Chapter Text
There was no knowing how it happened or why it happened to only him.
Steve had the remnants of a wound pressed to his side, his neck, still sore to the touch but there were no side effects. He was still 100% Steve Harrington, if not a little rough and tumbled, skin flushed from the sun, freckles dusting his skin and new scars to match the rest.
But then there was Eddie.
They had no reasonable answers, even after hours and days of poking and prodding, the insides of the man’s elbows bruised from needles, his back sore from being constantly bed bound. He was still Eddie, he supposed, but not 100%.
When they’d dragged him back from the Upside Down, blood gurgling in his throat, out of his abdomen, coating his clothes, he was still alive, still kicking. The government agents had bustled him away, prying the hands that carried him to safety away from him. Dustin had screamed, clawing to get back to him, while Steve had turned quiet, getting close to the unknown agents, all harsh words and veiled threats. Eddie had tried to smile, tell them it was okay, but the dark of unconsciousness had pulled him under.
He’d been under for days, he was told later, but had not slept soundly. Dustin was shaking when he explained it. How Eddie had thrashed, cried out, began bending the metal of the hospital cot under his fingers in a fit, how for a few painstaking hours his heart had stopped. Lost blood, they had said, pumping him full of O negative, but it did nothing to change his state. Then, all of it had stopped. “You were like a corpse,” Mike whispered, fear clouding his eyes, “But you were still breathing.”
His heart beat had slowed down, his wounds began to heal and when he woke up, less than a week after everything had gone to shit, he was given a clean bill of health. But every touch of food to his lips tasted like ash, and he swore, in the quiet when somebody sat close to him, he could smell the blood running through their veins.
Robin had caught it, of all people. She was messing with him, in her typical way and he’d thrown his head back and laughed and she had paused. She peered at him, stepped close, pulled at his top lip, ignoring his protests, and began to shake. “You always had canines that big Eddie?” She said it like a joke, but her hand trembled as she pulled away. He’d run his tongue over his teeth and it caught on something sharp - too sharp.
The kids had practically exploded when they found out. Eddie was having a full blown crisis, noticing now how he could hear everything happening in the hall, could almost taste the sweat that ran down one of the guards brow, and here half the Hellfire Club was, D&D manual open and trying to match his ‘symptoms’ to it. It helped in a way. Made him feel a bit more normal. Nancy had appeared after them, hovering at the door before coming in. She’d laughed softly at the scribbled notes on his bedside table and smiled up through her lashes, “You’re not the first supernatural thing they’ve dealt with Eddie.” She put her hand on his, and god she felt warm, he hadn’t noticed how cold he was. She squeezed gently, comfortingly, “We’ve managed so far, I think we can manage our own personal Dracula.”
Vecna was gone, somebody had explained when he was out of it. There was no more gates, no more demogorgans, no more of those fucking demobats to sink their teeth in and leave something behind. Everybody was back in Hawkins, even - oddly enough - Chief Hopper. He visited and Eddie was struck by the newness of the man, how he had a different quality, all hard lines and creased brows now. But the adult had softened seeing him in the clinically white bed and told him that he heard there was a little problem of false murder accusations, and that he didn’t need to worry about it anymore, that they would sort it out.
Eddie didn’t want to cry, but had, just a bit, after that.
Eddie was introduced to the little Byers’, this weird little family he'd found himself in growing bigger. El was quiet, had come in early one morning to him, hair buzzed short and eyes far too old for her face. “I like your look dude,” he’d gestured at her hair, “Very metal.” She’d broken into a grin then, looking more like a kid, less like a juiced up superhero who had destroyed a world ending threat. She looked at him, eyes swiping over him, how his hair tumbled down longer than hers ever had and simply stated, “Bithcin’.”
Will he met with the rest of them, piling into his hospital room. He studied the teenager, taking him in, watching him tick. How he pulled away from Mike, avoided being too close to the other boys and jeez, how that hurt Eddie deep down. He could spot a familiar soul a mile away, and here one was, crammed into a hospital room, dealing with far too much as well as whatever war he was waging in his head. So he’d extended a hand, mimicked a bow, smiled to his best effort and surged up his final store of theatrics. “Will the Wise,” he crowed, saw how the kid jumped a little, eyes zeroing in on the man, “What a pleasure to meet an original party member. I hope to see you at my table in the future.”
Weirdly enough, the world ticked on. Eddie was discharged, and sure, now he had some shady hookup to blood bags, and everyone had held their breath when he’d gone into the sunlight for the first time, but he was okay. He had to adjust of course. Door handles creaked under his hands now, his eyes hurt when outside, he couldn’t be out in the daylight for too long before he swore he felt his skin cracking and had to ignore the constant gnawing feeling he felt in his stomach, how sometimes when he was hungry he took a look at himself in the mirror and his eyes were a shade slightly too red.
The main problem arose later. Harrington’s house became the go to as the months ticked on. The Wheeler’s was too small for the size of the group now, and as spring turned to summer and they all graduated, which, holy shit Eddie Munson had graduated, a pool was nice. Well, nice for the others. Eddie sat in a lounger in the shade the house provided, t-shirt thrown somewhere behind him, feet kicked up on a chair beside him. The cigarette in his hand was burning down as he idly watched the rough housing in front of him. His shades were pushed up on his head, bunching his hair behind them.
Steve appeared, not startling Eddie, cause fucking nothing could anymore. He’d felt him walking up, heard his steps, smelt the slick smell of human and boy and blood. Steve kicked his shin. “You alright Munson?” It wasn’t fucking fair, how he could tower over Eddie, chest hair curling into a happy trail that met a pair of low slung swim trunks. He wanted to lick that line straight up to his neck, bury his face there. That wasn’t a part of the whole vampire thing, that was a wholly Eddie thing, and how he had a big stupid massive crush on Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.
“Yeah dude, just a bit,” Eddie waved his hands around his head, “Y’know?” Steve nodded like he did understand, extending a hand out, flexing his fingers when Eddie didn’t immediately grasp it, merely peering over the tops of his sunglasses up at him.
“C’mon man, let’s go inside,” Steve rattled the bottle in his other hand, the thing clearly empty, “I need another.”
Grasping his forearm he let himself be pulled up, flicking the now extinguished cig to the ground, pretending he couldn’t feel the thump of Steve’s heart through each finger pad, didn’t want to dig his fingers in, pull him closer, taste the only thing keeping the other man alive.
Steve didn’t drop his grip as they wandered inside, Eddie trailing along behind him like a puppy. Eventually he was released as Steve crouched to open the freezer, digging into it on a mission. He boosted himself up onto the kitchen counter, kicking aimlessly at the cabinets as he watched the other man. Steve pulled back with a ‘gotcha’ and turned around, grin starting to dig into the corners of his mouth. He held popsicles, one in each hand. One was bright red, almost pink, obnoxiously fake and processed. The other was darker and he offered it to Eddie.
It took him a few moments, bemused as to why Steve was giving him food when he knew he couldn’t eat it, that he would literally vomit black goo everywhere but then he caught the scent of it. It had a smell that was too familiar to Eddie now, thick and ozoney, like copper but oh so much better.
“Is this,” he trailed off, stuck his tongue out, tasted the fucking thing. “Holy fucking shit Harrington.” Steve was bouncing on his toes, nodding, the corners of his mouth turning up more. “You made me, an? Icepop? With - jesus Stevie, where did you even get your hands on my stash?”
The look on Steve’s face turned sly, shoving his own popsicle into his mouth, one of his shoulders thrown up in an ‘oh shucks’ way. “You left some here last time you stayed over with Rob and,” he took a moment to look bashful, lashes fluttering against his cheeks, hip now propped into the counter beside Eddie, “Well like, I was getting stuff for the kids anyway and I thought, it’s not fair that you can’t enjoy ice cream on the hottest day of this hell filled year so. I just? Made one?”
If Eddie didn’t have the icepop shoved into his mouth, he might’ve dragged Steve in instead. He said it casually, like he didn’t go out of his way to just, include Eddie, like he wasn’t a freak or yanno, a creature of the night, like maybe he had a weird dietary requirement or something. His ears were roaring because yeah, the pop was good, but he didn’t even want it now. Steve was angled to face him and their positions had them so Eddie was a little higher, eyes hooded to take in how Steve was looking up at him, all soft and almost - shy?
“D’you like it?” Steve sounded a bit breathless, which Eddie couldn’t get, why was Steve looking for a seal of approval like he hadn’t done one of the nicest things somebody had ever done for a Munson ever, period. Eddie hummed, twirled the pop around a bit more, keeping their eye contact steady. Watched how Steve’s eyes flicked momentarily, up down, to the catch of the icepop in his mouth, how his tongue dragged across it. And oh - he got it now.
Pulling the pop from his mouth he shrugged, “It’s alright, bit weird I suppose.” And Steve practically deflated, pulling away slightly but Eddie was faster, leaned forward, tilted the treat towards him, “Wanna try?”
The air felt pulled from the room, the roaring in Eddie’s ears focusing on the ‘da-dum’ in Steve’s veins, how it quickened slightly. Eddie knew how he looked, hair falling over his face, lips red from the ice pop, leering over Steve, his hand now supporting him on the counter, fingers brushing against the other man’s hip, a hint of teeth dug into his bottom lip. But this was Steve Harrington. Notorious ladykiller. He swore he could hear the click as the gears in the man’s head finally met, got the puzzle correct, made the picture a whole. Steve had played the first card, Eddie had raised the bet, and now the game was on.
Steve’s tongue moved to wet his lips, and he huffed out an, “okay”, all quiet and bashful, like he didn’t tear the head off a demobat in front of Eddie, hadn’t shown him the bat full of nails, walked him through every scar and explained every badass story it was from. But here he was, playing virgin bloody mary, as - instead of taking the pop from Eddie’s hand - he leaned in and licked It was melting slightly, blood running slowly down the stick to meet a ring adorned hand. Steve made a slight noise, smacking his lips together, his nose wrinkling slightly before he leaned forward again, hand coming to press on Eddie’s thigh heavily, as he gained himself some leverage to begin chasing the droplets down Eddie’s hand.
“It’s alright,” Steve mimicked him, pulling back fully, hands to himself, starting back on his own pop, barely even looking at Eddie. Like he hadn’t done it - like this was a casual thing between bros. Eddie could hear it though, how his heart was beating like a rabbit, fast and tempting. He let his face relax into a lazy grin, pushing back as well, putting a respectable distance between them. There was a monster inside of Eddie, begging him to grab Steve, taste the blood from his mouth, pin him down, taste his blood. And, god, he was on the verge of it, knew by how Steve’s eyes caught his own and paused that maybe his eyes were a shade or two wrong, that hunger was painted a little too close to the surface.
But there was a screech as the screen door was pulled over, some annoying little twerp calling, “Steve!” and the moment was gone. They both straightened out, reigned it in. “Steve, oh god,” it was Will, blotchy and red from the sun, hair finally growing out of that stupid bowl cut. “C’mon, they’re doing something stupid - Lucas and Max are fighting as well.”
Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly, ruffling his hair as he cruised past the kid. “This is why you’re one of my favourites Byers.” Eddie watched as Will turned even redder, looking extremely pleased and had to fight off the urge to laugh. Looked like he wasn’t the only one who Steve had in his pull. The aforementioned man paused at the door, one hand on the frame as he looked over his shoulder. He caught Eddie’s eye, raised his icepop in a salute and asked, “Coming Munson?”
Eddie swore he would bite that smug smirk off his face eventually.