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medlilove-fandom-brainrot · 2 years ago

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Sun shines in, you have awoken

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Steve’s neck is Eddie’s favourite place to devour when they were alone. All freckles and soft skin.

Though it took a while for Eddie to gain access to this most adored place…

The door was locked tight. Eddie didn’t know why but he respected it. It was hard for Steve to explain but he couldn’t bear the sensation of anything on or around his neck. He could not be touched there without it triggering a visceral reaction.

A sort of song fic to Black Sabbath's - Behind the Wall of Sleep

Finally managed to put together a little scene or two, got a bit too poetic but I’m having fun, enjoy!

After that awful week falling in and out of the upside-down, after the miracle that was Vecnas death, when he could actually stop and assess what hurt and where. The sore welts, stinging and bruised around his neck, it was overwhelming, suffocating. He couldn’t look at himself in a mirror, couldn’t touch it, treat it, clean it. Not without his heart tormenting him, battering his rib cage, lurching and jumping...

The perfect family, straight-laced, proper, well-behaved, clean-cut, normal, perfect. Perfect or face the wrath of reputation, of image. Those moments when Steve’s father snapped, really snapped, when he got in the way, said the wrong thing, screwed something up again, when it took over, rarer now, but still paralysing. Hands, bigger than his. Easiest target, small neck, moments of the perfect suburban family shattered, only behind a closing door. Skin, bruised and red for days, sick out of school, he had a cold again, slipped by the pool. Its okay, he had a tendency for solitude anyway.

Hadn’t happened in years. As their son grew up, he learned to be an ideal child, to make no waves and stay out of the way. Though, if his mind was idle, more often than not after a fight, he felt it again. The weight of a heavy-handed touch. Reciting bible verses with an iron fist.

Fights that he found were becoming more and more common as his life went more and more off skew. The bats, repulsive and cursed, diving and tearing, latching onto his throat of all places.

Sweet irony around his neck like a noose. They had not helped. Luckily, in the heat of it all, there were wonderfully horrible distractions from his stinging skin. Cold and familiar, lost in time.

Hope to god that would be the last of fights like that.

But after it ended and the world went back to normal, the tentacles, the hands, their weight would hit him in flashes. Not all the time, not all the time…but my god, did it remain.

Visions cupped within the flower

Eddie had no idea of course. No one did, not Nancy, or Robin, no one. Max and Eddie dragged themselves back into the world of the living, slowly and painfully, but they did it, and are still doing it. That little girl who didn’t really talk, El. She had endured it all again, again, again. Nancy and Jonathan, both witnesses to more horror than anyone could ever comprehend, both so tough. Dustin, Robin, he was the reason they had both been so caught up in it, he could never burden them with anything more.

Hopper knew something, the man had a way of looking right through him the few times they spoke. He picked up on Steve’s left ear being pretty much useless before anyone else after all.

Steve avoided being alone with him just in case. It was easy enough to do once things had calmed down. The police usually had at least an idea of the true characters of mothers and fathers when in such a small town like Hawkins. Though Steve still hoped that he was the exception.

He didn’t need to be reminded of nearly getting found out, lying to a police officer at just six years old, had a cold, slipped by the pool. The more time went by the more Steve started to realise, to his absolute horror, that that cop he lied to might just have been a recently returned to town, Jim Hopper. Something about the voice he used when talking to the kids, had given Steve such a deep sense of Deja Vu…

Regardless, everyone's got enough on their plates, he didn't need them worrying about him. No, this was just a passing thing, some small thing that is just…what it is. It never came up. Though he was fully aware of what Vecna would have shown him if he had wanted to.

But Vecna was dead, and they were alive, and he could taste cigarettes on Eddie's tongue and his curly dark hair tickled Steve’s ringing ears, making him wriggle and laugh. How comfortable he found himself, with the weight of Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson on top of him, he almost couldn’t believe it.

As summer began, slow and dry, and they first began to explore each other, it didn’t take long for Eddie to recognise the responses to his touch.

As ringed fingers reached up to his neck, soft and loving, tension rippled through Steve’s body beneath his. With a jump and sudden shift in tone, the room dropped in temperature. A sharp gasp, involuntary and jarring. A sound of anxiety? Fear? Or literally pain…? Of something, from somewhere deep down, but not forgotten.

Eddie had moved his hand at once, the atmosphere shifting. He pulled up, concerned. What had he done? Alarm bells rang through him at that sound. Alarm bells in the corner of Steve’s eyes, in the tension in his face in the work he was putting in to try to push it all down again. The hand that gripped the blanket beneath them hard, then let it loose almost forcefully, hoping it would go unnoticed. But Eddie caught sight of it when he pulled back. His own body wincing a little, scars still tender, moved too fast, instinctively.

He stared down at him as Steve tried to compose himself, eye’s squeezed shut, red flush on his cheeks, but not in the familiar way that Eddie adored. In a way that carried shame.

Eddie’s mind raced through the last few minutes, tracing every movement, trying to read the face of the man beneath him. But Steve wouldn’t look at him. He blinked heavily, flustered, attempting to push something back down quickly. Steve wasn’t in his bed anymore, not in his trailer, he was somewhere else.

“Hey, hey!” Barely more than a whisper, he went to touch Steve’s shoulder but hesitated. His mind spun.

Deadly petals with strange power

The sore red blisters from the bats, diving and tearing into his skin? They had long since healed. Did it still hurt? Or was too close a touch, too much of a ghastly reminder of what they had endured? Were his rings just really cold? Had Steve reacted this was in the Spring, when the world was dying? Had he been too busy with his own fear to notice? Doubt crept in on that last one, this felt a little closer to home.

A flicker of self-disgust washed over Steve’s face as just about caught Eddie’s eye at last. He ran his hand over his brow then brought it down to rub his left ear as he often did, brows knotted. "Sorry…I…" his voice was raw, and his face was full of some twisted thing left unsaid. Strained, the words stuck, stubbornly.

Eddie just stared at him, eyes wide. He was momentarily speechless for the look Steve was giving him, one of shame, of guilt. What could he say to look like that? How could he say that he loves all that there is to him, that he wanted everything Steve was willing to give? That it was okay, that it was fine? That he wanted to look right at everything, look it in the eyes, the good and the bad? Look at it on purpose. That his body is his alone no matter how close anyone gets to it? That he will always listen? That he could never and would never ask for more? His mind was racing.

Steve’s breath catching in his throat, shifting up on his right elbow, trembling, grounded Eddie. Steve looked away as though burnt. This brought him back to what was happening in front of him

“Steve, it’s okay, it’s okay!” He said, with all the sincerity he had in him.

They looked at each other again.

Eddie smiled and shook his head softly, leaning down to bring their foreheads together silently, his hands in Steve’s hair, where they had been so many times before, as Steve closed his eyes again, still struggling with himself. “You’re okay, I swear man, you’re fine. It’s all fine” Eddie felt Steve nod very slightly at his words, swallowing again.

The metalhead slid over back onto his mattress and stretched out on his back on Steve’s left side, reaching for a pack of cigarettes. Steve leaned into Eddie's outstretched arm, which soon enveloped him, giving a slight rub of his shoulder in an attempt to lend him a bit of reassurance. He fiddled with the pack with his free hand as Steve cleared his throat faintly, rubbing his eyes, breathing deeply.

They settled into a comfortable point together on the bed as Eddie lit a cigarette, took a drag, and then placed it softly between Steve’s waiting lips.

Chills and numbs from head to toe.

Eddie made a mental note that night to avoid that particularly sensitive area, no explanation needed ever. But his mind did wander…

Months pass. Mercifully peaceful. Bodies healed and all kept in each other's good company. There are some things you can’t go through without becoming closer.

Hawkins was creeping into that frost of early November, that not quite Winter weather. It would snow soon, but it wasn’t quite cold enough yet.

The sun was setting lazily behind the trees that lined the trailer park. If it could stay ahead of the grey clouds in the south it would have the chance of being beautiful. The tape deck hummed with a familiar soft rattle, balancing upon the cluttered desk. Strategically positioned so it would be on Steve’s right side, his good ear. The oldest tape Eddie had, Black Sabbath’s first album, self-titled, sang through the room as a whisper. Strange and pagan. Each song a long-lost spell that was unearthed in some old world forest in western England.

Icy sun with frosty glow

The back room of the trailer had kept surprisingly toasty. Small spaces were good like that. It had been a day where time moved at its own sleepy pace. Lying together upon old blankets and pillows, all day they had read comics and books, napped and listened to the same album on repeat. Steve’s fingers wandered idly in long dark curls above him as he lay on his back listening to the mystical words and raw cries.

Eddie leant over him from his silent left. At some point Steve could not recall, his shirt had been unbuttoned. Black nails, chipped with drug-store polish, tracing moles like constellations, past the scars and chest fuzz, touching every one like a blessing, like a prayer. Up and down through his face, arms and torso, brushing over his favourites with his lips, tongue, teeth, to be answered only by divine little gasps as the man under him quivers, book beside him abandoned. Fingers orbiting over the ones on his neck like a satellite, having never touched him there again.

Look upon you at your trial

Eddie paused his voyage across the stars. His left arm draped over the other man's chest, with the right hovering fingers over those two moles on the left side of Steve’s neck, little vampire bites, those were his most favourite of all. Eddie hummed absentmindedly as he admired them. Quiet content to watch the sun from the window shift slowly across Steve's skin as it sunk lower and lower.

Steve’s left side shifted and his hand went to Eddie’s then, causing Eddie to look up at him quickly as though snapping out of a stupor. Warm fingers upon cold knuckles suspended just above no man's land. His hands were always cold, Steve’s always warm.

They watched each other for a second, not speaking. Eddie questioning while Steve’s eyes were hard to read. Then, in one steady movement, Steve lowered Eddie’s whole palm down against his neck. This caught Eddie completely off guard, gazing down at him with that look that Steve just loved, eyes shining, questioning, adoring. He held his breath.

The metalhead knew that this thing, this issue, whatever it was, was more than bats diving and tearing in the upside-down. He had his suspicions, but Steve had never talked about it.

With movements so delicate that Eddie did not know he was capable of until that very moment, he brushed his hand across Steve’s flushed skin, hoping his little green ring wasn’t too unbearably cold. Steve’s eyes flickered as a cold palm, tingling and radiating, sent shivers down his spine. His mind caught up to his body, processing the touch. Eddie felt goosebumps, and he waited, watching him.

Steve blinked and looked at him, heartbeat reverberating on his chest and he swallowed thickly, Eddie felt it. Eye on eye, hand on hand.

Steve’s fingers slipped away down his wrist, passing his watch and his chain, brushing over the wretched bats, diving and tearing, upon his forearm, resting on his elbow. Slowly, slowly the constellations aligned. His thumb brushed against that jawline, up to his lips and back down again. Settling upon a sacred treasure.

With a nervous certainty, Steve finally let out a breath. “Wanted to see what it felt like.” Half laughing, eyes searching again.

Feel your spirit rise with the breeze

Feel your body falling to its knees

Eddie cocked his head teasingly, mouth ajar, shining eyes burning for an answer he already had, something rising within him. Steve let out a snort at the reaction of the other, breaking into a grin. “It feels…I like it.” Breathless with relief, of passing a test of one's own design, his grin shifted sheepishly as Eddie remained quiet, looking for his own answer.

Eddie just blinked down at him silently, with those eyes like galaxies, full of mirth. His smile broke through like the sun, laughing, the centre of it all, all big teeth and dimples and unrestrained joy. Beaming, wild, fit to burst. Thawing whatever was left of Steve’s apprehension, replacing the warmth of the sunlight that had disappeared from the windows as the sound of rain hit the trailer at last.

His fingers gently traced his new favourite part of Steve’s body over and over, with both hands. It was a sensory experience that neither could get enough of. Eddie kissed him. Unhurriedly and deeply, leaning into the eager figure he was now completely on top of, softly at first, then harder, pushing open those fine lips with an eager tongue.

The holy trinity of rings laced up over his right ear, into thick messy hair. Eddie chuckled as he shifted down to finally kiss that neck, slowly, desperately. All of this at once prompted a round of hungry gasps and enamoured hums through a still open mouth. Feeling Steve’s hand tighten on his elbow, he grinned into the skin of his throat, pleased with the sounds he was hearing. Steve gasped again, and wrapped his arms around his neck and shoulders, through his curly hair and pulling at his shirt, melting into him. A loud, unrestrained laugh burst out of Eddie as he heard Steve swear softly, overwhelmed.

He still did not have all the answers, but it did not matter.

What pride he felt, to be granted access to this consecrated place. To have it be out of choice, to choose to have hands, soft and loving, returning, replacing the fear of touch with the joy of it. Will this wipe away what came before? Eddie had no idea, but it didn’t matter right now. To relish in it was enough for him. More than enough. To be allowed through a door locked so tightly, Eddie was sure he could fly now.

Now from darkness, there springs light

Wall of sleep is cool and bright

They woke to the early morning sun. Icy with a frosted glow. Pale, wet and weak, hitting the dew on the windows of Eddie's trailer. They had shifted in their sleep, the weight of Steve’s head on his heart, coconut in his hair and in his nose. Eddie had never slept so well.

Wall of sleep is lying broken

Sun shines in, you have awoken

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