“Eddie? Dude, I wasn't awake. You rang the doorbell like seventeen times. It's three a.m.”
“No duh,” Eddie laughed, pushing past Steve and toeing off his shoes. “Bathroom?”
“Don't you have a bathroom at—is that glitter?”
“No follow-up questions until I've washed my fucking hands, Steve!”
Steve slammed the front door, never more grateful than right now that his parents were never home.
“That wasn't a follow-up question! That was the first question! Eddie!”
But Eddie was already halfway up the stairs.
When he found him in his bedroom, Eddie, who was leaving a trail of bright, green glitter behind him had barely made it halfway to the bathroom, and standing still made it impossible to ignore that he was soaking wet. Even in profile, Steve saw a bright purple bruise forming over his right eye.
“Eddie, what the fuck happened?”
Eddie spun around to face him, grinning wide.
“Ah. An excellent question. But. Is it okay if I puke real quick? There are like seven of you, and I've already forgotten what you asked.”
Steve groaned and reached out, gripping Eddie's shoulders lightly and steering him into the bathroom. He managed to get Eddie's jacket off, and pulled back his wild hair with one of his sweatbands. He wet a cloth and held it out to Eddie, who was already down on his knees over the porcelain god. He placed a new toothbrush beside the sink and left.
“Better?” he asked as Eddie emerged, his black shirt shimmering as it rid up his stomach.
“Marginally,” he groaned. “Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Eddie veered toward the door, but Steve grabbed him by the elbow.
“Like hell you will,” Steve said calmly. “Explain.”
Eddie squinted, then straightened. “Oh, no, don't worry, Harrington. It's not a concussion. Just had too many tequila sunrises at the ol’ Smithsonian.”
“And then?” Steve pressed, eyebrow raised.
“Well. I may have also decided to…you know, engage with some local colour.”
“Eddie. If you don't start making sense, I swear to fucking God…”
Eddie sighed, teetered, and redirected himself to Steve's bed.
“You know, it was the tough asshole being an asshole routine, and I still had one of those glittery things in my pocket from Dustin's party. So I…used it. To remind him of the joy in the world. Or something. He didn't like it.”
“You…used a glitter bomb. In the bar?”
Eddie chuckled. “Technically.”
Steve heard the truth behind his friend's single word. “Where did you use the glitter, Eddie?”
Eddie's laugh turned manic as he lay down. He covered his eyes with one arm but gestured wide with the other. “Those guys are all the same. Tough talk out in the open, but pretty happy to let you get down on your knees in the bathroom and…”
Steve let his eyes go wide. He didn't even really need to know what end of what had ended up where, not with the evidence in front of him. The shiner on Eddie's eye finished the story off nicely.
“Relax,” Eddie insisted, eyes still closed. “Dude'll live. That glitter was non-toxic.”
He sighed. “I'd tell you to get off my comforter until you shower, but I'm too tired.”
Eddie looked down at his shimmering dark clothing and shrugged. He immediately dragged off his shirt, tossing it to the floor. His black jeans followed. Not the first time Eddie had been in his boxers in his bed, but Steve’s throat caught this time.
“So you came here?” Steve asked, a bit too harshly.
“I always come here,” Eddie murmured.
“Not when you've been…out. You don't. You don't usually come here when you've been…”
Steve couldn't quite bring himself to say ‘cruising’, though both Eddie and Robin mocked him for it endlessly every time he hesitated. Eddie opened one eye at him as he approached the bed and slid over, making room for Steve on his preferred side.
“Yeah, cuz usually safe. Not safe tonight,” Eddie mumbled. “Guy followed me. Left when I turned into your neighbourhood.”
“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve murmured, lying down.
“Don't worry about it, big boy. M'fine.”
And sure enough, Eddie was nearly asleep already; Steve, who wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon, had the very real urge to get up, get in his car, and drive until he found whoever had fucked up Eddie's face.
_____________
When Eddie woke up at six, he found Steve awake beside him, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling. They were also, importantly, in Steve's bed. Meaning he had not dreamed the whole ‘showing up covered in glitter’ thing. While his face ached, he was not as hungover as he deserved to be. But with Steve wide awake, his usual sneak-out wasn’t happening. He'd just about decided to just pretend Steve was asleep and slink out anyway when he cleared his throat.
“I'm sorry I woke you up. Go back to sleep,” Eddie whispered, moving to get up.
“I wish you wouldn't go,” Steve said quietly.
“Oh,” Eddie said softly. “I mean, I don't have to. I can make some coffee or something. Pancakes?”
Steve sighed and rolled over to face him. “No, I wish you wouldn't go to those clubs.”
Eddie snorted. “Well, sorry, your highness. I know Hawkins got all liberal and chill by pretending they're a nice, normal town, but that grace only extends so far. It's hardly my fault it's difficult to get a date for a…guy like me. I'm not exactly beating 'em off with a stick, here, Harrington.”
Steve groaned. “That's not…I…”
Eddie huffed. “I can't promise that I won't go, but I suppose this is like the third time this month I've ended up sorta bloody. What if I just swore not to pick fights? And I'll go home after, I swear. It wasn't fair to wake you up last night.”
But Steve sat up violently. “Eddie, I really need you to listen to me.”
Eddie's brow furrowed because, he had been? He had been listening to Steve. Unless his head had been more impacted than he thought. He sat up too, crossing his legs and feeling very exposed with his naked chest all of a sudden, even though this exact scenario had been repeated countless times at this point. One of them always had their shirt off. It wasn't that weird. It was just….sleep.
It had started months ago, because sleeping near another person was easier. It had originally been three or four of them in the bed at once, fighting against the silence. And sure, the lines had become a bit blurry of late, with people off at school or in relationships, and sometimes Eddie did wonder if he'd been taking too much for granted. The ability to just show up at Robin's or Steve's and crash out, both mentally and physically. The constant inclusion by the dynamic duo. Their insistence that he check in on the weeks when his head got a bit screwy. But he had no idea what he'd done to piss off Steve.
Well. He had shown up drunk and puking and covered in glitter, but still. He wouldn't panic yet, even if Steve's face was grave. He could grovel for a few days. Make pancakes. Eddie was close to hyperventilating. He couldn't lose them. Couldn't be suddenly alone in all this chaos again.
“Harrington, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to take advantage of the open-door policy. Obviously, I shouldn't have come to your house with a fucked up lunatic following me and—”
“Hush,” Steve said, the word so silly that it effectively silenced Eddie instantly. No small feat, most of the time. “Eddie. Listen to me. When I say ‘I wish you wouldn't go’, what are you hearing?”
“Um,” Eddie squeezed out, his lungs collapsing as he started to unravel. “That you're tired of your fucked up friend being in danger all the time. Tired of bailing me out.”
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” Steve sighed, pinching his nose. “Okay, Eddie. What I am actually saying is… I wish you, specifically, wouldn't go to those clubs.”
“I mean, I should probably drive a bit further, find less shady places. Fair enough.”
“For fuck's sake,” Steve murmured. “I am usually much better at this.”
Eddie was getting slightly annoyed now. He understood. He'd get up, put on his pants, and get out of the house. Definitely all of that, before he started crying.
When Steve got to the kitchen, he found Eddie in his giant grey tiger’s sweatshirt. His hair was tied back in a loose bun, shimmering slightly as the sun began to stream in and hit the glitter. He stood at the stove, making pancakes, though god knows how he’d found the ingredients. He was humming.
“Never mind,” Steve sighed, sounding exasperated. “I’m going to shower. Don’t get glitter all over the kitchen. Rummage around for something to wear. Make coffee.”
_____________
He was ethereal.
“Yeah, fuck this,” Steve growled, dropping the bag full of Eddie’s clothes he’d been carrying and surging forward.
He moved with so much purpose that Eddie’s face was terrified by the time he was pulling the spatula out of his hand. Steve pressed into his chest, clung tight to the back of that stupid sweatshirt, and buried his face in Eddie's neck. His whole body went stiff for a second before he gently wrapped his arms around Steve.
"Harrington?" Eddie's voice was soft, uncertain.
Steve kissed him. The press of lips was too soft, too tentative to be considered a confession. He inhaled carefully as Eddie gripped him tighter.
"I don't want to be the guy you come to after," Steve whispered. "I want to be the guy you come to first. The only guy."
“Oh,” Eddie exhaled. “Thank fuck.”
Eddie's lips crashed into Steve's with a desperation Steve hadn't expected. The pancakes sizzled on the stove, forgotten as Eddie's hands tangled in his still-damp hair. Steve backed Eddie against the counter, pressing their bodies together like he'd imagined countless times before. For the rest of the day, all he saw was green glitter on his cheeks every time he turned his head.
who has been printing the photos from my trip to london without my permission, and putting them on the table in the guise of research for my uni project?
