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ghosttotheparty · 2 years ago

Text

some kind of creature

part 3/3 of fate part 1 // part 2

cw: some gore & blood; nsfw

Hell is cold.

When Eddie wakes up, he wakes up shivering.

He can’t breathe. It’s dark, his whole body hurts like he’s on fire even though he can see his breath in front of him. His skin feels like there are chemicals spilled on it, and his muscles ache like he hasn’t moved in ages, like they’re stiff and his blood cells are growing in size inside of him. Each breath wheezes, his throat tight as his eyes burn, and he’s crying before he even notices the clouds in the sky. They’re dark, almost like smoke, and as he gasps for breath, drops of water fall from the sky and land on his face.

It hurts. It burns.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, his body convulsing in pain, letting out a scream that rips out of his throat, and his voice is rough and raw, and it’s not his own. It seems to echo around him, a violent roar, and it cuts off when he forces his body to roll over, hiding his face in his arms. His hands are exposed to the rain, and he can hear it hitting the ground around him, pattering in a way that used to be soothing, but his screaming drowns it out as his hands burn.

And then it’s not just burning, but it’s inside him, in his bones and his muscles, in his veins and arteries. Every cell in his body is twisting, on fire, and he’s screaming in a way he’s never screamed before. Not when his Ma died, not the first time his dad beat him. Not the day he accidentally sliced his skin open with a broken bottle that was left on the floor in the living room. (He hadn’t seen it in the dark. After that, he started cleaning up after his father.) Not when Chrissy broke. Not as the bats ate his skin.

He can’t even cry. It hurts too much.

His whole body aches like he has growing pains in every joint, like his bones are breaking, like his blood is boiling, and he tastes blood, but he can’t tell if it’s from the pain in his gums or if it’s from his screaming, if he’s screamed his throat raw.

He grips the earth under him, his fingertips pressing into the wet ground and holding on like he’s going to float away, and it’s only then that he realizes his nails are practically claws, long and black and glistening as they dig into the dirt, his hand clenching as he screams again. He closes his eyes again.

When the pain subsides, it’s still raining, and he cries. It hurts to do that too. He scratches his skin when he tries to wipe his tears away, and he hisses in pain as he slowly sits up, wincing. His muscles still ache, sore and stiff. He wipes the scratch with the back of his hand, which looks almost white against his dark nails. His blood looks black. He can’t tell if it’s because the sky is dark or not.

He spits onto the ground, groaning in pain as he moves to kneel, and there’s a jacket next to him. His vision is blurry as he inhales shakily, and he reaches for it, pulling it closer as he trembles. His nails dig into the fabric, ripping it in one spot, and he fumbles with it, dropping it as he looks at his hands. Turning them over. His skin is pale, deathly white, but his fingers extend farther than they should, the ends dark and sharp and scary. He parts his lips to say something, something like what the fuck, but he stops short.

There’s something in his mouth, and he tries to spit, but it doesn’t move. He gasps when it hits his tongue, sharp and cutting, and he tentatively opens his mouth, feeling for it while trying not to stab himself.

It’s a tooth. Two teeth. Long and sharp.

He whimpers. Tries to pull them out, like they’re hoaky plastic, like this is all a stupid fucking joke. But they don’t budge, and he gives up, his eyes squeezing shut as tears burn them. He’s shaking, and he’s cold, and there’s a pit in his chest, empty and aching and starving. But as he looks back at his hands, at the claws and his black blood smeared across his skin, he throws up.

It hurts. It burns. His body heaves when there’s nothing left, and he retches, tears falling and stinging the cut under his eye. He gasps for breath when he sits up again, coughing and gagging, wiping his face as he lets out a sob. He’s never been this confused. This lost.

He reaches for the jacket again, shivering, but he pauses before he can pull it on.

It’s familiar. He knows he knows it.

He holds it close as he catches his breath, watching raindrops stain the fabric darker, watching his hands shake. There are patches on the sleeves, one of an American flag, one of something with wings. It’s a military jacket, greenish-brown and rough, and as he pulls it closer, it shifts the air around him, and he smells it. It smells dirty, like the ground he’s kneeling on, like it’s been outside for too long, but it also smells…

Like Steve.

And Eddie gasps, fresh tears stinging his eyes, his sides aching. He reaches down to pull up the hem of his shirt, and the wounds are covered in dry blood. Dark. They don’t hurt. He looks around desperately, falling to the side, but there isn’t anyone around. Except the dead, unmoving bodies of bats, scattered like gruesome confetti. Eddie’s hands tighten on the jacket, pulling it to his chest as he sobs, remembering.

Remembering the way Steve’s hands cradled his head, tender and soft in a way Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever know again. The way Steve’s eyes shined as he looked down at him, as he tried to breathe.

He remembers it all.

He remembers I like you too, and he remembers their promise of next time.

He remembers the Tennessee Waltz.

He remembers

You think God’ll let me in?

and

If he doesn’t, you better come right the fuck back, you understand me?

Eddie holds the jacket to his chest, balled up, and he looks up, blinking tears out of his eyes.

The sky is red. It’s not a sunset. He wishes it was a sunset.

It’s beautiful in a way, as he stares at it. Beautiful like the deep sea is, mesmerizing but unknown. Beautiful like a poisonous plant.

The rain hits Eddie’s face, and it doesn’t burn anymore.

He doesn’t think God can see him here.

—————————

He hides from the rain in the trailer. The gate is closed, and he doesn’t know how he would get through it anyway. The sheets they’d tied as a rope are still on the ground under it, next to a blood stain from when Chrissy died.

He pulls Steve’s jacket on before he finds another in Wayne’s closet. It’s too big, one of his old work jackets, heavy and thick, and Eddie pulls them both tight around himself as he curls up on his bed, looking across the room. It’s dark, and thunder rumbles outside, and his eyes trace the vines that crawl up his walls and across his ceiling. He stepped over them when he came inside, but it occurs to him that he doesn’t know anything. If Max is okay. If Vecna is dead. If it’s all over. If the kids are fine. What day it is.

He shivers, wiping his cheek with his wrist, avoiding cutting his face again.

—————————

The sun doesn’t set in the Upside Down. Or rise. There doesn’t seem to be a sun at all, really. Eddie barely notices the time pass until he realizes that part of the empty feeling in his chest is hunger.

He searches the kitchen in the trailer for something, and he finds cans of beans and ravioli, but the microwave doesn’t work, so he eats them cold. He sits on the roof, on the speakers and looking at the sky as he eats quietly. He feels like he’s waiting for something, but he doesn’t know what. He’s watching the clouds shift, grey and black and blood red, swirling like smoke, looking for any sign of anything alive. But it’s silent.

Except the scraping of his spoon in the cans, the scraping of his teeth, his fangs on the spoon.

Except his own breathing, ragged and loud and labored. Painful. He sips from a bottle of water he found in the kitchen, suddenly grateful that Wayne always insisted on having packages of the stuff.

He falls asleep in his bed.

When he closes his eyes he can pretend he’s back home. Even just for a little while. He holds the hem of Steve’s jacket to his face.

In what he assumes to be the morning, he goes outside. Tries to find someone, anyone. But all he finds are dead creatures. Bats and dogs with faces that are closed up and unmoving. He nudges them after watching for a while, kicking them, and they just roll to the side, limp and pliant and dead. The dogs’ faces look kind of like tulips.

His mouth hurts as he looks at them. His gums sting and his teeth ache, and his fingers twitch as he watches blood seep from one of the dog’s bodies. His vision darkens, like the sun is going down, but he can’t move to look at the sky, to check. He can’t take his eyes off the blood. It looks dark, thick, dripping slowly, slowly, slowly, and Eddie’s mouth waters.

And then he’s lowering, his body taking over even his stomach churns, as his throat tightens, falling to his knees next to the dog’s body and pulling it close. He kind of wishes it would wake up. Fight back.

It doesn’t.

The blood tastes like shit. Like burned meat, charred black and chalky, like smoke. It's worse than cigarettes. But he can’t stop, licking and sucking the blood into his mouth, his teeth ripping and tearing the skin of the demodog with a sickening sound, and he’s disgusting. He’s some kind of animal, acting on pure instinct, on pure hunger that’s more than an ache in his stomach. His body hurts, like every inch of his skin is bruised purple and blue, and he’s groaning and sobbing and whimpering as he drinks.

He drains the demodog dry. And then he tosses the body away, throwing it like it’s a pillow, so easily he would find it odd if he weren’t already reaching for another.

When he finishes, he falls to sit on the ground with a heavy breath. There’s blood on his face, on his hands, on his chest and his legs. On the ground around him, staining the dark dirt even darker. His claws are dripping. He’s out of breath, panting like he’s been running, and he inhales shakily, looking up, away from his hands. The sky is red. Redder than the blood. He’s starting to hate the color red.

His mouth tastes like metal, and dirt, and smoke.

He looks at the demodogs’ bodies. He’d just thrown them all in the same direction when he couldn’t get any more blood out of them, and this is how they ended up: in a messy pile, a hill of limbs and claws and unbloomed tulip faces. It looks like a massacre, like an execution, and he looks at his hands again. The blood on his palms, in the creases of his skin, coating his nails.

They’re monsters. He knows. But they’re no more monster than he is.

He throws up again.

—————————

He tries not to think about it. He doesn’t really need the blood now. He’d been overwhelmed by it, by the raw need, the hunger, in the moment, but he feels… better, now. More alive. He can climb up onto the roof easier now.

He explores after a day or so. He figures he’ll run out of canned beans eventually, and water, so he goes across the street. Rummages through his neighbors’ pantries, finds more of the same. Old man Cooper down the road must have been preparing for the apocalypse given the state of his trailer, boxes of cans and bottles stacked dangerously high. Eddie appreciates it.

He wanders. Hoping to find someone. But there’s no one around. It’s eerily silent, no matter where he goes. And dark.

It’s so fucking dark.

There’s no sun, no stars, and no lights are working. He tries every light switch until he gives up. Accepting it. He can still see fine, even though he feels like he shouldn’t be able to.

He goes to the road where Fred died. The pavement of the street is cracked, open like a wound in the earth, but it’s just that. A weird pothole. There’s no glowing light, no entrance to the real world. He sits next to it for a while, staring. Waiting. But nothing happens.

When he goes to the lake, he hesitates for a long while before sticking his head under the water, looking. But it’s just dark.

He goes to the Wheelers’ house. He listens closely, aching to hear anyone’s voice. Nancy or Mike or even little Holly, who Eddie never met but heard lots about. But there’s nothing. Even when he sits on the floor, head tilted, listening and straining for hours.

He reaches for the fancy lights above the dining table, hesitating for a moment before he brushes his fingers over the grimy brass, flutters them in the air above it, hoping, praying to see the glitter, the sparkles, the fucking light trail after his fingertips, but there’s nothing.

Nothing.

His eyes well with tears as he drops his hand, staring. The gates are closed. The connection is lost. It’s all over. And he’s all alone.

He falls to the floor, his knees hitting it with a heavy thud that sends jolts of pain through his legs, but he doesn’t care that it hurts. He closes his eyes, leaning over until his forehead is almost touching the ground as his lungs empty with a heavy exhale, and his fingers dig into the wood of the floor, cracking and splintering it as he sobs, as he wails, screaming even though he knows no one can hear him.

Thunder rumbles outside. It’s raining again. He hates the rain here.

He eats a can of corn from their pantry as he sits in Nancy’s room. There are stuffed animals on her bed, lined up across her frilly pillows. He holds one, a rabbit, to his chest when he tries to sleep, curled up into a ball with the lapel of Steve’s jacket over his face. And he closes his eyes, hoping to wake up to the sun shining through the window, warm on his face.

—————————

He finds the Harrington house. It’s in the woods, and Eddie isn’t scared as he looks for it. He still avoids the vines, even though he’s fairly certain nothing would happen if he stepped on them. He’d been to the Harrington house before, a few years ago. Steve had had a party while his parents were away, and Eddie hadn’t been invited, but he’d gotten the address through some other kids, and he’d shown up with his tun lunch box. He made a lot of money that night. He also found that he isn’t a party person.

It was noisy, and not in a good way like his music. But in a bad way, with loud music and singing and laughing and talking. Eddie had ended up in a corner, nursing a bottle of beer while he waited for people to approach him. He’s observed.

He remembers it all as he explores Steve’s house slowly. That was the corner where two girls had been fighting, arguing loudly and indistinctly about something that Eddie couldn’t hear, their hands flying in the air as they talked, their nails and jewellery flashing in the lights. A couple had made out at the kitchen counter, the girl sitting up on it with her legs wrapped around her boyfriend as he combed his fingers through her hair tenderly. Eddie had watched jealously. (He’s still jealous now. He didn’t even get to kiss Steve before he died. What bullshit. Unfair.) He’d sold a boy some coke by the sliding glass door. He’d thanked Eddie politely. It was unexpected.

Steve’s room is sad. The walls are plaid, the floor bare, and there aren’t any decorations except a framed photo of a car above his desk. Eddie sits on his bed, looking around, trying to see if he can get even the slightest suggestion that Steve is here too. To see if he can smell him, if the air shifts a certain way. But it’s just quiet, still and achingly empty.

He falls asleep holding Steve’s pillow to his chest. He’s laying on top of some vines that have grown over the bed, but he doesn’t care. Nothing happens.

He wakes up to a creaking downstairs. A door opening.

He sits up abruptly, the pillow falling off the bed, gasping and then holding his breath as he listens closely, trying to tell if it’s really happening, if it’s downstairs in the dark or on the other side. If Steve is home. If Steve can hear him too.

But he feels the ground shake a little bit, just the slightest tremor as someone, as multiple someones, crosses the house, comes up the stairs. Their shoes are heavy, and Eddie’s stomach twists as he stands there, staring at the back of Steve’s door, at the towel hanging off the hook, somewhere between fight and flight.

He doesn’t get to make the decision before the door is flying open, and his knees collapse under him. His eyes catch as people flood into the room, all wearing hazmat suits that seem to glow in the dimness of the room, all carrying heavy guns.

Eddie ducks his head, hands raised as he cowers, as he tries to hide.

“Don’t shoot!” he bursts, his voice rough and breaking with disuse, cracking as his eyes flood with tears, because there are people here. “Please, I’m not— Don’t— Don’t shoot—”

He vaguely hears a man’s voice say, “What the fuck?” and he hears them lower their guns, as Eddie takes sharp, hiccuping, gasping breaths, hyperventilating, his hands shaking violently. His whole body is trembling, and his eyes are squeezed shut so tightly it hurts. He hears the crackle of a walkie-talkie, and a rough voice.

“It’s the Munson kid.”

A voice responds, stacky and indistinct.

“...What?”

“The Munson kid,” the first voice says, gruff and adamant. “He’s the disturbance we picked up, he’s alive.”

It’s quiet, and a sob escapes Eddie, and he feels small again. Like the night he hid in his closet from his father, eyes shut tight, body trembling as he waited for something to happen. Time stretches, and he can’t move, can’t open his eyes, tears streaming down his face, his knees aching from the hard floor, until,

“Hey, Eddie?”

The voice is gentler now, softer, and Eddie’s eyes fly open. The man, wearing the hazmat suit, face covered by what looks like some kind of gas mask, is kneeling in front of him, head tilted to look at his face. Eddie cowers, moving back on the floor until he’s against the wall, hands in front of himself.

“Hey, what are you doing down here?” the man asks, setting his gun aside on the ground. Eddie watches, eyes wide, vision blurry as the man pushes the gun away and holds his hands up similarly to how Eddie is holding his. Surrendering.

“I died,” Eddie chokes, gasping, hyperventilating. “The bats, they— they got me, and I— I didn’t—” The others are all watching, guns lowered, faces hidden. “Please,” Eddie sobs. His teeth cut into his lip. His blood tastes like smoke too. “Please, I don’t— I don’t know what’s happening to me, I…”

He closes his eyes as he sobs again, head falling, hair falling in his face.

“Hey,” the man says gently, and Eddie looks up at him blearily. He’s holding a gloved hand out, and Eddie looks at it. The glove is rubber, duct taped around his wrist, and it occurs to Eddie that he’s been exposed to everything these men are protecting themselves from. Eddie reaches a trembling hand out, and the man takes it carefully, gently. The rubber is warm from his hand, and Eddie’s hand tightens, careful not to rip the glove with his nails. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Eddie wants to believe him. He wants desperately to believe him.

“Really?” he chokes. The man’s head nods, and he squeezes Eddie’s hand.

“Really.”

—————————

It’s September.

He was gone for months. He doesn’t know how many of those months were spent dead, and how many were spent wandering and wondering. He supposes it doesn’t really matter.

When they lead him through a gate, they appear in a lab. Surrounded by more people in hazmat suits, and others in scrubs, others in white coats, in suits, and Eddie feels horrifically underdressed, and he feels filthy and disgusting, covered in blood and dirt and whatever else covers every surface in the Upside Down. They strip him of his jackets and his shoes, and he lets them, desperately telling them he needs them back as he watches them carry Steve’s jacket away. And then he’s put in a room and doused in water.

It’s pouring from the ceiling, soaking him from head to foot. He blinks it out of his eyes and he looks down, watching the water run across the ground, dark with everything he’s covered in. He feels his hair stick to his skin, watches the water until it runs clear, and he knows he’s being watched, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’d missed water that doesn’t burn him.

He lifts a hand as the water rushes over him, watches the dirt and blood and gore run across his skin until he’s pale white again. His veins are blue and purple under his skin. His fingertips are still black and sharp. That doesn’t go away, even under the water. He drops his hand, looking up across the room and blinking water out of his eyes again as he finds them. Scientists, doctors, he doesn’t know. Watching him. Staring. Wide-eyed with wonder and confusion and worry and…

And fear.

He closes his eyes, tipping his head back, letting the water run across his face. He opens his mouth, lets the water in, and he spits it out without lowering his chin. He never thought he’d miss showers so much.

They give him new clothes. He asks if they washed the jackets. He’s told that they’re being cleaned right now. He kind of wishes they didn’t wash Steve’s, scared the smell will disappear from it, the smell that kept him alive.

The clothes they give him are standard hospital clothes, the fabric papery and thin and cold, pale blue and clean. They run tests on him in a desolate room, talking the whole while, checking his oxygen, making him spit in a vial, sticking his arm with a needle and taking his blood. It is black, even in the fluorescent, buzzing hospital (laboratory?) lights. His hair dries frizzy, too big and in the way as they work, and after a while, a woman offers to tie it out of the way for him. He nods wordlessly. He can’t talk at all. He feels empty, exhausted and drained and fatigued, his limbs heavy and dense like they’re made of stone.

The woman steps behind him, pulling a hair tie from her wrist. Her white coat crinkles as she moves to pull his hair out of his face gently, and he closes his eyes, wanting to fall back against her the way he used to when his mother played with his hair. He doesn’t.

Her fingers comb through the hair at his temples, her wrists close, and he can smell her blood. It smells so much sweeter than the demodogs. His mouth waters, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“I need blood,” he mumbles, his voice slurring, and her hands pause in his hair. The man in front of him looks up from his clipboard, eyebrows raised.

“I’m sorry?” the woman says gently, continuing. She tugs it a little bit as she twists the tie around his curls.

“I need blood,” he says again, trying to speak clearly. He opens his eyes blearily, looking at the man in front of him, meeting his eyes. “To drink,” he clarifies. “I need… just blood. Please.”

The man blinks behind his wire-framed glasses.

“Please,” Eddie says weakly, closing his eyes again. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he breathes, closing his hands in his lap as best he can without stabbing his own palms. The man’s eyes follow the movement.

“Did you… need blood before we found you?”

Eddie nods, exhaling.

“Ms Hammond, could you…”

“Of course.”

Eddie squeezes his hands in his lap as the door opens and shuts. His hair is out of his face, almost completely dry now. The ponytail she tied it in isn’t too tight. It’s nice.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says softly. The room is too quiet, the air in the vent blowing and the man’s pen scratching on the paper.

“What for?”

Eddie pauses, swaying. He feels like he’s about to fall over.

“I don't know.” “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” the man says, leaning over to look at Eddie. He’d forgotten how human other people look. It’s like he’s glowing. “You’re a survivor, Eddie.”

“I’m not, though,” Eddie argues weakly. “I died.”

The man blinks at him, speechless, and at another time Eddie would laugh. He doesn’t laugh now.

“And then you came back,” the man says calmly. “And you tripped up our equipment so we knew something was alive down there.”

“You had equipment there?” Eddie asks, his voice quiet. The man smiles a little bit. It’s an odd smile, sympathetic and a little sad.

“You did everything right,” he says after a moment, kindly. “And now you’re here. And you’re going to be fine.”

Eddie looks at the ground. They gave him new socks. He kicks his feet while he waits.

“Is Max Mayfield okay?” he asks after a few quiet moments.

The man is quiet for a moment, and Eddie knows he’s looking at him, but he doesn’t look up, watching his feet swing in the air.

“Paraplegic,” he says finally. “And blind. But okay. She started her sophomore year last month.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before he looks at his lap, nodding.

“And the Sinclairs? And— And Dustin Henderson and the Wheelers—”

“Everyone is okay,” the man says kindly. “All your friends are safe and alive and healthy.”

Eddie nods, wiping his cheek quickly. A tissue box appears under his face, and he takes one, muttering a quiet, “Thank you.”

“The world thinks I’m dead.”

He doesn’t ask it. He knows. He doesn’t really know why he needs confirmation, but he does.

“It does,” the man confirms gently.

“My uncle…”

“Is grieving,” he says softly. “But you’ll see him. As soon as we know you’re healthy.”

“I can see him?” Eddie chokes, looking up desperately, and the man nods, smiling that smile again.

“You can see him, and your friends.”

“Steve Harrington?” Eddie whispers. It’s too obvious, he knows it is. He knows the man sees the way Eddie’s tears fill his eyes, knows he can see the raw desperation and hope on his face, but the man just nods.

“You can see Steve.”

Eddie covers his face with the tissue, nodding and suppressing a sob. There’s a bandage on his face, on the cut from his nails, and it’s getting wet from his tears. They’ll give him a new one.

Ms Hammond comes back with a pouch of blood in her hands. It’s red instead of black. Eddie still doesn’t like the color red, but he reaches for it, turning to face her. He punctures the plastic bag with one of his teeth before he drinks from it, trying not to spill it, to make a mess as they both watch him.

“Dr Owens,” Hammond says lightly. “A word?”

They go outside while Eddie drinks.

He waits, wiping his chin when he finally lowers the pouch. The red of the blood is stark against his skin. He licks it off.

He sets the empty pouch down next to himself, and a drop of blood stains the paper he’s sitting on. He kicks his feet again, looking around the room. There aren’t any windows. He startles when the door opens again, turning to find Owens coming back in, followed by Hammond, who’s holding Steve’s jacket, neatly folded in her hands. Eddie stifles a gasp, reaching for it, and she smiles, giving it to him easily and watching as he holds it to his face. It doesn’t smell like Steve anymore.

He cries again, hiding in the jacket.

They run more tests. He lets them. He isn’t as tired anymore, not after the blood, but he’s still… tired. He doesn’t want to fight anymore. They bring him food, actual food, food that’s been cooked in a kitchen, food that steaming and warm, and he has to force himself to not eat it so fast he gets sick. Then they run more tests.

He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but he doesn’t ask anyone.

“Eddie?” Owens says after a while, a hand on Eddie’s back. “How would you like to go outside?”

“Outside?”

“We want to see how you do with exposure to sunlight,” Owens explains, and Eddie blinks before he nods.

He follows him down the hall, still clutching Steve’s jacket to himself. No one tries to take it from him.

The sun is bright outside. Eddie squints his eyes shut to follow Owens away from the building, his feet crunching some dead leaves under him. He doesn’t have shoes, but he doesn’t mind. He likes how it feels. Owens watches him as Eddie stops walking, eyes opening enough to trace the tops of the trees around the lab. They’re green. Alive. The sky is blue and scattered with clouds that look fluffy. Eddie wants to eat them.

Wind blows his bangs out of his face, and he takes a deep breath, smelling the pine trees, the faint smell of dirt. Good dirt. Clean dirt. He closes his eyes as the sun shines on him, warm on his skin, and a tear slips down his cheek.

“Eddie?” Owens says softly. “How do you feel?”

“...I missed the sun,” he whispers.

He can hear Owens’ smile in his voice when he speaks again.

“The sun missed you, too.”

—————————

The sun shines through the window in his room. It’s like a hospital room, but he knows he isn’t in an actual hospital, which oddly helps him dispel some of his anxiety. He’s never liked hospitals.

He sits with his legs crossed, hands holding a mug of decaf coffee. It’s milky brown, pale enough that he knows Wayne would make fun of him for it, sweet and yummy, and he sips it slowly. Steve’s jacket is on his shoulders even though his room is warm.

His nails tap the cup when he shifts it in his hands. He’s starting to get used to them. He still hates them. He asked Owens if it would be possible to do something about them, but Owens just smiled sadly and shook his head.

Eddie started wondering if the universe has it out for him when he was a little kid, but now he knows for sure that it does. So he appreciates whatever he gets, like overly sweet coffee and sunlight shining through his window.

He wonders where the others are. The clock across the room says it’s almost one. The kids would be at school. Nancy must be at college. Eddie’s pretty sure she was going to Boston or something. He wonders if she’s gone already. He wonders if Steve is going to college, too. Or if he’s at Family Video right now.

Eddie sways back and forth, watching the second hand of the clock tick, sipping the coffee slowly, and he’s startled out of his thoughts when there’s a soft knock on his door.

He looks up, blinking back into his body as the door opens and Owens steps in, smiling.

“How are you feeling, Eddie?”

He always calls Eddie by his name. It’s nice to be called that after everything, instead of Mr Munson like Eddie used to sometimes be called by the teachers at his school. That always felt condescending in the worst way. But Owens is nice.

“Alright,” Eddie says quietly. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Of course,” Owens says, lingering in the doorway. “Everyone deserves a good cup of joe.”

Eddie smiles a little, looking at him.

“...Have my test results come in, or whatever?”

“Uh, yes, but we can talk about that later,” Owens says, still smiling. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Eddie falters with his mug, setting it on the bedside table as Owens opens the door wider.

“Wayne?” Eddie says, and he’s already crying, shifting up onto his knees and reaching his arms up like a child as his eyes burn and tears fall down his cheeks, and Wayne is smiling, coming closer and wrapping his arms around Eddie. And he smells like cigarette smoke and leather, and his arms are strong around Eddie as Eddie sobs. He can feel Wayne shaking, can feel his chest rise and fall as he cries too.

“I thought you were gone, boy,” Wayne says softly, his voice right by Eddie’s ear, and Eddie pulls him closer, climbing on top of him and burying his face in Wayne’s neck, wailing. “Jesus, scared the shit out of me.”

Eddie sobs, and he’s small again. Wayne rocks him back and forth, shushing him softly and running his hand over his head, brushing through his hair.

“You’re alright now,” Wayne says quietly. Eddie grips his shirt, holding on tight like he’s going to float away. “I got you, son, you’re okay.”

When Eddie stops crying, he suddenly wants to hide. Because Wayne can see his teeth, and his claws, and because Wayne knows what Eddie is now. But Wayne just touches his face, wiping his tears with his callused fingers, his eyes misty and shining, his lips smiling a little bit as he murmurs, “There’s my boy.”

Eddie closes his eyes and lets him, sniffling as Wayne pulls him close and kisses his forehead in a way he hasn’t since Eddie was little.

Owens leaves them alone. He’d told Wayne everything before bringing him to Eddie.

“Everything?” Eddie questions as he settles back, still holding Wayne’s hand because he can’t stand to let go yet. Wayne nods, eyes wide.

“There’s a lot goin’ on in this town, isn’t there? ‘Course you managed to get all wrapped up in it all.”

Eddie nods, looking down at their hands. Wayne’s hand is tanner than his, rough and spotted with age and wrinkles and tobacco stains. Wayne doesn’t say anything about Eddie’s claws, running his thumb over his knuckles gently.

“Owens told me everything about you,” he says after a moment. “‘Bout the blood and everything.”

Eddie nods again, quiet before he scoffs.

“‘S ridiculous,” he says. “Like I’m a fuckin’ vampire.”

Wayne hums quietly.

“Good thing I can hunt.”

Eddie’s lips quirk into a small smile, and Wayne squeezes his hand.

“Pretty metal,” he quips, knowing it’ll get a reaction out of Eddie. Eddie snorts, rolling his eyes.

“I guess.”

He’s quiet for a moment, playing with Wayne’s fingers.

“How’d… How’d you find out that I died?”

“That Harrington boy.”

Eddie looks up at him, his lip between his teeth.

“Steve?” he says, as though there’s another Harrington boy in Hawkins.

“That’s the one.” Wayne looks at him knowingly. “Nice kid.”

Eddie nods, cheeks flushing with warmth, and this isn’t how he wanted to find out that he can still blush. Wayne pokes his face teasingly, and Eddie swats his hand away.

“Gave me this,” Wayne says, reaching to his neck, and he pulls Eddie’s guitar pick necklace out of his shirt. Eddie hadn’t even realised it was missing. Eddie reaches out and touches it. There’s blood on the chain. “Told me real gentle. That you’re a hero, you saved that Dustin kid. That you didn’t hurt anyone the way everyone thinks you did.”

Eddie nods, reaching back to Wayne’s hand and holding it tightly. He hates that everyone thinks he killed Chrissy and Fred and Patrick. That they think he was even capable of doing something like that to them. He just wanted to help Chrissy. Eddie swallows as his throat tightens.

“How is he?” he asks, his voice a little rough. “Steve?”

Wayne is quiet, looking at him, rubbing the guitar pick absentmindedly.

“He’s grieving, Eds,” he says finally. “He misses you.”

Eddie looks at him, swallowing, his eyes stinging.

“I haven’t talked to him,” Wayne says. “Not since… he told me. But I ran into his friend, what’s her name… The bird.”

“Robin?” Eddie whispers.

“Her. Ran into her a while back at the grocery store. Asked how she and Steve are.”

“And?”

Wayne sighs, holding Eddie’s hand between his. He’s so warm.

“They moved in together,” he says softly. “Steve’s been having a hard time. She wanted to make sure he’s okay, not just… managing by himself.”

Eddie’s chest aches, and he nods.

“Hard time… how?”

“He’s depressed, Eddie,” Wayne says gently. Like he knows it sends shards of glass through Eddie’s skin. “He doesn’t take care of himself.”

Eddie looks down, his lip quivering. Wayne squeezes his hand and reaches to touch his face.

“Robin said he’s working on it,” he says quietly. “Getting out of bed, takin’ the kids to school. Eating.”

Eddie nods again, taking a breath that stutters in his throat.

“When can I see him?”

“You have to ask Owens,” Wayne says. “I don’t know anything.”

“Shocker.”

“Hey.”

Eddie smiles.

And then Wayne pulls at his hands, tugging him into another hug. Eddie sighs, crawling into his lap and curling into a ball, tugging Steve’s jacket tighter around himself. Wayne doesn’t say anything about the jacket, letting him adjust it until it’s comfortable, and then Eddie closes his eyes, drifting off to the sound of Wayne’s heartbeat.

—————————

Eddie is okay.

It was the bats that did it to him. He wasn’t affected at all by everything in the Upside Down like the doctors and scientists were worried, and they think the bats did something that caused his body to adapt naturally, like he’s supposed to be down there, like it’s his natural habitat. They can’t take the teeth out, or take away his claws, or cure the whole blood thing. He can’t go out in public, given that the whole world thinks he’s dead from the earthquakes, and even if they didn’t, they still think he’s a bloodthirsty (Ha.) serial killer.

He can’t live with Wayne. Wayne lives in the center of town, in an apartment above a cafe. He says it’s a nice apartment, nice and small, but with the perfect amount of space for all his stuff. That the wall in the living room is the perfect size to display all his mugs and trucker hats, and it makes Eddie laugh. He tells Eddie that he has his guitar, his sweetheart on display in the living room too, carefully mounted to the wall. Eddie’s eyes tear up again.

He isn’t sure if he wants to play the guitar again. The idea of it makes him feel sick to his stomach, and that makes him want to cry. Music has always been his thing, has always been the escape he needed, the solace and comfort and safety, but now it feels like that’s been taken away from him. It’s not fair.

Wayne brings him his Walkman one day, and a few tapes. It sits on the bedside table for two days before, during a particularly restless night, Eddie finally puts the headphones on and presses play. Burn in Hell by Twisted Sister. Eddie almost laughs out loud.

He falls onto his back, looking up at the ceiling and tapping his stomach in time with the song. The feeling of his hands is muffled over his scars, like they’re covered in duct tape. The scar tissue is thick, darker than the rest of his skin but still pale, a little reddish and metallic. They cover his sides, his chest, his legs. They cover the zombie that used to be on his chest. He’s upset about that. He saved a lot for that tattoo.

There’s also a scar on his face, the same color as the ones on his sides. It stretches when he smiles.

There are also scars around his neck from the serrated tails of the demobats, almost like a dotted line across his skin. Cut here.

Wayne looked at it after Eddie woke up the first day they reunited. Thoughtfully said that Steve has the same scars. And Eddie remembers the way Steve choked a weak they can be like fucked up friendship bracelets, and Eddie laughs.

He finds himself touching his scars when he’s anxious, while talking to the doctors, while they run more tests to make sure the results are consistent. While he waits for the results. When he’s laying in bed at night, wondering is Steve had a good day.

He thinks about Steve a lot. He can still see his eyes in his head, pretty and wide and framed by princess eyelashes. He can still see the pattern of his moles, and he imagines them like they’re stars above his head, constellations that only he knows.

He asks Owens every day when he’ll be able to see his friends again. He wants to hug Dustin. And Mike and Lucas and Erica. He wants to see Robin and Nancy and he wants to meet Will and El because the others would never shut up about them. (Especially Mike during D&D. Always going on and on about Will the Wise, and he’d know exactly what to do in every situation. It got old, but Eddie would love to mee the legendary Zombie Boy.) And he wants to finally kiss Steve. Maybe take him up on that date even if they can’t actually go out.

He stares at the ceiling while he thinks about Steve. He wishes he could dream about him, but his dreams are haunted by the Upside Down. By red skies and thunderclouds and burning rain, by the taste of metal and smoke. When he wakes up, he rolls onto his side and pulls Steve’s jacket against himself, closing his eyes as he rubs his cheek against the fabric.

He closes his eyes, sighing, turning to bury his face in the jacket, and he thinks about Steve again. About his face, his eyes, his hands. The way he caressed Eddie’s cheek as he lay dying. Eddie wants him to do that again. To touch his face, to hold him so tenderly Eddie felt safe even as his heart stopped beating. He wants Steve’s fingers in his hair, in his mouth, on his mangled and scarred skin.

As he drifts off, he bites absentmindedly at the sleeve of the jacket, nibbling on the fabric.

—————————

“You nervous?” Wayne asks.

Eddie blinks, turning to look at him across the car. He almost asks why he asks, but he knows why. He’s rocking back and forth, fiddling with the rings on his fingers, lip between his teeth as he watches the world go by outside the tinted window.

“‘Course not,” he says, looking back at the window and hearing Wayne snort. “…How do you…” He hesitates, twisting one of his rings. “How do you think they’ll react?”

“I don’t know, Eds,” Wayne says. “It’s been a while. They’re still mourning.”

Eddie nods. The car is warm. He still pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over his hands. Wayne brought him some clothes from home, clothes he’d collected after Eddie died just to keep them.

He takes a deep breath, his stomach flopping, and he feels kind of sick. He runs his tongue over one of his fangs.

“I’m nervous,” he says finally.

“I know,” Wayne says lightly. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Eddie recognizes the drive to Steve’s. (And Robin’s now.) He walked all the way up here in the Upside Down, in the dark. It’s bright now, and the trees are alive, the leaves just barely beginning to pale and turn yellow.

His breath catches in his throat when Steve comes out of the house as the cats are pulling into the driveway. Wayne reaches over and squeezes his knee. Eddie bites his lip.

Robin appears behind Steve as Owens gets out of the car, greeting them with an awkward smile, and Eddie is frozen watching as Steve’s eyes widen when Wayne gets out next. Eddie can’t tell if they’re all silent or if he just can’t hear.

Steve is wearing a red sweater. And grey sweatpants. He’s wearing glasses, gold wire-rimmed, and his hair is longer, falling over his shoulders, and he’s so beautiful it makes Eddie move, opening the car door and standing.

Steve is still staring at Wayne, wondering and curious and confused, and Eddie’s whole body hurts. His body moves closer without him telling it to, moving toward where Steve is standing on the front steps. Robin gasps, but Eddie can’t take his eyes off Steve.

He’s glowing in the sunlight. Golden.

He looks different. Paler. Thinner. Tired. But his eyes are the same, brown and shining when they finally find Eddie. They widen, and Steve’s lips part, and by the time Eddie’s in front of him, Steve’s eyes are glistening, and a tear falls down his cheek.

Eddie reaches up and brushes it away. He doesn’t scratch him.

He’d tried to decide what to say. He’d gone through choices and choices, trying to figure out how in the hell he’s supposed to greet Steve after all this time, after all of this. But his mind is blank except for

SteveSteveSteveSteveSteveSteve—

Steve’s lip quivers. The sunlight glares in his glasses, and his eyes sparkle with tears, and Eddie’s chest is tight.

“He didn’t let me in.”

Steve keeps staring, and he exhales sharply, his lip quivering. And then he inhales, and exhales, and he’s breathing too fast, too hard, almost hyperventilating within seconds.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, pressing a hand to his chest firmly, just over his heart, and he’s so fucking warm, fuck. “Stevie, breathe. ‘S okay.”

Tears fall down Steve’s face, and he’s looking back and forth between Eddie’s eyes, frantic and desperate as he breathes quickly. His knees buckle, and Eddie catches him, a hand on his hip, before he pulls, murmuring a soft, “C’mere.”

He lowers them both to the ground, glancing up as Wayne passes by Steve to Robin, taking her in his arms as she cries into her hands.

Eddie reaches for Steve’s face, cradling it in his hands, wiping his tears carefully.

Steve’s voice breaks when he finally speaks.

“Eddie?”

“I’m right here,” Eddie whispers, leaning close, eyes stinging as Steve’s hands find his arms, holding him tightly. He’s shaking. His whole body is shaking. “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

A sob escapes Steve, and he’s gasping for breath, and he’s clutching at Eddie, stammering and hiccuping and weakly choking out, “But— But you— You—“

“We’ll explain everything,” Eddie whispers. “Okay? But I’m right here, Stevie, I’m okay.”

Steve reaches to hold Eddie’s face, trembling almost violently.

“You stopped singing,” he chokes. “I heard you— I heard you stop breathing, Eddie, you— you were gone.”

“I know, baby,” Eddie whimpers. “I’m sorry, I’m right here, I’m okay.”

Steve’s eyes squeeze shut, and his glasses slip down his nose, and he lets out a sob that tears through Eddie’s skin like teeth, rough and tired and weak. He falls against Eddie, gripping his sweatshirt in tight fists, and Eddie pulls him close, lets him put his head against his chest as he sobs. Eddie closes his eyes, hugging Steve’s head, pushing his fingers through his hair, carefully avoiding scratching him.

“‘S okay, honey,” he murmurs weakly, listening to Steve sob. “I got you.”

Steve wails, his voice rough, body trembling.

Eddie vaguely hears cars pull out of the driveway, but he doesn’t care, listening to Steve cry, rocking him back and forth. His chest aches as he holds him, as they cry together.

Wayne holds Robin as they watch, and Eddie looks up over Steve’s head at her. She’s crying, holding onto Wayne’s arm as he runs a hand over her head, and Eddie smiles weakly.

“Hey, Robin.”

“Hi, Eddie,” she chokes, giggling weakly.

Steve’s arms wrap around Eddie’s waist tightly. He’s still shaking. He groans, whining loudly as he pulls Eddie closer, and Eddie holds him tighter.

Steve doesn’t let go. Even when he stops crying.

He just climbs onto Eddie, and Eddie falls backwards, the gravel painful on his ass but he doesn’t care, because Steve is burying his face in Eddie’s neck, breathing hard as his legs wrap around him.

“I got you, honey,” Eddie murmurs. “It’s all okay.”

He holds Steve’s head, touches his long hair. It’s so soft.

Slowly, he pulls at Steve’s head, tilting his own head down to look at him as Steve looks at him, his eyes shining, lashes clumped with tears, skin wet. His glasses are spotted with tears, and even though his skin is flushed red and his nose is running and his hair is messy, Eddie thinks he’s the loveliest thing he’s ever seen.

He pushes his sleeve out over his hand, and he wipes his face tenderly, under his cheeks and his nose as Steve stares back at him, lips parted as if in awe.

“You’re alive,” Steve breathes.

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers. “I’m alive, sweetheart.”

Steve reaches toward Eddie's face again, his hands warm on his skin, and Eddie closes his eyes, revelling in it like Steve’s touch is sunlight.

“Where’ve you been?” Steve asks brokenly.

Eddie smiled weakly, looking at him. His eyelashes are fluttering.

“Well, I was dead for a while,” Eddie says softly, loud enough for Robin to hear. “Then I… wandered the Upside Down,” he says, remembering the darkness, the loneliness, and his hands tighten on Steve. “Looked for a way to get back, but…”

“The gates are closed,” Steve says, whines, and Eddie nods.

“Yeah,” he says lightly. “‘S good, Stevie.”

“But you…” Steve takes a gasping breath, and Eddie leans close, pressing their foreheads together.

“‘S okay, baby,” he says gently. “I tripped up some equipment they left down there, and they… they knew I was alive.”

Steve breathes heavily, clutching at Eddie, and Eddie doesn’t even care that Wayne and Robin are watching anymore. He leans in and kisses Steve carefully, pressing his lips firmly to Steve’s, lingering as Steve sighs, fingers pressing into Eddie’s hair. Steve gasps when they part, and he sobs quietly as he pulls Eddie closer.

Eddie hugs him tightly, burying his face in his neck. He closes his eyes, running his hands over Steve’s hair as he cries, he kisses Steve's neck gently before he sighs. He can smell Steve's blood. It smells sweet. Sugary sweet. Like iced tea, or orange creamsicles.

Eddie pulls his face away when his gums itch, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’m okay, baby,” he murmurs.

“How—” Robin hiccups, and Eddie opens his eyes to look up at her. Wayne is standing behind her, his arms around her, and she’s holding onto him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “How did you…”

“The, uhm….” Eddie clears his throat, stroking over Steve’s head as Steve hiccups, face buried in Eddie’s neck. He’s so warm, but his glasses are cold. Eddie doesn’t mind. “The bats… They think they had, like, a venom. That made my body, uhm, like. Adapt.”

She stares. Nods. Wayne rubs her arm.

Eddie smiles at her, and he runs his hand over Steve’s head again. Steve lifts his head after a few quiet moments, touching Eddie’s face. Running his fingers over his cheeks, over his eyebrows and nose and his lips. Over his jaw and his scar. Steve is still crying.

“You’re okay,” he breathes.

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers, smiling at him. “I’m okay. We got some… some stuff to talk about later. But I’m okay.”

There’s stuff to talk about. The fangs. The claws. The blood.

They’ve learned that Eddie can get sick, that it’s possible, but that they aren’t sure if he’ll age. He came back from the dead after adapting or whatever, but they aren’t sure if he’s… stuck like this. It’s scary to Eddie. But he’s trying not to think about it. Especially right now. With Steve in front of him.

Steve’s eyes drift to Eddie’s mouth, and part of Eddie thinkswisheshopes that he’s going to kiss him, but he just touches his lips with his thumb, brushing over his lips lightly before he pushes his upper lip up, tilting his head. Eddie lets him.

His chest is aching. Steve is touching him. Holding him. His hands are soft and warm and gentle, and Eddie never wants him to let go.

“You have fangs,” Steve says, his voice hushed, slurring a little. A light laugh escapes Eddie, who nods.

“That’s part of what we’re gonna talk about,” he says. “But we don’t have to right now, we can talk about it later, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve breathes. His thumb brushes Eddie's bottom lip. Eddie kisses it.

Steve stares. And stares. And stares.

Eddie waits.

Robin and Wayne go inside after a minute, after Wayne murmurs something about privacy.

Steve keeps staring.

They’re sitting on the ground, on the step, their legs around each other, and Eddie can feel his body heat radiating from him. He’s so warm. Eddie’s got the sun sitting in front of him.

“The kids,” Steve says after a little while as Eddie is caressing his cheek carefully. “They don’t— They don’t know you’re back, they—”

“‘S okay,” Eddie says calmly, holding his face. “We’ll tell them. They get out of school at three, right?”

Steve nods, frantic again, breathing hard, and Eddie pets his cheek.

“You can bring ‘em here,” he says softly. “We’ll give ‘em the surprise of their lives.”

Steve nods weakly, his hands tight on Eddie’s sweatshirt.

Eddie tilts his head at him, fond. He traces a line between two of his moles, connecting them like stars.

“Missed you so much,” Eddie murmurs.

“I dream about you,” Steve says, a little abrupt, still quiet. “When I— When I sleep.”

Eddie swallows, his throat tight.

“Yeah?”

Steve nods, breathless.

“I…” His eyes are full of tears again, and Eddie’s wipes one away when it falls. “It’s just… Every day, I— I dream about it, about— about what I could have done, about…”

He gasps for breath, and Eddie holds his face, pulling him closer.

“Steve, listen to me.”

Steve blinks tears out of his eyes.

Eddie looks into his eyes, looking at the way the sunlight makes shards of his irises glow gold, and he takes a breath, trying to speak in an even voice.

“You did everything right,” he says slowly, intentionally. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You understand me?”

Steve blinks at him, his lip quivering.

“You understand me?” Eddie asks again, voice gentle, hands firm. Steve nods.

Eddie kisses his forehead softly, and he whispers against his skin.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

“For what?” Steve mumbles, tugging at Eddie’s sweatshirt.

Eddie pauses, kissing his forehead again, thinking about how to say it.

“Making it so easy,” he settles on, voice soft. “Felt so safe with you, Stevie. ‘Nd you… you left your jacket with me. Kept me warm.”

Steve pulls back, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You used it?”

“Mhmm.” Eddie caresses his cheeks. “Wore it the whole time. Fuckin’ cuddled it when I was in the hospital.”

Steve exhales sharply, and he finally smiles. It’s a tiny, weak smile, almost absentminded, but it’s there.

“I have your vest,” he says. “In— In my room. I sleep with it.”

Eddie's stomach flutters. His heart aches.

“Really?” he asks weakly. Steve nods. Eddie laughs, almost delirious, and Steve reaches for his face, tracing the lines around his smile.

“God, you’re so…”

Eddie’s smile softens, and his chest fucking hurts.

“You too,” he whispers. Steve smiles at him.

He traces his smile lines again, watching his own fingertips trail over Eddie’s skin.

“Can you kiss me again?” he asks softly, whispering. “Please. I— I need…”

Eddie leans in and brushes their lips together, rebelling in the way Steve’s breath stutters and he slips his hands down to Eddie’s neck. He’s so warm. God, he’s so warm.

Eddie kisses him softly. Chastely. He feels Steve’s lips part.

“Careful,” Eddie breathes without pulling away, a gentle warning of his teeth. Steve nods, pulling at his neck, and Eddie kisses him.

It’s still so soft. Steve tugs at Eddie’s lower lip, and Eddie exhales, combing through Steve’s hair.

When they part, Steve is crying again.

His glasses are filthy, smeared with tears and cloudy from being pressed to Eddie’s skin, and Eddie smiles fondly, taking them carefully from Steve’s face. Steve watches silently as Eddie cleans them with the hem of his sweatshirt, holding them up to the sky to check before he puts them back, tilting his head to check that they’re over his ears properly. He pauses when he spots a hearing aid on Steve’s left ear, tan and white.

“I like your glasses,” Eddie says quietly. Steve blinks at him, seeing clearly now that they’re clean.

“Also got this,” he says, turning and tucking his hair to show Eddie the hearing aid.

“I like it,” Eddie murmurs. “Didn’t know you couldn’t hear good.”

“Concussions,” Steve whispers softly.

Their faces are still close. Eddie’s ass hurts from the gravel, but he doesn’t care.

Steve cries again.

Eddie wipes his tears.

—————————

Robin gives good hugs. Eddie didn’t know before, because she doesn’t seem like a very huggy person, but her arms are tight around Eddie’s neck, and she’s warm, and they sway together as Wayne and Steve watch.

“Missed you, Buckley,” Eddie murmurs.

She groans into his neck quietly. He holds her a little tighter.

She wipes her tears when they part, and he swats her hands out of the way, reaching for her cheeks. He sees her eye the claws, and he just murmurs softly, “I won’t scratch you.”

She trusts him, staring as he cleans her face tenderly, and then he tugs her closer and kisses her forehead.

Eddie explains everything. Tells them about waking up, about the acid rain, about how it stopped hurting after he adapted. About wandering through Upside Down Hawkins, finding food and water that, now that he thinks about it, would probably not be safe for anyone other than him to eat, about the demodogs and their blood. They listen intently, their brows furrowed like they’re taking mental notes, and Eddie kind of wants to hide. The same way he did when he first saw Wayne again, like he’s some kind of creature, like he’s some kind of monster. But they don’t flinch at anything, don’t wince or grimace or make any faces. They just listen.

So he keeps telling them. About looking at each gate, trying to find a way home, about going to the Wheelers’ and touching the lights, trying to tap SOS, about the darkness.

“They found me at– at Steve’s.”

“At mine?”

“Your house. I was… I don’t know. Lonely.”

Steve pulls Eddie close again.

He smells good. His clothes smell like laundry detergent, like they’re freshly washed, and his hair smells like some shampoo, clean and masculine and a little spicy, and his blood smells sweet, and Eddie closes his eyes as his arms tighten around him. He might even melt a little against his chest. He doesn’t mind Wayne and Robin seeing.

He waits with Robin while Wayne and Steve go to get the kids. They sit on the sofa, sipping coffee, holding hands.

He’s nervous. She can tell that he is. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t question him or try to make him feel better, and he appreciates it.

Steve will probably tell them Eddie’s back before they get back to the house. Just to prepare them, so they don’t walk into the house to find… this. Almost-Eddie sitting on the sofa with a blue ceramic mug in his claws, focusing on breathing and not hurting Robin’s hand.

He takes a deep breath when he hears their cars pull into the driveway, and Robin squeezes as he takes a deep breath, setting his mug on the coffee table before the front door bursts open just seconds later.

And then Dustin is standing in the doorway of the living room, breathless and panting and crying, a red cane in his hand, Eddie’s black bandana tied to the handle of it. Eddie’s chest tightens.

“Hey, Dusty.”

He stands up as Dustin stares at him, as Mike and Lucas and Erica appear behind him, each of their eyes filled with tears. He smiles, his own eyes burning.

He can’t say anything else before Dustin is practically catapulting himself into him, throwing the cane aside as he tackles Eddie, and Eddie catches him, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Dustin is mumbling something and it takes a moment for Eddie to understand him, but he laughs when he does.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy—”

“‘S alright, dude,” Eddie says lightly.

Dustin cries. Eddie cries too.

Then Erica is joining them, jumping up onto Eddie and trusting him to catch her, which he does, her arms around Eddie’s neck tightly. And then he’s really crying, because how the fuck did she grow this much in just a few months? And maybe she didn’t actually grow much, but she just seems so much older now, and Eddie can’t help but think that it might be a little his fault.

“Christ,” he mutters into her neck, one arm around her as her legs wrap around him, the other around Dustin, who wraps an arm around Erica, too. “You miss me this much?”

“Shut the hell up,” they mumble simultaneously, and he laughs wetly, holding them tighter. When he finally lowers Erica to the ground, she’s sniffling and wiping her face, and Robin reaches for her, pulling her into a hug, and she looks like a little girl again. Lucas takes her place, arms firm around Eddie as Dustin steps back, still staring. And then Mike is there, and his hair is almost long as Eddie’s.

“I like the new look,” Eddie says, and Mike scoffs.

“‘Course you do,” he says sassily before he joins Lucas in the hug.

Eddie had missed touching people. He hadn’t known how great it is until he didn’t have it anymore, until the closest thing he had was pulling Steve’s and Wayne’s jackets tighter around himself. He never wants to let go of them now, arms lingering around Lucas and Mike even as their arms loosen, and they just hug him all over again.

As Dustin is hugging him again, so tightly it’s a little hard to breathe, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut.

He only opens them when he hears Max’s voice, and he almost gasps as his eyes fly open to find her entering the room, sitting in a wheelchair that she’s pushing herself. Her eyes are wide but pale, clouded over and unseeing as she tilts her head, saying his name again.

“I’m here, Red,” he says, patting Dustin’s back, and Dustin lets go of him begrudgingly, sniffling. Mike pulls him close as Max beams, turning her head in his direction.

“If you don’t hug me, I’ll kill you,” she says, and he laughs loudly.

“I believe you,” he says as he comes close, kneeling in front of her and touching her leg to let her know he’s there. She reaches for his hand quickly, but she pulls her hand back with a hiss when one of his claws scratches her. “Fuck, sorry. Can’t get rid of those.”

“Don’t care,” she says, holding her arms out. “Come here.”

He hugs her. His eyes burn. She’s shaking as they embrace, her face buried in his neck, and he runs his hands over her head gently.

“God,” she says into his neck. “Missed you and your stupid hair.”

He laughs again.

“Thanks.” He pulls away, looking at her. “I like yours, by the way.” It’s shorter now, trimmed under her chin, light and feathery and a little wavier. He touches it, tucking it behind her ears. “Looks nice.”

“You think?” she says, her cheeks pink. “El said it’s cute.”

“El,” Eddie repeats.

“That’s me,” a girl’s voice says from the hall behind Max, and Eddie startles with a sharp, “Jesus—”

There’s a chorus of teary laughter around the room, and Eddie looks at the girl. She has short, curly hair and wide, almost expressionless eyes even as she gives him an awkward smile. A boy appears behind her, a little taller, his eyes also wide, but apprehensive.

“She does that a lot,” he says.

Eddie blinks at him as Max holds his hand, squeezing.

“Will the Wise,” he guesses aloud, and the boy’s cheeks flush pink as he nods, smiling nervously.

“Hi.”

“Mike would not shut up about you during campaigns,” Eddie says, and Will’s cheeks flush darker as Mike’s wavering voice says, “Shut up, Eddie.”

Wayne and Steve join a moment later. Steve’s eyes are a little red.

Eddie recounts everything he told Steve and Robin after they all find their places in the living room. Erica climbs onto Eddie’s lap as they’re all settling, hiding her face in his neck, and he holds her, his chest aching. He runs his hands over her back as he speaks, as he looks at the ground because there are too many eyes on him.

Max moves onto an armchair, reaching for Lucas, who sits on the armrest, holding her hand with one hand and playing with her hair with the other. Eddie will need to know if they’ve finally gotten (back) together. He thinks they have, at least based on the way Max relaxes when Lucas’s fingers run through her hair.

Erica falls asleep on his lap, heavy on his chest, breaths soft and warm on his neck. He just holds her protectively.

Robin leaves after a while to call Nancy. She’s gone for a while, explaining everything over the phone, and when she comes back, she’s smiling. Nancy shows up a little while after, coming inside without knocking, running to the living room, where everyone looks up at her, but she just looks at Eddie, wide eyes full of tears, hands shaking so hard she drops her keys.

“Hey, Nance,” Eddie says softly, and he would get up to hug her if Erica wasn’t asleep on his lap. Nancy exhales, blinking tears out of her eyes, and she silently goes to the sofa, sitting next to him, and he lifts an arm up, wrapping it around her as she lays against him. Erica sleepily shifts to lay her face in the other side of his neck, and Nancy moves to hug him tighter, gasping for breath.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“Jesus, Eddie,” she mumbles into his neck, her shoulders shaking. He runs a hand over her head, his claws getting caught in her curls, and he murmurs to her.

“I’m alright, Nancy, it’s okay.”

“I know,” she chokes. “You’re okay, I know, I just…”

He holds her.

—————————

They stay past their bedtimes. Steve has to call the parents, let them all know that they’ll be coming home soon, and please, they’re not in trouble, it’s my fault. They all hug Eddie before they go, tight and tearful again with promises of returning tomorrow to see him. To catch him up on everything he’s missed. He can’t wait.

Robin pulls Steve aside and mutters something to him, something that confuses him, and Eddie watches as Steve whispers back to her, eyebrows furrowed, before she speaks again, raising an eyebrow at him and grinning as his face flushes a lovely shade of pink. She hugs Eddie tightly, kisses his cheek, ruffles his hair, and then she follows Nancy out.

Wayne takes the Sinclairs and Dustin home. Steve takes El, Will, and Max. Eddie waits in the living room.

It’s weirdly quiet when they’re all gone. Almost echoing, like their voices and their laughter and their sobs are still lingering in the air. Eddie sits on the sofa, legs crossed, cushion in his lap, looking around. It looks different than it did in the Upside Down, not just because of the lack of vines and dust and darkness that was almost corporeal, but because there are photos on the walls, mostly just pinned, some framed nicely. There’s also artwork, paintings that are put up carefully, lovingly. There’s one above the mantle that Eddie gets stuck gazing at, his head tilted. It’s sort of abstract, a patchy swirl of colors, redblueorangegreenpurpleyellowpink, and it almost looks like a landscape, like some kind of fantasy land that Eddie wants to visit. At the center of the painting, floating above the ground, are two figures, long-limbed and genderless, holding hands. It looks like they’re spinning, like they’re flying and holding onto each other so they don’t get lost, and Eddie knows it’s Robin and Steve. He wonders who painted it.

He remembers that the Upside Down is behind. Was it three years that Nancy said? He can’t remember.

It doesn’t really matter. But he knows that all of this, all the photos and all the art, is fairly new in this house.

He lifts the pillow and buries his face in it. It smells like Robin and Steve. He closes his eyes. And he cries.

He’s still sitting there when Steve comes home.

“Where’s Robin?” Eddie asks, watching Steve take his jacket off and leave it on the armchair Max had been sitting on.

“Uh, Nancy’s,” he says. His cheeks flush pink again. “She’s spending the night there.”

Eddie nods, smiling up at him, and Steve pauses, staring at him. He looks like he’s in pain, and Eddie reaches a hand up, beckoning. Steve comes close, taking his hand and collapsing onto the sofa next to him. He looks at Eddie’s hand, gazes at his claws, traces his blue veins.

“Are you cold?” he asks, whispering.

“I’m always kind of cold now,” Eddie says quietly. “I’m used to it.”

Steve looks at his hand some more. He holds it between his own, cradles it, and his skin is so warm it almost feels hot on Eddie’s. He likes it.

“Pretty,” Steve murmurs, tracing one of Eddie’s claws.

“I’m scared I’m gonna hurt you,” Eddie confesses, and Steve looks up into his eyes.

“With these?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, even though it’s a general fear. That he’ll scrape Steve’s lip with his teeth, that he’ll scratch his skin with his claws. That Steve will bleed and Eddie will lose control the way he did the first time he fed on the bodies of the demodogs. (He hasn’t lost control since then. When he fed in the hospital, on donated blood and animal blood, he managed to stay calm, to drink steadily. He’s still scared.)

Steve looks back down, and then he’s lifting Eddie’s hand up to his lips and he’s kissing his claws slowly, one by one, so tender that it makes Eddie’s chest ache and his eyes burn.

“I trust you,” Steve breathes when he finishes, running his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut.

“God, I missed you so much,” he chokes, throat tight.

“I missed you, too,” Steve whispers, moving closer, taking the cushion from Eddie’s lap and setting it aside as he pulls at Eddie’s legs. Eddie opens his eyes to see, shifting so he’s straddling Steve, their legs around each other, and he moves closer, closer, closer, until their chests press and Eddie can press his face into Steve’s neck. Steve wraps his arms around him tightly, running a hand over his spine. “I found— I found that song.”

Eddie pauses, tucking his arms between them so Steve is wrapped around him, warm.

“Tennessee Waltz?” he says, his voice muffled by Steve’s skin.

“Yeah. Went to a music store in Indy and asked about it.”

Eddie lifts his head. Looks at him.

“Really?”

Steve nods, suddenly bashful, looking away.

“Got some, uhm. Ozzy and… Megadeth.”

A slow grin crawls across Eddie’s face, and his eyes light up, and he leans closer.

“Really?” he whispers, like it’s scandalous, and Steve nods. “What’s your favorite?”

Steve shrugs weakly, hands petting Eddie’s back before they slide down to his waist.

“I like Judas Priest,” he says quietly. Eddie exhales.

“You’re making me feel things, Stevie.”

Steve’s lips twitch into a smile.

“That’s why Robin left.”

A loud laugh bursts out of Eddie, and he throws his head back as Steve stares at him, grinning now. His fingers are warm when he tucks them under Eddie’s sweatshirt, touching his skin, his scars, pressing into the softness above the waistband of his pants.

Eddie giggles when he looks at Steve again, because Steve looks fucking lovesick, and how in the hell did Eddie wind up here? In Steve Harrington’s arm, with him looking at him like that? All shiny eyes and smiling lips and gentle touches. Eddie never thought he’d like that, the gentle touches. He’s always wanted it all rougher, meaner, harder. But as Steve’s fingertips dance over his sides under his sweatshirt, as he touches him carefully like he doesn’t want to hurt him, as he gazes at him, Eddie feels kind of beautiful. It’s a nice feeling.

He doesn’t feel monstrous here, with Steve touching him. With Steve smiling at him.

“You’re so warm,” Eddie says softly. His hands are against Steve’s stomach, and he tugs at the hem of his sweater. Steve nods, and Eddie slips his hands under it, pressing to his skin. He’s so warm, and soft. There’s hair on his belly, and Eddie loves it. He presses his hands against him more firmly, careful not to scratch him, but Steve doesn’t straighten up or stiffen or flinch.

“I run hot,” he says softly. “Always have.”

“Yeah, you do,” Eddie quips, and Steve snorts, leaning to press their foreheads together.

They’re quiet for a moment before Steve pulls his hands from under Eddie’s sweatshirt and reaches up to hold his face.

“Fuck,” Eddie says heavily, closing his eyes, letting Steve’s hands envelop his face.

“What?”

“Just…” His chest feels tight, and a chill runs down his spine, and he feels suddenly claustrophobic, but he can’t get away. He runs his hands over Steve’s waist, holding him tightly. “Don’t let go. Please.”

“I won’t let go,” Steve murmurs.

“Your hands…” Eddie mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut, taking a breath.

“You okay?”

“Feels so good, Stevie,” Eddie says weakly, exhaling sharply. Steve kisses his forehead, brushing his thumb over Eddie’s cheek. He stays there for him, waiting patiently as Eddie catches his breath.

Until Eddie lifts his head, blinking his eyes open and reaching to touch Steve’s hands, holding them to himself. His skin is warm and soft, and Eddie turns his head to kiss his palm. He feels almost overwhelmed, closing his eyes.

“You okay?” Steve asks again after another while, whispering. Eddie nods, but he doesn’t let go.

“You…” He hesitates, unsure of how to say it, how to articulate the storm that’s swirling in his chest, but Steve just looks at him, eyes soft and gentle and wondering, and Eddie wants to cry. “You make me feel so good.”

“Yeah?” Steve whispers, smiling, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks. Eddie nods.

“Missed your hands,” he mumbles, smiling when Steve scoffs lightly.

“Just my hands?”

Eddie’s smile widens, his cheek squishing against Steve’s palm, and he sighs, turning his head to press his face into it, taking a deep breath. He can feel Steve watching him, gazing again.

Eddie groans softly, hands tightening on Steve’s wrists.

“‘S okay,” Steve whispers. “What do you need?”

Eddie doesn’t know what he needs. He needs more, but he doesn’t know what more means. More touch, more contact, but they’ve got their legs wrapped around each other and Steve’s hands are pressed to his face, warm and firm.

“You,” Eddie chokes.

“You have me,” Steve breathes. “Take me.”

Eddie exhales shakily, nuzzling into his palm, and his lips part.

“‘S okay,” Steve murmurs again.

Eddie opens his mouth wider, and then he’s slipping his tongue over Steve’s palm, and Steve is letting him, still brushing his thumbs over his skin lightly, softly, letting Eddie take what he needs. Eddie licks his palm again, pulling at his wrist so he can trail his tongue up Steve’s fingers. Over the band of Eddie’s ring around Steve’s finger. (Wayne had told Eddie that Steve was wearing it when they spoke, that he took it. Eddie had wondered where it was, and then he was glad Steve took it.) Their eyes are locked, and Eddie’s stomach is flipping and flutterings, and a small, mean part of his mind expects Steve to make a face, to pull away and call him a freak. But Steve’s eyes are gentle on him, and he must see the fear in Eddie’s eyes, because he nods, smiling.

Steve hushes him softly when he whimpers, and Eddie is crying, tears falling down his cheeks as Steve tenderly pushes two fingers into his mouth, careful to keep them away from Eddie’s fangs. Eddie melts, his shoulders slumping, and his eyes close, and he reaches for Steve’s belly again, pressing under his shirt and moving closer.

He sucks, whining weakly as he cries, and Steve wipes his tears away, moving his fingers farther into Eddie’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue, sliding over it. Eddie hums, his head tilting when Steve leans in close, his other hands slipping over Eddie’s waist as he presses into his neck, sighing.

“Missed you so fucking much,” he murmurs, kissing Eddie’s skin before he sits back up, and Eddie looks at him blearily. He doesn’t take his hand from Eddie’s mouth as he takes off his glasses, haphazardly tossing them to the coffee table, and Eddie closes his eyes again. Steve leans toward his neck again, pressing his face into it, kissing him softly, carefully. “So fucking much, Jesus. Can’t fucking believe you’re here.”

Eddie whines around his fingers, sucking again, pulling a hand out of Steve’s shirt to hold the back of his head, his hair tangling in his claws, as Steve kisses his neck again. He’s so… tender. In a way Eddie never thought he’d ever get, a way he never imagined himself being treated. Tender in a way he never thought he’d deserve, but Steve just does it, kisses his skin softly, chastely, peppering the side of his neck in kisses like it’s the way it should be, like there’s no other way Steve could possibly treat him.

It feels so good. Eddie can’t open his eyes, and his head feels like it’s full of clouds and cotton and dust, and all he can do is hum softly, sucking on Steve’s fingers and breathing heavily. When Steve’s tongue runs across his skin, just a soft kitten lick, a quiet, strangled noise escapes Eddie’s throat, and his mouth falls open, and Steve’s fingers slip out. Eddie forgets to close his mouth, whimpering as Steve licks his neck again, reaching to hold Eddie’s neck, warm on his skin. He feels kind of high, unstable and woozy as Steve kisses his neck, as he presses a thumb under Eddie’s chin to tilt his head back, kissing across his throat.

“Stevie,” Eddie whimpers, a tear slipping down his cheek. Steve sucks on his skin softly, fingertips stroking his jaw.

“You okay?” Steve whispers, lifting his head, leaning close enough that their lips brush. Eddie shivers, exhaling.

“You feel so good,” he says weakly, shaking. “It was so cold down there, Stevie, I was… everything hurt so fucking bad, I—”

Steve kisses him. His hand holds Eddie’s throat, and Eddie keens, deflating. Steve’s fingers span across his whole neck, holding him in place, and Eddie feels so vulnerable, vulnerable in a way he gets to be, in a way he’s allowed to be, because it’s Steve. He groans softly when Steve squeezes and kisses him again, tilting his head so their noses aren’t smushed together.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve breathes when they part, breathing hard. Their lips are still brushing. “You can feel good now.”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes, exhaling as if in relief, like Steve’s granted him permission. “Thank you.”

Steve kisses him again, so hard that he rocks backwards, clutching at his back. His nails press into Steve’s back, and he hears him let out a hiss.

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps, pulling his hands away. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m— I’m still getting used to them, I’m sorry—”

“‘S okay,” Steve breathes, kissing him again, sucking on his lip. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

He kisses him again before he can respond, hand sliding to hold his face, his chin, squishing his cheeks. Eddie slides his hands over his back, soothing the spots that he’d stabbed him like a startled cat. Steve hums, sucking on his lip again, and Eddie reaches a hand to his wrist, holding it tightly, pushing his sleeve up to hold his skin, to feel his pulse, and then he pulls back as a thought occurs to him.

“Off,” he gasps. “Can you— Can you take this off?”

“You too?” Steve breathes. Eddie nods, and they part, leaning away to avoid hitting each other as they pull their sweaters over their heads, tossing them aside.

Their scars match. They’re different colors, Steve’s soft pink and metallic, healed, and Eddie’s darker, redder, rougher. Their eyes trail over each other’s bodies, and Eddie kind of wants to hide, to be self-conscious, to hide his scars and stretchmarks and hair and the soft rolls of his belly, but Steve leans in, sliding a hand over his waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Eddie closes his eyes. Slides his hands over Steve’s back, over his chest. Steve kisses his neck again, slowly and softly, and Eddie squeezes, careful with his nails even though his head is cloudy again. He shivers as Steve kisses him, tilting his head back as he kisses across his throat to the other side. He’s so gentle, so slow and soft, and the room is silent except for the sounds of it, wet and sweet and overlapping with their heavy breaths and the weak noises Eddie is making.

“Love you, Stevie,” Eddie breathes, feeling Steve’s lips curve into a smile against his throat.

Steve kisses him again, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair, his fingers twisting with the curls, and Eddie whines.

“I love you too,” Steve whispers into his ear, and Eddie wants to smack him, because he knows Steve can tell exactly how it’s affecting him, that the quiet sounds are making him shiver, making chills spread over his skull and down his spine. Eddie whimpers. Steve kisses just under his ear, at the hinge of his jaw, and then he’s kissing his earlobe, his tongue teasing his skin, and Eddie could die. (And what a better way to die this would be, with Steve’s lips and hands on him. Peaceful.)

“Eddie,” Steve exhales, his breath hitting Eddie’s ear. Eddie shivers again, biting his lip. He hums. “Can I bite you?”

“Jesus,” Eddie says, his voice too loud, and Steve giggles, kissing his neck. “Fucking yes, baby, please, fuck.”

“Like it when you call me that,” Steve murmurs, lips brushing Eddie’s neck, and Eddie tilts his head to the side to give him room, groaning softly. “Tell me if I do it too hard.”

He kisses his neck, softly and lovingly, and then he bites down, tugging at Eddie’s skin with his teeth, and it hurts, but Eddie just moans softly, reaching to hold Steve’s head.

“Is that okay?” Steve asks softly when he releases it, pulling away enough for Eddie to hear. Eddie groans, pushing his head back down.

“More,” he whines. “Mark me up, baby, please.”

Steve lets out a soft noise, and he does it again, and again, and again, until Eddie knows his neck is littered with bite marks, until Eddie feels like he’s going to fall over, holding onto Steve’s head and leaning against his chest, his skin warm against Eddie’s.

Steve pulls back after a while, eyeing Eddie’s neck, breathing hard, his lips red, and Eddie looks at him, his vision almost blurry, but he can’t tell if its just SteveSteveSteve or if he’s crying. Steve smiles, tracing one of the marks.

“You’re all red,” he breathes. Eddie makes a noise. “Beautiful.”

Maybe Eddie doesn’t mind the color red anymore.

“Kiss me,” he whispers. Steve kisses him.

It’s still so soft, so tender, and a little awkward as they avoid Eddie’s fangs, but Eddie can only think about how they’ll get better at this, how it will get easier with practice, how he gets to look forward to it. He could cry as Steve’s fingertips run over his face, over the scar on his cheek, over his jaw and neck. His back arches when their tongues slide together, and he whines. Steve pushes a hand into his hair again, fingers gripping Eddie’s curls tightly as Eddie tilts his head to lick into his mouth deeper, hands clutching at Steve’s waist.

His legs tighten around Steve’s waist, and he wraps his arms around his neck as Steve pulls him closer, a hand on the small of his back. Eddie sucks on his lip, scraping the inside of his with his teeth, and Steve hums softly, letting Eddie push him back to lean on the armrest of the sofa as Eddie climbs onto his lap. They part to gasp for breath before Eddie leans down, kissing across his cheek and his jaw and down his neck, moaning softly as Steve tugs on the arch in his back.

“Fuck,” Eddie says after taking a deep breath, letting his forehead rest on the side of Steve’s neck for a moment.

“What is it?” Steve asks.

“Nothing, sorry.” He kisses his neck, holding Steve’s shoulder lightly.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just…” He sighs, resigning, hiding his face again. “Your… Your blood. Smells good.”

“Oh.” Steve exhales shakily, pressing a hand into Eddie’s hair as Eddie kisses him again. “What… What does it smell like?”

Eddie licks a line up his neck.

“Sweet.”

Steve smiles at the ceiling, eyes closed.

“Will you…” He pauses, his cheeks flushing red, and Eddie looks at him curiously, kissing next to his mouth before he speaks again. “Will you drink some?”

His eyes open as Eddie looks at him, and Eddie stares for a moment before he kisses him hard, crushing their mouths together because he can’t articulate how fucking badly he wants that, how fucking badly he wants to sink his teeth into Steve’s neck, his chest, his arms, his fucking thighs, to drink his blood until he feels warm with it, until Steve’s blood heats him up from the inside out. He can’t put into words how badly he wants Steve inside him, in his veins, how badly he wants Steve to be part of him, so they never have to be apart again.

“Fuck,” Eddi gasps when they part, his lungs burning. “I want that, I do, but…”

Steve tugs him into another kiss, tilting his head as he licks into his mouth.

“But not tonight,” Eddie says when they part again. “I don’t… I don’t know if it’s safe to, I’ve only— I’ve only fed from— from dead demodogs and from bloodbags, I don’t know if it’ll hurt you or not.”

“Okay,” Steve says, breathing hard. Their foreheads press. “‘S okay.”

“I can… talk to Owens.” They both smile at the same time and Steve giggles, closing his eyes. “It’ll be awkward, but… if we can.” He pulls back to look into his eyes, to gaze down his neck. “Worth it.”

Steve giggles again, pulling him into another kiss.

Eddie holds his face, hands cradling his jaw, and he furrows his brows, nibbling Steve’s lip.

“Careful,” he says weakly when he pulls away for a breath. Steve nods, pulling him down again. Eddie settles on his lap, letting his weight rest against him, and Steve hums, nodding when Eddie pulls away to check, and he groans softly into Steve’s mouth when Steve’s hands find his legs, sliding over his hips to hold his thighs tightly, squeezing and releasing and squeezing again.

“Stevie,” Eddie says softly after a while, when his lips are sore and wet with Steve’s spit. “Baby.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, squeezing his legs again.

“...Want your fingers again.”

Steve kisses his cheek, lifting a hand to trace his lips lightly, and Eddie sits up straight, taking his hand and looking at it. At the ring around his fingers.

Steve watches, combing Eddie’s hair back with his free hand, as Eddie brings his fingers to his lips, opening his mouth and holding out his tongue to lick across his fingertips, brushing them back and forth, before he shifts Steve’s hand, moving it so kiss across his knuckles, his nails, the freckles dotting the back of it. He closes his eyes when he finally takes one into his mouth, sucking on the tip for a moment before Steve presses it farther in, sliding over his tongue. Eddie whimpers.

Steve hushes him gently, scratching his nails over his scalp.

“That feel good?” he whispers. Eddie nods, opening his mouth wider and taking his finger deeper, holding his wrist. He opens his eyes just enough to move one hand to Steve’s chest, pressing his palm over where his heart is, sliding his fingers into his chest hair.

Steve slides his finger out, but Eddie whines, catching his wrist, and Steve smiles at him, sliding his finger back over his tongue.

“‘M not going anywhere, baby,” he whispers.

Eddie relaxes, hand sliding down to Steve’s forearm, holding him lightly, sucking on his finger, and Steve tugs his hair, hand gripping his curls right at the roots, and it aches, the feeling spreading over his scalp like water soaking through his hair. Eddie hums.

He shivers, but he isn’t cold. Steve is so warm under him, radiating heat like he’s the fucking sun, and Eddie groans, reaching for Steve’s hand that’s in his hair, pulling it out and toward his face before he presses the inside of Steve’s wrist to his nose, inhaling the scent of his blood as Steve smiles at him. Eddie winds their fingers together, sucking again as he smells his blood, and Steve squeezes.

“Love you so much.”

Eddie moans softly, finally letting Steve’s finger fall from his mouth before he licks the inside of his wrist like he’s trying to get a taste of his blood through his skin. Steve squeezes his hand again.

“Fuck, Eddie,” he gasps, his other hand falling to grip his hips. “Baby. Baby. Don’t stop.”

Eddie whimpers, and he realizes he’s grinding his hips down on Steve’s. It feels good. So, so fucking good. He lets out a strangled noise, grinning as he slides his tongue over Steve’s wrist again.

“So fucking hard,” Eddie groans, falling forward. Steve exhales sharply, pressing a hand into Eddie’s back again, pulling. “Stevie, baby, fuck, please.”

“God, I missed you,” Steve chokes, holding Eddie’s face. “Missed you so much, I thought you were— I thought you were gone forever, baby, fuck—”

“I’m right here,” Eddie says breathlessly, rolling his hips harder, faster, leaning to wrap his arms around Steve’s neck, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m here, sweetheart, I’m— I’m right here.”

“I know,” Steve pants, and his hips press up to Eddie’s, his back arching, and they both moan, breathing hard. “I know, you’re here, you’re alive, I…”

“You get to keep me,” Eddie breathes. “‘M not going anywhere.”

Steve lets out a sob, and Eddie wants to wipe his tears away, but he can’t stop moving, and he doesn’t want to scratch his face, so he leans closer, kissing across his cheeks, Steve’s tears salty on his lips, on his tongue.

“Mine,” Steve chokes. “You’re mine, baby, please—”

“I am,” Eddie whispers, kissing his mouth, whining when one of Steve’s hands reaches to squeeze his thigh and then his ass. “Fuck, yeah, I’m all yours, honey, you got me.”

Steve whines, shifting to sit up a little more, pulling Eddie against himself.

“Fuck me,” he chokes. “Fuck, come on, Eddie, I’m—”

Eddie moves faster, burying his face in Steve’s neck and breathing deeply, groaning when Steve’s hand pulls his hair, and he lets out a noise he’s never made before, a noise that’s quite frankly kind of embarrassing, high-pitched and squeaky as heat floods through his body. He doesn’t stop moving until Steve’s hands tighten, and Steve gasps loudly, his hips lifting to press to Eddie’s.

Eddie pants into his neck, tongue darting out to lick him, tasting the salt of his sweat, and Steve falls limp, breathing hard, still holding Eddie to himself.

“Baby,” he says weakly after a moment.

“Mm.”

“Kiss.”

Eddie lifts his head, eyes half-shut, limbs heavy, and he kisses him, but he isn’t really kissing him as much as he is letting their faces press together, lips parted lazily. Steve smiles, biting at his lip.

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

“Mhm?”

“Thought I was never gonna come again.”

Eddie laughs against his mouth, grinning, pulling back after Steve kisses him again.

“Yeah?” he says sleepily. “You never whipped it out while I was gone?”

Steve snorts, reaching up to touch Eddie’s face, stroking his cheek.

“Could only think of you,” he says softly, still smiling. “Then I’d just start crying.”

Eddie frowns, poking his lower lip out, and Steve’s smile widens as he brushes his thumb over it, and he’s looking at Eddie in that way again, like he’s stargazing instead of looking at Eddie Munson, who, no doubt, looks like a mess, messy haired and red-faced, neck covered in hickeys.

“What?” he asks, lifting a curl to pull across his face, suddenly shy even though there’s a wet spot on Steve’s sweatpants and it’s Eddie’s fault. Steve’s smile falls.

“You’re really back,” he says quietly. “Right? I’m not gonna… wake up in a second?”

Eddie smiles and drops his hair to reach down and pinch Steve’s upper arm hard, grinning when he recoils and gasps, swatting his hand away.

“Ow.”

“You’re awake right now.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head before he reaches up to pull at Eddie’s neck, lifting his chin to kiss him. And then he hugs him tightly, arms wrapped around his waist, face pressed into his chest, over his scars.

Eddie closes his eyes, running a hand over the top of his head.

—————————

Steve’s room looks different than it did in the Upside Down.

It’s messier, clothes discarded on the floor, which their sweaters join, the bed unmade. There’s a painting on the wall, a colorful one of the sky, a pale sunset above the treeline, and Eddie gazes at it while Steve gets him a toothbrush and toothpaste.

He spots the vest on the bed when he comes back from the bathroom down the hall. It’s folded neatly despite the rest of the room being a mess, set carefully on the pillows. Steve is changing when Eddie comes back, and he doesn’t see Eddie’s eyes linger on it as he pulls a shirt over his head, tousling his hair. Eddie comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his midsection and resting his forehead on the back of his neck.

“Love you,” he whispers after moving to set his chin on Steve's shoulder. Steve sighs, letting his head rest on Eddie’s, lifting his hands to hold his forearms.

“I’m scared to go to sleep,” he says quietly after a moment. Eddie tightens his arms. “Scared I’m gonna wake up and you’re not gonna be here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Eddie murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “I promise.”

Steve takes a deep breath. He turns around slowly, lifting his hands to touch Eddie’s face before he kisses him slowly. It tastes like mint mouthwash. Eddie smiles.

Steve moves the vest aside carefully when they go to lie down, setting it on the bedside table that’s bare except for a sheet of paper covered in handwriting that Eddie doesn’t read. Steve climbs in first, sorting the duvet so it’s straight, and Eddie follows, laying next to him. Steve reaches to shut off the lamp, and it’s dark except for the soft moonlight coming through the window.

Eddie exhales shakily, his eyes finding Steve in the dark. Steve is looking back at him, unblinking like he’s scared Eddie is going to disappear.

“I have a heartbeat,” Eddie says quietly, whispering even though there’s no one else in the house. “You wanna feel it?”

“Yes, please.”

Eddie takes his hand, shifting onto his back and pulling Steve’s hand closer with one hand as he pulls the hem of the sweatshirt he borrowed up with the other. He slides Steve’s hand under it, pushing it up to his chest, and Steve sighs, moving closer, pressing his hand more firmly. It takes a moment, and then his lips curve into a small smile.

“Got it?” Eddie whispers. Steve nods. “You can go to sleep, Stevie. I’ll be here when I wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Unless I get up to piss or something, but I’ll still be in the house.”

Steve snorts, closing his eyes and moving closer, pulling his hand away from Eddie’s chest in favor of laying his head on it, his hair tickling Eddie’s face. Eddie combs it down, smiling at the ceiling as he hugs Steve closer, arms around him the way he hugged the jacket to his chest last night.

“Gotta take Max to school tomorrow,” Steve says quietly, mumbling a little bit, sleepy. “I’ll be back ‘round eight.”

“Okay.”

“‘Nd the kids are gonna wanna come over after school,” he says. “Gonna give us hell.”

“Why?”

“You seen your neck recently?”

“Oh. Oh no.”

Steve giggles childishly into Eddie’s chest, arms tightening around him, face smushing against him.

“‘M gonna take you on a date,” he says after a second, voice muffled. “Just like I said.”

“A stay-in date, I assume,” Eddie says, eyes closed.

“Mm. Make you dinner. Treat you good.”

“You gonna make love to me, Stevie?”

“Mm. Fuck yeah.”

Eddie laughs, beaming at the ceiling, running his hands over Steve’s back, and his throat tightens, because he remembers everything Steve told him while he was dying, bleeding and coughing, but now Steve can keep his promises.

“Go t’ sleep,” Steve mumbles, turning his face to press a kiss to his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers.

He can feel each of Steve’s breaths, can feel his back rise and fall steadily, and he can smell him on his pillowcase, on the duvet, in the air. And he falls asleep, safe, and warm.

here's the spotify playlist for this series if you like my work maybe consider supporting me on ko-fi or looking into my commissions <;3

#managed to finish this before i leave for the weekend <333 #steddie #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #wayne munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson #erica sinclair #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #mike wheeler #eleven hopper #will byers

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candied-cae · 2 years ago

Text

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Freaks and Fools

Chapter 15/? - - - Read it on AO3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Word Count: 9,634

Summary: While they await the final verdict, passing the hours by until the Hawkins Police decide what will happen to Eddie Munson, a few of them have some fun in his hospital room. A few others hammer out the details with the government operatives. And, eventually, the shoe has to drop...

What's going to happen so they can move on from Spring Break?

More ST Fics

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While most of the party was making their way to the high school, agreed upon gathering around one of the tables outside, one faded yellow pizza van was arriving at the hospital. Argyle got them parked, and Robin was swinging the door open for their two smaller backseat passengers to climb out. El, of course, was someone they already expected to bring. To make sure she didn’t get cornered somewhere alone while the others got things figured out. But Erica was also trailing along. She had promised to check on Max first thing for her brother while he was off with Dustin, telling the rest of Hellfire a good cover story for what was going on.

“Come along, ladies,” Robin grinned at the two as they hopped out onto the parking lot.

The older kids escorted the younger of them to check in and obtain their visitor passes and waved to Officer Nichols. He was posted outside Eddie’s room on a chair in the hallway, flipping through the morning paper while he sipped on a cup of crappy hospital coffee. He returned the gesture with a tip of his cup while Argyle hovered behind Erica, following her into Max’s room while she made her visit. The other two went for the door across the hall as Robin poked her head through first.

She actually had a particular question she’d been asked to extend before El came in with her.

“Heeyyy, Eddie?” she asked as she cracked open the door to the guy’s room, wearing a big, bright smile to hopefully win him over effortlessly.

Eddie looked over from the tv set quietly playing a cartoon. There was a second of confusion when he saw her face - only having expected to see El’s - when he noticed the expression spread across it. She had a suspicious kind of smile that cued him that she had a favor in mind,“ What do you want?”

The thing was that when Robin was getting picked up, the girl had stepped out of the car to say something before she got buckled in. Robin leaned over and El whispered to her something about when she had the sleepover with Max over the summer. That she’d mentioned wishing she could paint her nails. Max might’ve been a rough and tough kind of girl, but she liked feeling pretty and special too. But as active a kid as Max was, it would just chip off in no time. So the girl never really went through the trouble, even though she liked the look of them. And well… Max wasn’t really going to be doing too much right now… so El wanted to paint her nails as a little surprise for when she woke up.

But El had never even painted her own before, so surely it wouldn’t go very well.

So Robin had an idea.

She stepped a little further into the room and put her hands together,“ So, El needs to practice.”

“Practice?” he quoted back to her, his confusion coming back quickly.

“Painting nails.” Robin clarified,” She wants to paint Max’s. I offered to do it for her, but she really wants to do it herself.”

“And, what does that have to do with me?”

Robin hummed her words and came in just a little closer,“ Well, you don’t really need your hands, you know? Can’t even move them very far at the moment, so…”

“No.” he stopped her quickly.

“Come on! You’re not busy right now!” she argued.

With a wave of his hands, as far as they could while he was under the charges and restrained, he threw back,“ Offer her yours!”

“Mine are already painted! Obviously!” she told him, flashing her maroon-tipped fingers at him with a stern face.

And then Eddie was silent.

Considering.

Could he really say no? Even if it was being said to Robin’s face, it was really being said to El. And the girl did save his life. And she was kind of his favorite. And he liked Little Red. And he felt pretty bad for both of them…

“Fine.” He gritted out through clenched teeth,” But I’ll only accept black polish. Nothing frilly, or you’ll mess up my vibe.”

“I assumed that would be your preference.” Robin smiled to herself, pulling a bottle of black nail polish out of her back pocket that she nabbed when she came up with the idea,“ El! Come on, he’s in!”

The girl timidly joined them, her own hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweatshirt as she came forward to Eddie’s bedside.

He splayed his hand out for her and dropped his voice to sing a line,” I want it painted blaaack~”

He was hoping for a smile. Or a laugh. Or just, something to let him know he was funny and making the situation entertaining. But she just looked at him with a blank expression. And then her eyes drifted up at Robin, who was pulling up another chair, like she was asking for help with the comment.

“Come on. The Rolling Stones,” he explained, because maybe she didn’t know their whole discography, but she had to at least know the name.

But nothing. She just looked back at him, not even a glint of recognition behind her eyes.

“Okay, seriously? The Rolling Stones? You don’t know The Rolling Stones? They aren’t my favorite or anything, but geez- have you been living under a rock, girlie? They’ve been makin’ music for like twenty years.”

Robin chastised him with a gentle smack to his shoulder for expecting the kid, who had never been outside of a lab until three years before, to know about any musical artists except for her favorites. The two girls were getting sat down side-by-side on Eddie’s right hand when Arygle and Erica came into the room. They made themselves at home in the other chairs on Eddie’s left side and watched what was playing, which turned out to be an episode of Scooby Doo, Where Are You!

It was slow work of the pair on his hand. Robin was showing El a comfortable way to hold it and get a good angle for the brush. Showing her how to wipe off the excess polish in the rim of the bottle, and how to start in the middle before working her way back and pulling it along the sides to make it clean and easy to keep on the nail.

“Doesn’t get very messy if you don’t stress and take your time. ’Course, if you do get outside the lines a bit, not a big deal.” She added and exemplified with his pointer finger, letting the brush barely slip over the side,” I just take my thumb and gently scrape the little bit off of the skin with my nail to fix up the edges, like this-”

“Ow!” Eddie complained and shot Robin a glare.

She ignored the dramatics to whisper to El,” It doesn’t really hurt-”

“Yes, it does,” he insisted,” You just dug your nail into my- my-” he struggled for the word.

“Your cuticle?” Robin finished for him.

“Yeah! And it’s pointy, Robin!”

She rolled her eyes at him,“ It doesn’t hurt, El. Boys are just wimps. Max’ll be way tougher than this patient. When you do hers, she won’t even feel it-”

Robin had said it quickly. Absentmindedly. For a second, forgetting that Max was in a coma and couldn’t feel anything at all. And El didn’t look like the words hit her too badly, but Robin started sputtering anyway.

“I mean, even if she was awake, she wouldn’t… Like, we all know Max is a tough cookie in her own right, and she’d be fine. And she will be fine! And girls really do handle things better! The whole ‘beauty is pain’ thing and- Boys really complain about this sorta stuff way more and…” she fizzled out of her defense and added one last note,” It really doesn’t hurt. Promise.”

El simply nodded back.

“Says you.” Eddie grumbled to himself,“ How many slumber parties you been to where they train you mini-torturers anyway?”

Robin shrugged and focused on holding his middle finger for El to try painting on,“ Oh, none. I just sometimes make Steve try colors out with me when I can’t pick one. But he’s antsy and always picks it off within the hour, so… I get lots of practice.”

“You’re lying,” he dismissed the idea quickly.

She just quirked an eyebrow at him with a quiet “Am I?” that left him wondering.

Before Eddie could consider her words much further, Argyle was leaning over to Erica and asking who she thought the bad guy was for this particular episode. Now, of course, he’d already seen it and remembered who was hiding under the mask. So did Robin and Eddie. But Erica thumbed at her chin and hummed while recounting some of the plot.

“Weighing the variables," she’d said.

And the conversation moved on. Robin passed Eddie’s hands into El’s so she could continue, and the room was alight with the discussion of a far simpler mystery than the one they had waiting for them in the real world. And El was shy about it for a bit. She hesitated to take his hand, and she was stiff and extra careful with it when she held it. Like his hands were delicate and fragile. But after a few minutes rolled by, she was sufficiently focused on her paint job, instead of the fact that the hand was connected to someone. She started to relax around them. Letting their conversation pass over her while she soaked it up. Listening, but not worried about answering herself.

It was comfortable and easy.

The rest of the crew was less so at comfort or at ease.

The folks who were sent off to the meeting had all gathered around a cement table with the slow traffic of townspeople around them. Some of them go inside. Some of them leave. Some of them were just milling about like they didn’t know what to do.

Nobody really knew what to do. This sort of tragedy wasn’t something Hawkins had ever been faced with. And even the people who knew what was really going on didn’t know exactly what to do.

They had the barebones of a game plan. The idea was to get some tapes set up so they had a shield or buffer between them and Vecna when they rode into battle. And the understanding that they needed to find a way to take to that fight as soon as possible, preferably before Vecna got himself fully pulled back together. But there wasn’t anything solid. Nothing to really stand on except shifting quicksand.

Which was a maddening reality.

Nancy was mad, in case no one noticed.

She kept finding herself mad, what felt like all the time.

It felt like she just had this hair trigger, and so many things set it off.

And now she was meeting with a woman who kept pissing her off. So surely she was going to get even madder within the next few minutes. But she was meeting up with her with Jonathan, Steve, Joyce, and Hopper by her side. And - if the way he kept his arms crossed and his expression sour after Nancy pointed out that they handed El back to Dr. Brenner was any hint - Hop would be right there with her on being pissed off. They also had Will and Mike. They tried to leave them behind, but they both insisted on coming with them.

They hadn’t been there waiting very long. Maybe ten or so minutes. Sitting silently together. Because they didn’t really have much to say to each other. Next to her, though, Mike sat with a bouncing knee.

Then, just as Nancy was thinking she would need to snap at her brother for being incapable of sitting still- three agents strolled up.

They were all dressed in uniformity: dark, neutral suits and trench coats, hats and sunglasses, glossy, black dress shoes, and the exact same silver watches on each of their wrists. They were headed by the same woman Nancy kept butting heads with. She walked in the middle while two men were just shortly behind. And she was the only one with a briefcase tight in her fixed grip. The other two didn’t have one, but when the wind whipped and their coats opened, she could catch sight of the holsters on their hips.

“This isn’t all of you,” the man on the left said in place of a greeting. He was a tall and lanky guy. Bushy eyebrows and slicked, jet-black hair that just barely poked out of his fedora.

“No. It’s not.” Hopper answered, though clearly not giving up the information the man wanted him to. Silently challenging the guy to push it. See how tough he really thought he was. Hop took a step forward and told him,” But it’s everyone you’re going to get. So, let’s talk.”

“Let’s.”

The woman cut between them, seeming to try and soften the tension, though Nancy felt like she did the opposite every time she’d seen her,“ Why don’t we start with what happened to you? It’s been months since you were presumed dead-”

“Eight months,” the guy on the right clarified. Shorter than the other. With a mop of dirty blonde on his head and a speckling of freckles across his cheeks.

Hop just shrugged and blew between his lips casually,“ Not much. Blew up the mall gate. Wasn’t enough to kill me. Russians came back. Found me. Smuggled me out. Threw me in a cell. Sat in prison til we snuck our way back over.”

“You say that like it’s simple-” the woman started.

“It’s the simplest part of this mess because it’s over and dealt with.” He declared,” So let’s skip to the next part: the bullshit happening right here, right now.”

And she didn’t really seem to like that answer. Probably something about paperwork and files that would be left blank or vague about his unaccounted-for time. But the blonde didn’t hold any argument.

“So, what do you know?” he asked, content with moving right along to the current shit show.

“We know there’s a problem in fair Verona. A disagreement.” Will spoke up. Having just covered the play in Lenora, the legendary dueling families were fresh on his mind. And the need to know if these people were friends or foes to his sister was one of the most urgent concerns he'd been thinking over time and time again.

And then, as if Mike was right there in his head, he continued the comparison,“ A disagreement about what to do with El. So, are you Montagues or Capulets?”

The woman rolled her eyes, and with an exasperated tone said,“ We’re in this with Dr. Owens. We know the girl didn’t cause all of this-”

“But we don’t know what did.” The blonde stepped forward to insist,” Care to enlighten us with what you’ve found out while you were running around?”

Nancy shifted in her seat,“ How much do you know about Dr. Brenner’s original experiment?”

“His data’s on a need-to-know basis,” he returned.

“So nothing? Or just about?” Nancy guessed. Enjoying just a little bit of how it felt to know more than them about the atrocities of their department’s precious scientist.

“The point?” the black-haired one pushed.

“Well - since it’s all ‘need-to-know’ at this point anyway - the first child he snatched for his superpowered kids game was Henry Creel. I assume you’ve at least looked into what happened at the Creel house a few decades ago considering the similarity in the recent murders?”

The woman gritted her teeth,“ Yes, we have-”

“Good.” Nancy steamrolled on through,” After those, the doctor got custody of him. Made him subject number one of his great experiment. Used him as the blueprint to try and replicate his… condition, in others. But, if the dead and tortured family was any indication, he wasn’t very stable. For some reason, or other, the doctor removed him from the experiment and kept him in the lab to keep an eye on him. Gave him an implant that suppressed his abilities. Henry didn’t like that. So when he got the implant out and had the opportunity to use them again, he killed over a dozen of the newer models and just about every member of staff at the lab.”

“El,” Mike jumped in,” was the one who stopped him from getting out by getting rid of him. She was stronger. Trapped him in the Upside Down all on her own. Practically by accident. On instinct. So he couldn’t hurt more people.”

“Sounds like a happy ending. Just one problem: what’s he been doing causing death and destruction over the course of these last two weeks then?” the taller man asked.

“It’s not been just these past two weeks. Every time we’ve had… an ‘event’ it’s been him trying to get back. Get back here.” Joyce informed.

Hop summarized the timeline,“ Three years ago, Dr. Brenner was pushing her, and she made contact in the Upside Down. Once Henry found out there that there must be a way to reopen that connection, he was. He’s been trying to claw a way back here and finish business. Which we’re all pretty keen on not letting him do.”

“Why- What does he want to do that we can’t let happen? If he’s just trying to come back, why doesn’t El just open the door and let him through so all the other things stop mixing in?” the woman asked, rubbing her temples.

“He wants to destroy everything,” Nancy answered. Cold. Remembering what he showed her. His promise for what he’d do.

The air of the conversation shifted. The three of them were finally starting to understand the stakes at play this time.

“It wasn’t just about hurting the people in the lab that made him a prisoner. He wants to get rid of all of it.” Jonathan explained a little further.

“What would he even gain from that?”

Nancy took back over,“ He thinks humanity is a failure. A calamity with faults so deeply ingrained in us that the only choice is to start creation, civilization, all over again. In his image of what’s right and natural, of course.”

“And- where do we stand with this? With keeping this from happening?”

“He needed to take four lives to open the gate and get back onto this side. We met him in the Upside Down while he was staking out Max and lit his ass up.” Steve answered with a slight nudge to Nancy’s shoulder for being the one to fire the buckshot right into his ugly mug.

“But it wasn’t enough.” She admitted,” Max died. And he disappeared when the gate opened, but El kept her from staying dead, so the gate snapped shut again. We don’t know what happened after that. He could be in some kind of limbo between dimensions, or hiding out somewhere here, or still on the other side. We just don’t know. Will can’t feel him.”

The blonde looked at the boy,“ You can’t?”

Will shook his head,“ Not like the last times he’s come back. He’s not totally there, sparking things up again. But he’s not gone. He’s still there, just… small, and- and it’s like he’s curled up in some corner. Putting himself back together.”

“And what happens when he’s got himself straightened out?” the other man asked, unkept eyebrows raised.

Nancy let out a remorseful huff,“ Best guess is he tries to brute force the gate back open with Max’s half-death. Or he’ll try to reach back over and finish the job. Maybe even go after someone new if he has to, but he doesn't like losing, so surely he wants to get at Max.”

“Which we won’t let happen.” Steve needed to say.

The agents looked… off-kilter. Like they’d been rocked off of their foundation for the first time. The first real surprise. They were used to dealing with weird things. Unusual, inexplicable things. Dangerous things. But this was a whole new ball game, and there were finally getting a lay of just how messed up the land was this time.

“And what of the NINA Project?” the woman steered the conversation, wanting to finish fleshing out where they all stood within the organization.

“We didn’t stick around long. But what we did see was a lot of bodies, a lot of fire, a helicopter fell out of the sky… and Dr. Brenner can’t hurt El anymore.” Jonathan filled in.

“Dr. Owens?”

“Didn’t see him.” Will said,” We’ve been telling El to take it easy after the fight and trying to find One again, so she hasn’t tried to find him yet, but she doesn’t know what happened. Didn’t see him after Brenner drugged her.”

“But the girl, the project itself, it was successful…?”

Mike confirmed,“ Her powers are back. Stronger than they were when they went away. But that doesn’t mean that this will just get taken care of with a snap of her fingers when we find him. She threw everything she had at him-”

Nancy threw in,“ While the rest of us were risking our lives doing the same-”

“-And all that didn’t finish him off. Somehow, he’s still kicking. And he’s going to keep trying to get back over here if we can’t take the fight to him and end it for real.”

The three agents were silent for a minute. Processing, if the locals had to guess. Trying to figure out what it all meant and what options they had. They all looked deflated by the time the woman spoke up.

“What’s the plan?”

“Wow, you don’t have one for us? Shocker.” Nancy cut out.

“We-”

“It’s so surprising that you are, yet again, useless.”

Joyce put her hand over Nancy’s to try and soothe her,” We’ll figure it out.”

The woman sounded humbled, quieter, when she next asked,“ What can we do?”

And maybe that was it.

Maybe that’s what Nancy has been waiting to see. To see them accept it, just accept that they messed up. Accept that they didn’t have all the answers. That they were wrong. They didn’t say it outright. That was probably lesson one when they joined the supernatural clean-up crew: Not admitting culpability.

But that silence. And the question that followed.

It did something. Took some pressure off the hair-trigger of Nancy’s rage. Because it meant she’d been justified before. She was right and now they knew it.

She took a breath and calmly asked,“ Can you bankroll a trip to the RadioShack and wherever else we go to for supplies?”

And the woman nodded,“ We can do that."

“And Eddie and Max’s hospital bills,” Mike added.

“And when two more come to town, we need to get their citizenship worked out.” Joyce considered the Antonov’s.

“And find a way to make sure the California Stowaways don’t have any problems trying to graduate after this mess.” Jonathan thought for himself and Argyle.

“And, if you hear anything from Dr. Sam, you let us know. You let us know if you hear anything about unexplainable earthquakes, demo-murders, or general Upside Down related business. The minute you know. So we all stay on the same page.” Nancy spoke.

“And whatever Max wants when she wakes up, she gets. Period.” Steve added.

Jim pointed out,“ And guns. We’d like more guns.”

Nancy quickly agreed,“ I second the vote for guns.”

Which brought a smile to Hop’s face. That girl was something all her own.

“We’ll start working on things.” The man on the right said after he was done jotting things down in a notepad.

The three agents nodded a silent agreement and were about to walk away when the sight sparked something for Nancy.

“This is it?”

“What?” the woman asked her.

“This. The three of you. This is all of you that’s left. Isn’t it?”

The teens and two parents looked at her and then between the agents when they didn’t have a thing to say for themselves.

Jonathan questioned it next,“ Is she right?”

“We-” the leftie was about to lie when the woman cut him off for the simple truth.

“There are two others still working on contacting any of the team that might’ve made it out of the NINA Project. But besides that, this is all. We’re it.”

“You used to be dozens with a fleet of vans…” Mike wondered in shock, remembering the insurmountable difficulty they’d been to dodge three years before.

“The Capulets have made times difficult for the Montagues. We got stretched thin, and most of us that were trustworthy enough to stay on the force on Owen’s side went to work at the bunker in Nevada. The rest of us came out here when things started looking hairy. Which… isn’t a comforting reality, I’m sure. But, if you focus on fine-tuning that wishlist so we can be done with Fair Verona as a whole, maybe we still have a chance at getting out of this play better than the lovers did.”

Nobody really knew what to say. But the woman stepped forward and spoke directly to Nancy for her last lines.

“We’ll keep you updated with what we know, and you do the same. We haven’t gotten along well, up until this point. But we all want this to be over. And we all want to suffer as little damage as possible. We don’t have to be adversaries in getting across the finish line.”

Nancy met her gaze. And for the first time, she wasn’t so furious at the green staring down at her.

“Agreed.”

And then they were gone. Packed into black cars and driving off to “deal with business.”

And Nancy found herself left with… a vacancy where her anger had sat. She still had plenty to be mad about, but the focus of it that she had temporarily shifted onto the government suits was now gone. And she was left dissatisfied. And the hollow feeling wasn’t enough. It didn’t sit in her, filling her up and taking up her attention, like the anger did. And then she had to wonder if she might’ve made the whole mess worse than it needed to be. At least a little bit.

They were wrong for being in Hawkins and not saying anything, yes.

They were wrong for letting El suffer Dr. Brenner’s experiments again, yes.

They were wrong for taking down to her before, yes.

But she turned them into a big, evil monster in her head that they simply weren’t. They weren’t the monster they had to defeat at the end of the day. But maybe she’d decided they were because they got in her way enough and were something she could fight against while Vecna remained a big question mark in her notebook.

So maybe she’d been unnecessarily mean, fostered animosity between them because it felt better to have a reason. It felt better to have something to be mad at and yell in the face of.

Maybe she should be worried that it felt better to be mad at people who didn’t completely deserve it than to not have anything to do with herself.

“Welp,” Hopper clapped his hands on his legs and stood up, interrupting her train of thought,” I have a Chief of Police to soften up.”

“Bribery?” Joyce asked him, just a hint of judgment in her tone. Not much, though.

“If it works.”

After a little while, El had moved on to Eddie’s other hand. She was far more comfortable with holding it and painting along his short nails as she was reaching the end of her work. There was some discussion happening around her. Not one that she’d been paying much attention to for the last few minutes. She had followed along earlier. But over the last little bit of time, she’s had a question buzzing around her mind she really wanted to ask that was distracting her.

“Eddie?” she spoke quietly, not wanting to stop the room’s talk even if she was stealing his attention for a minute.

He looked away from Argyle’s lackadaisical questions about life growing up in rural Indiana he’d been posing for everyone over the last twenty minutes. She hadn’t looked at him when she spoke, kept her eyes fixed on the pinky finger in her hold as she started its first coat.

“Yeah, angel?”

She hesitated, swallowing to steel herself before she just tried to push it out,“ Dustin said… he said they call you ‘freak’ too?”

And maybe the words themselves would’ve sounded like a statement. But from her, they were certainly a question. And they sounded like just the tip of an iceberg. Because she said “too.” And she said it softly and ashamed.

Someone made her feel that way.

“Does someone call you that?” he asked, voice gentle as he could make it. The other three in the room pretended like they couldn’t hear them, instead trying to paint a picture for the Californian of the divisive political nightmare that was the Starcourt mall when it was built the summer before.

El didn’t answer though. Just kept her gaze on sweeping the black polish down his nail. Lips tight together with a slight, barely perceptible tremor that said all too much.

With a sigh, Eddie pulled on the part of his character that he thought might help.

“Well, for the record,” he started, bringing himself all high and mighty against her sullen expression,” over here they call me ‘The Freak.’ So, like, the freakiest freak of them all, you know. I get it. I am a freak. I’m weird and off and certifiably freaky, and I like it. But, you little lady? You ain’t no freak. You’re super normal.”

She giggled at the idea. Couldn’t help herself. Eddie must’ve had her figured all wrong to say something like that.

“What?” He wondered, playfully dropping his head to the side to look at her,” People never tell the kiddo with magic powers she’s normal?”

She cast her eyes up at him as if to ask “What do you think?” before quickly putting them back on their task.

He shrugged it off,“ I mean, sure, the magic power part is, admittedly, a little off the baseline. I won’t lie. And the haircut. But I’d say that makes you way cooler than everyone else. I was rocking the tight buzz myself once upon a time, and not everyone can make it work like the two of us do. But besides those two very small factors, you seem like just any other little girl to me. Way more normal than miss Erica over there. First time I met her, she was already lecturing me about venomous knives-”

“It was one poisoned kukri,” she corrected, unable to keep the comment to herself.

He lowered his voice and leaned in,“ See what I mean? But you? Nah, you’re just fine.”

She finally looked up and held his eyes,“ Fine?”

And he smiled back at her, as bright and assured as he could manage,“ Yeah. Just fine. And even if you were a freak like me, you’d still be fine. I’d accept you into my beloved kingdom and show you that being a freak isn’t bad. It’s actually a whole lot of fun. I know we’re still new to each other, but will you trust me on that much? As a freak speaking from experience on it?”

And she looked kind of like a weight had been lifted off of her. One she’s carried for so long with no idea how to understand. No idea how to get rid of or come to terms with.

But somehow, being told she was normal, even when it still didn’t quite fit… it felt better than all the times Mike called her his superhero.

She was different. No amount of “but it’s special” ever got rid of the feeling that there was something wrong with her. And for so long, she would’ve given anything not to be the way she was. And yet, here this guy was. This near stranger that told her he didn’t find her all that weird. That he didn’t find it impossible to look past the things the lab did to her.

It felt nice. To try and believe him for a minute. To pretend like “normal” would be an option after they shut the door on the Upside Down for good.

And maybe one day she’ll be able to believe she doesn’t need it anyway. Decide that normal was fine and all, but she can also be a freak and still be just as fine because she chose to enjoy it. Eddie seemed happy enough in it. Even handcuffed to a hospital bed and having just escaped death, he was still loving being a freak.

“Yeah,” she decided. She’d trust his advice. Why not? It felt way better than the alternative.

“Good,” he remarked before splaying his hand to view for himself,” And thank you for my bitchin’ claws, kid. I’m sure Little Red’s set’ll look great too.”

“Thanks…” she smiled a little wider, capping the black polish and setting it down on the table by the bright orange they’d brought for Max’s.

“Of course. Surprise, surprise, she’s good at more than just saving lives. Though I doubt I’ll ever really get over the fact that you saved mine, you know. You would not believe the hell I’d have tried to raise if I died before I got to see Ozzy live.”

“Ozzy?” she asked, tilting her head with the inquisition.

And if he weren’t laid up and chained in place, Eddie would’ve tried to fling himself to the floor with a gasp.

“Another person who doesn’t know about the one and only Ozzy? God- you people are killing me here!” he groaned and writhed in his bed for effect, pulling another giggle out of the girl at his side while the rest of the room playfully rolled their eyes at his antics.

“Wasn’t sure you’d show.” Police Chief Powell said as Jim pushed in what used to be his door.

At least, it had been until he went and got himself abducted, of course. Now it was Calvin’s. And he sat behind the desk wearing a face that Hopper probably guessed he’s worn before. Long nights, early mornings, shit getting kicked up faster than a town as small as theirs had any right to. He remembers being in that spot and feeling just as exhausted as Calvin looked.

He strode in with the confidence that said that office was still his in some way,” Said I would.”

“Yeah, but you always hated mornings at the station. Came in late as often as you could.” Powell pointed out.

Jim smiled and shook his head,“ You got me there. But I’m here, with coffee, as promised.”

He passed over the cheap paper cup. Took his seat in the chair opposite him while the man popped off the lid and shook out a few packets of sugar, definitely stolen from the break room and squirreled away in his desk drawer.

“Still got a sweet tooth?” he teased and sipped on his own cup, black and bitter.

The man raised an eyebrow at him while he stirred it around,“ You weren’t gone that long, you know.”

Jim had to give it to him,” Guess not. Not long enough for you to grow out of it, at least.”

They drank from their cups in a familiar, comfortable silence while Jim looked around the room. It was mostly the same. He’d never decorated much, so there wasn’t much to be taken down or changed. Same knots in all the wood grain. Same dents and scratches in the walls. Same scraps under the chair legs. New name on the nameplate, though. New man in the chair. New computer set up in front of him, big and clunky and off-white. Jesus Christ, Jim’s happy he involuntarily gave up the job before they’d made him regularly use one of those things, at least.

But, thinking of chiefly duties…

“Well, Cal, how’s it looking for the kid?” Jim brought up.

He looked at him for a second and asked, waving his cup to him,“ How do you even know Eddie Munson all that well? You’ve been gone for eight months, Jim. And while you were still here, we never busted him for the drugs.”

Jim settled back in the chair further and recounted,“ I told him to quit it a time or two, but didn’t want to make a fuss on his record about it. Never caught him in the act, and only ever with a baggie of pot on him.”

He took another sip and continued,“ But, besides that, I just want to see something done right by him. By this whole mess, I’ve heard about. I can’t explain how I know that what all the kids are saying is the truth. That he’s innocent. But I just do. Would stake my life on it. He didn’t do anything to the girl or those boys.”

Powell almost nodded to the fact, given what they’d been working on uncovering over the last few days,“ Well, we’ve been investigating the case based on their testimonies…”

He let his words trail off, but Hop was impatient for some good news.

“And?”

Powell met his eyes, and with a tone of near-disbelief, he admitted,“ We haven’t found a single shred of evidence to suggest they’re lying about it. Nothing beyond the locations of the murders speaks to Eddie having had anything to do with it. And while the kids could’ve had time to coordinate their stories with each other, the others we’ve interviewed couldn't have. And with the background we’ve dug up on the victims… The claim that this was all a huge mess perpetrated by Jason Carver as he kept digging himself a deeper hole to cover his tracks… it’s the more plausible theory between the two. Way more than the idea that Eddie just went crazy all of a sudden and convinced so many people to cover for him this well.”

“So you’re saying…?”

“We can’t charge a dead man with the crimes. Can’t detain him and interrogate him while we look for more evidence.” Powell pointed out, regretfully,” But we can drop Eddie from the suspect list. Take the cuffs off him, make an announcement, and turn him loose.”

“That’s good news, Cal. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear it.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Better than sending him to the clink for something he didn’t do just to satisfy this town’s thirst for blood.”

“Aint that the truth.”

There was almost time for another silence to fall around them. But Calvin had a question to pose before it settled very long.

“So, what’ll you do now that you’re back?”

And it probably should’ve been a scary question. The prospect of the unknown. A whole slew of decisions to make now that his life’s been so completely thrown off-track. He probably should’ve already had some idea of a plan in place for what he’d return to without the walls of a Soviet prison making all the choices for him.

“I have no clue.” he honestly answered instead.

“What? Don’t want to get rehired back here at the station?”

“And do this grunt work?” They shared a hearty chuckle that spoke to all their years of complaining about both having not enough and way too much to do before he explained,” Nah. I don’t know what I’ll do, but I think I’m tired of trying to make this whole damn town my responsibility.”

“You think you already have enough of it with that kid of yours?”

Fondness crept its way into his face,“ Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“How did that even happen? I feel like I had no clue you were even looking to adopt, much less had a kid already when you died and she was moving away with Joyce.”

“That’s a crazy story, Cal. Crazier than the shit that’s gone on here in recent days, I swear. But, uh, she’s mine. And she means everything to me. And I don’t want to do anything except be a good dad for her now. A job just seems like a waste of precious time.”

Powell brought his hands together and wistfully sighed,“ I hear ya…”

“What? Chief ain't treating you right? Wasn’t all it cracked up to be?”

“Don’t you make it sound like I’m whining about it. Wasn’t too much more to deal with until all this shit hit the fan. But this shit has been…”

“Hell on earth?” Jim supplied.

“Exactly. Slept either here or in the cruiser more nights than I did at home. I think the Missus is just about ready to march in here and drag me back into the cold side of the bed I left her with.”

Jim’s eyes snapped to his with more attention,“ Missus? So you and Wendy?”

“Finally tied the knot,” he pulled back his hand to reveal the wedding band on his left ring finger that he’d been twisting.

“Wow, been waiting on you to do it, what, six years now? And you up and decide to commit while I’m gone.”

“I ‘up and decided to commit’ because you were gone. Seeing you here one day and then just - poof - not anymore… Thought about taking up your badge and if the same thing happened to me… I was done wasting time.” Powell detailed the whole affair for the man who missed it,” So I bought the ring and proposed that same month. She spent forever on the phone, planning the whole thing out with her sister. Got married in December. Honeymooned over Christmas and New Year's.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It was. And, in a way, I had you to thank.”

Jim shook his head at that,“ Nah, you woulda wisened up one of these days. With or without me.”

“Maybe. But why don’t you tell me when you’re going to wisen up.”

“What does that mean?”

“You think the whole you-and-Joyce thing is subtle?”

They shared another laugh before Jim conceded,” No, I guess it isn’t.”

“You gave her your kid, Jim! That’s nearly grounds for an engagement right there.”

“Don't start talking like that, or I’ll get ideas and scare her off, Cal. We haven’t even had a single date yet.”

He was a little taken aback,“ Didn’t you two…? Back in high school?”

“No. Never.” Hopper corrected him,” We just ran into each other a lot, hung out cutting class sometimes…”

Powell didn’t really look like he believed him, but he let it slide to check him,” But now you’ll get a move on?”

“I guess now I owe it to her to get a move on. Already made her wait eight months for a damn dinner.”

Cal whistled,” Oh yeah, sounds like you best get a move on.”

“How ‘bout you do the same?” He said while he got up,” I’m sure that the kid’d like to know he’s a free man as soon as possible. You promised me you wouldn’t drag your feet on this.”

Powell stood up with him,“ And I’m not. Just waiting for Flo to let me know the machine’s done spitting out the official report. Then I'll be headed out to get started on cleaning things up.”

Before Jim turned to leave, he asked,“ Could I ask you for another favor?”

“What do you want from me now?”

“Nancy Wheeler. She’d been writing up the story on what happened for the school newspaper. She’s the only one with the inside scoop, has both the Munsons talking to her, and the most in-depth coverage of both the during and after of the arrest.”

“That’s good for her.”

“It is.” He agreed,” And if her's got to be the first article announcing that the charges have been dropped, before even the tv crews do, it’d go a long way for her resume down the line."

“I’ll bet it would."

"Especially since she'll have to help spearhead women in investigative journalism in the first place.”

"I never did like the press... But you tell her she can stop by and get a quote. As long as none of the other kids get in the way of it, she can get her story printed before morning news runs with it tomorrow.”

“I will. Thank you. Really. I’m happy to know the seat I left empty got filled by someone fit to sit in it.”

“God, what’d they do to you while you were gone?” Powell rounded the desk to stand next to him,” You’ve gone all sappy and soft in your time off.”

Jim bumped against his shoulder,“ Let’s just call it gettin’ old and leave it at that.”

“And see, I would've bet good money you’d be one of them crotchety things. Screaming from your front porch at everyone who dares pass by.”

“I woulda bet on it too. Now look at me.”

“It’s a good look on you. Enjoy it.”

Then, Flo burst through the doors, thumbing through freshly printed papers and eyeing them through her glasses instead of looking up,“ Your paperwork is all done, Chie- Jim? How are- When did you slip in?”

“Flo,” he greeted simply with a smile to the woman who practically kept that department running by being the biggest pain in his ass the entire time.

She tucked herself against his side in a quick hug, turns out working with someone for about eight years mean they miss you a little bit. Who would have guessed?

She held the papers into her chest and reached out to shove at his shoulder,“ I’m almost scared to ask if this is someone’s stupid idea of an April Fool’s joke.”

“It’s April first?” Jim asked, looking at the calendar on the wall that was fully crossed off but hadn’t been flipped to the new month yet.

“Sure is,” she confirmed while Powell took the hint to change it.

“Thanks for reminding me…” Jim thought of something for a minute,” I’ll be heading off. Was good catching up.”

With Eddie’s hands all painted, Argyle found himself the only one in the room without. He’d held out his hand for Erica and asked if she thought he’d look cute with shimmery pink nails like hers. Which made all of them laugh. But she said it didn’t exactly fit his vibe, so he then turned to all of the girls and was letting them debate what kind of color they’d put him in if they could. There were a few ideas of a mossy green, or a peachy orange, or maybe a daffodil yellow when Hop’s voice cracked through the walkie they’d perched on the windowsill of the hospital room.

“Hey, any rotten kids around?”

Robin leaned over and snatched it off the ledge,” Rotten kids one through five checking in. What’s the word on the construction for gallows in the town square?”

“Just spoke to Cal on how the case is looking,” was all he answered.

Robin took a look around the room with a stilted expression,“ And? What’d he say?”

There was no response.

“Hello? Requesting status on the conflict between Ex-Chief, Jim Hopper, and Current Chief, Calvin Powell?” she joked.

Hop’s voice came back in a low rumble,“ I’m real sorry, kid…”

All at once, Eddie felt his stomach plummet through the tile floor.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

They’d been joking around and having fun all morning… he forgot for a minute that things don’t always just turn out. They usually didn’t before he found out the world was ending, but his luck hadn’t been so bad recently. He cheated death and made some new friends, but it seemed the legal system was going to be a fouler beast to defeat.

Shit.

Jim continued,“ They’ve been digging through everything, but it’s just not enough to convince them…”

Robin shook her head as his voice faded out. She looked back up at the accused man and remained defiant,“ Don’t worry, Eddie. We- we can keep trying to figure this out. We’re not going to quit on you and we aren’t going to let them chuck you behind bars for the rest of your life. Okay? Well… We’ll put together a petition! Or gather a protest! Or- We have Nance’s paper she’s gonna publish! We’ll get people on your side and figure something out. We won’t give up on-”

But the radio cut right through her,“ I just can’t get ‘em to put you in prison stripes.”

And everything stopped.

Eddie's heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped breathing, the whole fucking Earth stopped spinning under him.

“Wait-” Robin asked herself before remembering to pull the walkie up to her face and click the button,“ What?”

The next time Hopper’s voice came through, they could hear the grin he was trying to fight back,“ He’s on his way down now to tell you officially, but the Hawkins Police Department is dropping the charges. Congratulations. You buncha deviants did a good job showin’ ‘em all what’s what.”

“Are you kidding?!” Eddie’s voice rang through the room, Robin having clicked down the button in time for Jim to catch most of it.

“What? Nobody’s ever heard of an April Fool’s joke?” he asked.

“Most April Fool’s jokes aren’t supposed to make the victim die of a heart attack!” the man yelled, voice rising in pitch.

“He’s still breathing ain’t he?”

“Oh my god- as if that even makes it okay to tell a guy he’s going to be prosecuted for like a hundred murders-”

“It would’ve been three, maybe four, and an assault at most, Eddie,” Robin tried to remind him, setting down and forgetting the walkie on the table.

“They would’ve sentenced me to like a hundred years, Robin!” he argued back.

“I just told you we would’ve figured it out-”

“I’ll take that as a yes. So, he’ll be fine.” Jim assumably answered the silence he received.

El took the walkie herself to tell him,” Was still a mean joke.”

“You kids need to lighten up. Yeesh. Nobody around here knows how to have any fun anymore.”

Eddie’s room filled up after that. Nancy, Steve, Mike, and Will arrive shortly after, just barely beating Chief Powell. He went over all the news with Eddie and the officer there. They undo his cuffs and explain that he won’t even have a misdemeanor for the drug distribution he admitted to at the end of the day. And since Nancy was right there, she got his statement and would get to send out her papers before the news channels ran an official announcement. If he faced any harassment despite it, though, the Hawkins Police department would help him out.

Then the rest of Hellfire showed up. Dustin and Lucas, along with Jeff, Gareth, Bruce, and Josie. Those four were particularly relieved to see him okay after everything. Not having received any update between Jason’s “Where’s Eddie?” interrogation and “Eddie Munson; Prime Suspect” and “Eddie’s in the hospital” they got from the boys that same morning. They were just saying their hellos when a nurse came in and tried to show them out.

“Awe, but we were celebrating,” Dustin complained to her.

She just looked down at him and hummed,“ Well, I’m sure Mr. Munson would prefer that we checked over everything privately. Like getting that catheter removed. Am I correct?”

Eddie didn’t hesitate to erupt with a pointed finger towards the door,“ Everybody, get the fuck out! Now!”

They got him taken care of and returned his things, but kept him in the hospital gown and hooked up to the IV.

They weren’t letting him out just yet. Turned out that when you nearly die of blood loss, the medical community likes to hold on to you. Make sure the wounds start healing over well, and there wouldn't be any deficits before the guy could start strolling about town. Who knew.

They decided to keep him until the end of the week, just to be safe.

In any news, they let his friends back in to annoy him. And, if Max’s mother signed some moving paperwork, she’d get wheeled into his room to share the rest of his stay with her the next morning. Hellfire made plans to camp out with him sometime and hold a one-shot around his bedside. Even roped newly returned Will Byers in agreeing to play, even though he didn’t know the rest of the club and was a little nervous.

When four o’clock hit, his uncle arrived and pulled him out of the bed for a real hug after the room emptied out.

Everyone else scampered off home, save for Robin, Nancy, and Steve.

They went to the school and used Nancy’s key to the newsroom to format her release and get Steve’s story for it. He sat on the light table while Robin threw questions at him. And they argued about how exactly he should word his answers the whole time Nancy typed away at the computer. They were crammed together working on it for a few hours, easily. And then they gathered up by the printer and folded hundreds of copies of the account. Using the school’s dime and credentials to get the news out as quickly as possible with at least a little reliability.

They were filling up milk crates from the cafeteria with stacks of them and loading them up into the Surfer Boy Pizza van when Jonathan and Argyle stopped by. The pair ran them around town and packed them into the newspaper boxes, even though technically they weren’t supposed to. Steve and Robin ran a few of them around the homes of people they knew were in a lot of the local groups and communities and would spread the word the fastest, and to Eddie’s neighbors. Those of them that were still at the trailer park.

Nancy dropped off copies in the mailboxes of some of the businesses for them to see first thing in the morning: the Hawkins’ Post and local news station, particularly. And then she dropped off a bunch of enveloped ones at the post office like they had when they released the tape about Barb less than two years before. To correct the brigade they’d been running with over the last week.

By the time the sun came back up, it should be on a world that believed Eddie was innocent. Or at least could be convinced of it soon.

As they were finishing up their rounds and headed back towards Robin’s house for drop-off, Steve stopped by his mailbox. He’d forgotten to for the last few days, and when they were about to pass it by, he figured he should grab anything while he was thinking about it before he came back later and forgot again.

There was a little bit that built up. Nearly all of it was addressed to his parents. But there was one letter with Steve’s name on it. Sent from the Family Video Headquarters in Glenview, Illinois.

“What…?” he mumbled to himself when he saw it.

“Come on, Steve,” Robin called from the rolled-down window,” Let’s get me home, so my parents don’t try to find new reasons to disapprove of our treasured friendship.”

“Just a second.”

Steve tore open the envelope right there, standing outside by his mailbox with the others tucked under his arm. When he pulled out the papers inside, they certainly held a surprise of a completely different kind. Not the stuff he got surprised with earlier that week. Not supernatural, end of days stuff. Instead, the mail spoke of incredibly mundane, and yet totally shocking stuff.

“Holy shit…”

Robin perked up at his expression while he read the paper“ Steve? What is it?”

He didn’t even look up for the paper when he quietly sputtered,“ I’m the manager…”

“What?” Robin knocked her head to the side and opened the door. Stepping out onto the street and rounding the car to join him.

“I-” he tried to start, then switched gears and looked at her,” Keith skipped town. So did half the staff. It’s just you, me, and Alex left in Hawkins now. Family Video sent the letter to me because I’m older and have the most hours on the schedule. They can’t convince anyone else to move out here to take over the building since Hawkins is so cursed in the public eye. So I- I’m the manager now.”

Her eyes fell to the paper, and she parroted his first thought,“ Holy shit…”

“We’re supposed to re-open on Friday and try to get things back in business.”

After… everything… that was so out of left field.

“April Fools?” Robin tried.

“They sent over the rest of the keys and instructions…“ Steve separated the open letter from the stapled packet behind it and held up the three new keys he had. For the office door, locked filing cabinet, and emergency exit.

“So, not April Fools…” Robin looked at the official paperwork and reminded him,” Steve. You don’t know how to run a store.”

Which, yes, was true. Steve did not know how to run a store. But the thing was that Steve and Robin never did any work truly on their own. So he looked back up at her and emphasized how absolutely tied together they were in it.

“We don’t know how to run a store.” he corrected.

“We don’t know how to run a store.” she agreed.

“We’ll have to figure it out…”

#YAY! Eddie's innocence is confirmed! Once the town hears of it that'll probably be the last time we really mention it.#It's done and taken care of - let's move on hm?#And the El focus on this chapter is something to very dear to my heart #As an autistic I have always felt 'off' or like people thought I was off #And when people would declare 'let your freak flag fly' 'take pride in your uniqueness' 'be yourself unapologetically'...#It didn't really mean anything to me because it just felt cliche and like something people say but don't really mean #But actually finding space where I don't feel out of place - where people didn't make me see the 'otherness' - that actually helped #Which is what I think El is looking for #Not someone to tell her she's amazing for not being normal. Someone who doesn't let her feel so not normal.#And we're making Steve a manager!#I haven't really seen anyone explore this idea yet - we always keep Keith around as an unseen background element.#But there are so many things that make Steve a good worker and ideally a good manager #So we're promoting him!#Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steveddie #Steve x Eddie #Nancy Wheeler #Robin Buckney #Ronance #Robin x Nancy #The Fruity Four #Stranger Things #Stranger Things 4 #Stranger Things 4 spoilers #Stranger Things 4 volume 2 spoilers

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