Chapter Text
He should be dead. Sometimes, that’s all that Steve can think when he looks at Eddie. By all rights, he should be dead.
He’s doing it right now, eyes fixed on the guy’s side profile and drifting off. They’re watching Back to the Future again, because Robin insisted on it - but Robin had nodded off in the first half already. Steve should have known this would happen. Eddie had shared some of his weed. And no matter the substance, Robin had the tolerance of a little child.
Usually, Steve thinks that that’s adorable. But right now, it’s just inconvenient. He’d kind of relied on her chatter to keep him distracted. Now, he’s sitting here with only the movie playing in the background, and he can’t stop staring. And he doesn’t even know why.
In the beginning, it had almost been painful - all clenched stomach and tight throat. Steve had chalked that up to what had happened in the Upside Down. At that point, everytime he looked at Eddie, his almost-death had replayed in his mind. The way he’d choked on his own blood, Dustin’s heartrending cries in his ears. How everything in him had burned and strained when he… well, to say he carried him is probably an overstatement. It’s more like he dragged him. Dragged him out of that literal hell, because even if no one could help him anymore, the least he deserved was a proper burial. He’d been so sure that Eddie was dead.
But it turned out that Eddie was not dead. And now that he’s mostly healed, he’s very much alive, almost back to his exuberant self. It should be fine now. Steve doesn’t need to watch him anymore, there’s no danger of him keeling over and hurting himself if he’s out of sight for a few minutes. But Steve just can’t look away.
It feels different now. The pain has been replaced by some sort of dull ache that grips him every time he just looks at Eddie now. It’s weird. Steve doesn’t know what to do with it. At first, he tried to tell himself that it’s just because he’s protective of all of his friends. It just hasn’t been that bad this far because none of them had ever been hurt this badly.
Then, he had the thought that it’s because he’s never known someone who died, at least not someone his own age. But he hadn’t known Eddie all that well before this happened. Not much better than Billy Hargrove. And while he hadn’t really liked the guy all that much, it had still hit him. Because they were approximately the same age, fighting the same thing. Steve knows that that could’ve been him. He knows that there have been dozens of moments so far where he could have died, would have died, if it meant the little terrors had more time to run away.
So maybe he’s just having a crisis about his own mortality? But the one time he’d brought that up to Robin, she’d just snorted. “I don’t think it’s that sort of crisis.”
When he asked, she had refused to elaborate. But she had laid both of her hands on his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “Don’t worry. You’re just traumatized. All of this was a lot. You need some time to process this and then everything will be back to the way it was before. There’s no point in overanalyzing this right now. It won’t help.”
She knows something. Or, at least, she thinks she knows something. And now she’s snoring with her head on his shoulder, unable to distract him so he doesn’t keep staring at Eddie. Damn her.
Something on the screen makes Eddie laugh, hard enough that he throws his head back. “Oh man. This is really-” he stops in his tracks when he sees Steve looking at him. “What?”
Fuck. This is why he needs Robin. “Nothing, sorry.” He fixes his eyes on the television. But he doesn’t really see the image, just the flickering dots that it’s made up of. Eddie is still in his peripheral vision, because apparently he can’t not look at him.
“No, what’s wrong?” Eddie draws his knees up under himself and turns to face Steve. “You’ve been out of it the whole evening, don’t think I didn’t notice. Did you smoke too much? The weed wasn’t even that strong.”
Steve can feel his stomach clenching. What is he supposed to say? I’m just scared you’ll die again? I can’t take my eyes off you? Fuck no. That would sound… bad.
He’s been making an active effort to not use words like queer or gay as an insult anymore. Not just because of Robin, but also because he realized how much of an asshole it made him. Sometimes, memories of the things he used to say and do are physically painful to him.
But I can’t take my eyes off you would sound gay, wouldn’t it? Steve’s a guy, Eddie’s a guy. Steve doesn’t want to sound gay. Not because that’s a bad thing, just because… it’s inaccurate. And if it’s not true, then he can spare himself the hassle. Because who knows how Eddie might react or who he might tell. People going around insisting how gay they are not usually don’t sound very believable. Steve doesn’t want to have to be one of them. Just the thought of it makes panic unfurl throughout his whole body.
“It’s nothing.”
“That’s bullshit. Don’t bullshit me, Harrington. It’s fine if you don’t wanna talk. But you don’t need to play perfect with me. I don’t want that fake shit.” The way he says it is almost defensive. Which… Steve should’ve known. Eddie still isn’t really comfortable in their group. More than once he’s expressed the worry that they’ll be over him soon. So anything like this, anything that goes a little deeper, is uncomfortable to him.
But he still does it. He’s uncomfortable, but he still talks about what’s bothering him. A sigh breaks loose from Steve’s throat as he looks down to where Robin is sleeping on him and snoring slightly. If Eddie is willing to step out of his comfort zone, then he should be too. Even if it’s maybe just a little bit.
“I don’t know, it’s just…” He sighs again and squeezes his eyes shut. This is not the right way to start this. He should’ve thought about what he’d say before he said it. “I’m really glad you made it.”
There, that should work. Not too vulnerable, still honest.
Eddie’s eyes grow huge. “Um. Okay. Well, that’s kind of thanks to you, dude, isn’t it? Did I say thank you? I think I said thank you.”
Steve shakes his head. “You did. But it really isn't. I didn’t do anything to save you.”
The look on Eddie’s face is so similar to a facial expression Dustin might have made that Steve can’t help but wonder which one of them influenced the other one. “But you dragged my ass out of there. You did. Henderson helped, but he said it was your idea. He said you wanted to get me to a hospital.”
Fuck. There’s a reason that Steve has never spoken about this to anyone. It’s much easier to forget if you don’t talk about it.
“Yeah, well, I just told him that because I didn’t know what else to say.”
“What do you mean?” Eddie doesn’t really look confused so much as irritated that he doesn’t understand.
“Fuck.” This time, he has to say it out loud. But it doesn’t help, and neither does rubbing his hands across his face. The nerves are still there. “Okay. Well. I didn’t want to freak Dustin out, you know? He was already bad enough. So I said we were taking you to the hospital. But really… I mean, I thought you were dead. I was so sure that you were already dead. So I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to save you.”
There’s a headache encroaching, Steve can already feel it. This is stressful. How can simple conversations be this stressful? Fucking hell. And looking at Eddie doesn’t help. His eyes are gigantic. For a second, Steve wishes he could drown in them. And then, when he catches himself, he wonders what the fuck is wrong with him. This isn’t normal. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. Why is he thinking like this? What’s going on in his fucking head?
“Then what were you trying to do?” It’s weird to hear Eddie’s voice be this quiet.
“Just… I just wanted to get you home. You know, so you could be buried. I couldn’t just leave you there, you didn’t deserve that.” He sniffs, suddenly close to tears, and keeps his eyes wide open so the tears don’t fall. “No one deserves that.”
“Fuck, Harrington.” And all of a sudden, he’s got Eddie attached to his other shoulder, the one Robin isn’t sleeping on. He’s warm and close and he makes it hard to breathe. His hair is tickling Steve’s nose, breath washing over the sensitive skin of his throat. “And here you keep insisting that you aren’t a hero. I’m not counting that, you know. Your opinion doesn’t count for shit where this is concerned. Only you would save my life by accident because you’re too noble to leave my corpse behind. That’s some hero shit.”
His voice is slightly distorted from where his face is mushed into Steve’s sweater.
“Ah, I don’t know.”
“No, shut up.” A finger is poked into his chest. “You don’t get a say in this. King Steve is dead, long live Hero Harrington. Huzzah!”
Eddie says it loudly enough that it makes Robin stir. “‘zah?” she asks.
“Huzzah!” Eddie repeats, one fist raised into the air.
“Woo!” Robin cheers quietly. “What are we celebrating?”
“Oh, nothing, just my continued survival.”
“And why are we cuddling?” She tries to rub the sleep out of her eyes, but it doesn’t seem to work. She still looks incredibly tired.
Eddie stiffens a bit. “Well, I don’t know about you. But I had some really good weed, and also I’m alive. Harrington was just conveniently located in my general vicinity.”
Steve smiles to cover both that hearing this stings and that he doesn’t really believe it. Both of them are still leaning on his shoulders, heavy, content and sleepy. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this not alone. It’s good. He likes it, wants more of it. He feels calm somehow, warm and content. Is this what feeling at home is like? Because if it is, he doesn’t ever want to let it go. Or them. He doesn’t want to let them go.
“Idiots,” Robin mumbles. “Both’f you. F’cking ding’ses.”
Eddie's answer isn’t even verbal anymore, he just groans at her. Steve chuckles, his friends heavy on his shoulders. Sleep is already creeping up on him, but he isn’t as far gone as they are. So he can enjoy the feeling a bit before he drifts off as well.
His last thought before he does is that he’s kinda jealous of Eddie for smelling so good when he doesn’t even wear aftershave or anything.