#let them have it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alleiwentcrazy · 2 years ago

Text

Eddie Munson finds great joy in collecting strays. That’s obvious.

With people, it’s quite pronounced. He treats the word “freak” like an acclaimed royal title, not some low insult. Eddie loves his freaks – he treats them with care, understanding and unmistakable devotion, always offering some sort of safe haven and an outlet for both their sadness and glee. Everyone who knows Eddie knows that.

It’s a bit less pronounced with other creatures. Although Eddie’s adventures with wild, sometimes even feral (or simply interdimensional) animals still present a sore spot for him, he’s never stopped caring about them and trusting them. Eddie has a whole clowder of half-domesticated cats wandering around the fields behind his trailer at all times, because he can’t seem to accept the fact that it’s impossible to efficiently help each and every one of them just like that. Sometimes their constant presence, walls-scratching and low mewling spawns some unwanted pictures and dreams in Eddie’s head, but he will never admit to that.

What’s even less obvious—even to Eddie himself, it seems—is that his relationship with all kinds of strays is, more or less, a two-way street.

Eddie takes after his strays more than he’s aware of. For example, he’s just a little more sarcastic when he’s back from hanging out with Max. He’s a little more excited about basketball when he picks up Lucas after his practice, even though he considers himself a sports’ sworn enemy. He’s a little more tentative and reflective when he gives El some advice about regrowing her hair, because he’s well-versed with how much of a pain in the ass it can be. And so on, and so forth.

It’s the same with his cats. He takes after them a lot.

Usually, it’s Steve who notices it first. He’s also the one who falls victim to Eddie’s cat-like habits.

The first time it happens, they’re “studying” for Eddie’s exams. He’s been forced to retake his senior year once again, but this time he’s doing everything in his power to get through it unscathed. Usually Nancy plays the role of his tutor, but Steve takes over when she can’t make it. He’s more like moral support than anything else, since Eddie studies best when he has someone to talk to, and Steve isn’t too confident about his academic skills to really tutor him, so he’s just happy to help and listen.

But it’s starting to get late, he had a morning shift and he’s finding it hard to fight off the drowsiness, especially because Eddie’s voice is deep, raspy and warm, and it makes him feel like he’s listening to some type of bedtime story.

“...so that’s why, I think, trig kinda sucks. But I’m getting the hang of it, I guess?”

He barely registers the meaning of the sentence. He’s so comfortable sitting under the blanket on Eddie’s bed everything loses importance. Moving his mouth seems to be an impossible task, so Steve just hums. When he cracks one eye open, Eddie’s looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“I’ll make some coffee,” he says, but Steve doesn’t even see him leave. He slides down and buries his face in the pillows.

He knows when Eddie comes back because the smell of coffee infiltrates his sleepy haze, but doesn’t motivate him enough to get up.

“Budge up,” he hears. Then a hand squeezes his shoulder, so he moves closer to the wall with a whine, squishing his cheek further into the pillow. Something warm settles beside him and he thinks, simply, that it’s really pleasant to be this cozy and comfortable before he drifts off for good.

When he opens his eyes in the morning, he’s welcomed by a very curious sight.

Eddie Munson sleeps like a cat.

He’s lying on his back, long hair only slightly tangled where it’s splayed over the pillow. When sunrays hit his face, he instinctively turns his head in the right direction and Steve almost expects him to make a noise—a noise that would most probably remind him of purring. Eddie’s limbs are spread out all over the bed and his whole body seems to be twisted to the side, but he still takes up a lot less space than anticipated. His left hip is pressed to Steve’s right, but it’s the only point of connection between them.

Steve has seen this sleeping position only once, when he met Robin’s cat, Biscuit. Biscuit supposedly hates Robin, but somehow trusts Steve, because he sleeps with his tummy out when Steve’s around. Just like Eddie.

Steve raises his brow and looks at Eddie’s sunlit face again. He’s peaceful and relaxed, unbothered by the noises coming from outside. When the sun moves again, Eddie moves with it, pressing his bony hip a little closer to Steve’s.

That’s curious indeed. Steve doesn’t want to dwell on how it makes him feel at the moment, so he just looks. It’s quite a sight.

Weeks pass, Eddie’s peculiar habits get more and more frequent—or maybe after that one night spent at the trailer Steve’s just more focused on taking note of them. His hypothesis that Eddie’s a lot like his animal companions of choice is being confirmed time and time again, mostly when Eddie falls asleep.

After some time, Steve notices that on top of preferring weird sleeping positions, Eddie also makes a habit of seeking other people’s warmth whenever he wants to take a nap. Steve honestly doesn’t think it’s anything personal; Eddie will fall asleep on anyone’s shoulder if they let him, but he seems to have a preference. The preference being Steve.

When Robin tries to comment on that, Steve silences her. Half because he doesn’t want to confront that yet, half because he enjoys it and doesn’t want to spook Eddie away. Sue him if he likes being needed, right?

The only time he kind of regrets letting Eddie cling to him is when they go to the beach with the kids.

It’s not even a real beach, but they’re set on enjoying it as much as they can. Eddie takes his van, Nancy takes the wagon, they pack everyone inside and get the hell out of Hawkins for a full day. The weather is perfect, the grass is green and soft, the lake is nothing like Lover’s Lake at home. If only because there are no horrible memories attached.

Steve’s off babysitting duties when Nancy announces lunch, everyone wolfs down their sandwiches and lounges lazily around the lake in the scorching afternoon sun.

There aren’t many things Steve enjoys more than good sunbathing. At home, he can’t really do that anymore. He can’t stand the pool and the chlorine, he can’t stand the sound of unnatural sloshing of the water. It all makes his head spin and before he knows it, he’s back inside, fully dressed and calling Robin to ease the panic.

It’s different here. He lays down on his fluffy towel and enjoys the sun, listening to Dustin’s happy squeals and Lucas’ joyful giggling.

Until he has to hiss, because glacially cold droplets of water hit his sternum and a shadow obscures the light. When he opens his eyes, Eddie Munson grins at him despite the glare he’s being welcomed with.

“Hiya,” he says, shaking his head like a dog. Steve scowls some more. “Move over, beauty queen.”

“Don’t you have your own towel?” he grumbles, but makes space nonetheless, all while desperately trying not to catch Robin’s eyes at the same time.

Eddie plops down beside him, immediately making himself comfortable in the sparse space Steve has left him. “Yeah, but yours is better. And you wouldn’t starve a man of his rightful summer afternoon nap, would you, Stevie?”

Steve closes his eyes, not letting go of the frown. “Stop yapping or I’ll throw you into the water again.”

“Will you carry me to the shore princess style this time? Because—Hey!” He finally shuts up when Steve elbows him.

When Robin wakes him up again, Eddie’s on his side, so close to Steve he can feel his steady breaths on his shoulder. Eddie’s both arms are thrown over Steve’s chest—because of course, even his side sleeping must be cat-like.

“Wake up, tiger,” she says, barely holding back a smirk. Steve knows this face too well.

“What are you…” Robin points at the sun and then at his chest. Steve’s brain is still a little hazy from his nap, so it takes him a while to understand what she means. When it hits him, his eyes get so big Robin can’t contain herself anymore. She lets out a loud cackle that soon transforms into a full laughing fit. Steve can’t even blame her for it.

Eddie stirs beside him. Slowly, he sits up and yawns. While he’s rubbing his eyes, Steve looks down at his chest in agony. It’s all red and scorched – all, aside from two pale stripes where Eddie’s arms were lying across his skin.

He sighs at it in disbelief while Robin cackles some more.

Overall, Steve quickly finds out that he really doesn’t mind the fact that Eddie includes him in his every nap when they’re together. In fact, he learns that he enjoys it so much he can’t imagine napping all by himself at this point.

But it’s all okay. And it’s not that unusual, right? They’ve all gotten really close since Vecna—even Nancy and Robin have some kind of secret proximity contract going on between them, it seems. It’s the magic of shared trauma and shared secrets that keeps them together and pulls them closer to each other every day.

At least that’s how Steve explains it to himself. That’s how he explains the comfort and sense of safety he gets every time Eddie’s back is pressed to his chest, when they’re breathing evenly and in sync. That’s how he sees it when he absent-mindedly reaches for Eddie’s hand when they’re falling asleep on the Munsons’ worn-out sofa. That’s how he feels when Eddie’s arms pull him closer.

Deep down, he knows it’s not usual at all. He’s had enough dates and romances to recognize when things cross the line, but he purposefully closes his eyes to that for the time being, letting himself enjoy the comfort and the safety of it all.

He learns the hard way that while both him and Eddie decide to stay oblivious, not everyone else does. And the fact that they never talk about it doesn’t help.

As per usual, when their monthly movie night with Nancy and Robin – the original Upside Down Bat Squad – comes, Steve and Eddie squeeze themselves into one loveseat. Eddie’s head drops to Steve’s shoulder almost immediately and he folds himself into a small human ball, pressing his side to Steve and going to sleep instantly.

Steve would love to take a nap himself, but the movie is just interesting enough to keep him in the half-dazed lethargy between sleep and consciousness. When he finally drifts off, it’s not for long.

He opens his eyes again when he registers the sudden lack of warmth beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie leave through the glass door in his living room. He wants to call after him, but before he does, he finally notices the muffled talk in the corridor. Nancy’s voice cuts through the silence first.

“...yes, but isn’t it kind of… Strange for them to be like that without acknowledging it in any way?”

It’s quiet for a bit, as if the conversation is being actively processed by both participants. “You mean the, uh… The closeness, or…?” Robin tries to keep her voice steady and neutral, but her cover blows a little bit more with every word.

“Yes! You clearly can’t be this intimate with someone if you don’t care about them deeply. There’s always a reason to be so close to each other, right? And you’re Steve’s platonic soulmate, so it’s definitely not like that between them.”

So many things come to Steve’s mind so suddenly he has to close his eyes—things concerning not only him and Eddie, but also Nancy and Robin. Things they were all too blind to notice.

“You mean, um,” Robin swallows so loudly even Steve can hear it. “To be as close to each other… As we are, sometimes?”

He gets up, then, deciding that he’s heard enough. Robin will tell him everything either way.

When he opens the glass door and catches the sight of Eddie, sitting on one of the lawn chairs and smoking, he realizes that they’re both going to have a lot to confess to each other at work tomorrow.

He sits down on the chair next to Eddie’s and lets the silence envelop them for a second. Eddie passes him the cigarette and he takes a prolonged drag.

“Robin and Nance woke me up with their babbling. Sorry for waking you up too,” Eddie says without looking at him.

Steve doesn’t really know how to approach it. It would be difficult enough if only one or two of them were having a revelation this evening, but since it’s all of them—well, that complicates things. He’s only a little bit surprised that his revelation doesn't hurt him at all, though. It’s not making his stomach churn or his eyes water. He still feels safe within it. When he glances at Eddie again, he can’t help but hope, even though their situation has more layers than either of them has had a chance to discover.

“It’s alright,” he reassures, passing down the cigarette. “I wasn’t really sleeping.”

Something sour flashes on Eddie’s face, but it’s only temporary. He smiles again, then, although his eyes stay dim. “Bet you don’t get good sleep at all when I’m all over you.”

“Actually,” Steve says, making sure to time it perfectly. When he reaches out to take the cigarette from Eddie, he lets their fingers stay pressed together for long enough to make some ash fall to the ground by itself. “It’s the other way around. I like it. I like when we do that.”

Eddie frowns, but his expression is as far from sour as possible. “You do?”

“Yeah. It’s just… It’s calming. I feel safe. Far away from the monsters and shit.”

Eddie smiles and huffs. He lets go of the cigarette gently. His fingers drag down along Steve’s skin. He’s not too willing to admit that, but this simple gesture gives Steve enough goosebumps to last him for life.

“Monsters and shit,” Eddie says, smiling. He turns and presses his knee to Steve’s.

“Yeah, exactly,” Steve presses back. “Monsters and shit.”

245 notes · View notes