Chapter Text
Eddie stared at him for so long Steve started worrying about Vecna.
He snapped his fingers in Eddie’s face. “Eds! You in there?”
Eddie’s mouth clicked shut. He still looked pale and spooked, which was… not the reaction Steve had expected, honestly.
No matter what the kids said, Steve wasn’t an idiot. He’d noticed how Eddie looked at him. Hell, Robin had noticed by this point, and started excusing herself when Steve decided it was sunbathing time. Because sunbathing time - or really any excuse Steve got to take off his clothes - was prime time for Eddie to go red and start sneaking looks. He thought he was being subtle about it, which was adorable. He’d get all rigid and focused on something else - his DND notebook, a comic, his own rings, most of which were salvaged from thrift stores in Indy. His original rings had been lost somewhere during all the surgeries.
He’d look at anything but Steve. Then, every single time, Steve would glance over and find Eddie watching him with that glazed look that Steve was all too familiar with. It would only last a second before it snapped away, both of them pretending like Steve never caught him. They didn’t talk about it, but Eddie was into him. That much was obvious.
So when Eddie finally admitted he’d been increasingly crabby because his Vecna injuries meant he couldn’t jerk off and Steve had offered his own, he’d assumed Eddie would be all bashful and stuttery before finally saying yes.
He wasn’t expecting… whatever the hell this was. Eddie was pale in a way that had nothing to do with his injuries, sitting so still it made Steve think of that documentary they watched when neither of them could sleep: the antelope desperately trying to blend into the scenery so he didn’t get eaten.
Steve thought Eddie wanted to get eaten. Or, y’know. Some less creepy way of saying it.
“We don’t have to,” Steve tried, trying to look just as casual as he had ten seconds ago when he popped the question and Eddie froze up like a prey animal. “It’s cool. Just thought I’d offer. As a friend.”
“Right,” Eddie said slowly. “You thought you’d offer your jerk-off services… as a friend.”
“Yes,” Steve said, unable to stop an incredulous smile. “Dude, it’s fine. You haven’t been able to jerk off in forever, I have two working hands, what’s the problem?”
“What’s the problem ?” Eddie made a choked noise, flopping back against Steve’s bed where they had been lazing around all morning. Sharing a bed had become a thing since everybody decided to shove Eddie into Steve’s house to recover while the government set up a new house for him and Wayne.
Steve flopped down with him, grinning as Eddie wrapped his arms protectively around himself. “Dude, I said it’s fine . You’re gay, why are you making such a big deal about this?”
“Why am I-?” Eddie choked off, his hands migrating from their death grip on his elbows to clutching his face. At least he wasn’t weird and still anymore. Now he’d moved on to dramatic, which was always preferable. Steve would take most versions of Eddie over the still, silent version that came up whenever Eddie was on the verge of going somewhere really dark inside his head, like in those first few weeks he’d spent holed up at Steve’s house barely able to move out of the cot they’d shoved in the living room. He’d even take jackass Eddie, all sharp edges and high shoulders who snapped at Steve for doing nice things, like trying to help Eddie up the stairs.
Still, silent Eddie was way worse. So he was glad Eddie had gone for theatrics.
“I’m sorry ,” Eddie said loudly into his hands. “I’m just recovering from the deep shock of my best friend telling me he’d give me a - a help-out handy because his useless hand won’t cooperate!”
“And hips,” Steve reminded him. He’d suggested Eddie hump a pillow, only for Eddie to awkwardly mumble that he’d tried and failed.
Eddie flushed. It was fascinating how embarrassed he was about all this. Steve always assumed Eddie would be as loud about sex as he was with everything else. It had taken him weeks to realize that Eddie never brought up that stuff unless he was joking about it, and even then only when Steve started it. It made more sense when Steve was sifting through his broken trailer for anything to bring back home and stumbled on a stack of porn magazines you could not find in Hawkins - lots of men with ropes around their wrists and tears in their eyes and articles about being the ‘best sub a master could ask for.’ Then Dustin had barged in asking Steve for flashlight batteries, and Steve had almost tripped over his own feet hiding what he’d found.
When he’d brought it up to Eddie, the guy had gone weird and still and silent in a way that set off all Steve’s alarm bells. It had taken some serious assurances to convince Eddie that they were still okay, nothing had changed between them. Except now Steve knew why Eddie got flustered when Steve held him down during their physical therapy sessions.
“And hips,” Eddie muttered. He pulled his hair over his face. Then he chewed it, which was something he only did when he was seriously stressed.
Steve tugged it out of his mouth. “Cut that out, man. ‘S gross.”
Eddie spat out the last strands at him and then went back to staring at the ceiling, cheeks red. His eyes moved over nothing, deep in thought.
Steve nudged him. “I honestly didn’t think this would freak you out so much.”
“It isn’t,” Eddie said, too fast. “I just…”
He gnawed on his chapped lip. Steve reached to tug that away as well, then stopped. He did have some boundaries.
He bent down lower, getting closer to eye level. “Eds. What’s going on? I just offered my friend a favor and he’s acting like I offered to… to… shave his head, or something.”
Eddie laughed hoarsely. “ That , I’d expect. You keep bitching about how I don’t take care of it.”
“You don’t,” Steve insisted. “Remember when I was helping you in the bath and talked you into trying my shampoo? Didn’t it feel great after?”
Eddie made a face. He always did when Steve brought up the several times Steve had to help him bathe, back in the early days. Eddie hated it. Though now that Steve thought of it, maybe some of that ‘hate’ had been lust that Eddie had no idea what to do with. He’d gotten way more bitchy whenever Steve’s shirt got wet.
Eddie rolled over, resting his head on his arms and staring over at Steve like he was trying to figure him out. He often looked at Steve like that, especially after Steve agreed to take him in while he was healing. Steve would often look over during a movie and see Eddie watching him, brow furrowed.
Steve didn’t get it. He was a simple guy. If anyone needed figuring out, it was Eddie.
“We don’t have to,” Steve repeated. “But you’re really pent up. Figured it’d be a relief.”
Eddie said nothing. He had that troubled look again, thinking hard.
Weighing his options, Steve realized. He wasn’t balking anymore - he was actually considering it. The idea sent a strange thrill through him. Steve chalked it down to being weirdly into helping Eddie. Helping him stretch, get up the stairs, even making his breakfast - Steve had always liked taking care of people, even if he complained. Having Eddie recover in his house had only made him realize how much he liked it.
Apparently that extended to helping his injured friend jerk off. Who knew?
“Hey.” Steve kicked a safe section of Eddie’s scarred leg, where there was no nerve damage. “What are you thinking?”
Eddie made a muffled noise into his arms. “I’m thinking… I’m thinking no.”
“Okaaaay,” Steve said, hoping that if he kept this casual thing up Eddie would stop being so stiff. “Fine by me, man. I just don’t know why you’re turning down the first orgasm you’ve had in months .”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Maybe I’m not into the idea of my best friend getting me off, alright?”
Steve laughed. He couldn’t stop himself. Last week Eddie had been so distracted by Steve’s chest hair he’d walked into a glass door. And apparently he hadn’t had an orgasm in three months. Anybody else would be jumping on this opportunity. Anybody else would probably thank Steve, an image which made something hot and unexpected twist through Steve’s stomach.
I really need to get laid, Steve told himself. Taking care of Eddie and going to work and helping clean up Hawkins was basically three full time jobs at once. Not to mention driving the kids everywhere, which Jonathan had thankfully started helping out with after Steve took Eddie in. Everybody knew that taking care of Eddie was a lot, especially in those early days when Eddie could hardly move and was being a real dick about it.
He took a risk and rolled on top of Eddie, holding himself up with his arms. Eddie’s gaze fell immediately to Steve’s polo, which was unbuttoned far enough to show his chest hair.
“Yeah,” Steve drawled. “You seem really turned off.”
Eddie went even redder, spluttering with that wobbly, embarrassed smile that Steve had expected in the first place. Maybe they could turn this thing around.
Then Eddie’s smile faded, something pained taking its place.
“Look,” he said, strained. “It’s not - I am pent up. I’m a fucking pressure cooker, and I know I’m taking that shit out on you, and I’m sorry, alright ? But I - I can’t do it.”
Steve frowned. Eddie sounded genuinely miserable about it.
He sat up, making sure not to lean on Eddie’s bad thigh. “Why? I don’t get why this is such a big deal for you.”
“It’s not,” Eddie said, way too loud. He sat up with him, pulling his legs out from underneath Steve with minimal wincing. Then he stared up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath like he was bracing himself. “Fuck. I’m - I just don’t think it would be good. Okay?”
Steve stared at him. When it became clear Eddie wasn’t messing with him, he laughed.
“Dude,” he said. “It’s jerking off. I promise you I’m good at that.”
“No, not-” Eddie ran his hand through his hair, grimacing when it caught on the tangled ends, because he still refused to use Steve’s shampoo, which he graciously offered to let Eddie use for free .
“It’s not that,” Eddie continued, fiddling with his rings as he avoided Steve’s eyes. “Steve. You’re straight. Painfully fucking straight, dude.”
“Okay,” Steve said slowly. “So?”
“So…” Eddie’s face creased up again. “I don’t know, man. It would be pretty fucking depressing knowing you’re thinking about how gross this is.”
“I wouldn’t think that,” Steve started, but Eddie was already talking over him.
“Or distracting yourself making a grocery list in your head, or counting the squares on the ceiling, or what the fuck ever. I couldn’t enjoy it.” Eddie squirmed, throat clicking audibly. “So… no thanks.”
Steve wanted to argue. To insist that Eddie was making a big deal out of nothing, that Steve wouldn’t be thinking about grossness or groceries, he’d be thinking what he always thought during sex: how to make his partner feel good. Not that it would be sex , but the point still stood.
But Eddie was still so stiff and uncomfortable, and he even looked a little sad. Like the idea of Steve jerking him off bummed him out that much. And Steve knew how hard it could be to talk Eddie out of something once he got his mind set on it, so he sat back.
“Okay,” he said coolly. “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” Eddie said, still not meeting his eyes.
Steve shrugged and stood. Then, because he still had moves no matter what Robin said, he pulled his sleep shirt off. He even made sure to pretend to struggle with the fabric over his head to give Eddie time to gawk.
Then the sleep shirt was over his head, and Eddie’s gaze snapped away from Steve’s scarred, hairy pecs.
“Looks like it’s another scorcher,” Steve said. “Think I’m gonna hit the deck chair. Wanna come?”
Eddie shook his head mutely. He was staring at Steve’s eyes with that flustered expression Steve recognized as, I wasn’t ogling you, I promise. Which was rich. Especially since Steve actually wanted him to ogle him now, rather than just being amused by it.
Eddie hadn’t gotten to come in months . He deserved some release.
Even if Steve had to tease him into admitting he wanted it.