#human Steve harrington

[shichey97]

Run

Eddie was leaning back in his seat as he watched the party that was happening. Eddie still hated parties after his 356 years alive. He had never found the appeal in playing nice with a bunch of people who wouldn't think twice about shoving a stake through his heart if need be. He sighed through his nose and rubbed his leg as he caught a glimpse of a person that almost seemed to glide as he walked across the room to the table of treats for them. It was a party to promote the new synthetic blood, Ichor, said to be as nutritious as the real deal and as close to it as possible. Eddie didn't want to try it because he was a picky eater. He was startled from his thoughts as the same person came up to him, "You haven't tried a bag." he says brushing some of his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes.

Eddie looked at him and his eyes widened a bit, "What?" he asks and cringes at how dumb he sounds when a literally God was standing in front of him. The man was tall, tan, and beautiful. He had dark brown hair that he had parted to the side part of it curled around his cheek bone and his hazel eyes crinkled when he smiled. "Ichor. You haven't tried any. I've been waiting on you to try some so I would have a reason to talk to you." He says. "I'm Steve. Steve Harrington of.." "Harrington Enterprises?" Eddie asks with a slight smile, "I figured as much." he says leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Why does it matter what I think about the synthetic blood?" He asks, but takes the bag anyway. "Or did you just want to talk to me, pretty boy?" Steve catches his bottom lip between his teeth before he chuckles, "And if I did?" he asks deciding to actually let himself enjoy a conversation for once instead of pushing the product he worked so hard on. "Then I'd say pull up a chair and we can talk while I give your blood a try." he says watching him do just that as he opens the end of the blood bag container and took a slight inhale and drank some of it. He froze when it touched his tongue and looked at Steve in pleasant surprise. It actually tasted like the real thing and, if he was capable of it, he would've blushed at the other man's chuckle. Eddie pulled away from the bag to swallow, "How did you do that?" he asks "I don't want to bore you, but it was a lot of cellular work." Steve says shrugging watching the other eat, "Do you like it?" Eddie nods as he finishes it, "It's amazing. Are there different types like in people?" He asks curious about how it would work to satisfy the majority. "Yes. The one I gave you is Rh-null." He says, "you seem like the type of man that likes rare blood and that is the rarest on earth. Less than 50 people have it." he says proudly. "That's why it's called Golden Blood." Eddie says nodding. and looks at the bag that has a golden label. "It tastes like it could be used at a blood bank." He says and Steve seems to smile more at that. "That's what I was aiming for. It can't be, but I wanted it to taste as close to the real deal as physically possible." He says nodding. "I'm planning on releasing a sweet brand soon." "Well then I volunteer to be the taste tester." he says watching the other man's face as they studied each other. "Seriously though. Why does a human care so much about what us vampires eat?"

"My best friend and her girlfriend are vampires. I just want them to be healthy and they don't like any of the other synthetic stuff so I figured I'd use my science know how to craft a better one." He says shrugging. "My turn to ask a question." He says and Eddie motions for him to go. "You know who I am. So my question is who are you?" "Shit I was swept away by your beauty and forgot to tell you my name. I'm Eddie. Eddie Munson." He says and he watches Steve's eyes widen. "Eddie Munson as in the mysterious singer Eddie Munson?" Steve asks a nervous giggle bubbling up as he watches the other man. "Holy shit. I knew you were hot."

"You know my music, big boy?" He asks his knees brushing Steve's now. He smiles more as the human blushes at him, "What's your favorite song?" "Right now it's Figure You Out, but I also like One For The Money." he says with a nod as he smiles at him. "What's your favorite song?"

"Falling. I absolutely love that song." he says softly as if it's a big secret; which it is because that song is nothing like the rest of his music. It's a ballad instead of a heavy rock song.

"I can see why. It really shows off your vocal range and with the piano being the primary instrument on there it showcases your voice even more." Steve rambles before his cheeks tint pink again. "Sorry. I think that's one of your most impressive songs on the album."

Eddie smiles studying his face for a long moment, "I've never met someone who has actually asked me what my favorite song is." he says softly. "Well that's not my band of course."

"I have an insane question." Steve says softly. "Would you like to get out of here?" he asks looking at him leaning forward to take his hand with a gentle touch. He didn't flinch at the cold skin, but he did smile up at him. Hazel eyes meeting red.

"I thought you'd never ask, Sweetheart." He says and sholds his hand as he stands up. "Lead the way, Big Boy." he says before he follows him through the crowd and out a door.

Neither boy realized that this was the start of forever for them.

[gttinyprincess]

*writes a super gay vampire feeding moment*

Mungrove: no homo, right?

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Steve knows the kids are obsessed with the newest up and coming metal band, Corroded Coffin, even though their music is actually terrible. But when Robin of all people begs Steve take them to the band's next gig, he relents.

Everything starts to make a lot more sense when they walk up to the stage and there's an honest to god Siren behind the microphone, a guitar slung low on his hips with magic wafting off him in waves over the crowd.

The singer clocks him immediately and quickly schools the flash of surprise in his eyes into something more flirtatious.

Steve smiles, the cat that caught the canary. He was right. Their music really does suck, and he can't wait until tomorrow when he can rub it in his tiny human friends' faces.

Tonight, however, he's going to ruffle a pretty boy's feathers.

~~~

Eddie knows his music's horse shit, tailor made for humans- sue him, they needed the money. So he's always a little surprised when another creature finds their way to his concerts. It happens on occasion, and of course they're always welcomed. He's seen all sorts on their tour.

But something as beautifully unholy as a Nephilim?

The man with the auburn hair and hazel eyes surrounded by a gaggle of children glows with a golden aura so soft and warm Eddie's almost left speechless. Almost.

He's caught staring, but he can't take his eyes away. So Eddie does what Sirens do best. He preens, puffs his sleek black feathers just enough for only the man in the crowd to see and sings. A move typically saved for encores, the crowd goes wild with energy and pushes their way towards the stage.

The Nephi laughs, full-bodied with mirth at the antics. A beacon of golden light bursts from him, control of his halo slipping just the slightest.

It's unearthly, it's sinful, and Eddie falls to his knees in worship. The men and women caught in the halo turn to him, smiling and leaning in and touching what is Eddie's--

But the Angel relaxes, the halo draws back, and the peoples' hands fall away even though their eyes linger.

None of that matters when the Angel blows him a kiss. Eddie knows, deep in the hollows of his bones, that when he finds him after the show, he'll stretch his Angel's wings and show him just how bright his halo can glow.

[hawkinsbnbg]

“Can we keep him, Uncle Wayne?”

Wayne didn’t look up from his newspaper, too used to his nephew picking up strays and bringing them home. God blessed the boy’s big young heart, but their trailer didn’t have space for another kitty or pup.

“I told ya before and I told ya it now,” Wayne said gruffly but not unkindly. “We don’t have space for your pet, son.”

“He’s not–”

“Eds, I’ll be fine on my own,” a quiet voice cut in before Eddie could start his usual speech.

That garnered Wayne’s attention immediately. And there standing next to his nephew was Steve Harrington who looked worse for wear—red puffy eyes, split lips, disheveled hair, and rumpled clothes.

“What happened?” Wayne set his newspaper aside and straightened up in his chair. He had a few good guesses already given what he knew of Richard and Amanda, but he still wanted to hear their side of the story first.

“His parents kicked him out,” Eddie hissed, hand clutching Steve’s fiercely in case the other boy tried to get away. He didn’t, just deflated as soon as the words were out of Eddie’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Steve mumbled, eyes shining stubbornly as they locked with Wayne’s. “I just need a place to stay until tomorrow and then I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Stevie,” Eddie turned to him with an exasperated look. “You can’t believe that I’d let you leave after everything, right?”

“I know you want to help,” Steve rubbed a hand down his face tiredly, like he needed to hide a part of himself, vulnerable and slightly worn-out. “But I don’t wanna intrude.”

“You won’t,” Eddie shook his head rapidly and then looked at Wayne. “Right, Wayne? He’s not bothering you or anything, right?”

Wayne took in the sight of the Harrington boy, scared and lost, and knew his decision had been made for him. It wasn’t his first time taking in a stray anyway.

“Just call me Wayne or Uncle Wayne, kid,” he offered Steve a closed-mouthed smile, his most amiable one. “We don’t have much here, but feel free to ask me anything you need.”

When Steve ducked his head with a shy smile and sniffled a small Thank you, Wayne didn’t regret his choice.

It didn’t hurt that his nephew also beamed at him like Wayne had just saved the world.

And in a sense, to Eddie, it was true.

Because Wayne could see how much the Harrington boy meant to him, see the way they looked at each other without admitting it aloud.

Perhaps, Wayne picked up his newspaper again as Eddie offered the Munson’s new member a mug of warm milk, he was going to have another son soon enough.

[juiceicicles]

Steve having a sexuality crisis is all good angst and realistic writing, and Steve having known for a while and being confident and learned is great too, but I love Steve “just skipped the crisis part” Harrington.

Because really, who gives a shit if he’s gay when he’s fought monsters?

His best friend is a lesbian, and he loves her, so it’d be hypocritical not to accept this part of himself.

He’s had to protect his friends from mind demons with Kate Bush songs, this is not even a blip in the crazy shit he’s had to deal with.

One of his children friends has telekinetic powers and can go into your mind to figure out your location and save you from giant spider demons.

He almost died, everyone he loves almost died, who cares?

[estrellami-1]

Anything

Trigger warning: discussions of death. Not a main character, but it does happen. Lots of angst. Lots of hurt/comfort. I’ll post it in the tags as well.

Steve has a problem.

It’s not a big problem, not really, but his brain won’t let it go and is making it a bigger deal than it really is.

Eddie won’t ride in his car alone.

With the kids, sure; he’ll practically dive into the backseat, noogie Dustin, generally make a nuisance of himself.

But if it’s just the two of them? If Steve insists on driving, Eddie will take his van. There’s no problem if Steve wants to ride with Eddie. But the other way around? Eddie riding with Steve? That doesn’t happen. And Steve has no idea why.

“Talk to him, Dingus,” is Robin’s advice. He’d flip her off, but unfortunately he thinks she’s right: this is something they’re gonna have to talk through.

So Steve pulls on his big-boy pants and marches himself to the Munsons’ trailer, knocking on the door and waiting expectantly.

He doesn’t expect Wayne, but maybe he should’ve, because that’s who answers the door. “Hi, Steve. You’re here for Eddie, I bet, he’ll be in his room.” He moves aside to let Steve in, and Steve thanks him after a second before moving down the hall to Eddie’s room.

He hears him before he sees him; or, more accurately, he hears his guitar. He’s playing the acoustic tonight, instead of his usual sweetheart, so Steve knocks instead of walking in like he’d usually do.

The guitar stops, and Steve hears it being put down, hears a heavy sigh. “Wayne, I’m not really in the- oh.” He opens the door as he speaks and blinks at Steve. After a second, he smiles. “Hey, man, c’mon in.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Are you okay?” 

Eddie purses his lips. “Define okay. I’m not currently being eaten by bats, y’know? But playing the acoustic always reminds me of my Ma.”

“Ah.” Steve shifts. “Sorry, man. Maybe I should come back later.”

Eddie shrugs. “You’re here now, aren’t you? I can’t be that terrible company.”

Steve snorts. “No, I just… I had a question, but it can wait.”

Eddie tilts his head. “You do that a lot, y’know?” He turns, sits on his bed. Motions Steve into his room.

Steve sits next to him, more comfortable here than in his own room. “Do what?”

“Put yourself last.” He shrugs. “You can ask me. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Okay, fine. Why won’t you ride in my car?”

Eddie frowns. “I do, though? Hell, I did what, two days ago? You, me and Dustin went to that comic store in Indy.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Why won’t you ride passenger in my car, alone? Without any of the kids? And even two days ago you were in the backseat with Dustin.” He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just curious.”

Eddie takes a breath. “No, it’s- yeah. You should know.” He clears his throat, grabs the acoustic again. Plays a riff of some sort, fingers dancing over the frets. “I think I feel like I have to save everyone. Or at least be in a position where I can save them, if the need arises.” He swallows, takes another breath. His fingers still. They tremble over the strings. “Did I ever tell you how my ma died?”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to inhale sharply. He shakes his head. “We can stop,” he says. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Eddie smiles ruefully. “I do, though.” He shakes his head. “I was… I was six. It was three days before my seventh birthday. We were driving home from the city. Ma was drivin’, an’ she let me sit in the front seat, since it was almost my birthday. Or- that’s what she said. I think it was so we couldn’t stop her. Couldn’t save her.” He swallows. His eyes are glassy. His accent is thick, the way it gets when he’s thinking about her, or when he’s emotional. His left hand grips the neck of the guitar tightly. Steve worries for his fingers. “We weren’t goin’ that fast, even, but forty’s enough when-” he shakes his head, looks away. Coughs out something that wanted to be a sob. Steve takes the guitar, takes Eddie’s hand. Puts the guitar down. Doesn’t let go of Eddie. “She unbuckled her belt. Dad didn’t see it. I did. Didn’t say anythin’. Maybe I should’ve, I dunno.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. “Then it all happened so fast… she smiled at me, an’ opened her door, an’ next thing I knew-” he wipes at tears on his cheeks. “D’you know what happens to a human head under the wheel of a car at forty miles an hour?”

Steve gasps, grips Eddie’s hand just as tightly. Pulls Eddie in when he begins to shake. “An’ I know why, now,” he whispers. “Dad weren’t good to her. I’unno what he done t’her. I know she did what she could. But I was there. I was right there.” He sniffles, trembles with the effort of keeping his sobs in. Somehow succeeds. “So that’s why. Figure if a kid were to try… I could stop ‘em. Figure if you were to try…”

“You could stop me.” Steve holds him tight. “I won’t,” he whispers. “I swear to you, I won’t.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers back. “But I gotta be able to try.”

“Christ, Eds,” Steve whispers. “I was gonna ask if you’re okay but that’s a stupid question.”

Eddie giggles, still teary-eyed. “Just a little bit.”

Steve pulls away to look him in the eye. “I’m staying tonight, okay? Nightmares are always worse after something like this.”

“Then you should go home,” Eddie argues. “Sleep while you can.”

“Nightmares are always easier with someone else.”

“Damn you, that’s true.” They both laugh a little.

Just then, Wayne comes in with two steaming mugs. “Listen to your boy, son,” he says to Eddie, handing over one of the mugs. He gives Steve the other with a wink. “Lavender tea with a shit ton of honey. Learned it from my ma.”

“Not my boy, Wayne,” Eddie grumbles, but thanks him for the tea anyways.

Steve thanks him too, and he winks again before leaving. Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’d apologize for him, but you’d just defend him.”

“Hey, I like Wayne.”

“I know. Sometimes I think you like him more than you like me.”

Steve chuckles. “Never. You’re my favorite.” He moves so they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, drinking their tea, leaning against each other. It’s peaceful, and soon enough Eddie’s yawning and dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “Imma pass out soon.”

“Then let’s get you up to brush your teeth before you do.”

Eddie groans like the toddler he secretly is. “I don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, and you don’t wanna go to the dentist to get teeth pulled, either, now do you?”

“Shuddup.”

“Wow. Real master of words here. Really feeling that Dungeon Master power.”

Eddie thumps his arm, but snickers, and really that’s what Steve was going for in the first place, so he just smiles and leads Eddie to the bathroom.

Soon enough they’re in bed, tucked in next to each other, not quite packed like sardines and it’s only because of the heat outside that Steve isn’t more upset not to have more of a reason to touch Eddie. “Night, Eds,” he murmurs, smiling when Eddie rolls over to face him and is temporarily blinded by his own hair. Steve helps move his hair, grabs at Eddie’s hand when he’s done. “Wake me up if the nightmare doesn’t, okay?”

“C’mon, Steve, I can deal with them-”

“I know you can,” Steve answers. “But I want to be up if you are. I want to help if I can. Please, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs after a second. “Damn you,” he says, “I can’t say no to you.” He’s smiling, despite his words, so Steve smiles back.

“Thank you.”

“G’night, Stevie.”

“Night, Eds.”

Steve wakes up to Eddie crying out in his sleep. Even with his eyes closed, he’s got tears streaming down his cheeks. Steve sits up, turns on the lamp, and puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie?”

He rolls over, away from Steve, and continues sobbing. “Eds? Are you awake?” No answer, so Steve puts his hand back on Eddie’s shoulder and shakes a little. “Eddie, wake up!”

He’s up with an aborted yell and a flail of limbs, sitting up and staring into the darkness of his room, trembling. He sniffs and turns to face Steve, finally realizing he’s there, and Steve opens his arms for a hug.

He collapses into Steve’s arms, face mashed into the side of Steve’s neck, arms snaking around Steve’s torso to give an ineffectual tug. Steve takes the hint and inches closer until they’re practically hip-to-hip. “Y’wanna talk about it?” He asks. Eddie sniffs and shakes his head. “Y’want me to talk? To distract you?” Eddie nods. “Okay. Uh… I may have bitten myself in the butt with this one, ‘cause I’m not a great storyteller, not like you are, but did you know we actually met in middle school?”

No answer. “We did. Hawkins Middle was putting on its annual talent show. Now, back then, I was nobody. No one knew me, my name, my parents… nothing. I had one friend named Tommy, who I’d grown up with. Of course, you know him, and you know what happened between us, but he was my only friend back then. I didn’t tell anyone, but I signed up for the talent show. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do, I just knew I wanted to do something. I’ve always had a pretty decent voice, so I figured I could just sing, if I couldn’t figure out anything else to do. Knew I’d at least beat out Tammy Thompson.” He shifts so Eddie’s hair is no longer a choking hazard and pets his hand over Eddie’s head, doing his best to tame the wild curls. “So it’s the night of the talent show, right? And it feels like the whole school is there. I’m sitting backstage, peeking through the curtains, and am about to have my very first panic attack. Someone bumps into me and knocks me over. They tell me to watch where I’m going, even though I wasn’t moving. So now I’m on the ground, thinking about the crowd, and the noise is getting to be too much, and someone grabs my hand and it all… stops. Just like that. It’s silent, other than, like, a ringing sound in my ears. And this boy, the one who grabbed my hand, kneels in front of me, puts my hand on his chest-” Steve demonstrates, moving so he can grab Eddie’s hand and put it on his chest, just over his heart. “-and tells me to breathe with him. In, out. In, out. He raised his hand when we breathed in, and lowered it when we breathed out. In, out. In, out. And when my breathing’s calmed down, he tells me to name five things I can see. And you know what I said first?”

Eddie furrows his brows. “My… my hair?”

“Yup,” Steve nods. “But you’d just had it shaved off, so d’you know what I really saw first?”

“What?”

Steve giggles. “Your ears.”

Eddie groans and ducks his head, pressing his forehead into Steve’s chest. “Hated my ears.”

“I’m gonna say something that’s gonna sound mean, but is actually a compliment,” Steve warns him. “Your ears reminded me of Dumbo. I always loved that movie, the reminder that we don’t have to change who we are in order to be loved. That sometimes the things we hate most about ourselves, the things people tease us about the most, are actually the things that help us most, in the end.” He guides Eddie to lay down. “And I’m not saying your ears are what saved you. But I am saying they reminded me that everything, maybe, isn’t entirely hopeless.” He smiles, tucks Eddie’s hair behind his ear. Says, “I like your ears.”

Said ear burns red. “You’d be one of the few.”

“That’s okay.”

“What’s your thing? Your… ears?”

Steve hums. “Did you know I cried a lot as a kid? I was very emotional, very easily moved. My dad always hated it, so I learned to cover it up. But I think it’s what got me here in the end. I could’ve told Dustin I didn’t have time to help him, but I didn’t. I got roped into this whole mess, but it’s how I got to know him and the kids. It’s how I got to know Robin and you.”

Eddie smiles. “I’m glad you cried as a kid.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah. Me too.” He shifts, a little closer, a little more down the bed so their eyes are level. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing I want less.”

“D’you think you can sleep?”

Eddie takes a breath. Steve feels the exhale over his cheek. “Maybe.”

“M’kay. Lemme know if you can’t.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“Eddie.”

He giggles. “I’m kidding. I’ll let you know. I just… won’t stop talking at you until you answer.”

Steve hums, lets his eyes slip shut. “I’ll always answer.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, so soft. It makes something warm unfurl in Steve’s chest. “I know you will.”

Steve reaches out, squeezes Eddie’s hand in answer. Lets sleep drag him down the way it’s wanted to since he lay back down.

He doesn’t think about the fact that their hands are still clasped.

He’s the first one up in the morning, and he’s a little annoyed by it because they’d shifted during the night, so Steve is no longer facing Eddie.

His annoyance lasts for all of two seconds before he realizes there’s a warm weight behind him and over his hip, and he figures out it’s because Eddie is behind him, arm over Steve’s hip, fingers curled against the little bit of skin visible from Steve’s shirt riding up during the night.

Steve smiles, sighs, and lets his eyes sink shut again.

He doesn’t sleep, just kind of drifts, so he feels it when Eddie wakes up. He feels him tense in a stretch, feels his forehead press against Steve’s spine, feels his fingers curl farther into Steve’s stomach.

He feels Eddie wake up fully and realize the position he’s in. Feels him hum, then stiffen, slowly pulling away. Steve aches about it, but doesn’t move until he’s out of bed completely, taking the time then to roll over as if he’d just woken up. “M’rn’n,” he mumbles, not exaggerating the sleep-rough in his voice at all.

“Mornin’,” Eddie yawns. “How’d you sleep?”

Steve hums, stretches, sits up. “Think I should be asking you that.”

Eddie smiles. “I slept fine. Now how about you?”

“No more nightmares?”

“Not at all. Think you chased ‘em all away.”

“Good.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh. Fine. Great.”

Eddie hums, but takes his word for it, offers his hand to help Steve up, which he accepts.

“Can I ask you something that I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna want to answer?”

Eddie grins crookedly. “You can ask me anything, Stevie. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.” He sits back on the bed, next to Steve. “What is it?”

“What was your dad like?”

Eddie blows out a breath, looks away. “Jesus, first thing in the morning, too. Uh… y’know how you said your dad is a grade-A asshole?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Last I heard, he’s in the state prison for the next… five? Ten? Years. I dunno, don’t really keep track. Was just little things at first, petty theft, then he got an ego and started stealing cars, met a guy who could clean ‘em, and he just…” he shakes his head. “Wayne says he got too big for his britches. I say he got what was coming to him. He tried to rob someone and it… didn’t go well. He got caught, the owner tried to scare him off, swung first, but it doesn’t matter who swung first when he’s dead and my dad was trespassing, right? Tried to say it was self-defense, but…”

“But he was trespassing,” Steve nods.

“Exactly. He got twenty-five for that, and it’s been… twelve years? So I guess he’s got… thirteen left. Not five or ten. Guess it feels like he’s been gone that long.” He sighs. “I went to live with Wayne before that, though… I had a friend, he was my best friend, and my dad… really didn’t like how close we were. Spit out a couple’a slurs, said something about sending me to a camp.” Steve’s breath catches. “I called Wayne that night. Poor guy drove that night, was there by… one in the morning? Picked me up and I’ve never looked back.” He shrugs, picks at his comforter. “Turns out Dad was right about me, but Wayne’s never had an issue, so.” He shrugs. His fingers belie his nerves.

“I think, if I were to ever tell my dad,” Steve says quietly, “a camp would be the least of my issues.”

Eddie’s fingers still for a second before continuing, not fidgeting quite as quickly as before. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to tell him.”

“I think I do, though.”

“How so?”

“He’s got this… way. Of just proving himself right, every time. It’s why I haven’t left yet. He always finds a way to twist it around and show me I can’t make it on my own. Not on my Family Video salary.”

Eddie hums. “Maybe not on your own,” he admits. “But with a person or two? There’s Family Videos in other cities. Ask to transfer. Robin’s been making noise about heading to Indy, right?”

“I think she just wants out of Hawkins, and Indy is the only feasible place to her.”

“Very understandable. Where would you go, Steve? If you could go anywhere?”

Steve sighs. “That’s the problem, though. I can’t leave the kids.”

Eddie chuckles. “I should’ve known. Then why not find a place in between? Maybe on the edge of town?”

“We’re still both on a Family Video salary. I don’t think even combined we could afford anything.” Steve tilts his head. “You said a person or two. Who’s the other person?”

“Ah,” Eddie says. “Well, not to come between the platonic soulmates, but I’m sure Wayne would love to have his life back.”

Steve snorts. “Robin loves you almost as much as I do, Eds, of course you’re welcome.”

Eddie ignores that, for the sake of his own sanity. “Well,” he says instead. “Maybe it’s time to take a crack at those newspapers Wayne’s been hoarding.”

“Maybe it is,” Steve says, a strange sort of smile playing across his lips. “And I can ask people. You’d be surprised at the amount of gossip I hear at work.”

“Oh, I believe it, trust me. Or are you forgetting I use to hang around Sam Goody?”

“Oh, god,” Steve laughs, “I had forgotten that, yeah.” He sighs. “D’you think we would’ve been friends back then? If we’d known each other?”

“I don’t think so.” Eddie chews at his bottom lip. “Not because of you, but because of me. I was still stuck in that high school hierarchal shit, y’know? I would’ve seen you as an asshole jock even though you weren’t anymore.”

“I think I’m still working on it.”

“I think we’re all working on being who we want to be.” He stands and offers Steve a hand up with a grin. “And y’know what helps with that?”

Steve chuckles, places his hand in Eddie’s. “What’s that?”

“Pancakes,” he says decisively. “C’mon, let’s go bully Wayne into making us some.”

“And by bully, you mean ask once.”

Eddie hums. “Same difference.”

He waltzes into the living room, arms spread wide. “Sir Wayne! Our visiting prince has requested pancakes this fine morn.”

Wayne squints at him. “I’m your king, dipshit,” he says, lip quirked up in a smile as he winks at Steve. “Make your own damn pancakes.”

“Wayne!” Eddie cries. “Betrayal! Betrayal of the highest order!”

“You’ll live,” Wayne deadpans. Steve giggles.

Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne. “Fine,” he says. “We will make our own. But there shall be no extra for you, sir!”

Following him to the kitchen, Steve says, “We’ll make extra.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Wayne returns, “but I’d ‘preciate it.”

In the kitchen, Eddie sighs with his head halfway in a cabinet. “Okay, so we don’t have mix.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “I can make them from scratch.”

“Or,” Eddie says, turning to Steve with a grin. “We can go out.”

“We could,” Steve allows. “But then Wayne wouldn’t get any.”

Eddie hops backwards onto the counter and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Y’know how I said we wouldn’t have been friends if we’d met earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“It really would’ve been entirely my fault.” He sighs. “You’re just… so nice. And it would’ve been unbelievable, for me, because the Munson Doctrine dictates that all jocks are assholes and stay jockish assholes. I think what happened… had to happen, if we were gonna be friends.”

Steve worries his lip. “Then… is it bad if I say I’m glad it happened? If only for that reason?”

“Only if I’m also glad it happened, for that reason,” Eddie responds quietly. “Y’know the only other person I’ve told about my ma is Jeff?”

“I’m…” he pauses, scrunching his nose. “I wanna say I’m honored, but that sounds weird.”

Eddie chuckles. “I know what you mean, Stevie.”

Steve nods, and they stay there for a minute, looking at each other, until Steve looks away with a sigh. “Alright,” he says, pancakes?”

Eddie gusts out a sigh. “Please.”

Steve chuckles and shoves the flour towards Eddie. “Here. Two cups.”

Eddie frowns. “Only?”

“For now. We can always make more later if we need to.”

Eddie shrugs, but nods at Steve, as if deferring to his expertise. “D’you have eggs?”

“Uh.” Eddie checks the fridge, then the cabinet. “No, but we’ve got Spam?”

Steve snorts. “That works. Wanna cut up a can and fry it?”

“Works for me.”

And so they work, side by side, until breakfast is ready and they’re all three eating side by side.

After, Wayne stretches in his seat, glances at the clock, and mutters something underneath his breath as he gets up. “Thanks for breakfast, boys. Steve, you gonna be here for dinner?”

“Uh,” Steve says, glancing at Eddie. “Unless Ed kicks me out.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. 

“I’ll pick up burgers on my way back,” Wayne decides. “That work for you two?”

“Definitely,” Eddie nods.

“Sure. Thank you, Wayne.”

“Son,” Wayne starts, then shakes his head. 

Steve gets the message: he belongs here. His cheeks burn. “Thanks, Wayne,” he murmurs.

Wayne ruffles his hair as he passes.

“So,” Eddie asks, once it’s just the two of them. “Any plans for the day?”

Steve makes a face. “I gotta work at two, but I’m free till then.”

Eddie snorts. “Lemme guess, you’re working alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Well not today!” Eddie says brightly. “Why don’t I come with?”

Steve blinks. “Because… why would you?”

“Cause you’re my friend, Stevie. I wanna hang out with you but I can’t do that if you’re at work and I’m here.”

Steve snickers. “I guess we can talk about moving in together. Tuesdays are always the slowest day of the week.”

“Yeah! Wayne’s got the papers around here somewhere.” He trails off, looking around, then bounds over to the TV with a triumphant, “Ha!” He reaches into the crate the TV’s sitting on and pulls out a stack of newspapers. “Okay, we don’t want anything from last year… beginning of this year might be too old…” he hesitates, looking at Steve. “Maybe since Spring Break? A lot of people moved out.”

Steve hums, moves closer. “Good point. There’s bound to be something on the edge of town.” He sighs as he sits next to Eddie. “The only problem is Robin doesn’t have a car, or even her license. And if I’m working here, and she’s trying to work in Indy, how’s she gonna get there?”

“Well,” Eddie begins, “who says you have to stay at Family Video? Why not stretch your wings out? Try something else? Indy’s a big city with lots of opportunity. How about this.” He shifts so he’s facing Steve. “If you could do anything in the world, work anywhere, what would you do? Where would you work?”

Steve fidgets with his pant leg as he thinks. “A bakery,” he decides softly.

Eddie stills for a moment. “I feel like I should’ve seen that coming. You’d be a great baker, Steve. Or if you want to just sell the baked goods, you’d be great at that, too. Hawkins is small enough we don’t have need for a bakery. Not when you can get everything you need at Melvald’s. But Indy’s big. I pass by two bakeries every time I head into the city.” He puts a hand on Steve’s knee. “Stay at Family Video for now. But when we move, you can apply to those places. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. He can feel his cheeks heating up, feel the excitement coursing through his body. “You really think I could?”

“Steve.” Eddie sighs. “I think you are so much better than you see. I think you can do anything.”

“I dunno about anything.” Steve ducks his head as he blushes. “But, uh. Thank you.”

Eddie smiles. “For?”

Steve looks up at him. His breath catches, for a second, at the look in Eddie’s eyes. He looks away with a shrug even as his cheeks heat up. “Believing in me, I guess.”

“Anything,” Eddie promises again.

Steve looks at him again. Really looks, even as his cheeks heat uncomfortably warm. “…Anything?”

Without looking away, Eddie grabs his hand. Rubs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. Whispers it again.

Steve leans in and kisses him.

Eddie kisses back.

[avalonlights]

this is literally saved on my computer as imsorrydacre.jpg 🤣

[runraerun]

May God forgive me but a Hot Frosty!Steddie AU where Eddie (being a freak) ((and also a little high)) kisses a snowman and unknowingly brings it to life. ☃️ *dodges rotten tomato*

Hey, if you didn’t want Eddie to make out sloppy style with your snowman then why did you make him so hot, huh??? Why did you carve abs into him? Why’d you give him bedroom eyes?! 😒Anyway… as I was saying…

Eddie leaves, accidentally leaving behind his battle vest on the snowman, heading home to Forest Hills trailer park. Dude’s totally oblivious to the fact that he just performed a freaking miracle, shattering almost every law in the known universe, all because he thought a snowman was fine as hell.

Hot Frosty (aka our boy Steve), can’t do anything but think of Eddie. It’s his first fully formed thought he has as his snowy skin melts and gives way to human flesh. When he sucks in his first breath of cold, winter art, he exhales with Eddie’s name on his tongue. His fingers reach up and gently touch his freshly kissed lips. The kiss that brought him to life; the first and only touch of warmth he’s ever received.

Steve’s not wearing anything besides a very worn denim vest, covered in colorful patches—the one Eddie so thoughtfully gave him. Otherwise, he’s naked as a jay bird. Thankfully, being a snowman, he doesn’t mind the cold. :)

He walks around town, approaching the various townsfolk, asking if they know where Eddie is. He’s looking for Eddie. Do you know Eddie? Y’know, Eddie, the one who loves me. The one who kissed me tonight. He needs to find Eddie. Eddie will be looking for him too, no doubt.

Eventually though, someone calls the fuzz on this very attractive, very confused young man who’s walking around the snow bare-assed and bare-footed. Hopper immediately recognizes the battle vest—he’s busted Munson enough times, and he’s always wearing that beat up thing. So he calls up the Munson residence, but there’s no answer. He leaves a voicemail instead, growling at him to come pick up his clearly distressed boyfriend before Hopper presses public indecency charges.

How will Eddie react when he hears the message?! Will Eddie believe hot frosty!Steve’s far-fetched tale?! WILL THEY FUCK?! (answers: Very confused, not at first, & HELL YEAH THEY DO)

[stevieschrodinger]

TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.

Link to Part One

Link to Part Three

“Again? Seriously?”

Eddie knows he should keep his mouth shut. He knows he should. He just...doesn’t seem to be able to.

It probably doesn’t help that Eddie is one hundred percent done with this. This isn’t a life. A gilded cage is still just a cage, and Eddie’s getting to the point where antagonizing the guards is a hobby.

“Wear it, or I’ll make you wear it,” the lackey snarls, shoving the flimsy white fabric against Eddie’s chest.

“You fucking wear it!”

And that’s it. The guys an Alpha, he’s like, literally twice the size of Eddie, and it all happens so fast Eddie’s winded by the floor before he knows what hit him. And then it comes, the whistling noise of the cane singing through the air. Eddie is intimately familiar with the noise.

And just like usual, Eddie can’t keep his noises in, he curses, he calls the guard every name under the sun, he screams and starts to cry but in the end is reduced to a compliant heap, the same as every other time.

They strip him naked and splash freezing water on his face, gets rid of the snot and tears and no doubt the flush he has on his cheeks. His feet are burning, throbbing, and Eddie wants to collapse back to the floor to take the pressure off.

He’s shoved into the white dress, “you so much as blink wrong out there and you won’t be standing for a fortnight.”

Eddie dips his head; he knows it’s true. They’ve done it before. So he gives in. They’re breaking him more and more easily. Eddie doesn’t want to give up; he just doesn’t feel like he has the energy any more.

He’s been here the longest, he’s the only one that’s never sold. It’s only a matter of time before his body ends up in a shallow grave out on the ranch somewhere.

He limps into the dining room, freshly sprayed with heavy duty scent blockers. Eddie’s vaguely aware they’re eating lunch, and if his feet weren’t fucking stinging the way they are, he has no doubt his stomach would growl at the smells.

Eddie doesn’t make it that far before he catches Hagan waving a hand at him, “get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug.” Eddie does his best to oblige, but he can only move so fast with the injuries on his feet.

Hagan, out of everyone here, is not someone you want to piss off. Eddie learned that too, very early on.

"Him," someone says behind Eddie, "I want him."

Eddie turns back again, despite the fact that it can’t possibly be him the Alpha is referring too, there are other male omega here, after all. But no. The Alpha is standing now, and he’s looking right at Eddie.

Well, fuck.

Because as much as Eddie has dreamed of this day, of getting the fuck out of here...that Alpha could be worse. The possibility is always there. This could be a frying pan into fire type situation, and there’s fuck all Eddie can do about that.

Hagan makes a noise, scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."

The Alpha is irritatingly good looking at first glance, and he becomes even more so in Eddie’s eyes when he flashes a look of irritated disgust at Hagan, "no, he'll do."

Oh, Eddie ‘will do’ will he? Okay, maybe the Alpha isn’t that good looking, after all.

"Oh," Hagan laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Eddie is ice cold with fear. Hagan called this guy Steve; clearly they know each other. Is that the type of Alpha this Steve guy is?

Everyone else is shooed out of the room, and Eddie stands there on his throbbing feet, hearing, to the dollar, how much he’s worth.

More than he thought, if he’s being honest.

Alpha Steve doesn’t even flinch at the price.

Eddie’s certain Steve must be doing fifteen over the limit, which, honestly, he doesn’t care. It means Eddie’s traveling fifteen over the limit away from a place he never wants to see ever again, so it works for him.

"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"

"Eddie," he answers, but only because he genuinely doesn't want to antagonize this guy right out of the gate.

"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"

Eddie just sort of sits there for a moment, feeling stupid. FBI. Rescue??? Maybe he hit his head or he's dreaming or something but...no, his feet are stinging like a bitch and he can very clearly remember how the whole day has gone so far. He’s awake, and this is real.

"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."

The Alpha’s...rambling. Which, Eddie kind of figures now that this guy wasn’t joking when he said he doesn’t work for the FBI. He looks nervous, actually, white knuckling the steering wheel. In Eddie’s experience, if something seems to good to be true, then it almost definitely is. This guy is giving off no scent, and there's no scent in the car anyway. Either it's a rental or something, or this guy wears blockers most of the time. There's even one of those fancy scent diffuser things plugged into the dash. So other than being visibly unsettled Eddie’s got nothing to go off of.

But then, why would he lie? He’s bought Eddie fair and square, and like most Alphas, he’s probably carrying double Eddie’s body weight, plus he knows Eddie's already injured. Eddie could be going from one prison to a...worse prison. But...again, this guy has no reason to lie, right?

"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know,” it’s pretty true, without giving too much away. The possibility that this guy could be serious is...it feels to big of an idea to absorb. Eddie might be free? He'll maybe see uncle Wayne again? This guy is going to just...let Eddie go? Eddie's known, for literal years, that he had two ways out of the ranch, out front, bought and paid for, or out back, in a body bag. The sudden possibility of a third option is so out of left field Eddie doesn't know what to do with it.

"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"

Eddie has absolutely no fucking clue what a ‘Hopper’ is, but at the sight of the beautiful golden arches, his priorities shift drastically, "oh fuck me yes," Eddie says it with such vehemence that Steve laughs, he’s got a nice laugh, this Alpha. And unless he’s playing the long con...why the fuck would he even worry if Eddie’s hungry? "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."

Steve’s expression changes in an instant, he looks genuinely horrified by what Eddie’s just revealed, “you can have absolutely anything you want.”

Eddie takes him at his word and orders half the damn menu.

Well, Eddie figures, the FBI thing is true, and this is a Hopper, and man he looks like he’s had enough, "you were not supposed to buy a human being," he very clearly tells Steve. Eddie’s feet are stinging a little on the asphalt, but as long as he doesn’t move too much, it’s bearable. And even though he’s still wearing the fucking nightdress, like hell was he missing this conversation.

"I know but-" Steve starts to protest, which Eddie thinks is kind of brave, because if Steve is twice Eddie’s weight, Hopper is basically a giant. Hopper stops him dead with a glare, and Steve hands over his phone and strips off his suit jacket and hands that over too, leaving him in a pristine white shirt.

Hopper waves him off, "you did good."

Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back and then turning his attention to Eddie, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"

"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."

Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out." And that sparks a twinge of...fear. Eddie has lived with a group of Omega for years, and the ranch was a lot of things but...they had meals provided, they didn't have to think about money, or clothes, or anything mundane like that. The prospect of suddenly being completely alone...completely alone and potentially vulnerable, is not in any way appealing.

"He can stay with me." Steve suggests out of fucking no where, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off, looking kind of sheepish that he even suggested it. At some point, somewhere between the rescue, the McDonalds, and right this moment, Eddie kind of decides, tentatively, at least, that Alpha Steve might just be an alright guy.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, playing down his relief, "not like I've had any better offers lately."

Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card to Steve, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."

And then Hopper just...drives away. Steve fiddles with the card Hopper just gave him, and Eddie can see it says FBI and all that good stuff on it. This is feeling more and more real as time stretches on.

"So is there anything you...want? Need?" Steve asks him.

Eddie feels kind of bad about the sheer amount of money he’s already cost Steve today, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."

And that...makes Steve laugh, like really, makes him laugh. And Eddie joins in, not that he thinks he’s funny particularly, but because Steve is just so...well. Maybe it’s a relief too, that Eddie is finally out of that place, and the truth of that is finally sinking in. He’s free. Feels a little delirious with the possibility of freedom.

And there’s only one way to celebrate something like that, “can we get milkshakes?”

@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @cryptid-system @weekend-dreamer7

[flowercrowngods]

something so monstrous pt.2

(in which kas feeds from steve and triggers a bad migraine pt.2)

🤍🌷 read part 1 here this part gets really intense on the migraine. descriptions of immense pain, fever dreams, and vomiting, some body horror imagery bc pain can be fun like that

Time and space lose all meaning as Steve remains on the precipice of something that is too violent to be called sleep, but not harsh enough yet to be unconsciousness. Real sensations evade him as everything turns into pain immediately. Even the twitch of his finger becomes a thundering blaze of blinding pain shooting through his body and settling behind his eye until he is sure he will wake up blind. 

The fear of that is everpresent, the blind spots too real to ignore every time it goes like this, and he imagines how they will grow. He imagines how they get worse every time until one day the pain inside his skull will be so immense it will take his eyesight in exchange for alleviation.

And even though it is unbearable, he opens his eyes whenever he can, just to make sure he can see still. It’s an added veil of terror that covers him whole and consumes him slowly but continually. 

At some point he notices something cold and wet being placed over his eyes, adding another layer of darkness that is welcome, even if it leaves an imprint of pressure and sensation on his forehead that makes his skin tear around it, his skull cracking and caving in beneath the touch. 

And still it helps a little, pulling him further toward consciousness but not further toward the pain itself. But Steve can only whimper weakly in response, six feet under a thick cloud of cotton-filled smog that even turns breathing into a chore, polluting his lungs with fear and horror and agony without compare.

He does fall into a fitful sleep at some point, grateful for the short reprieve, but it does nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. 

It feels like his eyeballs are being pushed into his skull for what must be hours upon hours, and the pain is so unbearable, so horrible, that he's not at all surprised when nausea rises in his chest, his body responding to its current state with confusion and a hard-reset. 

Steve keens, trying to roll onto his side, groaning at the flares of pain shooting up into his skull and down into his limbs. They only worsen the nausea and it's pure instinct that gives him the strength to sit up. 

"Kas?” he whispers, swallowing thickly against another wave. "Bathroom?” 

Instead of giving him directions or pulling him up to drag him there, Kas wastes no time. He gets up off the floor, approaching him with shuffling steps once more, and gently but quickly lifts Steve off the bed in a hold — firm, yet gentle — that brings another sting of tears to Steve's eyes. Pain and vulnerability and the need for everything to be over. That’s what makes him cry.

Still he manages to hold on, his head rolling onto Kas's shoulder, the skin of his neck blissfully cool against Steve’s overheated forehead pressing into him. 

Make it stop, he thinks. Longs. Aches. It’s supposed to be over. It’s all supposed to be over now. 

He whimpers again, and imagines that Kas is the one to softly shush him this time.

The coolness of Kas's neck is gone all too soon as the vampire sets Steve on the hard, uncomfortable bathroom floor. He doesn't go far, though, crouching down beside him and holding him up over the toilet. Steve can't see anything, but still he’s grateful that Kas left the lights off, the bathroom tinged in the same darkness as his bedroom. 

Pathetically, Steve rests his forehead on the toilet seat, chasing the coldness of it as pain and nausea reach their peak. It’s disgusting, but be’s not strong enough to care. A whine breaks from him, and he wishes Kas would leave. Even though the cold hand on his neck feels good, and even though he knows he wouldn't be able to hold himself up right now. 

I'm not weak, he wants to say. And maybe he does. But he can't recognise his own voice right now. 

"Not weak, maybe, but pathetic." 

No. 

"You know you are." 

Shut up. Go away. 

It doesn't make sense for Mr Munson to suddenly be here with them, to stand in the doorway and watch his nephew, who is more monster than human these days, holding up the pathetic form of Steve, who is more pain than human. More smoke than human. More vulnerable weakness than remotely human.

Go away. Eddie? I want him to go away. Tell— Go ‘way. 

The hand wanders, pulling Steve against cool skin again so his forehead rests against the toilet no longer, basking in the cold touch and the warmth of a body to hold him. 

"Safe," Kas says, and Steve wants to badly to believe him. Wants Wayne to leave, wants everyone to leave and just let him suffer in silence and solitude like always. 

Wayne starts talking again, but Steve can't hear him this time as he suddenly heaves and retches, throwing up what little he had to eat today. Over and over and over.

It goes like this for a long time. He has no idea how long. Has no idea where he even is anymore. 

The world tilts a few times when he loses his grip, his arms buckling, his hands spasming and giving out, and still he never falls. Only ever feels the cold, damp skin of Kas’s neck. 

Kas has to carry him to bed when he's done and on the brink of passing out again, and Steve doesn’t mind this time. Kas also hands him a glass of water or two before pushing him back to lie down again. That’s nice. 

The wet cloth returns, and Steve isn't aware of his surroundings for much more after that.

—— 

The next time Steve comes to, he feels like he was freshly dragged through Lover’s Lake until his lungs gave out. His head is pulsing violently, his senses are sluggish and everything feels foggy. He has no idea where he is, the room pitch black around him as he lifts a lukewarm damp cloth from his eyes. 

A soft groan falls from his lips as he stretches his aching, cramped limbs, rubbing his hands over his face and regaining the feeling in his body. Little pinpricks of phantom pain shoot through him, his mouth tastes like ash and his head protests rather violently against his pathetic attempt at sitting up. 

He is disoriented and something about his vision is still messed up, something in the depths of the room not quite right and leaving him with a dizziness he can’t quite shake, followed by a wave of anxiety that something’s wrong with his eyes. 

He blinks. Blinks again, finding more things in the strange room as he does, his sluggish brain slowly catching up and filling in the blanks.

It all comes back to him like a tidal wave when he suddenly finds himself blinking at a pair of red eyes, softly glowing and wide open. 

“Kas,” he croaks, his throat absolutely parched. 

One second he’s wincing at that, the next he finds a cool glass of water pressed into his hands before the eyes and the shadowy form they belong to retreat to the foot of the bed again. 

 “Thanks,” he murmurs, stalling as he takes a sip. Embarrassment rises in him, but he doesn’t want to apologise. The thought of that somehow makes the vulnerability that much worse, so he tries to ignore it. It’ll all be fine if they simply not acknowledge it. 

He wants to ask for the time instead, wants to know how much the migraine took from him this time, but he knows Kas doesn’t really understand the concept of it all, let alone know the numbers. 

A silence settles between them and it’s somewhere between welcome and uncomfortable. Just like everything that happens in Hawkins. It makes Steve feel like a ghost again, but this time he’s a ghost in the room, not just in his own head. He’s the one who’s out of place.

With a little sigh, he places the glass on the makeshift nightstand again and falls over onto his side. His head is mad at him for it, still feeling too fragile for sudden movements, but lying down feels better than sitting.

There’s a huff from Kas that sounds more amused than derisive, so Steve looks at him. Looks at the shimmer in those eyes before closing his own again, not wanting to be looked at right now. Not wanting to face it.

“You,” Kas says then, his voice quiet and without the edge of that animalistic growl. The sound of someone who’s not meant to speak at all. The souvenir of someone who was human once before Evil grabbed him and modified him to His liking. 

“Me,” Steve says, an automatic response, just as quiet. He’s listening. 

“How… How are…” Kas struggles, huffing in frustration at the words that refuse to come, but still it’s the most coherent Steve has ever heard him. It makes him sit up half way again; leaning his weight on one arm to focus all his foggy and cloudy attention on the vampire trying to ask him how he is feeling. 

No more words come, though, the question half finished in the air between them. But somehow it makes Steve smile. Just a little bit. This feels important. And huge.

“My head hurts,” he answers truthfully, amused when Kas’s eyes snap back to his. To search them. To communicate something.

“Hurts?” 

“Yeah. It will, for a while. Always does. Nothing to do about it, really.” He wishes he felt as indifferent to it as he sounds, but that’s just the tiredness clouding his tone. It’s fast approaching now that he knows he’s relatively safe. Now that he knows he can rest. His arm gives out and he slides, slowly this time, back to lie on the pillow. “But it’s not as bad. And the other pain is gone, so…” 

So. He could go home now. He should, probably. Ignoring the weakness in his bones and the exhaustion in his every fiber. If he closed his eyes again right now, he could fall asleep. Still, maybe he should—

“Stay,” Kas says again, and Steve really should have figured. He’s not quite well enough to really fight him on that, though, so he shrugs. 

“Fine,” he mumbles into the pillow, halfway back to slumberland already. 

There’s movement on the foot of the bed, and before he knows it Kas has tucked him in again, draped across the pillows as he is. It’s still unreal, that, but Steve won’t complain. What’s even more unreal, though, is the image Steve gets of Kas curling up by the foot of the bed in a similar position. As if he still means to keep watch. 

It’s ridiculous. A little weird. And sort of endearing.

——

The next time Steve wakes, everything around him is a little brighter, daylight fighting weakly to fill the room, but it stands no chance against the large wooden planks and thick curtains meant to block it out permanently. 

He blinks away the heaviness, taking stock of his body. There is a crick in his neck and burgeoning cramps in his side and hip from the position he’s still in, and this head still is a pulsing, aching mess — but no more than usual. 

He taps the pads of his fingers to his thumb before flexing his hands. Only then does he stretch the rest of his body and announce his wakefulness. 

Opposite him, at the foot of the bed, Kas is already awake and still in the same position that Steve saw him last. Did he even sleep? Does he need that? Or has he just been staring at Steve, watching him, ready to carry him to the bathroom again for round two. 

The thought of that makes his skin crawl.

“Hi,” he says to fill the silence that is all too inviting for his spiralling mind.

Kas grunts, but it sounds more like a hum. Sort of gentle around the edges. He doesn’t move, doesn’t seem at all fazed that they’re just kind of staring at each other. Steve swallows, not really sure how to go from here.

He fists the blanket and rubs the linen bedding between his fingers, feels the rough fabric catching on the callouses along his hands as uncomfortable seconds tick by. Still Kas doesn’t move. 

“Listen, man,” Steve says at last, thinking back to yesterday’s events and the vampire’s sudden care. “Thanks, alright? What you did, that was, uh. That was nice. You didn’t have to do any of that.” 

Another hum, and it occurs to Steve that Kas is back in his normal state, retreated back into his mind, hiding from the world himself now that it no longer needs him. It’s a strange thought, that Steve being hurt would be what brings him back. If at all. Maybe he’s reading it all wrong. Maybe it as just a coincidence, or maybe Kas tasted something in his blood that made him want to improve Steve’s physical state for selfish purposes. That’s probably more likely.

But it makes him feel even more wrong-footed than before, and it leaves him hyper-aware of the situation. Of their dynamic. Indifference and annoyance and… He doesn’t want it to change, doesn’t want some kind of debt between himself and Kas — especially not when Kas has no means to really settle it. But he also can’t feign some kind of gratitude when what he feels the most is mortification and embarrassment; and he sure as hell doesn’t want Kas to know that either. 

So he throws back the blanket and gets out of the bed, a little dizzy at first, but he doesn’t care as he slips into his shoes and hurries out of the room. 

He just wants to leave. Get out of here and go home, go back to bed and get over the mortification of having been seen like this. Of having been taken care of. By someone who doesn’t even like him. By someone who hissed and snapped at him one moment and then carried him to the bathroom the next. 

“It looks like there’s nothing human left in him, but we do have data that suggest otherwise.” Owens’s words echo through his mind as he crosses the living room. “It seems to be in hiding, the Munson part of him; that’s our hope at least. That you can get him back out one day, make him win over the vampire part. It could be like a self defence mechanism, I guess. We hope he can still be coaxed back into the land of the living. How, though, we don’t know.”

Was this what happened? Has Steve’s weakness triggered the human part of Kas’s tortured brain to take over? No, that can’t be. 

It seems unreal. Unlikely. Wayne telling him stories or Dustin talking about their campaign, that should have helped. Even Mike playing the guitar, or Robin rambling about something or other; all of that was much more close to who Munson was. Or used to be. Eddie Munson never struck Steve as someone who took care of people naturally. Someone who stepped in. He stepped up, sure, but only ever for the wrong reasons. 

It makes no sense. So it must be wrong; just Steve’s exhausted brain grasping at straws. It usually does that, anyway. Nobody knows if Eddie is even still in there. Part of Steve hopes he’s not. 

Just as he reaches for the front door, ready to just get out of here and pretend like nothing happened, he feels a presence behind him. Kas followed him out of the bedroom, standing in the doorway now with an unreadable expression. It's the blank one he usually takes on, but where before it was normal, it throws Steve off now. Maybe because he saw how Kas can look at him. How expressive his eyes can get.

He holds them, the red shimmer a little dimmer out here in the brighter living room. 

And maybe it's the blankness in those eyes, or the lack of judgment in Kas's every action, but whatever it is, it makes Steve let go of the door and turn to face Kas properly. 

"Why'd you do it?"

The vampire inclines his head. Listening. Always listening. Steve doesn't know how he never noticed that. It seemed so primitive before. Like how a dog will react to its owner speaking, but never process the words. Kas processes, though. So Steve keeps going.

"Why'd you... You kept saying that word. Safe. Do you, uh. Do you know what it means?" 

Slowly, his eyes growing a little less blank, Kas nods. 

Steve looks around the cabin, swallowing thickly, still feeling so out of place in here, still feeling the need to run and leave it far behind. But something makes him stay. Makes him want to understand. 

"You wanted me to feel safe?" Again, Kas nods. "Why?" 

There is hesitation there, and Steve wonders if it's because he doesn't want to tell him, if he doesn't know the answer, or if he doesn't know how to answer. It's a loaded question, maybe. 

"Pain," he says at last, his voice barely discernible from a growl, but somehow Steve seems attuned to it now. Maybe because he listens now. Because he wants to know. To understand. 

He waits, watching as Kas struggles for more words once more. Just like last night. 

"Know... Know... pain. Know.” He taps his temple with a clawed hand, and Steve's heart falls, his chest aching with realisation. 

Right. He would. He would know pain like that. If what the doc says is right, if what Vecna taunted them with is right, if every working theory the kids have is right, then… yeah. Kas would know. He’s know something about pain. More than any of them. Pain so intense it splits you apart from yourself. 

"Shit," Steve whispers more to himself than to the room, crossing his arms in front of his chest to hug himself and keep from digging deeper, keep his heart from falling further, and keep the horror at bay. 

He doesn't want to imagine the kind of torture Kas went through. Is still going through, if what the doctors say has even more truth to it. If Munson is still in there, still suffering because human minds have a way of holding on to pain — Steve knows soemthing about that, too. 

"I'm sorry," he offers. It's all he can offer. In the end, it’s all that’s left.

And still it's so lame. It's not enough. 

But Kas just nods again, a pained shadow of a smile appearing on his face. Something transpires between them in that moment, Steve can feel it, but he can't really define it. Maybe some kind of understanding. Some kind of safety. 

"I gotta..." he starts, motioning to the door behind him. "I gotta go. Will you be fine? Did you have enough, y'know, to drink?" 

Another nod, and the smile widens a little. Looks a little less pained this time. 

"Good," Steve says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, lifting his shoulders to his ears, trying and failing to seem casual in the face of those glowing eyes. "I’ll– I'll see you around, yeah?" 

And then he's out the door, his head spinning and aching, his steps heavy with the weight of whatever has changed between him and Kas in the past twenty-four hours. 

... sooo. part 3 anyone?

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently) 🤍 tagging for this work only: @forestnymph-666 @little-trash-ghost @jupitersgonemissing

[inklessletter]

Oh, sweet summer boy. You seem to be feeling that you are exactly where you're meant to be.

And if you're observing the sky from the very same heaven, then you might be right, angel.

🌷

Keep trusting the process with me, yeah?

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Stealth Sea monster Steve Harrington who is being hidden by his parents from the rest of Hawkins, who meets fellow sea monster Robin Buckley and somehow the both of them land themselves on an adventure. One in which lands Steve and Robin holding Eddie Munson hostage in a boat house to make sure he doesn’t snitch on them to the rest of the world.

I’m tempted to write an entire one shot of just Eddie being tied up while Steve and Robin are frantically freaking out about what to do.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 3.2k | tags: werewolf!Steve, Human!Eddie, hurt!Steve, Eddie taking care of Steve, minor characters death | @steddielovemonth prompt: Love is feeling safe by @novacorpsrecruit | AO3)

He runs for his life, his paws hitting the snowy ground with heavy thumps. His flank hurts where the bullet buried itself, but it's distant, drowned out by his instinct to survive. He can't afford to slow down, so he pushes through, letting his instincts carry him as fast as his legs will take him.

His pursuers are only human, not equipped to keep up with a nearly grown wolf. But he's hurt, and he's exhausted, and they have guns.

Part of him wonders why he's even trying to save himself.

They killed the whole village. His parents, his friends, his neighbors. They all burned to death, and those who managed to escape the flames were slaughtered by the hunters. All except him, who managed to escape through the secret tunnels beneath their home, while his parents stayed behind to fight off the invaders.

The Harringtons had been the alphas of their pack, and it was their responsibility to protect the pack with their lives.

None of them deserved to die. No one in their pack had ever hurt a human. They hardly ever saw one, choosing to live as far away from their settlements as possible while still being able to trade with them for the goods they couldn't produce.

It didn't matter to the hunters who came late at night and ambushed them in their sleep. In their eyes, they were monsters. His parents always warned him that humans would never understand them, would always fear them, and fear breeds hatred. Humans couldn't be trusted, they weren't safe.

Back when that meant he couldn't be friends with the daughter of the blacksmith his parents did business with, he refused to believe them. But now it seems that they were always right.

Humans are not to be trusted. They're not safe.

It feels like Steve has been running for hours and still he hears them following him, following his bloody trail. They're not even stealthy, branches snapping, shouts and the occasional gunshot. He's not sure how much longer he can keep going, the pain and exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He's so focused on listening to the hunters behind him that he doesn't really look where he's going, just runs and runs and runs.

Suddenly the world turns upside down, the pain in his flank flares up, white-hot, and then everything goes dark.

He comes to slowly, his senses catching up with reality one by one.

It's warm where he lies, the sharp smell of burning wood heavy in the air. Panic rises in his throat and he can't stop the whine falling from his muzzle, it must mean he didn't make it out after all, he's still trapped in the burning ruins of his home. He's going to die here, burned alive like everyone else he's known since he was a pup.

His ears pick up other sounds over the crackling of a nearby fire. Someone is here, Steve can smell them. Smell him. It's a human, a man. His scent is strong, clinging to the soft blanket Steve can feel beneath him. He's humming a familiar tune, his voice deep and melodic, and Steve can't believe he's about to die with the tune of a nursery rhyme stuck in his head.

Heavy footsteps are coming toward him, and Steve hasn't opened his eyes yet, but he thinks the guy is wearing heavy boots. It's winter, after all, and humans don't run as hot as wolves, completely unprotected from the harshness of the season.

His whole body aches, every limb is heavy, and exhaustion is trying to drag him under again. Steve knows he's in no condition to fight, that he won't last more than a few seconds before the human kills him, but he won't die without a fight. That's not who he is.

So when he feels the human stop in front of him and fall to his knees beside Steve's motionless body, Steve attacks.

Well, he tries. But his body won't cooperate, the pain makes him so dizzy that he almost loses consciousness as he tries to rise enough to sink his teeth into the human's soft flesh. He sinks back down, with pained whimpers he tries to suppress but can't.

"Shh, hey, it's okay, buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise. I'm trying to help you, but you are gonna have to stay still and let me, okay?"

It doesn't make any sense, none of it, but he's so tired and the voice talking to him sounds so nice, warm and soothing. It makes him want to lie still and let it wash over him. With the last of his strength, he blinks his eyes open to look at the man who is about to end his life, no matter what his alluring voice promises.

The last thing Steve sees before the pain and exhaustion pulls him back under are the man's eyes. They were a rich, dark brown, like melted chocolate under a gentle heat. Their warmth held a soft depth, inviting and comforting, reminiscent of a cozy fireplace on a chilly evening. With each gaze, it was as if the soft flicker of candlelight danced within them, creating an aura of quiet reassurance.

The next time Steve is awake, he feels better. He's still weak, but the bone-deep exhaustion has eased. So has the pain, a dull ache rather than a white-hot agony that sets his nerves on fire. As he comes more and more to himself, his brain clearing the haze of sleep, he takes stock.

He's still alive.

He's still surrounded by the scent of the man who found him.

He's comfortable, a soft surface and blankets beneath him.

He's starving.

As if he heard Steve's thoughts - or more likely his growling stomach - Steve hears the man approaching again. Opening his eyes blearily, Steve sees him standing in the doorway with a plate in his hand, and the smell that hits Steve's nose makes his empty stomach cramp with hunger, and saliva floods his mouth. Roasted chicken, Steve's favorite.

"Look who's awake," the man says, and Steve wonders if he knows who Steve is or if he's one of those guys who talks to animals. He really hopes it's the latter, because that makes his chances of survival at least a little better.

The man takes another two steps towards him, but then stops and looks at him cautiously.

"Okay, last time didn't go so well, huh?" He asks, but Steve thinks it's more rhetorical. "I've got food for you, so please don't bite me? God, it's a good thing Wayne isn't here or he'd think I'd finally lost it, talking to a wolf."

Shaking his head, the man comes closer and Steve takes in his appearance. He doesn't look particularly dangerous, rather slender with dark curls and a pale complexion. He doesn't carry any weapons, but he does have an ugly scar on his face. It must have been a deep cut, and it runs in a jagged line across his cheek.

Steve tries to lift his head when the man is close enough to strike, but he only manages a few inches before sinking back down with a soft whine.

"Hey, hey, hey, you shouldn't move yet, sweetheart. It's a miracle nothing's broken, as far as I can tell, but that bullet really did a number on you, almost like it was poisoned. Bastards to do this to another being."

Silver bullet, Steve thinks. That explains the intense pain and weakness.

Then he forgets all about it the moment the smell of the chicken intensifies as the man reaches out to Steve's muzzle with a large chunk of meat between his fingers. The man, if you can call him that, probably about Steve's age, looks terrified as he does so, but he doesn't stop until Steve can close his teeth around the meat and pull it into his mouth. When the meat is gone, Steve chewing happily and the guy still in possession of all five fingers, his host breathes a sigh of relief.

"Shit, man, that was scary," the man laughs, his dimples popping. He beams at Steve as he hands him another large chunk of chicken.

This human is so weird, Steve thinks. Talking to a wolf like it's a human, chastising hunters for wounding it with what he thinks is a poisoned bullet. Feeding it its own rations by hand, during a harsh winter, no less.

Whatever plan is behind this: Steve doesn't understand it. But he's too weak to think much about it, because as soon as the plate is empty and his stomach comfortably full, Steve sinks back under.

He dreams of soft hands stroking his fur, and of someone softly singing to him the lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was a pup and woke up from a nightmare.

It becomes routine as Steve's body fights off the effects of the silver bullet.

The man, whose name was Eddie, as Steve learned during one of the many times he was sort of talking to himself, fed him meat by hand, and sometimes broth and potatoes. Every two days he would also dress his wound, always clicking his tongue at the state of it and muttering about asshole hunters.

Eddie always talked while tending to Steve, at first telling him how his body was healing and what Eddie was doing to help him. But after a while, he began to tell Steve about his days and his chores, regaling Steve with tales of his adventures while gathering firewood or preparing meals for them. It was surprisingly comforting to listen to Eddie talk, his stories always funny and dramatic, with a hint of self-deprecation.

It didn't make sense to Steve why Eddie was doing all this until one night he started talking about his uncle, who had gone to the city to find work to better support them and hadn't been home in months.

It was then that Steve realized that Eddie was lonely.

He'd been alone in that cabin in the middle of the woods for months until he found Steve lying in a ravine and carried him home.

Steve was the closest thing Eddie had to a companion in months.

Knowing that eased some of the apprehension he felt toward Eddie, because it seemed that as long as the man didn't know that Steve wasn't an ordinary wolf, he didn't have to be afraid of him.

Three weeks after Steve first woke up in Eddie's cabin, he manages to get up on weak legs and take a few tentative steps before collapsing again.

Eddie is there to catch him and by then his hands are welcome on Steve's body.

They are always gentle with Steve, stroking his fur and snout, scratching behind his ears just right. Eddie touches him all the time now, and Steve has no idea how he feels about it.

That's not entirely true, he has an inkling of what the warmth means that spreads through his body when Eddie lies down behind him on the mattress he'd put in front of the fireplace so Steve would be warm while he healed. Every night, Eddie would bury his face in Steve's fur right at his neck, a vulnerable place only close members of a pack were ever allowed to put their snouts, and stroke Steve's side and belly with gentle hands until they both drifted off to sleep.

Everything smelled of Eddie. Steve smelled of Eddie.

And Eddie had begun to smell of Steve.

It made his inner wolf purr with satisfaction, and that was such a phenomenally bad idea.

That's why Steve is trying to get back on his feet as quickly as possible, so he can leave before these feelings that have started to grow in his heart get any worse.

Eddie is human.

Humans are not to be trusted. They are not safe.

But Eddie feels safe.

Worse, he is starting to feel a lot like mate, and Eddie has no idea what that even means.

"Careful, Koda. You're still healing. There's no rush, y'know. You can stay here as long as you want, okay? This is your home now, too."

Steve whines softly at the ache in Eddie's voice and licks his neck and face to comfort him. The wet tongue probably tickles because it makes Eddie laugh, and he buries his face in the thick fur at the front of Steve's neck.

And Steve just lets him, lets him press his mouth against his throat while he nuzzles behind Eddie's ear and breathes in his scent.

Steve is fucked.

It all comes to a head a few weeks later.

Steve is now back on his feet and uses his new mobility to follow Eddie around and keep him company while he does his chores, often dozing next to him while he cooks or chops wood or sorts through their rapidly dwindling supplies. Soon Eddie will have to go hunting to keep them stocked with meat, and Eddie hates the thought. He doesn't want to hurt another creature.

That's why Steve decides to go hunting for his human. He can provide for him.

A week later, he leaves in the middle of the night, carefully slipping out of Eddie's arms around him and trotting through the little door that Eddie built into his door so that Steve could relieve himself whenever he needed to.

It goes better than Steve expected, his muscles still not back to where they used to be, but stronger and faster than he would have thought after weeks of lying around. He follows the tracks of a deer for almost an hour before he finally finds it. The hunt itself is short, the wind comes from the right direction, and the deer clearly doesn't sense him until it's too late.

Steve kills it as quickly and painlessly as possible, sure that Eddie would want him to. He thinks he would do anything to make Eddie happy.

When Steve comes back from the woods, he's dragging the deer's body with his snout, wishing he could just shift back into his human body because it would be so much easier with his hands. But the shift takes a lot out of an already weakened body, and he can't risk it. In a few weeks it will be as easy as breathing again, he's sure of that, but right now it could be a serious setback in his recovery.

He can already see the cabin through the trees when he hears Eddie's voice calling for him. He sounds panicked and Steve immediately drops his prey to run to his mate.

Eddie is not even wearing a jacket, his breath coming out in clouds of condensed air as he stumbles through the glittering snow, calling for Koda.

He calls for his wolf with panicked tears in his voice and Steve barrels into him without a second's hesitation. Eddie falls to the ground, his arms full of Steve, his hands clutching Steve's fur as if he's afraid this is a dream and Steve will disappear again.

"Koda? Oh my God, where the hell have you been? I was worried sick. I thought you just disappeared." Eddie sits up, his arms never letting go of where they are wrapped around Steve, and Steve can smell the tears on his face. He carefully licks them away as more and more follow. "Please don't leave me, please, please, please," Eddie keeps begging him, his whole body shaking and Steve wants to shift so badly. He wants to take his mate in his arms and hold him, soothe his pain and fear and promise him that he'll never leave him.

So even though he knows better, he does.

One moment Eddie is holding a big, brown wolf in his arms, and the next he is holding a very human, very naked man in his lap.

If Steve wasn't scared to death of how Eddie will react, he would laugh at the high-pitched squeal Eddie lets out when he realizes what has happened.

"Hi," Steve says, waving at Eddie with fluttering fingers. Not his smoothest moment, but to be fair, this isn't how he usually approaches someone he's attracted to. For once he is usually wearing a lot more clothes.

"Uhhh, hi?" Eddie asks, stunned. "Who... Wait, not important right now. Where is my wolf? My Koda. I just got him back."

Steve is pretty sure that Eddie must be in shock and not thinking clearly, but it warms his heart how attached he is to Steve's wolf. He hopes he can get him to like his human side just as much.

Deciding it's best to just come clean with Eddie, Steve exclaims, "Tada," and does a very silly imitation of jazz hands.

Eddie just blinks at him with big eyes.

Okay, Plan B it is, Steve thinks. "I'm him. I'm Koda. Or, well, no, I'm Steve, but you couldn't know that. But, um, yeah, I'm your wolf?" Steve cringes at the your, but it's too late to take it back, and besides, he really wants to be Eddie's wolf.

He wants to be Eddie's everything.

"I knew it!"

Eddie's sudden outburst startles Steve so much that he almost falls off Eddie's lap before Eddie's arms tighten around him.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just... my mom told me about wolves that could turn into humans. She used to tell me stories about how they used to be the protectors of villages and towns, the friends and companions of humans, before some humans turned against them, jealous of the admiration and status they had with the villagers, and drove them away. Mama said that when a wolf chooses you as a mate, you are blessed for life. She always wanted to meet one of you."

Steve knows about Eddie's mother, another story he told Steve under the protective cover of night as they lay on their mattress, Steve's fur soaking up Eddie's tears as he talked about losing his mother when he was only ten.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Steve still has to ask, his heart beating as fast as the wings of a bird taking flight.

Eddie looks at him as if the thought had never occurred to him. "Afraid of you? Koda... I mean, Stevie, can I call you Stevie?" at Steve's nod Eddie continues, "Are you going to hurt me?"

Now it's Steve's turn to look at Eddie in disbelief. "What? No! Never! Eddie, I promise I would never hurt you. I just thought that you..."

"That I would hurt you if I found out what you are?" Eddie asks quietly, his thumb stroking Steve's collarbone.

"Yes," Steve admits in a low voice. "But not anymore."

"No?" He sounds so hopeful when he asks this, so trusting in the way he holds Steve in his arms, even after learning of Steve's true nature. Steve smiles down at the man who saved him, who tended to him, who cared for him.

His human.

His mate, if Eddie will let him. Steve thinks he might.

"No, I feel safe with you."

Eddie's answering smile is blinding, and Steve has to kiss him, right here in the snow, sitting buck naked in Eddie's lap, the morning sun bathing them in its hopeful light.

[dandelionxbby]

how I feel whenever someone reblogs my post and leaves rant tags