Day 10: Rejection Sickness
“It’s as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen!” Eddie exclaims, and something in Steve flinches hard at that, enough he nearly stumbles. Plays it off as a tree root, or the bites, or anything except what it was, and he’s not entirely sure why it hit him the way it did.
Except maybe he does know.
Maybe he can’t think about the way Eddie had leaned in, murmured big boy to him, eyes glinting.
Maybe he can’t think about the way Eddie had given him his vest, and Steve’s omega is shouting courting gift even though he knows it’s not, it can’t be.
Maybe he can’t think about the way Eddie anticipated his movement, handed him a flashlight, negating the echo of Dustin’s voice, do you have to be told everything?
Maybe. Maybe it’s all of that, maybe it’s none of it.
Maybe it’s the way they defeat Vecna, almost too late. Max has a broken leg but the doctors swear she’ll walk again. Almost too late in the way he runs, slides like it’s home fucking base, fucking up his side even more but that doesn’t matter, can’t matter when his pup is screaming, crying, his name then the Alpha’s name, begging Steve to save him.
Almost too late in the way he strips Robin’s jacket, the remainder of Eddie’s shirt, staunching the flow and making sure he doesn’t have to mentally sing fucking Stayin’ Alive type of almost.
But it’s almost, not is, so Eddie makes it to the hospital, unconscious but alive, and Steve all but collapses as soon as he’s out of his arms, as soon as he doesn’t have to hold it together anymore.
The room goes echoey, too-bright-too-dark, and he wakes up in a hospital bed.
Blood loss, the doctor said, and shock. Miracle he didn’t go septic, apparently, and yeah, Steve can see that, the Upside Down isn’t the most sterile place, but what about Eddie-
And, huh. There’s that flinch again. Smaller, almost expected, but not what should be happening, he thinks, and then he thinks coincidence. He probably breathed wrong, aggravated the bites. Maybe moved, or tensed, in a way that physically hurt.
And he thinks that maybe that’s right, because it doesn’t happen again for a while.
Eddie heals, and they go back to almost how they were except that was trauma, plain and simple, and they’re all changed from that, they’re all some type of bonded from that, even if it’s from fangs that aren’t Alphan or omegan, that are distinctly different in nature. It’s a bond, of sorts, so Steve sees Eddie more than he ever had before, and… he likes it.
Eddie’s lame, okay, he’s a nerd, but so are Steve’s other friends and at least he’s closer to Steve’s age, isn’t fucking fourteen, pre-presentation. So Steve likes him, likes hanging out with him, has fun.
He just… has less fun when they’re all in a big group. Especially when Nancy and Eddie are both there. Because Nancy and Jon are still dancing around each other, she doesn’t have eyes for Steve anymore, if she ever did, and Eddie nudges Steve her direction like it even fucking matters, and-
There’s that flinch again.
He feels strangely emotional about it, like he’s going to snap at Eddie, like he’s simultaneously too hot and too cold. He must be coming down with something, he thinks, and makes his excuse, and goes home, collapses into bed, barely toes his shoes off.
He falls asleep quick, but doesn’t stay asleep for long; he’s up in the next hour, shivering and disoriented, body aching in a way that it hasn’t since sixth grade when he was sent home with a fever, diagnosed with the flu by the school nurse.
He calls Family Video, forgets it’s Robin who’s working. “Robbie,” he mutters, because of course his head is pounding too. “Can you- uh. I need off the schedule for… two days? Three?”
“Sure,” she says, light scratching coming through letting Steve know that she’s writing it down. “You feeling okay?”
He hums. “Think… think I have th’flu?”
“I mean, I don’t think anyone has the flu right now… and you only hang out with, like, three people anyways, and none of us have the flu, so… are you sure?”
He sighs. “I’m freezing,” he tells her. “I’m achy, I have a headache, what else could it be?”
“No, I guess you’re right, just…” she sighs. “No, never mind, it’s fine, you’re off the schedule for the next week, get some rest, I’ll be by tonight with some soup, okay? Just get some rest.”
“M’kay,” he breathes. “Thanks, Robbie.”
“Take care of yourself, Dingus. I’ll see you tonight.” Then, all in a rush, “shit gotta customer gotta go!” And hangs up.
He blinks, hangs up, burrows under his covers, and goes back to sleep.
He wakes later to someone gently shaking his shoulder. “‘Lpha?” He asks into the pillow, before squinting open his eyes and seeing Robin. “Robbie,” he croaks. “Why… why’re you-”
“Hey, Steve,” she whispers, carding a hand through his hair. He whines, ducks his head into her hand. She obliges, scratches a little with her nails. “Said I’d come check on you, remember? I brought soup.”
Just the mention of food has his stomach turning traitorously, and he makes a face, burrowing back into the covers.
She sighs, but thankfully keeps scratching his head. “I know you don’t feel well, Steve, but you should really eat something. It could help you feel better.”
He moves his face out of the blanket to stare at her. “Food is from hell,” he informs her.
It startles a snort out of her. “Well damn, Steve, guess I’ll put it in the fridge then. Promise me you’ll eat something soon?”
He makes another face. “Think I’ll throw up if I eat.”
“Maybe after you sleep more, then.” She moves her hand to his forehead, brows creasing in worry. “You feel really warm, Steve-o. Got a thermometer anywhere?”
He blinks at her for a few seconds. “Under the sink.” She nods and pulls away. He whines, loud, desperate, scared. “Don’t go!”
She immediately moves closer, puts her hand on his cheek. “I’m just going to get the thermometer.”
He shakes his head, sniffles, moves a molasses-slow hand to grab her wrist. His grip is weak, but the message is clear. “Don’ wanna be alone.”
She worries her lip. Glances around the room, comes to a decision, nods. Stands to slip her shoes off, then looks him in the eye. “Steve. Do I have your permission to enter your nest?”
He nods, so she does, sitting against the headboard and pulling him closer, tugging and rearranging until his face is pressed up against her hip, and his arm is over her legs. She drops a hand back in his hair. “Go to sleep,” she tells him. “I’m gonna call my mom, okay? Tell her I’m staying the night.”
He hums in agreement, snuggles in. Catches some of the words, hears rejection sickness, vaguely thinks she’s talking about someone else. He just has the flu.
He falls back asleep, feeling a little better now that Robin’s here with him.
He wakes up later, aching and shivering, more nauseous than before. Whines to himself before he opens his eyes, startles when his pillow moves. Right, he thinks, Robin’s staying the night, and he probably just woke her up. Great going.
“Steve,” Robin whispers. “Are you awake?”
He mumbles something nonsensical, tugs her a little closer, though he feels so weak the tug doesn’t do anything.
“Steve,” she whispers again. “You should take some medicine. And eat something.”
He nearly cries at the thought of food, vehemently shaking his head into her hip.
She sighs. “I know you’re not feeling well, but you need to eat. You might be nauseous because you’re hungry. Try something? Please? Just a small bowl of soup.”
He sighs, but releases her. “Small bowl,” he says, voice rough.
“The smallest,” she agrees, and slips out of bed.
Like before, he immediately whines when Robin moves away. She stops, shrugs out of her flannel, and drops it in front of him. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she promises him.
He nods into her flannel, shutting his eyes before he can watch her walk away. Even still, the flannel cools quickly, and the room cools quickly, and soon he’s shivering worse than before. He whines, coughs, and whines again, subconsciously calling for an Alpha who’s not coming.
Robin comes back a minute later, carrying soup, water, and some pills. If Steve were feeling any better, he’d wonder how she carried all of that without dropping any of it, but as it is he just blinks tiredly up at her, trying for a smile when she sends one his way.
He tries to sit up, but collapses back onto his side with a whimper. “It’s okay,” Robin murmurs. “I’ve gotcha.” She’s so gentle it brings tears to his eyes, and he sniffles as she helps him sit up. “Oh, you don’t need to do that,” she tells him when she notices the tears. “Mostly ‘cause if you cry, then I’m gonna cry, and then where will we be?” She grins at him, and he sniffles again, trying his best not to cry.
He manages a few bites of soup, then sips the water and takes the pills she’d gotten him. When she offers the soup again, he shakes his head and turns away.
She sighs, puts the soup on the nightstand, and pulls him in, this time laying down so he can nuzzle directly into her scent gland. “Steve,” she starts, then changes course. “Omega. Who rejected you?”
“He didn’t,” Steve mutters. “‘M being stupid.” He frowns up at her. “‘M sick?”
“‘Fraid so, babe. Who’s the he in question here?”
Steve shakes his head, burrows back into her neck. “Don’ wanna talk ‘bout it.”
“Want to or not, we need to,” she tells him, then sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s Eddie, isn’t it?”
Just his name has Steve whining. “Don’t call,” he begs her.
She sighs. “I won’t yet,” she promises. “But if you feel the same tomorrow, or if you feel worse tomorrow, I’m going to. Anyone can see how he looks at you.”
“He tried to get me back with Nancy.”
“He stuck his foot in his mouth, big time, but that doesn’t change how he looks at you, dingus.”
Another sigh. She cards her hand through his hair again, scratches at the nape of his neck with her nails. “Like he’s halfway in love with you and only just met you.”
“Really,” she promises, pulling him a little closer. “Now get some rest. Something tells me we’re gonna call him tomorrow regardless of how you’re feeling.”
It turns out to be a moot point. As much as Robin telling Steve may have helped, it still wasn’t Eddie himself saying it, and Steve wakes up feeling worse. He bolts to the bathroom the second Robin brings eggs up. He trips over his blanket, trips over the threshold, and stumbles down in front of the toilet. It’s blind luck that the lid is lifted and he doesn’t spew all over the closed lid, leaving more to clean up.
As it is, Robin hurries to bring the eggs back downstairs, then runs back up to help Steve back to bed. Once in bed, he’s moaning, clutching his stomach, in so much pain he shouldn’t be in. He’s still so cold and achy too, can barely open his eyes.
It’s no wonder, he vaguely thinks, some people are hospitalized because of rejection sickness.
He can hear Robin talking, but can’t process any of the words; can’t take the energy to figure out words that aren’t even directed at him. He blearily figures out she’s on the phone. Part of him hopes she’s calling the hospital.
Another, bigger part of him hopes she’s calling Eddie.
A small part of him doesn’t want to see the person who inadvertently caused this much pain in his body.
It was Eddie, though, and a few short minutes later he’s running up the stairs, two at a time. Robin meets him at the door to Steve’s room, probably threatening him, maybe explaining a little, definitely panicking some. Steve wants to apologize for making her worry, but considering he can barely lift his head, he thinks he gets a free pass.
Soon enough Robin moves aside, and Eddie takes two quick steps to the side of Steve’s bed, kneeling at the side of it. “Hey, Stevie. I’m so sorry I put you through this, but I want to make it right. Do I have your permission to enter your nest?”
Steve blinks bleary eyes open. He can’t focus on Eddie, but he knows it’s him; recognizes his voice and strong pine scent. His eyes flutter shut as he takes a deep breath. “‘Dee,” he mutters, twitching a hand out towards him. “C’m’in.”
Eddie clambers in, slots himself right next to Steve, pulls him closer to scent directly from his gland. Gets to work scenting Steve too, doing his best to pump out safety and love, and it feels so good, such a relief after the pain, that Steve begins to cry.
Eddie’s movements stutter to a stop. “Stevie? What’s wrong?”
Steve sniffles, pushes his face into Eddie’s neck. “You didn’t want me,” he murmurs. “Pushed me towards Nancy.”
“I was an idiot,” Eddie tells him. “And it’s probably not the last time I’m gonna be an idiot. I have the tendency to lose my head around ex-jock pretty boys with fantastic hair.”
“The prettiest,” Eddie swears. “You kiddin’ me? C’mon, you know it, you just want me to say it, don’t you?”
Secure in Eddie’s arms, Steve giggles, then finally, truly relaxes for the first time in the past two days. “Thank you for coming.”
“It shouldn’t have come down to this,” Eddie tells him. “My fault for not making sure you know exactly how desirable you are.” He runs his hand down Steve’s spine. “Can I court you?”
Steve’s breath catches in his throat. He pulls back to look at Eddie, eyes shining. “You really want to?”
Eddie runs a hand over his hair, slides it forward to cup his cheek. “More than anything,” he whispers. “I just… I never thought you’d want me.”
Steve leans into his touch. “How could I not?” He asks. “You’re fun, and funny, and energetic, and so good with the pups, and…” he takes a deep breath. “You’re the prettiest Alpha I’ve ever seen.”
Eddie instantly blushes. “I am?”
Steve nods. “I noticed you my first day of freshman year,” he admits. “I was just too nervous to talk to you.”
Eddie chuckles. “What a pair we make, huh?” He pulls Steve closer, presses a soft kiss to his forehead, and guides him to lay back down. “Rest for now,” he murmurs, “you still look tired. We can talk when you wake up.”
“Never again,” Eddie swears, and Steve believes him.
