Eddie does this... thing. Steve isn't sure if there's a name for it. Or if it's just a thing. Robin always jokes that Eddie's autism is showing. And he just snorts at her and shakes his head, but he keeps doing it, his cheeks tinted pink.
He counts things.
They aren't always things everyone can see. About half the time Eddie is just counting in his head. But he mumbles the numbers outloud, barely audible. But Steve hears it. Steve can't hear much, most of the time, but he somehow always manages to hear Eddie counting. Or at least notices his lips moving, numbers rolling off them genlty.
It calms him down. Steve noticed that fast. Eddie would count his breathing during panic attacks and then when he helped Steve or Robin through their panic attacks, and somewhere along the line, Steve just started, counting along with him.
Not outloud. And Eddie hadn't noticed him nodding along to the counting, not yet at least. But it never failed. Eddie would start counting and Steve's brain would follow along happily.
They're sitting on Eddie's couch. It's the middle of summer. The air outside is hot and sticky. The air in the trailer isn't much better. But Steve had brought over his personal air conditioner that had been sitting in the garage not being used for years. Eddie had protested but Steve refused to take it back.
The living room was cooler than it had been the last few days. The sun had just gone down. Eddie's thigh was pressed against his, like it normally was these days, heat or not. Eddie would sit himself next to Steve, their sides smooshed together. Steve hadn't moved away, not once, despite the heat.
Eddie was wearing a cut off shirt, Steve was in jean shorts and a lightweight yellow t-shirt. Some movie Steve had never seen was on the tv, but all Steve could focus on was the way Eddie was pressed against him. The warmth of his skin seeping into his ribs.
And then Eddie starts counting.
Steve smiles to himself. Following along. Glancing at Eddie carefully when his counting pauses, like he was searching for the next thing he was counting. Steve had never been brave enough to ask about it. Was just happy Eddie felt safe enough around him to let him hear it at all.
And then Eddie's fingers hit Steve's arm and he can't breathe. Eddie's finger tips walk up his arms, pressing genlty at certain points as they go. Steve's heart flutters when Eddie's fingers press up under his shirt, curl in the material and shove it up as Eddie mumbles,
"Can I just-" between numbers. He smiles when he gets Steve's sleeve up over his shoulder, his fingers poking at Steve's skin as he counts. And it clicks.
He's counting Steve's freckles.
His fingers dancing over his skin as he counts, whispering numbers as he turns on his couch cushion, his knee pressing hard into Steve's thigh. Steve doesn't care. Steve doesn't feel it.
All Steve can feel is Eddie's breath ghosting over his warm skin as he counts. His chilly fingertips, and warm breath, causing goosebumps to spead, making Steve shiver.
He swallows, hard, as Eddie's fingers poke the moles on his neck. Steve smiles when Eddie whispers to himself.
"Lil vampire bite." He says, moving one finger across them genlty. Steve clenches his fists, presses them into his thighs, tries to stay still. To let Eddie stay in this world he's in. Because he's lost right now. Steve knows he is. He's a touchy feely guy, but this, this is different.
He's lost in his counting. Lost in Steve. It's fucking intoxicating. Steve could live in this bubble forever, all of Eddie's attention on him like he's the most interesting thing he's ever seen.
Steve reminds himself to breathe at the wrong moment. Eddie's fingers move over his cheek, he's almost reached thirty, and Steve honestly didn't know he had that many freckles and moles. But he learns new things about himself from Eddie everyday. He sucks in air as Eddie's fingers press into his cheek and Eddie startles.
His hand jerks back, his eyes flutter and then lock onto Steve's. Because he'd been watching Eddie. Watching Eddie look at him. And Eddie swallows hard, his fist clenching in the air before he pulls it to his chest. Holds it there with his other hand, his cheeks now a deep pink, Steve can see it crawling up to his ears.
"Shit. Sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. Fuck." He breathes, looks into his lap. And Steve smiles. Can't help it. He reaches out, his fingers curling around Eddie's wrist.
Eddie's eyes snap to him, wide, and nervous, as he watches Steve move his hand back to his face. He presses Eddie's palm to his cheek, nuzzles into the touch.
"You can keep going. You were at... twenty seven, I think." Steve whispers, not wanting to break the quiet bubble they've settled into. Eddie blinks at him. Steve feels his fingers twitch against his face.
"Twenty....seven?" Eddie says it like a question. Unsure. Confused.
"You were counting again." Steve says, leans further into Eddie's hand. He hears Eddie's breath shutter.
"I was touching you." Eddie says, his brows furrowing, like he's still confused.
"I know. I liked it." Steve assures, nodding his head, letting Eddie feel it against his hand.
"Yeah?" He breathes.
"Yeah. Of course." Steve turns a little then, facing him more.
"I like when you count too." Steve admits. Finally. Eddie's nose scrunches, he snorts, and Steve lets him have his hand back. He lets his fall to Steve's shoulder, his fingers almost instantly tangling in the hair at the back of Steve's neck. They find their way there most nights Steve is here, his hand on the back of the couch always finding Steve somehow.
"No you don't. No one does. It annoys people. It's weird." Eddie shakes his head, but he's smiling, and blushing, and Steve wants to kiss his bright red cheeks, wants to feel their warmth against his lips.
"It's addicting." Steve counters. Eddie's eyes widen.
"Is it?" He sounds shocked. Steve nods.
"Yeah. I do it all the time now. Even when you aren't doing it. Or aren't even around. I just... count things. You were right. It's calming." Steve says, his hands finding Eddie's, moving his fingers across Eddie's rings.
"You said it was addicting." Eddie mumbled.
"What?"
"You said it was addicting. The counting." Eddie says, finally looking up from his lap. His eyes soft when they find Steve's.
"Oh. Guess I did yeah. Is that... is that bad?" Steve asks, turning one of Eddie's rings around his finger. Eddie shakes his head, once, the red tint crawling down his neck now. The hand Steve's not fiddling with finds its way to the back of Eddie's neck, he rubs the skin there and blinks a few times before looking into his lap again.
"No. Just... no one's ever called anything about me addicting before. Annoying? Yes. Addicting? Not so much. But you did. And you said it like-" Eddie's teeth dig into his bottom lip.
"Like what?" Steve nudges his knee into Eddie, fighting not to smile.
"Like it was a good thing. I guess?" Eddie shrugs. Steve reaches up then, lets go of Eddie's hand and cups his cheek instead, lifting his head so Eddie can see him.
"It is a good thing. The best thing. I could listen to you count all day." Steve smiles then, mirroring Eddie as he laughs a little.
"Oh yeah? You might regret that. I've actually been trying to hold back on it. I know I do it a lot." Eddie shakes his head, frowns a little. Steve moves, presses closer, shakes his head.
"Don't. Don't hold back. Count whatever you want. Whenever you want." He breathes between them.
"Okay." Eddie says, hesitant, he sounds nervous. Steve pulls back a bit, brows furrowed, and then Eddie darts forward, presses his lips to Steve's cheek.
"One." He says when he's settled back on his cushion. His cheeks even more red than before. Steve snorts, opens his mouth to say something but Eddie moves again. His lips hit next to Steve's eyebrow.
"Two."
He presses his lips close to Steve's ear.
"Three." Steve laughs. Eddie kissed his neck twice.
"Four. Five." He breathes, as Steve catches him, doesn't let him settle back down this time. Keeps him close. One hand on the back of Eddie's neck, one hand trailing his fingertips over Eddie's nose, and his cheeks.
"You've got them too ya know? Not like mine. But ... little ones. All over." Steve breathes, his fingers moving slowly over Eddie face until they linger on his lips. Just for a moment, before he cupped Eddie's cheek.
"You wanna count 'em?" Eddie asks, he sounds breathless, and Steve had barely touched him. They were both on their knees now. Their chests nearly pressed together.
"Maybe later. Got something better in mind right now." Steve breathes, eyes dropping to Eddie's mouth. He watches Eddie gulp and smiles.
"Oh yeah? L-like what?" Eddie stammers. His hands grabbing at Steve's waist to keep himself steady.
"Probably better if I just show you." Steve sighs, presses his forehead to Eddie's.
"Okay. Yeah. I'm- I'm definitely a learn by example kinda guy. So that's- that works for me." Eddie rambles, his mouth moving a mile a minute. Steve moves his nose along Eddie's and nods.
"Yeah. Okay. Sounds good. I can do that." Steve agrees, not sure what he's really agreeing too, he just knows he wants to kiss this boy. His friend. Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie so bad. Has for awhile now. He feels Eddie's hands, one of them moving to his shoulder where his sleeve is still pulled up, Eddie's palm is warm on his arm.
Eddie huffs a nervous laugh and that's all it takes.
Steve kisses him. Gently. Eddie's lips fumble against his for a moment. His inexperience making Steve's stomach flutter. His hands grab at Eddie, pull him closer. Eddie whines against his lips and Steve pulls back, doesn't want to overwhelm him too much.
Eddie drops his head to Steve's shoulder with a breathy laugh. Steve pets at his hair, curls his fingers into it like he's wanted to for ages and pulls genlty, so he can look at Eddie's face.
"You okay?" He asks. Eddie nods, smiles.
"Six." He says, his cheeks dimpling. Steve smiles back, shakes his head. Presses a kiss to the tip of Eddie's nose.
"Seven." Eddie says, no hesitation. Steve swears he honest to god giggles, but would never admit it to anyone.
Eddie's eyes tint with a mix of mischief and seriousness that's all his own as his fingers curl around the hem of Steve shirt.
"Okay seriously though take this off, I wasn't done counting." His voice is completely serious. And Steve, feeling brave, decides to match it, and tugs his shirt up over his head, careful not to hit Eddie in the face. Eddie barks a manic sounding laugh as Steve falls back, pulling Eddie down too, so that he's stradling him.
"Go on then. Count away." Steve shoves his hands under his head, smiles up at Eddie as he looks wide eyed down at Steve. He's bright red, but then his eyes focus, and his hands move to gently touch the skin covering Steve's ribs. His finger tips press down, tickling a bit, as he whispers,
"Twenty eight." His eyes jump to Steve's face, he gives him an encouraging nod, and that's all Eddie needs apparently. Because he starts counting in earnest, his hands moving over Steve's freckles quickly. Numbers falling past his lips, his counting calming Steve the way almost nothing else does.
He gets to fifty and stops. Leans down and presses a kiss to Steve's shoulder.
"Eight." He whispers, and then keeps going. He kisses and counts his way across Steve's skin until he's laying on top of Steve, his hand in his hair. Pressing gentle kisses into Steve's neck as he smiles into Eddie's shoulder, the little voice in his head counting along, in sync with Eddie in a way he'd never expected to be, feeling content as Eddie's numbers become more garbled. Until they fade completely as Eddie drifts off, his breath heavy on Steve's neck.
Steve smiles, moves them a bit so they're settled on the couch a bit better. Eddie doesn't wake. Steve watches him sleep. Soothes his fingers over the crease in Eddie's eyebrows until it smooths out and he melts further into the couch. He smiles at him, closes his eyes as Eddie's arm squeezes around him, pulling him closer. Steve sighs, sinks deeper into the couch as he feels sleep dragging him under. But not before he mumbles, sleepy and soft,
"One." Making sure he marks this. The first time they fall asleep tangled together, the smile on his lips fading as he drifts off to sleep, dreaming of all the never ending numbers in their future.
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I have a lot of thoughts about Steve who craves physical affection, who thinks of his worth in terms of what he can do for other people, and who got very drunk at high school parties. This is one of them
CW for heavily implied past dubcon (not between Eddie and Steve). Please take care
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Eddie has never seen Steve drunk.
At least – not up close. There had been a few high school parties back in the day where Eddie had passed by the “Keg Stand King,” but since he’s come to know Steve personally (intimately), Steve has barely touched alcohol.
He’s told Eddie the story of being drugged against his will and how he doesn’t want to repeat the feeling of losing control, and how he doesn’t like not being able to drive if he needs to, and how the hangover would probably just trigger a migraine anyway – and, really, he just doesn’t drink much anymore.
Yet tonight had been a special occasion: Robin’s birthday. She herself isn’t much for alcohol (for at least some reasons that match up with Steve’s), but drinking, she said, feels like a part of the birthday experience. She’d somehow gotten Steve to match her beer for beer, for “emotional support,” and it hadn’t taken long for the both of them to become entirely inebriated.
Time has apparently greatly eroded Steve’s tolerance.
Eddie had distantly expected him to be kind of a bitchy drunk—and he had become a bit cattier, for sure—but mostly he’d just become affectionate. There had been hugs for nearly everyone, and he’d spent the latter half of the party slowly migrating into Eddie’s lap, plying him with constant kisses on the cheek and giggling ridiculously at nearly everything Eddie had said.
It had been sort of adorable (not that Eddie will tell him that; no, he’s going to sit on that information until it benefits him).
It’s a little less fun now that he’s trying to cart Steve up to his room and into bed. Steve is a bit wobbly, and a lot heavy, and is much more interested in trying to cling to Eddie like a koala and bury his face in Eddie’s neck than he is in actually walking anywhere.
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Floating
The truth is- Steve hates his pool. He hates his pool because it was the beginning of the end of a lot of things. He hates his pool because while he never did get to know Barb the way she deserved to be known, a single drop of blood into that cool water...
Well.
Yeah.
He hates his pool.
Unfortunately for Steve, the pool becomes sort of necessary. After getting the shit kicked out of him by Jonathan Byers, then Billy, then getting his ass handed to him by Russians before they drugged him with some concoction that left him at first with ringing ears, then with dwindling tones, the weird little audiogram from his doctor told him that yeah, he was lucky to still be able to hear airplanes and dogs barking.
In short, Steve was deaf.
He hadn’t ever met anyone like that before so it was just easier to try and ignore it. To nod and smile a lot and pretend like he had any idea about what was going on. That’s what his parents wanted him to do.
So.
Why not.
They were never home before, but they’re gone even more now that the upside down had tried (and failed- thank God) to swallow Hawkins and left Steve kind of a fucked-up mess both inside and out. But they’re all kind of fucked-up inside and out so at least he’s not alone.
Steve’s house was spared and the kids come over all the time and have pool parties. And Robin sleeps over more than she doesn’t, and her favorite thing ever is a morning swim. Nancy drops in to do laps when she can, just to get a break from the madness that is her life. Eddie uses the cool water as a sort of self-created physiotherapy for all the pieces of muscle he lost to demo bats.
Steve wants to not hate it. He wants to say that it’s all fine and he’s making new memories and while they won’t erase what happened to Barb, something good can come of it.
Vertigo has become Steve’s constant friend, especially on what he calls his bad-ear-days. The pool, oddly, helps. Not swimming. The pressure of water in his ears makes him want to die. It gives him ear-migraines, which might not be a thing, but it’s totally a thing.
But he’s got an old blow-up raft that’s shaped like a donut and bobbing along the water oddly kind of evens out the spins and makes him not want to hoark his lunch up all over the deck.
So he lays there with his eyes closed, simmering in his new silence sort of feeling everything around him differently now that he can’t hear for shit. He’s usually alone, but this afternoon Eddie’s there. Eddie who sees way too much.
And it happens while Steve’s floating and Eddie’s soaking and drinking beer. His eyes are closed and the sun is hot on his face, and then he feels cool fingers playing with the short hairs by his temple.
Steve feels himself rumble a noise- which is probably the most disconcerting thing about his deafness. It’s not losing the sound of other people- it’s losing the sound of himself.
He as no idea if the sounds he’s making are audible because Eddie doesn’t react. He just keeps touching. And God he does that a lot. Steve’s not used to it. Touch always had some sort of end game. Like with Nancy, it used to mean at least making out, if not more. With the kids, it’s to comfort. With Robin it’s mostly to get on her nerves because even when he annoys her, he still makes her smile.
But Eddie’s so free with it- without expectations. He just gives and gives and rarely expects anything back. Lord, though, Steve wants to give him something. and he has for a while now.
Steve’s come to realize in the past months that his attraction might not be so...focused on one gender? He watched Robin struggle with existing as herself, but also so unabashed about it when she felt safe that Steve realized maybe he was just not looking in the right places. Because he wants to feel that and noticing Eddie’s pretty mouth and clever fingers has made him look a little deeper.
So opening his eyes and staring upside down at Eddie’s grin and his big doe-eyes and feeling his hands in his hair as Eddie scratches along his scalp...it seems important.
Like a Moment- with a capital M.
He sighs, and Eddie tracks the rise and fall of Steve’s chest.
Eddie leans forward and knocks their foreheads together, and Steve breathes him in. He smells like cigarettes, chlorine, and sunshine. And he just stays there. At some point he rumbles out a contented hum which Steve feels rattling around his head, and it makes the dizzies a little worse, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
He still doesn’t love his pool, but when he’s like this, he doesn’t hate it nearly as much as he used to.
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