen peas falling down on to the couch. “I’m very aware that you’re an alpha.”

“Still think I’m pretty,” Eddie rasps, eyes trailing down to Steve’s lips.

“So, so pretty,” Steve whispers and leans in.

Before he can close the gap between them though there suddenly is a stabbing pain in his temple and he winces in pain as something hot and sticky runs down his face. 

“Shit, I think you popped a stitch,” Eddie curses, his hands gently cupping Steve’s jaw and tilting his head to the side.

“You think?” Steve can’t help but snark due to the pain. He has to keep one eye closed to keep the blood from dripping in, his head is pulsing.

“Get up,” Eddie tells him firmly and Steve freezes like a deer in headlights. Was that too much? Fuck, he is probably also bleeding all over Eddie’s clothes and the couch. 

“Steve, I can’t patch you up without my first aid kit, so you need to get up,” Eddie repeats, hand reaching out and soothingly rubbing circles into Steve’s hip. “Hm, can you do that for me? Can you get up?”

“Yeah,” Steve croaks, feeling silly all of a sudden. As if after everything Eddie would kick him out because Steve snapped at him and is soiling Eddie’s shirt. Slowly, he gets off Eddie and the couch.

Eddie grabs his hand and leads him back to the bathroom, which is probably for the best since Steve can hardly see anything.

“Sit,” Eddie tells him softly and nods towards the toilet. Steve does as he is told while Eddie rummages through the medicine cabinet before he lets out a triumphant a-ha, and holds up a first aid kit.

Despite everything he looks so cute and excited that it makes Steve’s heart flutter. He tries to smile only to flinch again when he feels more blood running down his cheek and dripping down onto the bathroom floor.

“Shit, I’m getting your bathroom all bloody,” he apologizes.

“‘s fine, I’m pretty sure this bathroom has seen worse,” Eddie says as he digs through the first aid kid and gets out a disinfectant. “This is gonna sting a bit.”

Steve braces himself and still hisses when Eddie daps it on his cut.

“Sorry,” Eddie says as he continues to gingerly clean Steve’s face.

“Pretty sure my face has seen worse,” Steve echos Eddie and Eddie snorts as he takes a butterfly stitch and presses it onto Steve’s wound. Tenderly, he brushes his thumb over it and Steve can’t remember the last time he has been touched this gently.

“All done, sweetheart,” Eddie says after wiping the last bit of blood off Steve’s face. He is looking down at Steve, eyes big and soft, his woodsy scent wrapping itself around Steve, trying to comfort him.

The moment from earlier has passed but Steve’s feelings are still the same. Stronger if anything. So he looks back up at Eddie, tries his best to channel his own doe eyes and asks bravely, “Aren’t you going to kiss it better?”

Eddie stares at him, cheeks going delightfully pink before the corners of his lips twitch upwards. He bends down and carefully presses his lips against Steve’s band aid.

“Better?”

Steve shakes his head. Eddie smiles and kisses his cheek.

“How about now?”

“Eddie,” Steve whines and can just about keep himself from stomping his feet. Eddie just chuckles and gently brushes his thumb over Steve’s cheekbone before he cups Steve’s jaw.

“Alright, alright,” he whispers and kisses Steve on his lips.

It’s not that different from the girls Steve has kissed before, but Eddie’s lips are more chapped and the faintest hint of stubble is rubbing against Steve’s skin. He likes it, likes the way Eddie gently nips on his lip, probably restraining himself from fully biting because of Steve’s injuries, likes the way Eddie tastes, how he smells, how he is holding Steve.

“Now?” he asks, a bit breathless once they part.

“A bit,” Steve grins, “but you should make sure. Otherwise I might die while under your care.”

“Jesus Christ, threatening to die if you don’t get kissed, you’re so dramatic,” Eddie laughs but it’s filled with so much affection and Steve can’t really complain when Eddie kisses him again and again and again.

May ‘86

The next day Robin is already  waiting for him when he gets to family video. She grins wildly and wolf whistles when she sees his mating bite. She grabs his hand and drags him closer.

“Tell me everything,” she says, “I want to know everything about what happened last night.”

So Steve tells her everything, no longer needing to hide. Breathing has never been easier.