Turning back to the door before Steve can say anything, he attempts to shove his key into the lock when there’s an ear-piercing squawk from inside, followed by a gruff groan from Wayne.
“What the hell was that?” Steve asks.
“Etta.”
Eddie’s shimming the key into the stuck lock when he feels a clammy hand wrap around his bicep. Turning, he finds a pale-faced Steve looking at him with wide eyes.
“Eddie ,” Steve hisses. “Your uncle and this Etta lady are clearly going at it! You can’t go in there!”
There’s a brief moment of silence before he bursts into uncontrollable laughter. His body flails around on its own accord, wheezes coming between gasps for air. He’s pretty sure he looks like a damn fool, but he can’t help it. This is too fucking funny.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with your uncle, but it’s a totally fucked up one if you think this is hilarious instead of scaring!”
Righting himself, he glances down at Steve just as Etta lets out another squawk. The noise startles Steve again, and he looks somewhere between greatly disturbed and utterly embarrassed. And then he’s moving, turning on his heels to high tail it back to the car until Eddie stops him.
“Steve,” Eddie says between wheezes. “Etta is my uncle’s Macaw.”
“Oh.” A wave of crimson floods Steve’s face, drowning out the ghostly pale of a few moments ago.
“Yeah, oh.” Eddie drops his hand from Steve’s and goes back to opening the door. It creaks open as Eddie turns to face Steve.
“Though, if I may be totally straight with you, I’m a little concerned you think that’s what a woman sounds like in bed. What are you doing to these poor Hawkins girls, Stevie?”