Chapter Text
Now that Eddie could walk without immediately collapsing in pain, he was taking full advantage. He’d had the good luck to be moved out of the hospital early, but damn it to hell, he still got hit with dizzy spells and was only allowed to eat food that came in the form of a liquid.
At least he’d found a cool staff, one that he could use to steady himself, point out where they should probably dig ditches, and look like a cool warlock all at once. Small victories. Murray seemed generally receptive to the ditch idea, which was a fucking relief, because Eddie was in no shape to dig them himself and they’d probably all die otherwise. The camp hadn’t been attacked in months according to Dustin, but with the stunt those crazy kids pulled two weeks ago, Eddie was surprised there weren’t demobats actively falling out of the trees. He supposed having two telepaths in the same place served as some kind of deterrent. Or, at least, he hoped.
“Well, would you look at that,” Murray remarked suddenly, and a smirk tugged at his mouth. Eddie turned from the spot he’d been inspecting, about to ask what was so goddamn funny, and —
God fucking dammit, Harrington was walking up to them. Eddie gripped his staff and drove it into the dirt, pasting a smile on his face as he tried to keep his heart from constricting his lungs.
“Um — hey.” Steve skidded to a stop in the dirt, awkwardly glancing between Eddie and Murray. He cleared his throat. “Um, Murray, do you mind if I talk to Eddie? For a second?
The man’s smirk just grew larger. He studied Steve for a second, then glanced at Eddie, then back at Steve.
“Okay,” Murray said at last, slowly backpedaling into the trees with eyes that glinted like sharp glass. “I’ll go . . . scout, for . . . ditch locations . . . .”
Eddie watched him go, bewildered. Dustin had told him this guy was weird, but even Eddie wasn’t sure where the fuck that had come from.
He snorted a laugh, and looked back at Steve. “Where did you even find this guy?”
“A bunker in Illinois. And I didn’t find him, Nance did.” Steve cleared his throat and promptly drilled his gaze into the ground. He was quiet for a second, picking at his jeans in an agitated sort of way Eddie had never seen before.
Fuck, Eddie thought dimly, and hoped Steve wasn’t about to drop some kind of bombshell on him. At least now that Steve wasn’t looking at him, he could look at Steve as much as he wanted. Eddie let his eyes travel up and down the other young man’s body, leaning against his staff. Steve was wearing basketball shoes that were somehow still shiny, a beat-up old jacket, acid-washed jeans that fit absurdly well, and a stupid striped polo Eddie wanted to rip off him. Really, how anyone could look even remotely good in a striped polo was a mystery to Eddie, but trust Harrington to somehow figure it out —
“I’m sorry,” Steve blurted suddenly.
Eddie stared at him, going frozen for a moment. “For . . . what?”
“For, um. Yelling. When you woke up.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I kinda . . . lost it. I’m sorry about that.”
Eddie scoffed. Yeah, that had been weird, but it wasn’t like Eddie hadn’t warranted it. And he definitely, definitely hadn’t been thinking about the fact that Steve had been quite literally shaking as he chewed Eddie out. Which was normal. Had to be normal. Just a guy, pissed at his guy teammate for almost getting himself killed. Normal. Right?
Eddie just shook his head. “Steve, that was like, two weeks ago.”
“I still yelled at you.” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets. “Wasn’t cool. Even though — I mean, yeah, I was pissed as hell, and — to be honest, I still kind of am, but . . . I shouldn’t have done that. Wasn’t cool.”
“You’re completely ignoring the fact that I kind of deserved it.” Steve looked up, and Eddie smirked. “What? I did hero shit, when that’s clearly your area. I stepped on your turf. Anyone would be mad.”
“That’s not —” Steve broke off, and sighed. “You’re messing with me.”
Funny thing for a guy like you to say, Eddie thought. Messing with me all the goddamn time. He just grinned. “What are friends for?”
Steve smiled at that, nodding. His eyes darted down, and he began to fidget with the hem of his jacket.
Eddie’s eyes narrowed slightly. Something was up. That usual Steve Harrington swagger was plagued by some sort of restless energy that Eddie would mistake for nervousness, had he not known better. And why could he not make eye contact? Eddie had had difficulty with that when he was a kid, and still sometimes now, but Steve had never seemed to have an issue.
“Uh —” Steve coughed. Come to think of it, he looked rather red.
Eddie leaned on his staff. His sides still hurt, and he felt a bit dizzy, but he was sure he couldn’t be imagining the way Steve’s eyes were flickering around the forest floor. “Harrington, are you dying?”
Steve cleared his throat. “Dyouwannacatchamoviewithme?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Do you, uh —” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked up. His hair swept over his eyes. “D’you wanna catch a movie?”
Eddie blinked.
“With me?”
Eddie stared.
“Like — um.” Steve shuffled. “As a, uh — like, a —”
Eddie gaped. There was no fucking way this was happening. No goddamn way, and so he joked, “Harrington, I thought you had more game than this.”
“I’m out of practice,” Steve muttered, but he was red as a tomato. His eyes bored into the ground.
Something exploded in Eddie’s head. Why — why wasn’t Steve denying it? Why wasn’t he —
“You mean —” Eddie blurted. “Like — as — a date?”
Steve was as red as a tomato. His voice came out as a muffled breath. “If you wanted.”
Eddie’s newly-patched stomach practically exploded with butterflies. He stood there for a moment, or for hours, leaning heavily against his staff as his knees shook. What. What. What. How — possible? Possible, how? How — WELL DON’T JUST STAND THERE, FUCKING SAY — “Uh, yeah! Sure!”
Steve’s face broke into a soft smile, and it hit Eddie like a breath of fresh air. “Cool.”
“But I’m choosing the movie.”
“You —” That soft look broke, and Steve scoffed — which was somehow even more attractive. “Oh, come on!”
“You haven’t watched Labyrinth yet!”
“Yeah, ’cause it’s for kids!”
“It is not just for kids, Harrington, you should see the leggings Bowie wears throughout all of it —”
Steve blinked. “I didn’t even notice.”
“Oh, I’m sure —”
“You’re baiting me.”
“And you’re lying to me.”
“And you think I’m hot,” Steve said, and smiled that stupid fucking smile. “According to Byers.”
Eddie felt his stomach flip over. “I will — have a firm conversation with that kid.”
“I dunno. He knows his stuff.” Steve shrugged, and looked sideways at Eddie. “Maybe it goes both ways.”
Stupid Steve Harrington stupid fucking Steve Harrington stupid goddamn Harrington and his stupid eyes and stupid sideways looks and stupid —
Eddie coughed, looking back over his shoulder to where Murray was kicking through sticks about thirty feet away, definitely not eavesdropping. “I should, um — get back to, uh —”
“Oh — yeah.” Steve swiped at his hair. “Uh — I was thinking — Friday? There’s a TV in that trailer we stole, I could bring some tapes —”
“I’m bringing the tapes,” Eddie corrected, grinning. “You’re watching Labyrinth.”
“Fine,” Steve huffed, but he was smiling. He caught Eddie’s eye. “I’ll buy snacks?”
“Well, well.” Eddie leaned against his staff. “You sure know how to treat a guy, Harrington.”
“Oh, yeah.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to get you the finest ration applesauce in Hawkins.”
Eddie laughed, ducking over his staff. When he looked back up, he caught Steve’s gaze, and his breath hitched. The way Steve was looking at him —
“Uh.” Steve cleared his throat and looked at the ground, his face bright red. “I’ll let you, uh —”
“Yeah.” Eddie nodded, feeling dizzy. Is this real? “Yeah, I’ll just — uh. See you later?”
“Yeah.” Steve looked back up, and his smile — nervous, but adorable — made Eddie’s heart flip over. “Yeah, I’ll see you later.”
Eddie turned around as quickly as his staff would let him and hobbled over to Murray, his brain bouncing around the inside of his skull. His knees were buckling. He was grinning like an idiot, he knew it, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t thanking whatever God or devil existed that he was alive, alive to have Steve Harrington to get flustered over, and to get flustered over him.
Fuck, he thought, half delirious with it. Maybe I’ll get laid in June after all.