penny00dreadful - Tumblr blog

[penny00dreadful]

❄️ for the truth and dare ask?

What's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

That's a good one! Thanks!

There's one particular story idea that I had a little less than a year ago for a Stranger Things/Stargate SG-1 crossover that I thought could work really well in a post-STs4 canon universe, and since there haven't been many fics that combined those fandoms yet either as AUs or crossovers, I thought I might try my hand at writing my idea myself -- which was what prompted me to finally stop lurking and make both Tumblr and AO3 accounts. I do already have a partial draft, so I don't want to share specific details about the plot yet. I have gotten a bit distracted with other story ideas and doing events both because it's been fun and in the hopes of improving my writing enough to do my "big" idea justice; however, I should be able to focus on it more exclusively soon.

If I could pick someone else to write it though... there are so many talented writers that I've discovered in the past year that it would be impossible for me to select just one. Instead, I'll include a recommendation list of authors whose works I love and that I know would be able to bring my idea to life (assuming they were familiar with both shows and thought the plot was interesting enough 😄).

Everyone on this list has written complex, beautifully characterized stories in the Stranger Things universe that include engaging action scenes which generate amazing tension--this is exactly what I would hope to accomplish with my project (if I ever finish it).

Hbyrde @hbyrde36

Just_my_latest_hyperfixation @just-my-latest-hyperfixation

Klausinamarink @klausinamarink

Merry_magpie @sevenmerrymagpies

Mustlovesteve @mustlovesteve

Paryton

Penny00Dreadful @penny00dreadful

VTHX @vthx

I may add to this rec list later since I'm sure I've forgotten to include others whose action-heavy works I've gushed about in the past 😄

Writer's Truth or Dare Ask Game

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A very loose interpretation of day 4 for @subeddieweek: Dress Up

More like dress down

Could be yesterdays brat Eddie too I suppose

Dunno how able I’ll be to get the rest of the days out this week. Went to the dentist today and I am bolloxed.

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“So goddamn dramatic,” Steve grins, crooked and lopsided. “What about you though? How are you feeling about the whole,” he gestured widely with his hands. “Everything.” 

A car whizzes by down on the road below Steve’s window, too fast for a residential street, and his thoughts move just as quickly. 

He feels good. 

He feels confused. 

He feels a little scared, but not so much about letting Steve put him down. Not anymore. He’s afraid of what it means, that it’s so easy for him to take, that he’s taking more than he deserves. That eventually, Steve might realize how much Eddie actually wants, and that it’ll be more than Steve can give. 

He’s not afraid of getting hurt in the ways that have kept him from relinquishing the leash on his life. He’s afraid of getting his heart broken, and that’s a new development.  

“Gonna level with you, it’s still a lot to try and make sense of but I also just came so hard, I think I saw God in that shower, so I can’t act like I don’t like it. And yeah I guess it’s… it’s nice, not having to think.” Eddie pauses, considers what he says next. “My brain’s never been that quiet before.” 

Steve smiles and nods, his expression soft. “Yeah, it’s kind of like that for me too, but in a different way. Like, I’m still thinking, and my brain’s still on, but I’m not thinking about anything but you.” 

“And that doesn’t make you wanna run away screaming? I don’t even like thinking about myself that much. That has to be a pretty chaotic place to be.” Eddie scoffs, sarcasm hiding sincerity.

“Yeah well, you’re missing out.” Steve argues. “It’s my new favorite place.” 

“Stop trying to charm me, Steve. You’re gonna make me fall in love with you or something stupid like that.” Eddie teases. 

↳ read chapter two of sugar, we're goin' down here on ao3! @subeddieweek

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nsfw, actor eddie, hair & makeup artist steve, sub top

The downside of Eddie having a bunch of tattoos is that he has to sit in the makeup trailer longer than anyone else getting them covered, along with his character’s makeup. 

The plus side is he gets more time with Steve. 

They have this game. It started on Eddie’s first day. He was all wired up with nerves because it’s his first time in a lead role on a big production like this.

Every nightmare scenario of how he could screw up was running through his mind. He couldn’t sit still enough for Steve to give him the wavy hair and facial scars that his character has. 

Eddie kept apologizing and Steve was great about it. He asked Eddie about the heart on his arm with “Wayne” across the ribbon and distracted Eddie from over-practicing his lines, busy telling Steve all about his uncle who raised him and where they’re from. 

Eddie killed it on set that day, and pretty much every day since then. He loves acting, he loves fully immersing himself in the story he’s telling. This role is the biggest of his career so far, but it’s not even about that, he loves the character he’s playing, he meshes well with the director and has chemistry with his co-stars.

But Steve is his favorite part of this whole deal.

Eddie ran out of tattoos for their little game of telling Steve the story behind a different one every day. They never ran out of things to talk about though.

But Steve takes his job seriously and he’s good at it. He explained once why he likes doing this. It’s an art, getting the right look for the right character, or the right person, connecting with and taking care of whoever’s in his chair.

He explained it all while he was running his fingers through Eddie’s hair in those perfectly practiced strokes. Steve’s very good at his job, that’s why it feels so nice when he touches Eddie, even if it’s just work, because Steve cares about this. That’s why it’s easy for Eddie to be lulled into bliss when Steve’s fingers are so gentle on his scalp.

And, okay Eddie’s not made of stone, and he has eyes so he has a thing for Steve. A crush, but there’s a line there. This is work. They’re co-workers, despite how many pretty smiles and lingering looks are exchanged. Eddie won’t cross that line.

Until he does. 

It’s an accident. He never would have done it on purpose. 

Steve’s fingers are just so talented. Eddie’s eyes are closed, he was having another fit of nerves earlier so Steve took extra time with his hair. It put Eddie in a space so relaxed that he feels like he’s floating when Steve’s hand twists in his hair with the perfect amount of tension. It feels so intentional. The moan just slips out.

Eddie apologizes like crazy afterward, he feels terrible. Steve is a picture of professionalism, he’s charming and fun but he runs the makeup trailer like it's the navy and he takes his shit seriously and Eddie crossed a line. 

But Steve just shushes him, guides him to sit back in the chair and says it’s alright. 

Eddie blinks in disbelief but Steve just looks at him. 

It’s a look. 

A look that Eddie can’t stop thinking about for the rest of production.

It’s a look he sees again on his last day on set.

Eddie already shook everyone’s hands and said his goodbyes. He's just stopping by his trailer one last time to make sure the assistants got all his stuff cleared out. 

When he opens the door, his stomach flips, finding Steve waiting inside for him.

“You wrapped filming today,” Steve says in place of a greeting. But his smile and the way his arm is languidly stretched over the back of the couch is inviting. 

Something Eddie to lock the door before he goes over to sit next to Steve.

His gaze is even more intense up close. Eddie feels Steve’s eyes on him everywhere, like he’s just eating Eddie up. 

“Yeah, I did,” Eddie says, a tad nervous.

He doesn't want to make a move he can’t take back in case he’s wrong about why Steve’s in his trailer looking at him like that. He doesn’t want to be one of those douchebag movie stars that assumes everyone wants him and he has a free pass to hit on the crew. He’s sure Steve’s had enough of that bullshit.

“We don’t work together anymore,” Steve simply states.

“I know, it sucks,” Eddie laughs a bit sad because he really is, “Sorry if it’s weird to say, but I’m gonna miss you.”

Steve’s eyes shift between Eddie’s and then down to his lips, making his heart stutter in his chest.

“No it’s a good thing,” Steve says and Eddie’s brows knit in confusion. “It means I can do this finally.”

Eddie thinks he’s watching his daydreams play out the way Steve starts leaning in. 

It’s only real when Steve’s lips press softly to his.

Just once, so light, long enough for Eddie to catch on that it’s happening, then Steve pulls back before Eddie can reciprocate.

Steve chuckles faintly at the dramatic frown Eddie’s pulling. 

Then Steve’s hand cups Eddie’s cheek, his thumb stroking Eddie’s face as he tells him, “We can stop there and keep it professional and say our goodbyes. Or I can climb on your lap and give you something to remember me by.”

Eddie gulps. Steve’s offer and his silky voice and his perfect touch that Eddie’s already so addicted to is such a heady mix, making it hard to form words. “Yes, climb me— I mean, option B.”

“Yeah, honey, you want that?” God, Eddie always blushed hot when Steve called him that casually in the makeup trailer, now he’s melting hearing Steve say it like this. “Well, go on and take your pants off for me.”

It happens in a syrupy warm blur. Eddie sheds his jeans and underwear like he’s told and he’s rewarded with a gorgeously naked Steve Harrington in his lap. He’s allowed to touch, only after Steve has threaded his fingers through Eddie’s hair more reverently than any time before, like something precious in his hands, and kisses Eddie deep and hard. 

Then Eddie gets to nuzzle the chest hair that’s been driving him crazy peeking out of Steve’s shirt every time he leaned over. Eddie gets to touch Steve’s soft strong thighs, feeling the smatter of hair leading up to his ass that’s been driving Eddie even more insane trying not to stare at. Then he slips his fingers in and moans into Steve’s mouth when he feels the hard bulb of a plug nestled inside Steve.

Steve pulls back from the kiss, smiling and smearing his thumb over the spit on Eddie’s lips. “Yeah, I’m so ready for you, Eddie, baby, you have no idea.”

Eddie’s practically drooling watching Steve take out the plug and get a bottle of lube from between the cushions and a condom, oiling up his hand. When his fist wraps around Eddie’s cock, Eddie helplessly bucks into it, but Steve’s solid thighs pin him down. That makes his mind lust-foggy and his eyes flutter up at Steve, who bites his lip watching Eddie as he lines up to his hole.

“Mm... you know how bad I wanted you?” Steve sounds relieved as he sinks down on Eddie’s cock. “You know how bad I wanted to climb on your lap when you were sitting in my chair. You know how starry-eyed you get when you’re drifting? Just from me touching your hair, so fucking cute.”

Eddie’s just a mess of moans, Steve is so hot and tight around him. It’s too much with all the sweet praise to really comprehend that Steve knew all those times he was getting spacy.

“It’s so easy to put you down.” Steve’s breath comes harder, not letting Eddie move as he starts to roll his hips. “Such an actor, high strung all the time but that’s okay. It’s your passion. That’s sexy. Been dying to hold you down and ride you until you can’t think about anything but me, though.”

Eddie gasps out a groan when Steve tugs sharply on his hair, being right about everything that Eddie’s into so far. It’s no secret that Eddie’s intense, just a different kind of intensity in the bedroom than with his craft. 

Steve seems to get it, seems to know that Eddie needs everything hard and relentless with the way he’s bouncing on Eddie’s dick. He can feel the strength in Steve’s hips, dying to feel them fucking into him too, mouth watering at the sight of his thick cock jumping with all the movement.

“You’d let me tie you down and use you, hm?” Steve asks, drawing Eddie by the hair into a biting kiss that just barely grazes the surface of what Eddie would let Steve do to him. “I know. I’d fuck you up so good if we had time, baby.”

“Steve, holy shit,” Eddie practically sobs, fingers digging into Steve’s ass.

“You close, honey?” 

“Fuck, yeah.” 

Steve suddenly cups his face, just a tad rough and Eddie thought— hoped for one hot moment— that Steve was going to slap him. Just the thought is enough to make him do what he's supposed to, “Can I?” 

“Mh-hm just keep looking at me,” Steve strokes Eddie’s face as he circles his hips and takes Eddie deep. “Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come inside me.”

Eddie does as he’s told, his gaze falling half-shut as he lets go, spilling into the condom like he’s pumping Steve full.

It’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him, followed by the second hottest thing when Steve kisses his slack mouth as his warm heavy spurts of come land on Eddie’s belly.

While Eddie’s coming down, he lets Steve shift him onto the couch. He gets some tissues and then pulls Eddie to lie on his chest because of course he would, he’s Steve.

“Was that enough to remember me by when you get all big and famous?” Steve asks after a while, trailing his knuckles down Eddie’s bare arm.

Eddie looks up, seeing the first glimpse of hesitance in all of Steve’s practiced smoothness.

So Eddie leans in and assures him between pecks on his lips that slowly turn to smiles pressing together. “Nope, think we gotta do it again. And again. And again.” 

[penny00dreadful]

Let me see, baby.

@subeddieweek Day 3: 24/7 Dynamic

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Did I buy my own mug? Yes I did. Is it all I'm gonna be drinking from until forever? Yes it is.

Redbubble

[penny00dreadful]

THERE ARE GALAXIES IN YOU

Greetings @subeddieweek I bring to you my humble offering.

Rated Very E

All tags and warning are on AO3! You can read it here

Steve was a fucking lucky man. He knows this. Eddie is--

Well, Eddie is everything.

Steve has been with a lot of people. Women, men, neither--either. But no one was Eddie.

Eddie was his.

It was always a little difficult, getting Eddie to focus on him. Stop the voices running around in that pretty little head, but when Steve could actually get him to?

Eddie was easier than anyone to put down.

[penny00dreadful]

Let Me Be Your Good Night

Steddie | Explicit | Complete

“You can turn around, Steve.”

“No, it’s fine. I won’t look, I’ll just go,” Steve offers, still facing the door and so apologetic, “I’ll keep my eyes closed and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Eddie sighs. “You have to open your eyes, man. You gotta get me out of these.”

Steve’s curiosity makes him turn faster than he can even think.

“Get you out of what— oh.”

Handcuffs.

Eddie’s not just standing naked at the kitchen bar, he’s handcuffed to it.

Or, Steve interrupts Eddie’s hookup and comforts him through a subdrop after. That's how it starts at least.

Ao3 Link

[penny00dreadful]

Whatever you want it to be - ch 3 coming soon

My @subeddieweek fic

Re-read chapter 2 Start from chapter 1

“Stop it,” Steve breathes, but there’s no force behind it anymore. “We can’t-”  “Please,” Eddie says again. And fuck, Steve’s reaction to that? The way the black in his eyes all but swallows the hazel and gold? The way he growls softly? The way his nostrils flare and he sways closer into Eddie’s space? Maybe begging isn't such a bad thing after all. Maybe he should do it more often. “Steve, please. Need you.” 

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used all my colour shortcuts to try and make it half decent. based on the snippet @steddielations posted a while back and was lovely enough to provide me context for! for @subeddieweek

[penny00dreadful]

nonsexual d/s for sub Eddie week with art here by @ent-is-indecisive

“Eddie, will you please open the door?”

“I ruined it, Steve, I messed everything up.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby, let me in, c’mon.”

All the music from the party almost drowns out Steve’s voice, but a small pathetic piece of Eddie clings to it like an anchor. He opens the door and Steve’s brows knit sympathetically at the state of distress Eddie's in. It’s all fucked up.

His leather sleeve is wet and sticky, he can’t stop raking his fingers through his hair, ruining the nice waves Steve styled for him earlier because he was too much of a wreck to do it himself. It’s all fucked up.

“I fucked up.”

Shaking his head, Steve comes inside and shuts the door behind him. “It wasn’t that bad. Could’ve been worse, remember when Robin threw up in the middle of an audition.”

“Steve, at this point they’re gonna pay me not to make an album,” Eddie stresses, pacing around the bathroom. “I spilled wine all over the guy. Dale fucking Grazer wants to talk serious paper and shake my hand and I just emptied my stupid little glass all over him!”

“It was just wine, not puke or something,” Steve says lightly, trying to bring Eddie down from his frantic state. It works, his voice is a tether for Eddie to grab onto. “Come here, let me fix you up.” 

Eddie does as Steve says, not trusting himself to make any more decisions when all he’s done today is fuck up. 

Steve guides him over to the sink, wetting a towel and dabbing Eddie’s jacket. He’s so calm, like this isn’t the most important night in Eddie’s life and it’s not already blown and he can still make that hotshot from the record label like him.

Steve’s acting like everything’s fine, which makes Eddie feel stupid and small like he's overreacting, he tries to let Steve’s energy calm him too but it’s hard.

“You’re overthinking, I can see it on your face,” Steve says, being gentle but not in a coddling way that would make Eddie feel even more stupid.

He straightens out Eddie’s sleeve, good as new, then works on Eddie’s hair next. His fingers are soft and skilled and so sure, knowing exactly how to fix it and how to make Eddie melt under his touch.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, just trying to let Steve fix everything. He's way better at fancy parties and schmoozing than Eddie is. He always knows how to get Eddie out of his head and that’s what he needs right now. As pathetic as he feels about it, he needs to stop thinking. Let Steve think for him, even.

“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” Steve prompts softly and Eddie is helpless but to let it all out.

“I can’t stop saying the wrong shit. Why’d I tell him my dad’s in prison? Or bring up the dropped murder charges, or all that stuff about ket, I just can’t shut up.”

“No, that’s just you, the whole big personality charismatic rockstar thing. Trust me, that guy’s got star eyes for you.”

“This is just like with Paige’s label. I messed that up, and now I’m ruining Jeff’s chance again, and—”

“No you’re not, that guy loves Jeff already, everybody loves Jeff.” 

“You’re right, he’s got this, he doesn’t need me. Let’s just get out of here, make a run for it.”

Eddie barely takes a step before Steve’s hands circle both his wrists, his grip gentle but solid, holding Eddie in place. It flips the same little switch in Eddie as the cuffs they use in the bedroom. It takes away the option to run.

Somewhere in the jumble of his mind, he knows it’s the right choice, trusting that Steve wouldn’t let him make the wrong one.

“We’re not going anywhere, baby, this is your chance too.” Steve rubs up and down Eddie’s arms, guiding him around in front of the mirror. 

It’s hard for Eddie to look at himself right now and see it written all over his face. Steve cleaned the stain and made his hair perfect again but he can’t fix whatever’s making Eddie… Well, Eddie. Whatever it is that made him flunk senior year 3 times, or screw up the first chance he had to make something of himself, or the reason Ronnie won’t pick up his phone calls, or the reason Wayne sleeps with his keys on the bedside table in case he has to come running to Eddie’s rescue like always—

Steve’s fingers lightly cup Eddie’s chin, he’s standing behind Eddie now, his body warmly pressed against him.

“Look here, honey.” Steve gently tips Eddie’s head up to meet his own eyes in the mirror. They’re glistening with unshed tears that almost fall when Steve says soft but sure, “You’re not a fuckup,” and prompts Eddie, “Say it.”

Eddie swallows the lump rising in his throat, “I’m not—” 

He chokes up a little bit and Steve waits patiently. 

“Tell yourself,” Steve whispers, all earnest-eyed in the mirror like all he wants is to make Eddie believe it.

“I’m not a… fuckup,” Eddie gets the words out and a few tears slip free with them.

Steve brushes them away. “You can do this. Say it.”

With a deep breath, Eddie tells himself, “I can do this.”

Steve kisses his temple, gives him a little praise that he admittedly needs so much right now, “You’re gonna be so good.”

Eddie’s mind starts to clear of everything that’s not Steve rocking him slowly in his arms, whispering, “You’re my good boy,” as many times as Eddie needs to hear it. He feels his confidence building back up, getting more comfortable in his skin again with Steve holding him, believing the words Steve made him say in the mirror, believing the words Steve kisses into his neck and loves into his skin. He can do this.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Tell me,” Steve prompts and Eddie turns a little, blinking slowly, eyes feeling heavy with the slow dose of bliss Steve gave him.

“I’m your good boy,” Eddie murmurs and he believes it.

When they leave the bathroom later, Steve can’t hold his hand through this, but Eddie still feels him.

He charms the fuck out of those suits from the label. They love Jeff, everybody loves Jeff, and they love Eddie too. The whole band is definitely getting signed, at least that’s what Steve says on the ride home.

Eddie greedily soaks up all the praise and attention, feeling a little spacey with it, Steve's big warm hand on his thigh grounding him. He can't wait for them to get home so he can properly thank Steve.

[penny00dreadful]

Hello everyone!!

We as the mod team have LOVED running this space but it really does rely on fans sending in recs! We can supply some but there’s no way that we can do the level we need by ourselves.

The last few challenge Mondays and theme weekends have been a struggle to put out. We’re only receiving one or two asks for each request, and maybe one or two on the days of when we’ve already filled all the slots.

We also just don’t have recs coming in anymore! They trickle in, but we’ve had to cut back on our posting to keep things going longer.

For now, we’re going to keep trying to get the challenges and themes out, to keep running the space as it is now, but it may come down to discontinuing these challenges!

Thank you all for understanding!

[penny00dreadful]

Some quick cockwarming line art for you heathens(affectionate) @subeddieweek

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How does this work?

🩷 Requests will be open from 13 to 20 April.

🩷 You can request a ficlet via ask or dm.

🩷 You can send multiple requests if you want to.

🩷 For your request, you can pick one option from each column. You can also leave one or several to me (author's choice).

🩷 All ficlets will be 1k maximum and posted as I finish them, in no particular order.

🩷 1k follower ask game

[penny00dreadful]

Happy @subeddieweek everyone. Who doesn’t love a bit of manhandling?

[penny00dreadful]

Times Like These (The Anniversary Edition)

CH 1 CH 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10

Chapter 11: Broken

WC: 4999 | AO3 link

The house was a flurry of activity, with everyone rushing around to make their final preparations as the clock ticked down to dusk when they would set off for Benny’s to put their plan into motion one last time. 

At least Eddie hoped this would be the last time. 

He didn’t see Steve again until they arrived at the old abandoned burger place and started unloading the sound system, speakers, and wire from the back of his van, stacking it all near the gate that led to the Upside Down. 

Hopper and Nancy stood guard with weapons drawn as he and Steve traversed back and forth into the other dimension, making sure everything was set up and ready to go for Robin and Chrissy to provide the distraction that would draw the bats away from Vecna’s lair.

They stole sideways glances at each other as they worked, not speaking or even properly making eye contact until El pulled them both aside to talk.

“It does not change much from your side of things, but I wanted to explain. I will not be piggybacking into Eddie’s mind. I will wait until Henry is distracted and go into his mind directly.”

Eddie tilted his head, impressed. It was a good idea to change tactics. “Like sneaking in the back door while he’s looking out the front. Okay, yeah, I get it.”

“Yes!” She agreed brightly. “Since he has seen in your mind and has an idea of our plan he will be looking for me in your memories, while I will be sneaking in through his.”

“So what do you need me to do?”

“You still need to think of some happy memories to hide in. The longer you keep him busy, the more time I have to get close before he realizes. The important thing is, you must keep moving, do not let him get too close. I will not be looking for you, so you will be on your own. Jonathan will signal Joyce again with the flashlight when it is time for Steve to pull you out.”

She held Eddie’s gaze firmly until he nodded his understanding, then turned to Steve. “But—If he starts to float, do not wait. Pull him out right away.”

Steve dipped his chin. “I will.” 

“What if you need more time?” Eddie asked. 

“I won’t.” She insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.

All too soon it was time to separate, the goodbyes and good lucks a bit more somber this time around without the rest of the kids there to witness it.

Hopper gave Eddie an unexpected pat on the back before walking off with Joyce to share a private moment by the cars. Jonathan shook his hand, while Nancy gave him a warm smile and a squeeze on the arm before the two of them wandered off as well, keeping an eye on El while she waited for her dad.  

Robin was the next to approach, pulling him into a surprisingly tight hug, and whispering a quiet “good luck” before giving up her place to Chrissy and making her way over to where Steve stood.

Chrissy took him into her arms, rocking them side to side as she buried her face in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing her in as he held her back, this precious girl, the only constant he’d really allowed himself to have this go around. She whispered soft words of encouragement to him, making him promise to stay safe while he did the same to her.

When they finally broke apart he found himself staring over her shoulder at the place where he and Steve had shared their own emotional goodbye in the last loop, the moment everything had changed, when he’d been cradled so gently in the other boy’s arms. 

It was the same spot where Steve stood now, holding Robin this time, as they too made quiet promises to each other to be careful, where he gave her his baby, his precious nail bat to protect herself with, because weapons would be of no use to him where they were going, wouldn’t help if and when Eddie started to float. 

“Remember, no matter what happens, one way or another I’ll see you on the other side.” Chrissy said, drawing his attention back.

He tried to smile at her, to nod, but the pit in his stomach wouldn’t allow for much more than a twitch of his upper lip. He took her hand instead, squeezed it. 

“See you on the other side, Chris.”

He looked up again to find Steve’s eyes on him now too, and they walked together in silence to Steve’s car, Joyce already waiting for them in the passenger seat. 

Eddie did his best to clear his head on the way to the Creel house, staring out the window as he cataloged the happiest moments of his life, pretending not to notice the way Steve kept trying to catch his eye in the rear view mirror.

To be extra safe, they parked Steve’s BMW behind the dilapidated house where it couldn't be seen from the street. There was no reason to think Jason would be out looking for them this time, but they were taking no risks. 

Before they parted in the front yard, her for the jungle gym across the street, and them for the attic where they suspected Vecna would be lurking on the other side, Joyce faced them both and smiled.  

“You can do this honey, I know you can,” she said, cupping Eddie’s cheek with one hand before doing the same to Steve with her other. “Take care of each other up there. I’ll come check on you after the final signal.”

-

Eddie could feel Steve's gaze on him again, the weight of it heavy, as they held their lamps aloft and carefully climbed the stairs to the attic. They had to be as quiet as possible, so as not to draw Vecna’s attention before the others were ready.

They took up positions by a window, leaning against the wall on either side of it so they could see out to where Joyce was waiting to signal them, and after a moment of eerie silence, where they could hear nothing but the barest of sounds emanating from both of their headphones, Steve pulled a notebook and pen out of the inner pocket of his jacket, scribbling something on it quickly before holding it out to Eddie.

Scared?

Eddie made no move to take the pad out of his hand, only stared down at the single word inked there in stark black on the white page. He swallowed hard, shrugging as he looked away from Steve’s penetrating stare. 

Of course he was scared, he wanted to say. He was fucking terrified. 

That their plan wouldn’t work—that it would. 

That he’d die and it would all start over again—that he’d die and it wouldn’t, no more 1ups, game over.

Steve pulled the notebook back to himself, flipped to a fresh page and wrote again, shoving both the pad and pen forcibly into Eddie’s hands, as if to say he wouldn’t take silence for an answer this time. 

Why didn’t you want me here?

Though they were more than fair, the words stung to see. 

God—Eddie had really fucked up, hadn’t he? And it wasn’t like this was the first time it occurred to him that he’d handled things badly this time around, he was well aware, but it was hitting him hard now as Steve stared at him, looking so hurt and angry. 

But what could he do? They were out of time for confessions or explanations. 

Eddie wrote back, knowing his short apology was entirely inadequate, but it was all he could offer under the current circumstances. 

I'm sorry, It’s complicated. 

Steve read the note with a clenched jaw, shaking his head.

The signal came then, three flashes through the window from Joyce, and Eddie was officially out of time. He met Steve’s wounded gaze and wished he’d been brave enough to do it all differently. 

At that moment Eddie made up his mind, and maybe it was a little—or a lot—too late, but he decided this was it, it was going to work this time. He could do this, El could do this, they could all do this. And when it was over he would tell Steve everything—all of it. From what they’d been to each other once—what he’d hoped they’d been at least—to how he felt about him now. He would hold nothing back, and whatever would be, would be. At least then he could say he’d tried.

Steve started to tuck the notepad away but Eddie reached out to grip his wrist, stopping him, and gently pried it out of his hand, jotting his last words down as quickly as he could. 

He pressed the pad of paper back into Steve’s grip, holding it for a few beats longer than necessary, letting their touch linger as he looked deep into Steve’s eyes one last time, pleading with him to understand. 

I AM sorry. Talk later? Let me explain?

Steve pursed his lips, face softening slightly as he took the words in. 

Suddenly there was another flash on the window, Joyce signaling them again with her light. They needed to hurry. 

Eddie gave Steve a sad smile, wordlessly removing his headphones and handing them over along with the Walkman he unclipped from his belt. He turned, feeling safe with Steve at his back and looked up into the rafters—could almost picture Vecna hanging there by all his tentacle-like vines in the other dimension.  

“Okay asshole, I’m here—no music. You win. I give up.”

Eddie waited—thirty seconds, a minute—to see if anything would happen, but of course it wouldn’t be that easy. 

It was always going to be a long shot, making Vecna believe he was actually here surrendering. The enemy knew their plan, had seen it play out in different ways through Eddie’s own memories. If he was going to pull this off, he’d really have to sell it.

He took a deep breath and opened himself wide, letting the pain he’d been collecting like rain water fill his heart to spread throughout his chest, running through his veins like a raging river. All those things he’d tried to push down, and hold back, and sure, they’d spilled over once or twice over the course of days but now he let it flow freely. He thought about it all—the terror of seeing Chrissy succumb not once, not twice, but three times on his watch. He recalled his own deaths too, how he’d known on some level exactly what end he was sentencing himself to when he’d cut the rope, leaving Dustin safely behind as he went to lead the bats away. 

He remembered every moment of failure from the first loop to this one in vivid detail.

And Steve. 

He thought of Steve, and let Dustin’s voice fill his head again, weakly crying out, He’s gone.

Eddie sniffled, choking back tears as he took a few shaking steps forward, closer to where Vecna should be, and away from his heart, dragging his feet through the thick coating of dust on the old wood floor. 

“I thought about what you said, about this being my fate?” His voice, though hollow and ruined, was loud in the unnatural silence of the room. 

“You were right—” He shook his head, dropping his voice low, almost a whisper. “Of course you were right. I’m no hero. I can’t save anyone—I can’t even save myself.”

There was a shuffling behind him as Steve moved. Eddie didn't turn to see but he could feel the other boy getting closer and held out a hand to ward him off. The movement stopped immediately.

Eddie hung his head, listening, standing stock-still as seconds gave way to minutes, and still nothing. 

Panic began to set in. Their whole plan was hinging on this, it all fell apart if he didn’t get Vecna on the hook.

“Come on goddammit!” He shouted, kicking an old coffee can full of nails clear across the room with a loud clatter. “You offered to end my suffering and I want–I want out… whatever it takes. I just want it to be over!”

One deep breath.

Two. 

“What are you waiting for?! You want me to beg? I’m begging! Take me you motherfucker!”

Another sound, a creak and a footstep, the air behind him shifting. Eddie readied to wave Steve off again but the other boy started to speak before he could even lift his arm. 

“I knew it. I knew it shouldn’t be you.” Steve snarled. “You can’t even play bait right. Have you always been such a complete and utter failure, Eddie?”

Eddie knew better than to fall for it this time, and he knew Steve better than to think he’d ever say anything to him with that level of vitriol in his voice, no matter what he’d done.

The guy was good, though. Eddie had to give him that. Subtle, just like before he had no way of knowing exactly when it’d happened but he was in Vecna’s thrall now. 

It was time.

He backed away from the thing that had again stolen Steve's beautiful face and turned it into something twisted, slamming his eyes shut against the image, doing his best to conjure up the first good memory in his arsenal. 

He sat across from Wayne at the little two-seater table in the kitchen in the trailer—a room in a place that was so comfortable and familiar to him now, but on this day, his 12th birthday, still hadn’t quite felt like home yet. Wayne had to work that night, couldn't afford to take the time off, but did his best to make the day a special one for his nephew anyway. He’d woken up much earlier than usual and taken Eddie into town, so he could spend what few quarters he’d managed to scrounge up playing games at the arcade. Now they were back, about to dig into a small but decadent triple chocolate cake, Eddie’s favorite, after splitting a couple cans of SpaghettiOs for dinner—Eddie’s other favorite.

He didn’t expect to receive any gifts. 

It was already the best birthday he’d ever had, and his only wish when blowing out his single birthday candle had been that he get to stay with Wayne forever, and maybe return the favor someday—take care of Wayne when he was old and Eddie was grown. 

But though he hadn’t been expecting any presents, he’d be lying if he said that the guitar Wayne gave him that night wasn’t the best one he’d ever received. Before leaving for work that night Wayne showed him three chords—G, C, and D, and told him if he could master those he’d be able to play something like half the songs on the radio. 

Eddie nodded reverently, and Wayne chuckled, dropping a kiss on the top of his head before leaving for his shift. 

He practiced those damn chords until his fingers bled, and loved every minute of it. It was still his happiest birthday to date.  

The trailer faded away and suddenly he was in the backstage area of the Hawkins Middle School auditorium, waiting for his turn to go on at the annual talent show. 

The other two members of his band stood watching the other acts from the wings with wide eyes, but Eddie? He was transfixed by Chrissy Cunningham as she rehearsed, twirling her pink glittery batton with incredible precision, throwing it up high in the air, and catching it with ease each time.

Until the one time she didn’t, and the stick bounced off of her palm and landed right at his feet. Eddie smiled and quickly bent to pick it up, moving to hand it back but as she reached out began to twirl it between his fingers like it was a drumstick, a skill developed out of boredom and as a way to hone the kind of dexterity he needed in his hands to play the type of music he loved. 

She giggled, clapping at his display when he bowed and returned the tool of her trade. 

He liked making her laugh, he realized—just plain liked her full stop, actually.

They sat and talked as they waited their turns and Eddie discovered that Chrissy was kind, and as beautiful on the inside as on the outside. He found himself wishing they could be friends, as dumb an idea as that was. She was a cheerleader, a popular kid, top of the food chain, and he was already well on his way to earning the title of Freak. They could never be friends, save for these few stolen moments behind the big black curtain. 

Except Eddie knew better now. They would be friends someday, best friends if he had anything to say about it. For a moment he wished he could go back for real, tell that little boy and girl how they’ll save each other—how much they’ll come to mean to each other one day. 

The theater lights went out, throwing the backstage area into an abrupt twilight as the scene around him shifted and changed—no longer age-worn linoleum cracking under his sneakers, now his bare feet rested on soft carpet, the walls surrounding him covered in the most hideous plaid wallpaper.

It was dark, the room unlit save for a few slivers of moonlight peaking in between the blinds as he climbed into the bed where Steve already lay. It was a night from exactly one week ago, in the previous loop, the last one they’d spent together before dying. 

Steve pulled him close, wrapping him up in his arms, entwining their legs until Eddie didn’t know where he ended and Steve began. 

It all felt so real, and so good. Like coming home. 

Steve was warm and solid and when Eddie nuzzled into his neck he didn’t pull away, he leaned in, rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s hair and pressing lips to it. 

It would have been easy to stay there in that memory as long as possible, but the fear of Vecna showing up and tainting it in some way was enough of a motivator to have Eddie wracking his brain for the next happy thought. 

He hadn’t really prepared for more than this, he wasn’t exactly a walking fount of good times, and it felt like he’d already been stuck in this mindscape, or whatever it was, for too long—but he tried. 

The only thing on his mind now was SteveSteveSteve, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he blinked and found himself back behind Benny’s getting ready to head into the Upside Down, only to hear those two little words fall from Steve’s lips right behind him again. 

“Eddie, wait.”

He smiled to himself, waiting for the familiar touch of Steve’s hand on his elbow but it never came, instead there was a cool rattling breath on the back of his neck. 

Eddie whirled, gasping at the sight and scrambled backwards to get away from the vile creature that was now in front of him, much too close for comfort. Vecna, in his true form, a humanoid nightmare covered in taut sinewy flesh and raw meat.

His heart pounded and panic crawled up his throat like bile as he backed into the building, his hands slapping at the wall, searching for the gate that should be there. He just needed to get away, get enough distance between them so he could think, maybe come up with another memory to hide him. 

But then the wall was gone, something more like wet tree bark beneath his hands now. His vision swam, the light around him growing and changing, the sky no longer the blues and pinks of dusk—he was surrounded by a blood red haze. 

His fingers kept searching anyway until they brushed up against cold dead skin. He recoiled, screaming, and looked back to find the body of Fred Benson wrapped up in vines, and mounted like a trophy on a pole. 

This was not his memory, he’d never seen this place before, but needed only one guess to figure out where he was. No longer stuck in his own mind he must be in Vecna’s now, with no idea how to get out. 

A rushing sound filled the space between his ears, the rhythmic whooshing of blood as it pumped through his body, so loud inside his own head.

There was a thing out there that could help him, it was… it was right there on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t—

His vision narrowed, the world whiting out around him, tipping on its side and he felt himself falling—falling for much longer than it should have taken to hit the ground. 

He landed on his back, blinking hard and tried to sit up, but he was so tired. He’d been running—hiding from something. He was almost sure. 

A familiar sound began far off in the distance, he strained to hear it, tried to recognize it, but his own pulse was still so loud and distracting. 

A pair of legs in jeans and sneakers—moving, alive—a girl, came into view.

He shrank away from her, unsure.

“Eddie? You shouldn’t be here. It’s time for you to go.”

“I don’t—how—what?”

Oh. 

The girl was El, she was his friend. He couldn’t remember before, couldn't seem to think straight.

“El,” he breathed, as she helped him to stand, shaking his head to try and clear some of the fog. “I–I don’t feel so good.”

“He’s dying, Eleven.” Vecna’s deep rasping voice boomed nearby as he approached them. “You can’t even save one of your friends, yet you expect to stop me?”

He raised a long gnarled claw in Eddie’s direction but El stepped in front, mirroring him with her own hand raised, the force of their power like a shimmering heat in the air between them.

Suddenly the strange noise got louder, and it wasn’t just noise, Eddie could make out the vocals now, the beating of the drums, the thrashing of the guitar.

“You hear it, the music?” Eleven shouted to him as she continued to hold Vecna at bay. “That is Steve calling you back to him. Look for him, Eddie. Find the way out. You have to hurry.”

The more he concentrated on it the better he could hear the rhythm and pulse of Master of Puppets being pumped into this place, beckoning to him—Steve and Joyce too, shouting his name—and he felt a little more like himself.

“What about you?” Eddie asked.

“I’ve got this.” She said, never taking her eyes off her target. In the next instant she let out a primal scream, a fierce shriek unlike anything he’d ever heard before, and Vecna went flying up in the air, his arms seemingly pinned to his sides. 

Eddie cast his gaze around wildly, looking for anything out of place in this hellscape, and finally spotted a faint light on the horizon that had to be his portal. He ran. It was a long way off but he gave it everything he had, arms pumping, legs burning. 

He stumbled, woozy and lightheaded, but caught himself—kept going. 

As he got close he could see himself floating there in the attic, Steve clinging to his leg, reaching for his hand, and without a second thought hurled himself head first into the mirage.

-

Eddie took a deep shuddering breath.

It was dark.

He was cold.

He couldn't feel anything.

“Steve?” He sobbed.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

Arms tightened around him and suddenly Eddie could feel again, everywhere Steve touched him at least, and something hot and wet that was dripping down his face. 

It was still dark.

“I can’t–I can’t see anything.”

Steve rocked him gently. “You’re safe. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

He tried to move, to touch back, but there was an awful grinding pain.

Eddie hissed. “My arm—”

“Don’t try to move, okay? I don’t–” Steve's chest shook, Eddie thought he might be crying. “I don’t know how badly you’re hurt yet–”

It all went quiet abruptly.

Eddie drifted in the dark. It was a lot like the place he went between loops. 

“Eddie? Eddie?!”

He came back to himself with Steve shaking him, screaming his name. He tried to respond but every effort felt like far too much. Maybe he was dying again. If so, at least this time it would be in Steve’s arms. 

There were far worse ways to go.  

-

Eddie woke up.

It was a first for him, at least in recent experience, to wake up from unconsciousness in a hospital like a normal person instead of falling back into his body in the past.

His head ached but it was a distant thing, thanks to good ol’ prescription painkillers no doubt.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, a little stunned that he could see at all, but it was blurry and unfocused. There was a shapeless form wearing Steve’s clothes asleep in a chair by his bed, what looked like Robin in another by the door. He wondered how long he’d been out, if it was the same night. He tried to raise his arm, to reach for Steve even though he was too far away. But the arm was too heavy in its cast.

He fell asleep before he could try again. 

When he roused next, it was to low voices arguing quietly nearby.

“You don’t know that.”

“Seems pretty fucking clear to me, Robin. I’m–I'm gonna go. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Steve–”

“Don’t! Just—call me if anything happens?”

“Okay.”

A door closed, heavy and final.

That didn’t sound good. 

Eddie burned to know what they were talking about but sleep once again sucked him under mid-thought.

-

When he woke for good the sun was shining in through the windows, and Wayne, Chrissy, Robin, and Dustin were all sitting around his bed. He could see again.

It was Wayne who first noticed the change, jumping up out of his chair to hover over him.

“Boy you ever scare me like that again I'll kill you myself, you hear me?” The man muttered as he leaned down to give him a hug.

Eddie chuckled hoarsely into his uncle's shoulder, and could have cried with how happy he was to see him and his familiar gray stubble, the smell of Marlboro Reds wafting off his jacket. “I missed you too, old man.”

“You-all keep an eye on him,” Wayne said to the small crowd as he headed for the room’s door. “I’ll go and tell the nurse you’re awake.” 

Like he was going to get up and run away. 

Eddie carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position with his one good arm, surprised to find he wasn’t feeling worse. 

“What happened?” He asked, now that they were alone.

“They got him!” Chrissy beamed. 

“Hopper said they burned what they could–” Dustin elaborated, swallowing thickly. “And chopped the rest up into little pieces after El destroyed his mind. It’s over, for real this time.” 

Eddie sagged in relief, sinking back into his pillow.

“Oh thank fuck. Do you think that means the rest of it’s over too, the loops I mean? I don’t think I can do it again, man.”

“Well, since we don’t know what caused you to start looping to begin with there’s no way to know for sure, but if the catalyst is you dying, and here you are very much alive even if you did give us quite the fucking scare you asshole!” Dustin swatted him in the shoulder above his cast.

“Hey! Watch the goods!”

“I would say odds are you're safe from having to go back again. As long as you don’t, y’know, die for a while.” 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Eddie grinned, hoping to draw a smile out of the kid, but he remained solemn and serious.

“Good.” Dustin said, flatly.

Eddie sighed. “Dustin, I–”

“We almost lost you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie wanted to say more, but voices could be heard making their way down the hall towards his room, and he needed to know what he was supposed to say to them.

“Listen, quick, before they come in.” Robin jumped in, grasping the situation just as he had. “The official story is that you were attacked and kidnapped by the same serial killer who murdered Fred and Patrick, the long lost son of Victor Creel. You managed to escape, and Joyce and Steve found you on the side of the road and brought you here. If anyone asks for details just tell them you don’t remember.”

The last word was barely out of her mouth when the door swung open, revealing Wayne along with a doctor and two nurses, who quickly went about examining him. 

He got lucky—very lucky. As bad as he’d looked when he was brought in, unconscious and pale and covered in blood, it all boiled down to a few bruises and a broken arm. The doctor’s had worried for his sight, since much of the blood had seemed to come from his eyes, but on closer examination they couldn’t find an actual wound, and he passed a vision test with flying colors.

They wanted to hold him one more night for observation, but that was it. Come the next day he’d be free to go home, with a follow-up appointment scheduled for 6 weeks from now to come back and have his cast removed. 

Still, throughout the course of the day everyone paid him a visit, with one notable exception.

Steve never showed. 

No one brought him up and Eddie was too afraid of the answer to question it. 

He’d asked if they could talk later, pleaded with Steve to let him explain—and supposed his absence now was answer enough. Clearly Steve had decided he wasn’t worth hearing out. 

Chapter 12 (coming 4/21)

Special thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Reblogs are always appreciated, and if you want to be tagged just let me know! I'd be more than happy to do so 💜

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[penny00dreadful]

Post S4!Eddie Needs a Little Help

Good thing Steve's such an excellent nurse boyfriend? friend, huh?

I Could Be Your Nurse (or something)

Or: Five Times Eddie Has To Ask For Help, Plus One Time He Doesn’t Need It Anymore (but asks anyway) ✨ for @penny00dreadful 💜

🧊 one: drink 🧊

The first thing he clocks, when he surfaces back to the land of the living: he can’t move his fucking arms.

At first, he thinks he’s locked up, restrained somehow: cuffed, but he can’t even know that, he can’t even check because he can barely fucking move at all, he—

“Eddie,” he hears his name through white noise that’s tunneling his vision, that’s caving in with every blow his pounding heartbeat deals to the walls as they close closer—there’s beeping like a time bomb in the background but it’s not just his name, it’s the voice that speaks it: it cuts through. It bolsters the walls and shelters him from collapse as his eyes dart wild, seeking out the sound.

“Breathe,” plush lips and earnest eyes coax him, and Eddie feels his own eyes widen because: Steve goddamn Harrington.

Here.

“You can breathe, okay,” Steve’s saying and his eyes are bigger now, there’s a pleading in his tone and Eddie sees it happen before any sensation, any feeling comes with it: Steve’s got Eddie’s hand in his, cups it to his chest but never breaks from holding Eddie’s gaze and the first thing Eddie thinks he feels as a touch is the warm pressure of the chest under their joined hands lifting almost-too-strong, almost-too-full.

The things Eddie feels that have nothing to do with his five fucking senses—he’ll work those out later.

“Come on, with me, with me, yeah?” and Steve’s breathing deep and even and forced for it, keeping a punishingly intentional sort of time and Eddie realizes oh, hey, right: he does need to breathe and so the next thing that he feels is the tail-end of pain, sneaking up under a fog that hints at any to come when whatever’s blanketing the feeling gets lifted, taken away, but then Eddie’s zeroing in on Steve’s face again, gasping a little and fuck, but it hurts: but Steve.

Steve’s smiling at him, in a way Eddie doesn’t know he’s ever seen before; definitely never felt before for the way it points a direct hit to his sternum, all fuzzy and sunrise-gold, and he doesn’t know if it helps him or hurts him in trying to breathe, to get the rhythm back to is but it sure as shit kicks at his heart and he thinks that punches his lungs hard enough to do…something, because Steve’s smile just grows, and the warm-gold-glow starts to spread through Eddie as something bigger and brighter and fuller than the pain as Steve exhales once out-of-sync and Eddie feels it, how Steve presses his hand tighter to his chest for it and laughs a little around one single word:

“Yeah,” and then it’s back to deep breaths, carefully measured, and Eddie wants Steve to talk again, but his head’s getting clearer, his lungs remembering how to work right, and he feels things under his hand now where he didn’t before: soft sweater. Rabbit-quick heartbeat.

“Steve,” Eddie chokes it, drags the word across gravel and bleeds it out and he’s disgusted in an instant, horrified by the sound coming out of himbut before he can let the terror and the hurt swallow him, he sees Steve, who somehow found a way to grin broader, shine brighter.

“Hey,” he laughs it out with so much goddamn relief, so much feeling, that Eddie can’t help but melt into it; Steve must feel something in him, or maybe he just knows, because he’s gathering Eddie’s hand, flattening it as a palm against his chest to keep breathing, keep breathing, but then he’s reaching and there’s a gentle whisper of touch against Eddie’s left cheek, and it stings, and he knows he should feel more but it’s…it’s goodeven as it aches and he leans, fuck, he doesn’t think twice before he leans.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice,” Steve says and it’s so warm and honest and it’s fucking laughable because Eddie sounds goddamn abysmal, and his throat tries to push the laughter, even if it’s poorly placed, even if nothing really feels fucking funny about anything but the effort’s like sandpaper on glass, wretched and violent, and Steve’s eyes widen when Eddie flaps at his neck, but he’s already reaching for the side of the bed, and—

“Water?” He asks, holding up a pitcher and a clear plastic cup and Eddie bites his tongue, tries to remember breathing without Steve’s guiding hand and he almost manages as he nods and then tries to reach when Steve places the pitcher, cup in his hand but Eddie’s hand…

He can’t lift it right. His vision’s either totally fucked, or his hand is tremoring hard enough to make him dizzy. He can’t feel anything, again. He—

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is careful, gentle, but it’s firm: like it knows it’ll find steel to press against when Eddie meets his gaze and makes himself listen: he wants the glass. He can’t…he can’t reach for it, let alone hold it, let alone get the water to his mouth, and not all over everywhere else for the shaking. He doesn’t know if he’d feel the width and weight of the cup, or the wetness of the spill: he’s a mess, he’s broken, he’s totally fucked, what even if this, what is he, is this what it means to have survived, what is wrong with him—

“Look at me.”

Steve’s got that tender-pressed iron in his tone, the command less grating where it would make Eddie seethe—still does, the slightest bit but so far beneath everything else; beneath a sense of being cared for, being held close and then Steve’s hand is reaching for Eddie’s face again, brushing along his cheek and oh.

Oh, tears. He, he was—

“We almost lost you, Eds,” and it’s Steve that sounds choked for it, his voice wet and weeping with it and eyes gleaming just a little too bright and Eddie’s pulse trips to see it: proof that he means something. Proof that the wild things Eddie’d let himself imagine in the past days, in what he was so fucking sure were his last moments at all: they might still be wild, but they might also be things he’ll get to touch just an edge of, a gentle mercy of the corner of the things he spun up in his head.

“We almost lost you,” Steve says it again, and it’s sounds just as gutted, fucking…heartbroken, and for what, for Eddie? He, it’s—

“And you’re on a lot of medications, and you have a lot of injuries, and some of it’s gonna just take time and some of it’s gonna take more work, but Eddie,” Steve tilts his head, leans in and Eddie can feel the body heat of him from the chest on out: “Eddie, we are all here to help you, okay? No questions asked, we’re here to help,” and Steve’s eyes are a piercing kind of starfield, deep-dark but lightened by the fire burning: kinda mesmerizing even before he speaks again:

“Because we love you, all of us love you, and we are so fucking relieved you’re still here,” and there’s no question in it, no hesitation or resistance: it’s wholly felt and believed and Eddie reels a little for it because how and why, and the idea of all of them, and of Steve being included in the all-of-them, and love, of any kind, but love being a word no one fucking uses for a thing that’s small, or weak, or fleeting and just, just…

“And it’s not charity, or obligation, or pity,” and it’s like Steve can read him, can see his soul, the worst endings to the story that had drowned him in an instant when he couldn’t feel his fingers, when he couldn’t grasp a goddamn cup, before he could even stop to consider that he was already in the best possible ending, either way.

Because it was one he was still here to see.

“Kinda the opposite, really,” Steve’s slipping his fingers between Eddie’s atop his sweater; “because it kinda hurts when we’re not here to see you being okay,” and it’s so earnest, so sincere when he says it, when his voice goes low and faint like he doesn’t want to tempt the universe by letting it hear an unthinkable possibility that they’d dodged to by the skin of their teeth, but by the skin on their bones as sacrifice, scars to match and all:

“It hurts to be anywhere but here, where you’re okay, when we were so fucking afraid you wouldn’t be.”

And doesn’t that fucking sear for the slap of it in his face; doesn’t that goddamn sing in his veins that still have blood pumping through them, Jesus H. Christ.

“So,” Steve leans forward, draws Eddie’s touch somehow closer, has to almost be painful when all Eddie can process above the fog and the warmth is the breadth of Steve’s chest, and the thrum of his heartbeat as real-real-real, and there for Eddie to anchor himself in as being real, too.

“Will you let me help?”

Eddie’s eyes dart to where Steve’s placed the cup back on the side table, and has a hand near it waiting: for permission. He’s giving Eddie a choice, and there’s a version of Eddie, in a version of events not so far from these, here, but then so far from these here, that would fight harder at the idea of being coddled, of being invalided and made purposeless, fucking pointless for being wholly ripped of his ability to care for his own needs and wants, but this…

This isn’t that version.

So he nods, and Steve lets out a sigh Eddie can map from inhale to release, and he smiles like it’s a gift to him that Eddie lets him do this, lets him lift the lip of the cup to Eddie’s lips, careful and Eddie can feel it rest on tender flesh, something torn there too like so much else of him, and he drinks like manna from a heaven he doesn’t believe in, save that he thinks there’s something angelic, something godly in the tenderness of Steve’s movements, of his eyes on Eddie, of his heartbeat under Eddie’s touch: just him, there, present.

Like all the idly musings he’d allowed himself in the dark of a hellscape, in the moments he’d thought for sure would be his last: like those fleeting little fantasies may not have legs for themselves, but could grow into something just as good, or better even.

Because maybe they’ll be something true.

“Thank you,” Eddie manages to say, and it’s a whisper but it’s not something out of a horror film, so it’s an improvement after five careful swallows and Steve’s deft hand to wipe his bottom lip.

“Thank you for letting me,” Steve’s foolish enough, perfect enough to say; “it helps me, too.”

How, though? How, and more: how are they here like this, in this moment? Just—

“How’d I get out?” It’s an easier question to ask, so he feints that way instead.

“We carried you out.”

Vague.

“Who did?”

Steve only blinks, but his heart thumps an extra beat against Eddie’s fingertips.

“I did.”

Of course he did. Of course it was him.

“You’re,” Eddie licks his lips, closes his eyes; tries to figure out if he needs more water to keep going: no. No, he can do this.

“You’re okay?” he turns his hand just a slightest bit, doesn’t want to stop touching Steve but wants to press his hand to Steve’s the other way ‘round.

“Bats,” he manages to mouth, and Steve’s got the water to his lips again, now, carefully portioning his sips as he answers:

“Getting there, but I’m fine.”

Eddie wants to roll his eyes. Eddie wants to hold Steve to his chest and check his wounds himself. Eddie wants…

“Everyone else? Dustin?” he follows up because he can guess; Steve wouldn’t be so calm if something terrible had come of the battle, but still. “And—”

“Healing,” Steve’s quick to answer the half-formed questions, knows what Eddie’s concerned with most without trying and maybe it’s obvious, probably yeah it is but it feels warm in him again, through him like honey, thick and slow and sweet. “Max has got a rough road ahead, and it’s touch-and-go, because we’re pretty sure the things that are still wrong with her are tied up in Vecna,” Eddie frowns; regrets it for the pull and why is sensation coming back for hurting; “we didn’t wipe him out entirely, we lost this battle,” but then Steve’s hand is closer against his cheek: he doesn’t know if he leaned in or his Steve moved nearer but it doesn’t matter because Eddie will hurt far more than this, will take feeling for all it’s highs and lows, will claim it back and clutch it close if he also gets to feel Steve.

“But maybe more it’s like a draw, really, because it could have been such a bigger loss,” and Steve’s voice catches, and so does his breath where Eddie’s hand’s still charting; his pulse trips and Eddie frowns deeper, fuck the pain of it and whatever real damage it does above the waves of heavy narcotics, Steve’s eyes have gone glassy and his throat’s working harder around something thick, difficult, and the hand holding Eddie’s to Steve’s chest is rubbing the skin at his wrist near-raw for how hard and how metronomic it’s digging against Eddie’s veins, and his mouth’s parted and he’s staring at Eddie like—

Oh.

Oh, that’s what he meant, about…bigger losses.

Well, shit.

“And there’s still hope, y’know?” Steve’s voice comes quiet in comparison to where it was before but it’s still music. Still beautiful.

Eddie tries to swallow, wet his mouth on his own but he can’t so he turns eyes that can’t possibly look short of pleading, now, and blinks toward the cup at the bedside and Steve’s on it in an instant, easing it to Eddie’s mouth and tipping gently, painstaking in its care until Eddie pulls back and steels himself to try again with words, because these ones, he needs the to come out strong, and right:

“We’ll win the war.”

It’s scratchy, and probably more motion than sound but: it’s there, and it’s full and solid and Steve fucking beams for it:

“Yeah,” Steve speaks it like it’s fact, or like in saying it he’ll seal it as law and Eddie believes it just as sure, too, so:

“Yeah, we will.”

They will. They will.

They sit like that for a while, and Eddie feels the exertion of doing very little at all start to creep up on him and he must shift, or make a sound he can’t quite pick up himself to notice because Steve’s quick to jump:

“What else do you need?”

And Eddie’s drifting, and he doesn’t want to be a bother, a burden—useless—but Steve’s looking at him…the way Steve is looking at him?

It kinda prickles behind Eddie’s eyes, so he closes them, which feels like such a goddamn loss because then he can’t see Steve and he, he just…

“Can you,” Eddie starts to bite his lower lip but the sting rips through at the first hint of pressure so he bites at the tip of his tongue instead, and Steve’s already settling him; he never sat up, not truly, but Steve’s making sure he’s laid flat and comfortable, pillows arranged just so and Eddie can barely manage to pat the mattress when Steve retreats, but Steve knows him for that innocent gesture, too: grabs for his hand and Eddie remembers breathing well enough, now, to sigh in contentless, in fucking relief for the touch.

“Couldn’t feel,” he rasps a little; “hands, arms, when I first,” and then he opens his eyes, and locks gazes with Steve and forgets, for a second; forgets again, about the breathing.

And it’s okay; he’s okay with forgetting.

“Would it,” Eddie struggles with the words, throat start to feel a burn in it for the strain; “okay if—“

“The answer’s yes, man,” Steve’s soothing him, but also kind of shushing him, all in one go: “whatever it is, okay? So just ask, don’t like, pull the punch,” then Steve’s squeezing his hand, and murmuring deep and smooth and almost like a purr, a source of pure comfort just to hear, and then to feel through the air between them:

“‘Cause it’s not a punch, yeah?”

And: okay. Okay then, he can; Eddie can do this.

“Can you keep,” he barely breathes, but it’s all he remembers so he goes with it, hopes it’s enough: “holding? I can feel, when you’re…”

He trails off, but it’s…fine. It’s fine, because Steve never lets go once, just readjusts the hold of his hand on Eddie’s, of Eddie’s inside his, and settles next to him quiet and steadfast and kind of fucking everything and Eddie fades into the feeling of it with the last of his words like a vow:

“I’ll hold it until you wake back up, if you want.”

And if Eddie knows anything as sleep claims him: he knows that he wants.

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