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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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Eddie has a telephone voice, which Dustin finds absolutely hysterical. As the pizza place answers, his whole register switches into something a little smoother, over-pronouncing each word, and Dustin watches him with undisguised glee.

Eddie must read his thoughts because while their order is repeated back to him, he blushes, covers the receiver and mouths, “Oh, fuck off.”

When he hangs up, he playfully cuffs Dustin on the back of the head. “Do you mind? I was putting on the performance of a lifetime there.”

“What performance?” comes Steve’s voice, and Dustin turns to see him leaning against the counter, Tews following at his heels.

“That I’m a polite young man, of course,” Eddie says with a toothy smile.

Steve whistles, all faux impressed. “The Academy will be in touch, man.” He dodges Eddie’s attempt to trip him up, smirking—then yawns a bit into his palm. “Henderson, your cat’s like a sleeping pill or something.”

Dustin scoops up Tews, rocks him until he wriggles out of his arms. “Why can’t you be cute like that with me? You just claw at all my clothes, you little shit.”

“Dustin!” Eddie gasps, “don’t use such language around the baby.”

“Yeah, dude,” Steve snickers. “Don’t wanna offend Mr Polite Young Man’s delicate sensibilities.”

Eddie whacks him with the take-out menu.

Their back-and-forth hardly stops all throughout dinner. Eddie makes it look easy, Dustin thinks: how he delivers each quip so there’s never a lingering silence, yet still spaces them out so that Steve has more time to retort back.

And because Eddie keeps talking engagingly, Steve clears his plate without seeming to realise it; and Dustin feels himself calm at the sight of his eyes gradually brightening.

It’s not the only sight he takes note of.

Eddie is sitting close to Steve, their shoulders touching—and whenever he wants the box of pizza passed to him, or more soda, he just taps Steve’s arm in question, all while carrying on the conversation. Maybe before, Dustin wouldn’t think anything of it, but now he considers how Eddie had sat on the couch with Steve, his hand in his hair, how he’s been there for him the whole day; and a silent little lightbulb goes off in Dustin’s brain.

Because it goes both ways.

The girls Steve has dated wouldn’t do this—have never done this, at least as far as Dustin can tell, remembering flashes of dates he’d seen on the rare occasions Steve wasn’t driving him places, at the cinema or diner, or…

He gets the feeling that Steve has always been subtly holding some parts of himself back with them. He doesn’t do that with Eddie. He lets him in. Dustin watches as Eddie tidies the counter, gently nudging Steve out of the way with his hip. It’s like finally solving a puzzle: now Dustin knows which way to look, he can’t believe how he didn’t notice it before.

Instead of saying anything, he busies himself with finding fresh blankets for Steve. As he shakes them out, it occurs to him that this is kind of what Steve must do for him every time he stays over—the difference being that he’s over often enough to have a set of pyjamas waiting for him in the guest room. Steve even ironed them once, which Dustin had teased him relentlessly for, but secretly found it… nice.

As it nears 10pm, Steve suddenly jolts from where he’s sitting on the couch, dislodging Tews from his lap again.

“Sorry, baby,” Steve says distractedly, gives Tews an apologetic pat. Dustin notices the little pinch of stress around his eyes again, and doesn’t mention the fact that Eddie’s already got him calling his cat ‘baby’, too.

“What’s up?” Eddie says. He’s lounging on the floor, has a few of Dustin’s comics spread out in front of him.

“I told Robin I was gonna pick her up, I forgot. Shit, she’ll be closing soon.”

“On it,” Eddie says, almost singsong. In one move, he leaps to his feet and retrieves the keys to his van. “Back quicker than you can say—”

“Jack Robinson,” Dustin finishes; Eddie says it a lot, probably picked it up from his uncle.

Eddie winks at him, turns to Steve and gives a dimpled little smile before leaving.

Steve looks off into the distance, still frowning.

After making sure Tews has safely moved over to his food bowl, Dustin jumps onto the couch, blankets and all.

“Oof,” Steve huffs, “you trying to crush me?” But though he acts like he’s going to shove Dustin off, he never once does.

They poke at each other, complaining about bony elbows and freezing feet. As Dustin adjusts the blankets, he shifts so that Steve’s the one on the inside of the couch. Steve has never mentioned anything, but Dustin’s suspected for a little while that he likes to sleep with his back against a surface; probably makes him feel less exposed.

Now that Eddie isn’t here, Dustin can’t stop his mind from wandering back to Steve, sitting alone in the junkyard. To the thought of him waking up in an empty house, terrified out of his mind.

“You know you can… like, stay over whenever, right?” Dustin says.

Steve has said pretty much the same to him, but Dustin knows there’s a bit of a difference: that maybe Steve finds it easier to offer than take something for himself.

He feels Steve shrug next to him.

“Uh, you sure? Don’t wanna cramp your style, little man.” His voice goes into his parody of a middle-aged suburban dad, and Dustin has a sudden clarity about what his aim is: to make Dustin scoff and roll his eyes at him, and forget about the offer.

But he doesn’t take the bait.

He leans briefly into Steve’s shoulder and says, “You know I’d be fine with it, right? Like, Mike and Nancy, they hang out all the time even if they don’t act like it, just barge into each other’s rooms. Same thing with Lucas and Erica. Like, sure, they annoy each other sometimes, but that kinda comes with the deal.”

“Oh,” Steve says softly, and Dustin glances to the side; he doesn’t know what it is that he’s said, but Steve looks deeply touched. “Thanks, Dustin. Really. Thanks.” Dustin takes a deep breath. Gathers his courage. “I get them, too.”

“Huh?”

Dustin sighs, turns a little into Steve’s side. “Nightmares,” he mumbles.

“Oh,” Steve says again, and he wraps an arm around Dustin. “Oh, bud, I’m sorry. You… you wanna talk about it?”

Dustin pauses. Nods.

Steve squeezes his shoulders. “I know what happened with… with Eddie was awful, man, it’s my fault you went through all that shit alone—”

“No,” Dustin interrupts, because making Steve feel guilty isn’t remotely his aim. “They’re not… they’re not only about Eddie.” He closes his eyes; he’s not told this to anyone. “Sometimes they’re about you. Losing you.”

Silence.

“Sometimes the bats get you, too. Or…” And it’s stupid that what he says next makes him falter—compared to the previous dreams, it’s hardly anything, no blood or gore, but…

“Or you’re—I can see you, and I-I can’t tell which one of us is in The Upside Down, but you… you can’t hear me.”

“Hey.” Steve gently prods Dustin in the cheek, holds his gaze. “I’d always hear you. You never have to doubt that, got it? I’ll always come find you.”

Dustin nods again—for a moment, doesn’t trust himself to speak. He wiggles a little closer, sniffs.

Steve pulls him into a proper hug. “I’m sorry, I just—fuck, I get so scared sometimes, Dustin. I don’t—” He swallows. “I know I don’t say it, but, God, I love you so damn much. I don’t want a-anything to happen to you.”

Dustin returns the hug. Pulls back and makes sure Steve is looking him in the eye when he says, deadpan, “Steve. I hate to break it to you, but so much has happened to me.”

Steve snorts. “You know what I—ugh, you’re the worst.”

Dustin pauses. “But if something ever did happen,” he says carefully, tries to measure his tone to show he doesn’t mean anything Upside Down-related, not anymore, “then we’d be okay, in the end, I swear. You’ve got me, I’ve got you, right?”

Steve exhales. Nods a little jerkily. “Right.”

And what the hell, Dustin figures he might as well say it now—it’s too important to just remain an unsaid, sort of mutually understood thing.

“Steve? I love you, too.”

It takes a second, and then Dustin feels Steve start to shake. This time, the tears aren’t hidden; he just… lets them be.

“Aw, goddamn it,” Steve laughs wetly, “why’d you have to go and say that?”

“You started it,” Dustin says.

“Shut up,” Steve says, lips trembling a bit as he smiles.

Dustin gives him time, just waits in the quiet until Steve’s breathing comes out steady again.

“J,” Steve says eventually.

“Jaws,” Dustin says.

“Oh, boo. Predictable, Henderson.”

“V.”

“…Damn it, all I can think of is Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”

“That doesn’t start with V, dumbass.”

Steve lets out a long yawn, like it’s crept up on him. “I know, butthead.”

They go on like that, throwing out letters and movie titles like it’s a tennis match. Gradually, it takes longer and longer for Steve to reply, his voice growing mumbly until it trails off entirely; and Dustin feels him go slack and heavy with sleep.

He looks up at the ceiling, hears the front door softly open and close. Tews is in the hallway, greeting Eddie with a more vocal miaow, and Dustin laughs quietly as he hears Eddie croon, “Oh, baby, hello, aren’t you just the best, huh?”

When he enters the living room, Eddie spots that Steve’s fallen asleep immediately. His expression softens, and then he smiles, looks at Dustin and says, “You’re gonna get a crick in your neck if you keep laying all stiff like that.”

“Was worried I’d wake him up.”

“Nah, you won’t. Here, I’ll help.”

And Eddie very carefully manages to tilt Steve further against the back of the couch, giving Dustin just enough room to move away from the embrace so he can stretch out properly.

Eddie is about to head back to his spot on the floor, where he’s placed a sleeping bag from the van, when Steve makes a tiny, vague noise of distress.

Dustin and Eddie both freeze.

“M’gotta…” Steve sighs, face twitching. His eyes remain closed. “Car keys, where… they need… have to…”

“Shh. Hey, Steve, you’re okay.” Eddie reaches across, strokes Steve’s hair. “You’re… you’re just dreaming, sweetheart.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s it, go back to sleep. You’re at Dustin’s remember? Everyone’s safe.”

“Dustin,” Steve echoes faintly. “Safe…”

Eddie waits until Steve has settled back into a deep, hopefully dreamless sleep, then draws back his hand.

Dustin turns, watches him unzip the sleeping bag and lie down.

“Do you love him?” he asks.

Eddie stares up at him. Then: “Yeah,” he says simply.

“Good,” Dustin says.

Eddie’s mouth parts slightly. He blinks. “That’s it?” he whispers.

Dustin blinks back at him. “I mean, yeah? Should I… um, have said something else?”

Eddie exhales a laugh, smiles. “No, you’re good. That was… great.”

A moment of comfortable silence.

“Hey, Dustin.” Eddie lowers his voice further, even though Steve’s out for the count. “He, uh. He doesn’t know, okay? Not… not yet.”

“I kinda think he does, though,” Dustin says, then pulls back the blanket so he can raise one hand in acknowledgment. “But, like, I’m not gonna tell him. Swear on my mom.”

Eddie laughs again, and he somehow makes it sound thoughtful. “We’ll get there, man.”

And Dustin knows Eddie isn’t just referring to him and Steve, dancing around the beginning of something great.

Dustin thinks of Steve waking up and checking the news for car wrecks. Of the nightmares, shared between them all.

We’ll get there.

“You can come round whenever, too, obviously,” Dustin says. “Like, we could make it a thing? Saturdays or something, mom won’t mind. All three of us.”

Eddie’s expression goes soft again, his eyes overly bright. It kind of reminds Dustin of how his mom sometimes looks at him on the first day of school, or Christmas morning.

“What?”

Eddie smiles. “Nothing.” He sighs, closing his eyes. “Just… wish more people were as kind as you, Dustin Henderson.”

Dustin looks down at him, pride and affection welling in his chest. He can feel Steve’s light snores ruffling his hair, and he shuts his eyes, knows that two of the people he loves most in the world are on either side of him.

We’ll be okay. We’ll get there.

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