4. The Words May Come Out Real

In theory, hanging out with Eddie shouldn't be weird. He's close to Steve's age, they've both experienced the trauma of the Upside Down, they've even smoked weed together before. But the thought makes Steve prickle in his skin and deep down, he knows why. He's just not opening that can of worms anytime soon, or possibly ever.

He's out by the pool, trying to not get lost in the lap of the water. Robin called it 'exposure therapy', but Steve considers it more like a panic attack waiting to happen. It's stupid and he knows it, even Nancy can sit by a pool without an issue and Barb was her best friend.

It's early enough on a week night that he could probably invite Robin over, but he knows she has band practice tomorrow morning and an essay due that she's probably freaking out over. The memory of Eddie agreeing to hang out is lingering in his mind, but he can't come up with a good enough reason to ask him to come by. Back before everything, he never had any trouble calling Tommy H for no reason. But Eddie wasn't Tommy H.

Steve drains the beer he's been nursing for over an hour and heads inside, lingering by the phone for a full twenty minutes before dialling Eddie's number. It rings four times and he's almost ready to back out and hang up when it picks up.

"Yeah?"

"That's how you answer the phone?" Steve blurts out before he can help himself. There's a long pause and he waits, hearing the soft huff of a laugh before Eddie's voice returns.

"Apologies, Steve. I didn't realise I'd be getting such an important call. This is the Munson residence, how may I help you this evening?"

"Come over."

"What?"

"Come over. If you're free, I guess."

He can hear Eddie laughing and he rubs at his neck, wanting to bang his head against the wall. When did he become so hopeless at making friends?

Probably around the time he started looking for real ones, he assumes.

"Any reason in particular, or are you just missing me already?"

Steve cradles the phone in the crook of his shoulder and leans against the wall, "Just figured if you weren't doing anything we could drink some beers, maybe watch a movie. I've got a joint or two, if you want."

"Well first of all, you didn't buy that joint from me which means I'm already not going to smoke it on principle. Secondly, of you want good weed, Harrington you've just got to ask."

"What? No, no I'm not trying to get weed out of you. I just thought we could hang out."

It sounds lame to his own ears and he's resigned himself to the fact he's going to just have to hang up and die of embarrassment when Eddie surprises him.

"Sure."

"I- okay. Okay, cool. Front doors unlocked, you can come through to the back."

"Not even going to greet your guest at the door, Steve? Where are the manners?"

"Yeah, okay smartass. See you soon."

He hangs up before he can say anything else overwhelmingly stupid and looks down at his choice of clothing. There's no reason for him to change, it's just Eddie. He does, however, dig around in his box of tapes to find something that Eddie won't make a snarky comment about. Jonathan had left a Dio tape behind after one of their "hangouts". They'd smoked a bowl in the kitchen and spent the night talking about their lives. It had felt cathartic in a way to properly bridge his friendship with Jonathan. Steve had apologized for what he'd said the day of the fight, the words thick in his throat and tone full of shame. Jonathan had forgiven him, and acknowledged that Steve was a different guy now. They hadn't even spoken about Nancy that night, and the entire exchange had left Steve feeling lighter about his weird relationship to the couple.

The music isn't bad, not quite to Steve's regular taste but the lyrics are discernible and the guitar is nice. He awkwardly tidies the living room, throwing out garbage and moving dirty plates to the kitchen sink. He's cracked a second beer and is lounged back in the chair when he hears a voice from inside

"Ho-ly shit! Your house, Harrington!"

Steve walks inside to find Eddie staring up the staircase, taking in the large living room and kitchen, the multitude of light fixtures and the antiques his mother collects.

"You've never been here?"

Eddie makes a face, "Dude, I've been a freak since middle school. In what reality would I have been invited to a party at King Steve's house?"

Steve doesn't have an answer for that. He never really did any inviting, just let Tommy H call around and let people show up. He inclines his head to the french doors that lead outside and tosses Eddie a beer.

"Of course you have a pool," Eddie mumbles under his breath, "of course."

Steve lounges back on one of the chairs and takes a long drink, "nobody uses it," he says, taking the opening where Eddie had offered it.

"You have a pool just for show?" Eddie asks, deadpan.

Steve shakes his head, "My parents are barely here, and my mom wouldn't dare get her perm wet anyway. I used to use it all the time but... Shit happened."

Eddie open his beer and makes an 'o' with his mouth, "you mean like," he twirls a finger in the air, "that kind of shit?"

Steve nods and looks into the water again, "Sorry, you probably don't want to hear that."

"All good, man. Anything you need to get off your chest because this is a nice pool. And it's kind of a shame you're not using it."

He's being genuine; Steve can tell by the look in his eyes. He sighs and gestures to the pool.

"It was before Nancy and I were properly, like, official. I was having Tommy H and Carol over, so I invited Nancy as well. She brought a friend."

Steve explains about that night, about Barb and how it had changed the way he looked it his own backyard. He doesn't mention the guilt he feels about not making sure she made it home, but he know it bleeds into his tone. Eddie listens without any input, simply drinking his beer and nodding every so often. It isn't until Steve finished that he speaks.

"If you hate it so much, why are you out here?"

"Robin says it's important to expose yourself to things that scare you."

"Sounds like an accident waiting to happen."

Steve laughs and drags his finger around the lip of his beer, "Yeah, that's what I said. But if I keep it up there won't be anywhere left in Hawkins for me to go. So I had to start somewhere. Feels stupid though, like maybe I should just jump right in instead of sitting out here every night staring at the fucking water like an idiot."

"Why don't you?"

Steve makes a face, "Because.. I mean... I don't know. Is that smart?"

"Probably not," Eddie admits as he sets his beer aside, "but you won't know until you try. Get in the pool, Harrington."

"You get in the pool," Steve mutters as a retort, immediate regret setting in as Eddie stands up and pulls off his shirt before reaching down to tug off his shoes.

"Wait, no. That wasn't an invitation."

"Sounded like one."

Eddie is unbuckling his belt and Steve stares, dumbstruck for a moment before averting his eyes.

"Look," Eddie tugs off his jeans, exposing the black briefs underneath, "you dived into Lover's Lake without a second thought right? Swim co-captain, lifeguard- you're not scared of water, Harrington. You're scared of this pool. So, get in the fucking pool."

Eddie's clothes are in a pile on the pool chair and he's taking off his rings, one by one and laying them out beside his beer. Steve looks back and meets Eddie's eyes and is treated to a wide smile.

"Take a risk, dude. I'm right here to help you. Unless you're really too scared, and then I guess we can just sit here and watch the water move. Your choice."

Eddie pulls the guitar pick necklace from his neck and lays it beside the rings before gesturing at Steve. Maybe it's the beer. Maybe it's the overwhelming desire to move on with his life. Or maybe it's just to prove to Eddie fucking Munson that he's not too scared to do anything.

He pulls off his shirt.

Eddie pumps his fist in the air and heads for the pool, letting his legs dangling into the water as Steve finishes shucking off his clothes, down to his red underwear. He approaches the edge and sucks in a breath as he sinks down beside Eddie, dipping his legs in and feeling the cold water at his calves.

"You know how to swim, right?" He asks, the thought only just occurring to him. Eddie levels him with a flat you're kidding me, right? stare.

"Yes, Steve. I can swim. Did you really never go to the pool last summer, I was there a lot."

"Nope. I was either slinging ice cream or carting the shit rats all over town. Besides, Billy Hargrove was a lifeguard there and he and I had... History." Steve said for lack of a better word.

Eddie nods, "Yeah, I remembering hearing about that fight. He kicked your ass real good, didn't he?"

"I mean I got some good hits in," Steve defended, "I hit him... At least once."

Eddie laughs and Steve lets his legs sink deeper into the water, not letting himself look into the depths.

"I only ever went in the mornings, before the crowds. Hargrove didn't start his shift until midday, and by then all of the middle aged women of Hawkins were lined up along the pool waiting to drool at him. I don't think a single one of those women ever set foot in the water. Probably for the best, they'd have probably pretended to drown just to get his attention."

"Gross."

"Oh you have no idea."

They sit on the edge of the pool for a while and Steve can feel Eddie staring. He looks up, then follows his gaze to the sprawling scar on his abdomen.

"Speaking of gross," he says, aiming for lighthearted and missing. The cover story is that Steve took on the serial killer and got stabbed, which has been a talking point for more than a few girls at least. The scar is still red and sore, stretching out along his stomach for about three inches.

"Nah, man. It's metal as hell. Very cool." Eddie assures him. He slides himself into the pool, hands braced on the ledge with ease.

"You still good?"

Steve nods, surprising himself that it isn't a lie. He only hesitates for a second before dropping into the pool, the sharp cold of the water on his chest making him gasp, but there's a firm hand on his shoulder that grounds him.

"See, now wasn't that easy?"

It should be condescending, but there's nothing like it in Eddie's eyes as he lets go and kicks back into the water. Steve moves his arms in the water experimentally, walking across the bottom of the pool in slow measured steps. He's not sure how long he does it, but he feels Eddie's eyes on him the whole time. Eventually, Eddie swims over to him, the bottom of his curls damp and clinging to his bare shoulders.

"You can stay here if you want," he offers, "or you can come with me where it goes deeper."

Steve lets the water lap against his chest and takes a deep breath before nodding, "Okay, let's go."

Steve creeps close to where he feels the bottom of the pool begin to slant and lets himself float for a while. Eddie stays close enough that Steve could reach him if he tried, but Steve doesn't know if it's on purpose or not. They make it to the deepest part of the pool and Steve sighs heavily. Eddie has his back against the wall, head tilted towards Steve as he watches him carefully.

"Not so scary, right?"

"Not so scary." Steve echoes.

He hesitates a moment before slowly dunking his head into the water, covering his face entirely and soaking his hair. He waits there a moment before coming back up to breathe in the night air.

"God I forgot how much I loved it in here." He whispers, more to himself than to Eddie. He looks over and Eddie is trying to hide a smile.

"Sorry! Sorry, just... I knew all that volume had to be hairspray and gel."

Steve splashes water into Eddie's face, wetting his curls and earning a choked laugh, "Hey hey hey I'm just saying! I don't think I've ever seen you without your signature style, man."

Eddie's dark curls are sticking to his face now, frizzy with the water and longer than Steve thought they were. He treads water, head tipped back to the sky.

"You know, I thought I'd never be able to get back in here. I can't believe Robin was right."

"I can. She's a smart woman, Buckley."

Steve hums his agreement, "She speaks four languages you know. She helped us translate the Russian secret code."

"That I did know," Eddie replies, gesturing with his hands. They look almost naked without the rings, somehow. "She's very proud of herself for that."

"She should be."

Steve's eyes have moved from Eddie's hands to his chest, the tattoo that had caught his attention now more detailed and intricate.

"Oh, you finished it."

Eddie follows Steve's eyes to his chest and nods, "Yeah. I mean, almost. I want to add one more thing but it'll have to wait until the summer."

"Why?"

"I only go to Indianapolis a few times a year, but always once in the summer for my birthday. I'll get my friend to finish it then. I just want," he brings his hand to his chest and traces a few lines across the top of the tattoo, "a set of dice right here."

"Your D&D dice?" Steve asks, and Eddie's smile makes his stomach turn.

"Excellent guess, Steve."

The night air is getting colder and Steve wipes a hand across his face, "I'm getting out, I need another beer. I've had enough exposure therapy for tonight."

There's no ladder at this end of the pool, so he lifts himself up onto the edge and ignores the twinge it sends up his injured side. Eddie follows after and Steve grabs them both towels from the pool closet.

"I've got sweatpants if you want," he offers as they head back to the pool chairs. Eddie is drying off his hands and sliding on his rings, dragging the towel over his chest to slip his necklace on as well, "might be more comfortable than jeans if you want to watch a movie."

"Thanks, dude. Got one in mind? because if Buckley is right, your movie taste is shit."

Steve flips him the bird before heading upstairs and digging through his drawers. He's tempted to offer Eddie a pair of tan sweatpants just to watch him squirm, but he tugs them on after shucking his wet underwear and brings the black ones down for Eddie. The boy is flipping through the VHS closet, towel wrapped around his waist and eyebrows raised.

"Someone in this house has taste," he whistles lowly, "you've got some good ones in here. You really own all of these?"

"My dad works in business," Steve explains, "sometimes he works with the movies to get them, like, land and shit to film on. I don't know. We get a lot of them for free. Here." He throws the sweatpants at Eddie, who catches them out of the air with more hand eye coordination that Steve anticipated.

"Bathroom?"

"Down the hall to the left. Third door."

Eddie tosses a tape at Steve as he walks past, curls dripping onto the floor. Steve towels his own hair dry and moves their discarded clothes inside before grabbing more beers. He decides, after a moment of hesitation, to leave the harder liquor in the cabinet. If Eddie was so inclined, Steve would bring it up later. He comes back into the room, squeezing his hair dry and digs in the pile of clothes for his shirt. Steve is hit, very suddenly, with the knowledge that Eddie is likely not wearing anything under his sweatpants either.

He's not going to think about that. Not even a little. Instead, he busies himself with the television and setting up the movie. Eddie had picked Star Wars, which Steve has been promising Dustin he would watch for forever now. It plays at Family Video sometimes, but Steve has only ever taken the time to watch Han Solo swagger around, and occasionally watch as Leia's white robes clung around her curves as they rushed around, apparently trying to save the world from the guy in the black suit with the breathing problem. The plot is still a mystery to him, if he's honest. He tells Eddie as much, omitting the part about Han Solo.

"Oh I know. I'm looking forward to telling Dustin I got you to watch it before he did."

Dustin was going to be pissed. The thought is kind of appealing, actually. Steve drops down onto the couch and kicks up his feet, holding out another beer to Eddie. The title credits begin to roll and Steve admits that it sounds pretty interesting. The story is darker and grittier than Steve expected. Princess Leia's homeworld is destroyed and Steve leans forward in his seat in shock. Obi-wan dies and Steve grips his beer. Steve can feel Eddie's eyes on him throughout the movie, every few scenes as though he's more interested in Steve's reaction than the actual movie. He brings Steve another beer, Steve not looking away as Han leaves. He's pissed off about that until the end, when he and Chewbacca come swooping in at the last minute and Luke saves the day. Steve sinks back into the couch, eyes wide.

"Oh my god."

"Still can't believe you've never actually watched these movies, man. You think that was crazy, wait until you see the second one."

Steve shakes his head, "I'm really not sure how it can get crazier than that."

He really, really doesn't like the devious smile on Eddie's face. If it wasn't already well past midnight, he'd offer to put on the second one. They have it somewhere, he's almost positive. Instead, he cleans up their empty cans and shuts off the tv.

"You can crash if you want, there's a spare room upstairs."

Eddie yawns, blinking rapidly, "Might take you up on that. God, I'm so not excited for Ms. O'Donnell's class tomorrow morning."

"Still army crawling your way to a D?"

"At this point it's more like a very slow, tedious drag of my almost dead body towards it, but yes. As long as I don't flunk the final, '86 can still be my year,"

He stretches his arms high above his head with a yawn, scratching a ringed hand through his hair.

"Here, I'll show you the guest room."

He points Eddie upstairs, bypassing his parents room and the second guest room used exclusively for his mother's antiques and clothing. He hears Eddie mutter something under his breath but doesn't ask. He knows the house is big. Feels it in his bones every night when even the smallest creak seems to echo into every corner.

"This one's yours," Steve points to the door on the left, "Bathroom is two doors down, and if you're cold I think there are some spare blankets in the linen closet. I'm just down on the right if you need anything."

"Appreciate it, dude."

Steve waves off the thanks and disappears into his room, waiting to hear the click of the guest room door before climbing into his bed. His hair is mostly dry, a little frizzy from the chlorine. The beers are making him loose limbed and tired, eager to curl up in the warmth of his bed. He pulls off his shirt and throws it on the floor, experimentally pulling open the drapes to show the blue glow of the pool. It seems a lot less scary now. He closes his eyes and lets himself drop into slumber.

He dreams about the Upside Down. He should have seen it coming, but he had been so calm and tired. It's the night he slept with Nancy, but she leaves with Barb instead. Tommy H and Carol are gone, he's alone by the pool. Something grabs his ankle and he screams, but then suddenly he's in Lovers Lake and being dragged through the water. He can't breathe, he's going to die. He's back in the tunnels- he's alone in the junkyard. The kids bodies are littered around him, eyes open and blank and faces disfigured. Vecna is there, Robin held in the air and Steve doesn't know her favourite song. Nancy is screaming and covered in blood. Eddie's body is lifeless on the ground, guitar smashed in half. Steve failed. He killed everyone. He failed and he's dying and he can't breathe he needs to get out of here-

There's ice cold water on his face and he gasps in shock, panic overriding his thoughts as he sees a dark figure above him. He grabs their wrists and rolls them over, pins them down and reaches for his bat-

"STEVE!"

Steve blinks, chest heaving and heart in his throat. He has Eddie pinned to the bed under him, wide eyed and staring up in terror. Steve lets go like he's been burned, climbing off Eddie and apologizing as fast as he can. The room is suffocating, walls too tight and everything too small. He yanks opens the drapes and flings open the windows, leaning out into the cool air.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry", he breathes, panic and shame tight in his gut as he pictures Eddie's terrified face.

Steve's hair is wet, and he drags a hand through it in confusion. His skin is slicked with a cold sweat, making him tremble in the air but he can't close the windows, can't go back to the boxed in feeling of his room.

"I'm coming over," Eddie says quietly from behind him, and Steve stiffens.

"Don't."

He hears Eddie stop and he finally allows himself to turn and look. He's in the sweat pants Steve had offered, chest and feet bare. His hands are out in front of him like he's trying to placate a wild animal, and Steve remembers being called a puppy- a scared rabbit. He doesn't feel harmless or small now, he feels dangerous.

"Don't because you don't want me to, or don't because you're beating yourself up about what just happened?"

"I could have hurt you."

"I know. You didn't though."

Eddie takes a step closer and lowers his hands, "Wayne served in Vietnam, he still gets weird about it sometimes. You didn't hurt me, Steve."

Steve nods, biting at the inside of his cheek and taking a shuddering breath. He runs a hand through his wet hair again and looks back at Eddie, who offers a sheepish half smile.

"I called your name like five times, thought the water would help."

Steve nods and looks away, but feels the brush of Eddie's bare shoulder against his own. They stand in the window for a long time, but neither speaks. Steve waits for the anxious this of his heart to lull and forces down the accompanying nausea with some heavy breaths.

"Look," Eddie begins gently, "we can talk about it if you want. But it looks like you'd really rather not. But you definitely look like you could use a little something. I've got a joint, if you want it."

Steve has a joint too, a whole baggie of them tucked safely away in a book on his barely touched bookshelf. He nods anyway, and Eddie takes a slow step back.

"I'm going to go get it, alright? I'm coming right back."

Steve waits until the quiet pad of Eddie's feet have disappeared down the hall before he heads back to his bed, switching out the sweat dampened sheets for another pair and rearranging the pillows. He'd never anticipated that Eddie would ever see his room, but he casts a quick eye around to make sure there's nothing overly embarrassing laying around. By the time Eddie returns, Steve has situated himself up against the headboard, foot tapping nervously on the mattress.

"You sure I didn't hurt you?" He asks quietly as Eddie approaches the bed and rests one knee on the mattress.

"Positive, promise." He holds out his arms as though to prove it, and Steve can see the smallest red mark against his wrist where Steve had held him down in his panic, but no other visible injuries.

Eddie offers out the joint, but doesn't climb any further onto the bed and instead sits on the floor, back against the mattress and head tipped back so he can see Steve. Steve is absolutely not disappointed that Eddie didn't sit beside him.

"Pass me a lighter?" He asks tiredly, "top drawer beside you?"

He does a quick mental inventory of the drawer and decided the worst thing Eddie could find in there is a packet of condoms, maybe a bottle of prescription pills. He's refocused on the ceiling when he hears a scandalized click of Eddie's tongue.

"You a klepto in your free time, Harrington? I thought I'd lost this."

Steve looks and finds Eddie tossing the lighter in the palm of his hand. Even from here, the flaming skull detail is obvious and he feels the back of his neck heat up. He'd forgotten that was the specific lighter he kept in there for his own personal use. Eddie's thumb traces his engraved initials with a raised eyebrow and Steve shrugs, hoping it comes off as casual.

"Oh, right. I put it in my pocket that night in the park. Forgot I had it," he lies easily, "but you can take it back."

Eddie lights the joint and shrugs, tossing the lighter back into the drawer and letting it close, "keep it. I've got more."

He passes the joint up to Steve, who takes the first hit gratefully. Eddie's shit is far better than the crap he's been buying from the other dealer, and now that they're friends he supposes he should probably stop getting his joints elsewhere.

"How much for this?" He thinks to ask, looking down to Eddie's confused glance. Steve wiggles the joint and Eddie smiles.

"Consider it another freebie for you, I guess. But don't get used to it, the next one needs to be paid for in cold hard cash. I make a habit of not letting pretty people take me for a ride."

Steve hands the joint back and Eddie takes a drag. He doesn't know how to react to being called pretty without it being an insult. Steve watches how Eddie's mouth hits the paper right where his own had been and remembers how close he'd come to kissing him last time they did this. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. He should tell Eddie he's tired, send him back to the guest room.

"Come up here," Steve offers quietly, "it's killing my side to reach over like this."

The second part is only half a lie. His side aches this time of night anyway, but the passing of the joint isn't doing much other than stretching the itching skin. Eddie blows out a stream of smoke before clambering into the bed and mirroring Steve's position against the headboard. They're shoulder to shoulder on the bed, Eddie's fingers tapping out a beat on his knees and Steve's own are clenched in the sheets where Eddie can't see.

"So, do you usually give freebies or am I just special?"

Eddie smiles around the joint and passes it over. Their fingers touch and Steve takes a bigger hit than he needs to.

"You're plenty special, Harrington. Freebies, no. But flattery does work on me, so I've been known to give a discount or two. To the right person."

Steve tries to picture one of the cheerleaders flattering Eddie for drugs and snorts. Eddie seems to follow his train of thought and smirks.

"Yeah, laugh it up. But you'd be surprised how often girls are willing to not act like I'm a total freak just to get a few bucks off. Bat their eyelashes and tell me they like my tattoos."

Steve tries not to think too hard about Eddie being flirted with by anyone, but the curiosity is killing him so he can't help but ask.

"Any of them your type?"

Eddie gives him a look that Steve can't decipher, joint very carefully brought to his lips and the smoke drifting into the air.

"No," he responds slowly, "can't say any of the ladies I deal to have been my type."

"You must be picky. Robin's not your type, pretty cheerleaders aren't your type..."

"Picky is a word for it." Eddie agrees, but doesn't elaborate,"it's also not just cheerleaders, you know. You'd be surprised how many band geeks like to party."

Steve remembers sleeping in his car, Robin shotgunning a beer like water; one of the guys who played trombone knocking back five tequila shots in quick succession and then throwing up in the bushes not ten minutes later.

"That one actually doesn't surprise me," Steve admits.

The weed is doing a good job at loosening him up again, letting him fall back into the tiredness he had felt earlier. He slides down a little on the bed, bare arm dragging against Eddie's as he resituates himself. 

"So," Eddie begins conversationally, "any reason you're buying shit weed from other people and not me? Because I'm honestly kind of offended."

Steve shrugs one shoulder, "Honestly it felt weird to hit you up after that night. You found me freezing in a park then had to drive me home because I was high off my ass."

"And after that? We did kind of save the world together, seems like a good enough ice breaker,"

"You'd just found out that there's an alternate universe full of monsters that were killing people and you almost got arrested for murder. Also didn't seem right to hit you up after that."

Eddie nods in understanding, but slaps a hand on Steve's thigh.

"Well, we're friends now. And friends don't let friends go out of business. No more shit weed, Harrington. I better be your one and only from now on."

Steve laughs tiredly, "Got it, fine. You're my only supplier."

"Damn straight."

Steve takes the joint even though he doesn't think he needs any more. His limbs are loose, his side no longer aching. He tilts his head and feels it bump into Eddie's shoulder.

"Shit, sorry."

"I forgot how much of a lightweight you were." Eddie comments, and Steve raises his head with a frown.

"M'not a lightweight."

He takes a hit to make a point and feels his head spin. There's a warm feeling in his chest, like a little cat has curled right up on top of him and fallen asleep. Like Mews the second. Mews the second loves Steve, always climbs into his lap and kneads her little paws on his thighs before falling asleep. Maybe he should get a cat so it could sleep on his chest and he could always feel like this, even without the drugs. Cats aren't so bad. Where would he get a cat from? Maybe Robin knows.

He's floating, like in the pool but so much better. Eddie is so close, so warm. God he's fucking pretty. Steve wonders what he tastes like.

Jesus Christ

"Fuck, you might be right."

Eddie raises his eyebrows and smiles, "Oh, I'm definitely right. Do I have to cut you off?"

"No."

He's very aware that he's staring, but he can't help it. They had been close in the van that night, but not this close. He'd been shirtless beside Eddie before, but he'd been covered in blood and edging on the side of delirious while Eddie helped Robin retie a proper set of bandages around his stomach. Eddie has toned arms and defined hips; his eyes are half lidded and his lips are wrapped around the joint in a way that makes Steve wonder what else they'd look good around. This is so very bad. So bad. Steve needs to get the fuck out of here but this is his house and his bed and he actually really doesn't want to leave.

"I really think I do though," Eddie says softly, "do you hear yourself, dude?"

Shit. Shit shit shit what had he been saying out loud? He tries to swim through the syrup- thick thoughts in his head, but notices Eddie is smiling. Eddie wouldn't be smiling if Steve had been thinking aloud, would he?

"What- what was I saying?" He asks confusedly.

Eddie closes his eyes and shakes his head, "you were talking about cats, dude. Who the fuck is Mews the second?"

Oh thank God. He can answer that.

"Dustin's mom's cat. Mews the first got eaten by Dart."

"Dart?"

"D'Artagnan. Dustin's pet demodog."

"Dustin's what?"

"Oh God I'm too fucking high for this," Steve blurts suddenly and Eddie starts laughing, pulling laughter out of Steve as well.

"Okay, you're done."

"I'm done." Steve agrees, nodding his head tiredly.

"Go to sleep, Steve," Eddie says quietly, gently prying the joint from Steve's fingers and finishing it off.

Steve's eyes are already half closed, and he feels Eddie's shoulder under his head. Thinks, through the haze of everything, 'I should move so he can leave'. And then darkness swallows him whole.

Steve wakes up with his face pressed into Eddie's shoulder and a numb arm trapped between their bodies. The red lines of his clock tell him it's barely after five, and Steve braves a look up at Eddie to find him asleep, head curled in towards Steve's and his hand loosely draped on his stomach. The hazy memories of last night come back in pieces and he feels sick to his stomach as he remembers looking, remembers *thinking*. He shifts back the smallest amount, shakes feeling back into his arm and rolls over so his back is to Eddie. The fact that he is still here is the only thing bringing Steve comfort right now. Surely if he had any idea of what Steve had been thinking he'd be long gone. Wouldn't have stayed asleep in the bed with him.

Maybe this is how Eddie is with all his friends? Steve knows when the boys have sleepovers they usually pile their sleeping bags together, sleep side by side without any weirdness or issues.

Steve and Robin have fallen asleep like this before. Robin and Nancy have fallen asleep like this on the couch during a movie night, heads rested together and thighs touching. Steve has never slept next to a guy like this, Tommy H would have said it was queer shit. But then again, everything was queer shit to Tommy H.

Steve closes his eyes and pulls the blanket tighter around him. It was normal. It wasn't weird. They were friends now, friends could sleep next to one another without it being weird. It wasn't weird.

The next time he wakes up, Eddie is gone. Steve checks the spare room to find the bed nearly made and no sign of his guest anywhere. A quick glance out the window shows the driveway empty except for his own car, and he tries to not feel weird about it. Eddie has school, probably needed to head back to his own place to get ready. Steve is supposed to pick up Robin in twenty minutes, so he only allows himself a quick shower before climbing into his car. Robin is as high energy as usual, touching up her mascara and powdering her face as she talks mile a minute about how she and Vickie have been sitting together at lunch, and how they're going to study together this weekend. Steve nods in the appropriate places, genuinely happy for her but mind so far away.

"I went in my pool last night." He says when she pauses for a breath.

"What? Steve! That's huge! Why have you been letting me ramble-"

"I like your rambling," he promises her as they pull up at the school, "besides, I kind of cheated. Eddie and I were hanging out so-"

"Wait, you invited Eddie over?"

"Well, yeah. I meant what I said, you guys are friends so I figured I should get to know him better. Besides, he went through a lot of shit with the Upside Down, so..." He trails off, keeping it light and casual. He knows Robin wouldn't judge if he told her, but every time he thinks of voicing the thought aloud his stomach lurches and he can't being himself to do it.

"Oh, okay. Well I'm glad you got in the pool, Steve. That's a big deal. We should celebrate. Get milkshakes or something."

"Milkshakes sound good. You're buying, right?"

Robin rolls her eyes and gets out of the car, making a point to slam the door.

"See you at three, dingus."

As she disappears into the school, Steve scams through the crowd of students to find Eddie's van, sighing softly when he sees it parked in the lot.

It's not a big deal.

It's not.