Chapter Text
Eddie didn’t know what possessed him to go to Steve’s house. Why he thought it was a good idea. Why he had to do it at 11 at night during a storm. Why he couldn’t just man up and shower like a normal person.
Because Eddie hadn’t showered in days . Since the Upside Down. He tried to downplay his bites, not wanting the others to fuss over him, but the truth? He couldn’t even lift his arms without his chest burning.
But after day seven of no shower, Eddie was feeling pretty fucking disgusting. And he didn’t know where else to go but Steve’s.
So here he was. Standing outside of Steve Harrington's house. Nervous. He knocked. Nothing. There was a lightning strike. He knocked again, louder. A crack of thunder. Again, knocking louder.
Steve flung the door open right before Eddie’s fourth knock. He squinted, clearly tired.
“You’re…not Henderson.”
“No shit,” he said. But the scared puppy dog look on his face took away from any bite the words might’ve had.
Steve stepped to the side, gesturing for Eddie to come in. While Eddie paced around the living room, taking in the house, Steve draped himself on the nearest couch. He watched as Eddie dragged his hands across his face, to his next, until he finally spoke.
“Sorry. I- this was dumb. I shouldn’t have come. Fuck, man, I’m sorry.”
Steve just shrugged. “It’s fine. I like the company.”
“God. It’s just- so stupid.”
“Do you need a place to crash, or…?”
“No, it’s-” he paused, looking down and fiddling with his rings. “Could you wash my hair?”
“Sure. Bathroom’s upstairs, first door on the right.”
“Oh. Alright then. Not even gonna ask… like why?”
Steve paused on the first step. “Your ribs and chest? Probably hurts like shit to lift your arms.”
“Right,” he says, following Steve to the bathroom. He shrugged off his leather jacket while Steve busied himself getting towels and the shower ready.
“Not gonna take off the shirt? It’ll probably get wet.”
Eddie gave him a signature Munson grin. “Trying to see me shirtless, Harrington?” Steve threw a towel at him. “But uh. The whole arm thing makes it hard to…undress.” He drew out the last word.
“Wait so you haven’t bathed or even changed since the Upside Down?”
Eddie just looked at him, slightly…ashamed?
“Sorry- I didn’t mean to be a dick. Shower when I’m done with your hair, alright? I’ll try and find some clothes you don’t need to pull over your head.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s no problem.” Steve came and knelt next to Eddie, who was sitting against the bathtub wall. He put his hand around Eddie’s neck, pushing him off the wall so he could throw a towel behind him. Steve brought to shower head down and started rinsing Eddie’s hair. He kept moving from side to side, trying to find a good spot to do this.
“There’s really no good angle for this.” Steve started to move into the bath, but lost grip of the shower head and accidentally sprayed himself with it.
“You could sit on my lap y’know,” Eddie suggested.
Steve looked down at Eddie. He panicked for a second, wondering if he shouldn’t have said that. “Yeah. That’ll work.” He stepped out of the bath, looking down at his soaked shirt. “I’d get your shirt wet though.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, thinking the solution to this was obvious. “So take your shirt off.”
Steve smirked and asked, “Now who’s trying to get who shirtless?” But he took it off anyway, throwing it on the floor with a wet plop. Looking back at Eddie, he tried to figure out the best sitting position. He pulled the shampoo and conditioner off the shelf and set them next to Eddie before pushing Eddie’s knees into a bent position and spreading them apart. Steve kneeled between them and grabbed the shower head again.
“Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” Eddie said quietly. It was more than okay that Steve Harrington was kneeling between his legs, shirtless with water droplets trickling down his chest. But Eddie knew that that was not what this was. Steve was just- washing his hair. And offering him clothes. And shirtless. And just a friend. “I mean…you’re not really in my lap.”
Steve paused. Looked down. Frowned. But not in a bad way. “If shampoo gets in your eye, that’s on you, Munson.” With that, Steve put shampoo in his hands and started massaging it into Eddie’s hair. And it felt really good. And strangely intimate. Eddie had to bite his lip to make sure no noises escaped when Steve’s fingers got stuck in a tangle and pulled his hair. Eddie prayed that Steve wouldn’t look at his face. Or notice that his dick is significantly harder than before. But the look Steve gave him told him he wasn’t that lucky. He raised an eyebrow, but continued nonetheless.
It was unfortunate, but Steve did have to remove his hands from Eddie’s hair eventually to rinse the shampoo out.
“You’ve got really nice hair,” he commented. Eddie felt his face warm.
“Thanks. Grew it myself.”
Steve started putting the conditioner in, fingers combing through the tangles in his hair. Eddie felt…safe here. With Steve. He felt like he could breathe. Maybe not breathe, with Steve’s chest right up in his face, but that wasn’t the point. Eddie was safe and warm.
Until Steve decided to get up and rinse his hands off in the sink before getting the conditioner out of his hair. Eddie missed the warmth immediately.
“Aren’t you gonna rinse it out?”
“I mean- yeah. But you’re supposed to let the conditioner stay in for a few minutes. Maximum fluffiness y’know.”
“Wow. Who’d’ve thought. Steve Harrington, knowing shit about hair.”
“There’s gonna be soap in your eyes soon, I swear.” He turned back to Eddie, shaking the water out of his newly soap-free hands. “You might have to cut the shirt off. If you can’t lift your arms without…y’know.”
Eddie’s eyes widened dramatically. Hand over his chest he exclaimed, “I can’t believe you’d even suggest defacing a Hellfire shirt like that. Honestly, I’m shaken to my core.” He shakes his head, spraying some conditioner on the walls. Some dripped down into his eye. “Fuck.”
Steve snorted, getting a washcloth damp to wash the soap out. “Told you.” He rinsed out the conditioner too. “We could just sew it back up.”
“You know how to sew Stevie?”
He raised an eyebrow, “Yeah. There’s a sewing machine in…somewhere. If you cut the back, you won’t even know it was cut when you’re wearing a jacket.”
Eddie met Steve’s eyes, actual sadness in them at the thought of cutting up his Hellfire shirt. “Yeah. Sure, okay.”
“I’ll get the scissors and then you can shower.” And once again, the warmth of Steve leaves him. When he returns, he’s holding kitchen scissors, shorts, boxers, and a zip up hoodie. “Don’t have a lot of shirts that aren’t pullover, so this’ll have to do.”
“Thanks.”
“Towels are there,” Steve points to the shelf, “Hair products are…everywhere basically, I’ll be in my room across the hall if you need me. I’m gonna start cutting the shirt now, okay?”
Eddie nods as Steve starts snipping. The cold metal brushes his skin, sending shivers down his spine.
Steve moved in front of him when he finished cutting, pulling the shirt off and flinging it over his shoulder like a dish towel. Steve looked at Eddie’s chest and began tracing his finger along Eddie’s scars. He shuddered at the touch.
Steve grabbed Eddie’s hand with his free one, and brought it up to his scars. “Bat-tle scar buddies,” He laughed, emphasis on the bat.
Eddie groaned. “That’s so dumb.” But he laughed too, tracing Steve’s scars.
“Oh!” Steve exclaimed. “I’ve got the jacket you gave me earlier, I think I got all the blood out.”
Eddie couldn’t tell if he was joking about the blood. “Keep the jacket. Looks good on you.”
“Alright. Thanks,” Steve shot him a smile before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
—
When Eddie was getting dressed, he was overwhelmed at the fact that everything smelled like Steve. His hair. His- well, Steve’s- clothes, him. The jacket was a bit small, and he couldn’t zip it without it being too tight, but it smelled too good to take off. So he left it open. He finished drying his hair, combing through it. Steve had been right, it was fluffier than usual.
He knocked on the door across the hall, a faint light seeping from underneath. And for the second time that evening, Steve flung the door open to see Eddie Munson.
“Hey. I fixed your shirt. I’ll wash it and the rest of your clothes tonight.” Steve stepped out of the room, and gestured for Eddie to go inside. “The bed’s all yours. I’ll be back in a sec.”
“What?”
“The bed. Sleep? No point in driving back during the storm.”
Shrugging, Eddie watched as Steve slipped in and out of the bathroom, grabbing the towels Eddie used and his old clothes, and went downstairs. When Steve was out of sight, Eddie looked around Steve’s room. It was surprisingly clean, bed sort of pushed to the side. It was clear which side Steve slept on, so Eddie went around to the less used side. He was engulfed in blankets and pillows and coziness when Steve returned.
“Hey,” Steve said, grabbing some pillows and a blanket off the bed. He throws them on the floor and starts arranging them in a bed shape.
“What’re you doing?” Eddie asked, tilting his head with a confused smile.
“Just ‘cuz I’m sleeping on the floor doesn’t mean I don’t want to be comfortable.”
Eddie rolled his eyes and crawled out of the bed, throwing the pillows that Steve had taken off back on the bed.
“That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Your bed is more than big enough to share.” Eddie stretched out his hand. Steve took it and pulled himself up, face-to-face with Eddie. His nose was a hair away from Steve’s. His breath hitched.
“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “You’re right.” Then his face split into a grin and he shoved Eddie back onto the bed. Reaching down, he grabbed the last of the floor pillows and threw it on Eddie before getting into the bed. “Scoot."
“So eager to get into bed with me, aren’t ya?” Steve didn’t respond. Just kept moving Eddie until there was enough room for himself. Eddie didn’t mind the shoving much, Steve was careful to avoid Eddie’s rib area.
“Oh, shit I forgot.” Steve turned away from Eddie and began digging through the bedside table. He presented Eddie with a bottle of pills. “Pain meds. For your ribs and what not. There’s probably a water bottle around somewhere.”
“You really are a good babysitter.”
"Shut up," said Steve, punching Eddie on the shoulder.
"Make me," Eddie replied, eyes shining bright with something Steve couldn't quite place.
Steve pushed himself up from where he had been laying and leaned over to Eddie's side of the bed. He paused for a minute, looking down at him. Eddie's heart skipped a beat and he was pretty sure he stopped breathing. But Steve kept leaning over the side of the bed, practically sprawling across Eddie's chest to reach something under the bed. Eddie winced as Steve's weight was put on his ribs.
"Shit, sorry," Steve said, shifting over a bit so as not to crush Eddie.
"'S fine."
After what felt like an eternity, but an eternity too short, Steve came back up. And he was holding a bat covered in nails and what looked like...old blood?
"What the fuck , Harrington," Eddie asked, as Steve moved off of Eddie's stomach.
Steve wriggled his eyebrows and swung the bat around appreciatively. "Like what you see?"
Eddie almost said yes, because who wouldn't like to see a shirtless Steve Harrington in the same bed as them? But that's not what Steve was asking. "It's...definitely something. Why do you have a torture device under your bed though? Kinky shit you're into?"
Steve looked at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. For a second Eddie thought he'd said the wrong thing, pushed too far, fuckfuckfuck. But then Steve started laughing, and Eddie could breathe again.
"God, no. It's not a fucking sex thing Munson. It's protection."
"Hard to protect yourself if you have to lay on top of another guy for ten minutes searching for it," he said. And he could almost convince himself that Steve's face turned a bit pinker at his comment.
"Shut up," Steve mumbled, again. He turned over and shoved the bat back under the bed, unintentionally ripping half the covers from Eddie. Steve didn't seem to notice though, at least not until he faced Eddie again. And instead of immediately covering Eddie in the blankets, like a good host would do, Steve spent entirely too long just staring. Unashamed, looking Eddie up and down, and up and down. He felt his face warm under Steve's gaze, and yanked the covers back over himself.
"Going to bed now," he said, hastily turning away from Steve. Eddie could still feel his gaze on him before hearing Steve shift about beside him, eventually settling really close behind Eddie. They weren’t touching, but Eddie could feel Steve’s breath on the back of his neck. The slow, steady breathing of Steve helped Eddie relax, and he finally fell asleep.
Suddenly, he’s back in his trailer. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go back to Steve’s. But Chrissy is in front of him, her eyes closed, her body still. Eddie tries to wake her up, God he tried so hard. But then she’s in the air again. And the horrible, horrible sound of bones cracking starts. Eddie would rather be anywhere but there. He tries to turn around, to run, but finds himself looking down at Dustin.
Dustin, who looks too similar to Chrissy did. Dustin, who’s now in the air. And he couldn’t stand to watch that. No. No. no, no. He turned again, and there was Robin. Fuck. She was in the air now. Turns around. Steve. Eddie falls to the floor, more and more bodies around him, The blood was pouring out of their eyes now, and too soon, way too soon, It had begun to fill up his trailer.
Eddie couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t. Couldn’t. He was going to die. Except…he wasn’t, because Steve was shaking him awake and asking if he was okay. There was desperation in his eyes, not blood.
“Eddie?”
His eyes moved to look at Steve, who had pulled him up into a lazy sitting position. A sitting position that happened to be halfway into Steve’s lap. And Steve was holding his hand. And asking if he was okay. Like he cared. Like really, actually cared. And their faces were so, so , close. It was a lot, too much, and Eddie started hyperventilating again.
Steve’s eyes widened. “Shit.” He turned Eddie all the way around and put his hands on his shoulders. “Gonna need you to breathe with me, alright?”
Eddie nodded, and Steve continued. “Okay. Breathe in for four seconds, then hold for seven. Then breathe out for eight and do it again. Can you do that?”
He nodded again, starting to breathe in shakily. 1, 2, 3, 4. He counted in his head. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Steve was breathing in the same time as him, and after a few repetitions of this, Eddie was breathing mostly normal again.
Steve cupped Eddie’s face with one of his hands, the other still on his shoulder. He cocked his head sideways and asked, “Are you okay?” The tenderness in Steve’s eyes and voice surprised him. As did the prickling sensation of oncoming tears. He looked down, and before he knew it, was full-on sobbing.
“‘M sorry. Really, really sorry,” he whispered. Steve pulled Eddie into him, trying to fold all of him in his lap. It worked well enough. Eddie’s head was buried in his chest, and he was eternally grateful Steve couldn’t see his face.
“No need for apologies Eddie. What’re you sorry for, anyways?”
He took a deep breath before putting his head up.
“Just- …everything? I mean, I show up to your house, unannounced, late at night-”
“It wasn’t that late,” Steve interjects.
“And you just. Let me stay here. And you help me wash my hair and tend to my wounds or whatever, and I…repay you by waking you up even later. And then you have the audacity to be caring and swe- and shit even now.” Eddie takes another deep breath. “It just doesn’t seem fair to you. So. I’m sorry.”
Steve took Eddie’s hands into his, thumb brushing over the polish. Eddie wondered if Steve was gonna make a comment on them, if he was gonna tell Eddie to get out of his house, if he was gonna tell Eddie that-
“The nightmares suck. They really do,” Steve squeezed his hands. “I really wish I could tell you they stop eventually. But I don’t think they do. Less frequent, less intense? Definitely. It just takes time.”
Steve looked back up at Eddie and offered him a small smile. God, he’s gonna be the death of me.
“Yeah. Alright,” he eventually replies.
“Do you wanna talk about what happened? You don’t have to, of course, it just helps me when I get ‘em.”
Eddie flopped back on the pillow behind him, staring at the ceiling. “I was back at my trailer,” he started, his voice thick. “Y’know…when Chrissy…” Steve nodded.
“I was there, but this time, it was so much worse. ‘Cuz it wasn’t just Chrissy this time. You, and Robin, and Dustin. It happened to you guys too.” Eddie swallowed. “And the room just started…filling up with- y’know. Blood. And suddenly I couldn’t breath and I was drowning and I was just surrounded by my dead friends and I was gonna join them soon and-”
Steve stopped his increasingly panicked recollection of the dream with another hug. One of Steve’s hands was around his waist, the other in his hair. Eddie would be lying if he said it didn’t feel pretty nice to be held. “Sounds like a pretty shit dream.”
Eddie chuckled softly. “That’s definitely a way to put it.”
After a few moments, Steve untangled himself and got out of the bed.
“Where’re you going?”
“Bathroom,” Steve replied, turning back to face the bed. “You’re welcome to join.”
“Shut up,” Eddie said, contemplating whether or not he should throw a pillow at Steve.
“Make me.”
Eddie could almost hear the grin on Steve’s face.
Steve takes far too long in the bathroom, in Eddie’s opinion. He missed the warmth he radiated. Finally, he returned, with two cups of water.
“Didn’t know if you wanted any,” he said, placing a cup on the bedside table by Eddie. Steve walked around the bed, back over to his side. Eddie watched as Steve downed the entire cup in one go. But even after he put the cup down, he didn’t return to the bed.
Just kind of…looking. At Eddie. Smiling a little too.
“What?”
Steve chewed on his lip for a minute, almost nervous.
“You’re really fucking pretty, Eddie, y’know that?”