"Right. Well. You got a first aid kit lyin' 'round?"

Steve nods, cringes at the movement, squeezes his eyes shut tight. "Sink. Cabinet."

Eddie retrieves the kit, brows raising at just how big it actually is. Thinks about the kit he and Wayne have at home — some bandaids, antiseptic, wrap, creams. Enough, but still parse compared to the industrial fucking sized kit Eddie sets on the counter.

"You, uh, you get banged up a lot?" Eddie questions with a soft smirk, one hand flipping open the stuffed to the brim kit.

Steve just glares at him, wholly bitchy and indescribably gorgeous. "You know I do."

And, like, yeah, he does. The amount of times that Steve turned up on Eddie's doorstep, practically begging for any drugs to take away the edge of pain from whatever bruise or break he was sporting that week. Eddie lost count. Just kind of…expected it after a while. Started sectioning off part of his stuff just for Steve, though he would never fucking admit that out loud.

Instead, Eddie just hums and washes his hands. He grabs a clean towel and wets it, then turns to Steve. "This shit is gonna suck, but we better clean up the, uh," he gestures at his own face, before dropping his eyes down to where Steve is still cradling his chest. "Then we gotta check that out."

Steve sighs, his voice dropping to a rasped whisper. "I can do this part, man. You can…go, or whatever."

Eddie freezes in his movement. "Do you want me to go?"

There's a warring of emotions splattered across Steve's exhausted face. Eddie can practically see the gears turning, see how Steve is sorting through what answer to give, and that just really makes no fucking sense. It's not like they're friends. It makes perfect sense for Steve to want Eddie to leave. The fact Eddie brought Steve home and literally half-carried him to the bathroom is honestly quite insane. Probably the weirdest thing he's done in ages, and Eddie has done so much fucking weird shit at this point.

The bag of corn shifts in Steve's grip, condensation beading down the side, dripping slightly to the tile floor. Steve blinks and his chest deflates. "No."

No.

He said no.

Which means he wants Eddie to stay.

Yeah, okay, no, this is the weirdest thing to happen to Eddie in ages.

"Right. Cool. Sure thing." Eddie nods and turns back to the first aid kit, pulls out a handful of supplies, starts setting them up beside the dampened cloth. "Let's get you fixed up, then."

"You a nurse, Munson?" Steve stares up at him and Eddie swears there's a smirk across his gorgeous face.

"Not a nurse. Just been in enough fights to know my way 'round a kit."

Steve hums and shifts slightly, face pinching up in pain. "Fuck."

Eddie hesitates, looks Steve over again. "Should I maybe just take you to the hospital instead?"

Steve opens his eyes, drops the bag of corn, shakes his head. "No. No. No hospitals."

"Oh." Eddie nods slowly. "Okay. Yeah. But, uh, I can't really bandage a," he gestures at Steve's chest, "fucked rib or whatever's got you holdin' your side like that. I'm not magic."

"'S fine."

Eddie's eyes go wide and he scoffs, disbelief lacing every inch of his voice. "It could be a broken rib, Steve. Or sprained. Something. It's not fine."

"It'll heal." Steve grunts as he presses his hand harder against his stomach. "Fuck. Can't believe he fuckin' fucked up my rib."

"Yeah, well, he's got worse to deal with."

Steve chuckles at that and Eddie feels like he just won the goddamn lottery.

"You didn't have to get involved."

"No. I didn't." Eddie kneels in front of Steve, swallows hard as Steve widens his legs, creating a small window of space for Eddie to use — but, he doesn't. He stays back, gives Steve space. "But, I did."

"Why, though?"

Eddie lifts the damp towel to Steve's face, starts gently cleaning the small cut, wiping off the flecks of dirt and blood speckled across his golden skin. Steve winces slightly, and Eddie whispers an apology. "Should, uh, should grip something. It helps."

What Eddie expects is for Steve to grip the edge of the tub, or to grip his own legs, or, fucking, he doesn't know, anything but what actually happens.

Because Steve nods, then reaches out and grips Eddie's shoulder, tugs him slightly so he shuffles forward, settles in the gap between Steve's knees. Eddie lets out a shaky breath, then keeps gently dabbing at the bruised expanse of Steve's cheek. Adamantly ignores the way his heart is hammering against his chest.

"You're right." Steve whispers as Eddie slowly dabs at his cheek.

"I am?"

"Yeah." Steve squeezes Eddie's shoulder. "It helps."

"Oh." Eddie's hand stills where he's cleaning Steve's cheek. Their eyes meet and Eddie's breath gets stuck, trapped somewhere deep in his chest. Doomed to rot away for eternity for all Eddie can tell.

"Why, Eddie?" Steve whispers.

Eddie blinks, furrows his brow. "Why what?"

Steve's thumb grazes the side of Eddie's neck and he shivers. "Why'd you help me?"

"Oh. Uh." Eddie swallows. Shrugs. Drops his hand down, his elbow resting against Steve's knee. "Hagan's a dick."

Steve snorts. "I mean, yeah, always has been."

"Exactly. So. He deserved it."

"But, just…" Steve sighs. "Why help me?"

This is the trickier one. Because, Eddie doesn't really know why. Yeah, Tommy's a dick and deserves to get his shit kicked in quite a lot. And Eddie has a reputation for sticking up for people getting bullied. But, again, Steve and Eddie aren't friends. They never really have been. Steve's often been on the other side of all this. Has seen Eddie stand between some random kid and Tommy or Billy or Jason. Has stood there and watched it all. Steve never was the one doing the antagonizing…but, he didn't exactly stop it either.

So, really, Eddie should hate him. Should be quite happy to see him get his pretty little face rearranged a few good times.

But, he doesn't. Because this is Steve, and Eddie has always had a weirdly Steve-shaped hole in his chest that he's chosen never to look at too closely.

The weight of Steve's gaze pins Eddie in place, makes him swallow hard, avert his eyes to studying the shower curtain behind Steve. "Because. You didn't deserve it, man."

"Yeah, right." Steve scoffs. "I've been a fuckin' prick for as long as you've known me."

"Have you?" Eddie catches Steve's eye, quick enough to see him falter, see surprise across his face. "I mean, yeah, sure. You never stopped the shit you should've. But, uh." Eddie shrugs. "You also never did the bad shit yourself."

"But—" Steve swallows, Eddie tracking the movement with barely retrained intensity. God. Steve's gonna be the fucking death of him tonight.

"But nothing. Listen." Eddie sighs and leans against Steve's knee, totally not in an effort to press more firmly to the hand still tracing the tensed skin of his neck. "Sure, you're kind of a dick. You've been 'King Steve'ing it for a long time, but, man, I've seen you out there, when you think —" Eddie stops, shakes his head. "Nevermind."

"When what?"

Eddie busies himself with tossing the used cloth in the sink to deal with later, before grabbing the antiseptic, a new dry towel, and the pain cream.

"Eddie." Steve squeezes Eddie's neck and Eddie is only able to bite back half the groan that rumbles in his chest.

As that happens, Eddie freezes, eyes firmly locked on the supplies in his hands. He can feel the warmth of Steve's fingers pulsing against his neck. He braces himself, waiting. For Steve to kick him in the ribs or spit in his face or at the very least kick him out of the bathroom.

But, a solid ten seconds go by, where Steve keeps tracing Eddie's neck, decidedly does not throw Eddie the fuck out. Eddie carefully opens the antiseptic and preps the cloth, halfway pretending everything is totally fucking fine, actually.

"I told him I was done." Steve whispers.

Eddie finally looks up at him, sees the furrow of his brow. "What?"

"Tommy. I, uh, I told him that I was done. With him." Steve takes a deep breath and Eddie is struck by how exhausted he looks, by the dark circles beneath his glistening hazel eyes, by the mess of his usually perfectly styled hair.

"Okay." Eddie nods, starts disinfecting the cut. "And I'm guessing he wasn't thrilled."

"Fuck." Steve winces and grips Eddie's shoulder tighter.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry."

"Fuck. Yeah. No. He, uh," Steve lets out a breath as Eddie pulls the cloth away. "He was pissed."

"I noticed."

Steve stares back at him curiously, just watching as Eddie smears the pain cream gently across the length of the cut. "That's it?"

"Hm?"

"Aren't you gonna ask?"

Eddie fastens a bandage across the worst of the cut and shrugs. "Not really my business."

"Didn't exactly stop you from interfering earlier."

"That's different." Eddie tosses the trash into the bin and wipes off his hands on the towel.

"How?"

"Because it is."

"How?"

"Because. I dunno." Eddie sighs. "One is me stepping in to help kick someone's ass who deserves it. The other is whatever…personal history you have with the guy whose ass I kicked." He shrugs, picks up the bag of corn, tosses it in the sink. "I don't need to know that history to know he shouldn't've ever laid a fuckin' hand on you, or that he fuckin' deserved gettin' his ass beat."

"Huh."

"Besides, I've been itchin' to beat the shit out of him for a long time now."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Eddie chuckles something soft and hollow. "You're not gonna believe this, but, uh—" he pauses. Looks at Steve. Tries to decipher what emotions are warring through the speckled hazel of his eyes. Tries to figure out if he knows what he thinks he knows.

And he finds something. Something raw and honest and too similar to himself. So, he takes a breath, and takes a leap of faith. "I told him I was done with him not too long ago now, too."

Steve blinks. His eyes go wide, searching Eddie's face for something, and Eddie does his best to convey I get it, I'm safe. But, that's never really been his strong suit — offering up quiet declarations of support. He's more…loud. Rash and exuberant. Throwing himself headfirst into everything, teeth bared and ripping at whatever dares to hurt someone he cares about, or someone who can't protect themselves.

He's not really sure if Steve finds it, but he does see Steve let out some of the tension in his body. A slight nod. A quiet, "Okay."

An acknowledgement.

Something that should feel groundbreaking and earth-shattering and all-consuming, but instead just feels…calm. Natural. Like they were always on the path to this and only just now found their footing.

What to do with that, Eddie has no goddamn idea.

"Now. Uh." Eddie taps his fingers on Steve's knee anxiously. "We gotta check the, uh," he gestures at Steve's stomach.

"Oh. Right." Steve nods. "Yeah."

"Yeah."

The silence stretches between them long enough to feel awkward. Eddie clears his throat and stands, mourning the loss of Steve's touch. He's trying so fucking hard to be normal and sane about this. Though nothing about the last hour has been normal or sane in, like, any fucking capacity.

"Do you, uh, do you need…help?"

Steve blinks up at him, his tousled hair flopping in front of his eyes. Before he can even recognize what he's doing and stop himself, Eddie's reaching out and gently brushing the hair back, fingertips grazing Steve's forehead. Steve gasps slightly and Eddie feels the noise in his fucking heart. Tries not to think anything of it.

Eddie pulls his hand away, awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as he turns back to the first aid kit. "Sorry. Yeah. Uh." He picks up a roll of gauze and points it at Steve. "This. Might need this."

"Probably."

"Yeah." Eddie shakes it and sets it down. Looks through the kit, hands rummaging, not really seeing anything. Just…moving shit around to give himself something to do, something besides sign his own fucking death certificate by flirting with goddamn Steve Harrington. Even if he's pretty sure Steve just…kind of came out? Like, semi did? Fuck. Eddie has no clue. No idea if whatever…thing Steve and Tommy had was because he's queer or just…because. Because Eddie's learned that guys down here will happily fuck around with each other in locker rooms and bathroom stalls, before happily going off to find some random girl to ruin.

"Fuck." Steve winces.

Which immediately prompts Eddie to turn back toward him. Only to find Steve still doubled over in pain, one arm half-trapped in his shirt. Which would be honestly kind of funny and cute under any other circumstance, but right now, it just tugs at Eddie's heart. Makes him want to track down Tommy and beat the shit out of him again.

"Need help?" Eddie asks, trying his best to convey calmness in his tone.

"Yeah." Steve whispers as he wiggles his arm back out, slouching it across his knee. He's staring hard at the ground. Unmoving.

"Okay. Yeah."

Eddie slowly moves himself to stand between Steve's legs again. He crouches down on his knees, hands gently resting on Steve's thighs. "Gonna take it slow, alright?"

Steve barely hums what sounds like agreement.

"Steve, I'm gonna need you to tell me if this is okay. I'm not gonna touch you at all unless you're okay with it."

"Okay." Steve whispers.

"Alright. Are you okay if I touch your sides?"

A few seconds pass before Steve mutters, "Yeah."

Eddie nods. "Okay. Good. Good job."

In that moment, Eddie wants nothing more than to fling himself off the fucking roof, because no goddamn way did he just tell Steve Harrington he did a good job. What the fuck?

"Oh." Steve hums, and the sound is possibly the warmest Eddie's heard from him all night. He doesn't miss the way Steve's legs open a bit wider. How one of Steve's hands reaches out, fingertips grazing along Eddie's shoulder again. Steve lightly squeezes at Eddie's shoulder and Eddie practically melts, arches into it like a flower seeking sun.

This is a dangerous game. Eddie knows it is. But, he's too helpless to walk away now.

Slowly, Eddie moves his hands to Steve's hips, fingertips barely grazing the soft fabric bunched there. "At any point, if you need me to stop, say so, okay?"

"Mm."

"I mean it, Steve. If at any point it starts hurting too much, or you just want me to fuck off, just say so and I'm gone. No questions asked."

Steve hesitates then, his fingers stilling on Eddie's shoulder. He takes in a sharp breath and nods as he finally, slowly, turns his head up, big beautiful eyes laser-focused on Eddie. "Okay."

Eddie swallows hard. "Okay."

Something about that small moment feels like it weighs more than most of the words they've exchanged up until that point. The weight of it, of that trust, settles in Eddie's chest. He wraps himself protectively around it, vowing silently to do everything in his goddamn power to never break it. Which is just a weird as fuck realization to have because who even fucking knows if they'll even talk to each other again after tonight.

The thin fabric of Steve's shirt does nothing to mitigate the pure heat radiating from his body as Eddie finally lays his hands down. Steve's breath hitches slightly, eyes still firmly locked on Eddie's, completely unwavering.

Eddie looks down to where Steve is still cradling his stomach. He tentatively drags his hand down until it wraps around Steve's wrist, the sheer intensity of Steve's pulse ricocheting through Eddie's entire body. "Gonna need you to move this hand, okay?"

Steve sucks in a sharp breath and nods. "Okay."

"You can grip my shoulder again if it'll help."

The air remains thick between them for approximately six seconds before Steve whispers, "Please."

"Okay." Eddie swallows down his mounting anxiety and slowly loosens Steve's grip, whispering apologies at the string of curses Steve lets out. He slowly pulls Steve's hand up to rest on his shoulder, presses it down a bit firmly for good measure. "Okay. Uh. There you go. Good job."

A quiet whine slips from Steve's lips and he squeezes Eddie's shoulder, his fingers quickly finding purchase again where the collar dips, revealing warm skin.

Fuck.

Steve really is going to be the death of Eddie tonight.

Eddie repositions his hands at Steve's sides, catches his warm gaze again. "You ready?"

"Yeah." Steve grits his teeth, fingers tentatively curving into Eddie's skin before releasing. "Sorry."

"Hey, you can grab as hard you need to, sweetheart. You won't hurt me. I promise."

Steve blinks, eyes going owlishly wide. It takes Eddie about three seconds too long to realize why Steve is looking at him like that. The realization hits him full force like a bucket of ice water.

"Shit. Sorry. I wasn't — I just, I was trying to, I guess, be reassuring, but — fuck, okay, uh, yeah, I'm sorry, I—"

"Eddie." Steve's voice is firm, but full of honeyed warmth.

"Yeah?" Eddie forces himself to keep Steve's gaze despite the innate need to run run run rabbiting in his brain.

"It's okay. I'm not upset."

Eddie blinks. Just sort of…stares back a Steve. "You're not?"

"No." Steve's thumbs lightly traces the back of Eddie's neck and his whole body shivers. "Surprised, yeah. But, uh. Not upset. At all."

"Right." Eddie nods slowly. "Okay."

"Okay." Steve mimics with a small smirk.

"Okay. Yeah. Well." Eddie slips his fingers around Steve's shirt on both sides. "Gonna, uh, gonna go slow and you just tell me if we need to stop."

"Yeah."

So, Eddie slowly starts lifting Steve's shirt. His eyes flick down, purely in an effort to make sure he's not uncovering some massive wound that will absolutely result in Eddie fireman carrying Steve to the car so they can get real medical attention at a real fucking hospital. Thankfully, though — if you can even be fucking thankful for this — there's not a massive wound.

"How bad is it?" Steve whispers, his voice breaking halfway through.

Eddie lifts it higher, gets to about mid chest. Grits his fucking teeth. "Fucking prick." He growls.

"Eddie." Steve pleads, both of his hands squeezing tight, now half wrapped around the back of Eddie's neck, thumbs hot on his skin.

"It's…fuck. Okay. You're gonna have bruises. Probably for a while. It's already coloring."

"Fucking great." Steve groans.

Eddie pulls the shirt as high as he can and nods. "Alright. Gonna wrap my hands around the back and pull it over your head, then down your arms. You don't gotta move hardly at all."

Steve nods, and Eddie can see him grit his teeth, can feel the way his fingers tighten in their hold.

"Alright." Eddie does exactly as he says. He reaches his arms over Steve's shoulders and grabs the shirt, then slowly pulls it up, one hand gently coaxing Steve's head through, whispering soft praises and apologies the whole time. And then, much easier than he thought, the shirt falls loose around Steve's arms. Steve is quick to move his hands and let the shirt fall into Eddie's lap.

There's not even four seconds where Eddie can mourn the loss of Steve's touch before Steve brings his hands right back to their resting place across Eddie's shoulders, half draped behind his neck.

"Alright, now, how bad is it?" Steve asks, and Eddie can just hear the tinge of bitchiness that he absolutely fucking adores.

"Well." Eddie lifts his hands, eyes catching Steve's briefly. "Can I?"

"Yeah." Steve nods his assent before Eddie can even finish asking permission, and that does something astronomically diabolical to Eddie's entire nervous system.

Eddie slowly, gently, lays his fingers on Steve's chest, right at the top of the biggest bruise. He slowly traces his fingers along the edges of it, feels the way Steve's hands grip tighter and tighter.

The bruise itself is mottled, gray and yellow and purple. It stretches around Steve's side, creeping slightly to the center of his chest. The worst of it is on his side, starting at his hip and going halfway up — the darkest, angriest colors splattered there in a way that has Eddie seeing pure red. His fingers ghost over it and Steve groans loud, hands clenching Eddie's shoulders tight. Immediately, Eddie pulls his hand back, resting it on Steve's thigh.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry. It's okay, you're okay." Eddie keeps murmuring as Steve catches his breath.

"Fuck." Steve whines.

And before Eddie can even say or do anything, Steve's pulling him closer, immediately laying his head on Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie freezes. Steve's breath is hot and ragged against his shoulder. Little whines slip out between them and it breaks Eddie's goddamn heart. Slowly, he reaches a hand around Steve's back and starts softly stroking up and down.

"It's okay. You're alright. I promise." Eddie murmurs, lips pressed to Steve's hair.

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie and hugs him tight.

Admittedly too tight if the agonized groan he lets out is anything to go by.

Immediately, Eddie is pulling back, putting some space between them despite the whine Steve lets out in protest, one hand tentatively coming to Steve's face, soothing over his cheek. "Hey, you okay?"

"Hurts." Steve whimpers. "Fuck."

"I know. I'm sorry." Eddie wipes a tear away. "You know, I can go fuck up his other shoulder."

Steve chuckles softly. "Promise?"

"Fucking up Hagan? Try to stop me." Eddie grins. Steve mirrors the look and Eddie feels his heart thud dangerously hard and fast.

"Let me get a punch in?" Steve's eyes twinkle with a glint of that bitchiness.

"Oh, you know it. I'll hold him down so you can use him as a punchin' bag."

"Big promises there."

"I aim to please."

"That so?" Steve snakes a hand up into the curls at Eddie's nape, fingers lightly scratching. He smirks as Eddie lets out a sigh, leans back into the touch. "I'm a hard sell."

And maybe because he's feeling a bit reckless, and because Steve's fingers in his hair feel so goddamn perfect and right, Eddie smirks too, leans a little closer, voice velvety smooth as it slips between them, "Don't worry. I've got all the time in the world to learn."

Steve blinks, his eyes going that gorgeous owlishly wide, a soft chuckle falling from his lips. "Damn. And I thought I was smooth."

Eddie can't even stop the grin that stretches across his face.

"Oh, stop it." Steve rolls his eyes, tugs at Eddie's hair.

Which causes Eddie to let out a soft whimper.

Something that makes Steve's eyes glint mischievously.

"Okay! Okay. Medical stuff. Yep." Eddie shakes his head softly, relishes the drag of Steve's fingers through it. "Gotta finish, uh, checking you out."

Steve quirks a brow. "So you are checking me out."

It's then that Eddie realizes his choice of words. "Son of a—"

Steve laughs, not unkindly. "I'm kidding, kidding." Then a bit quieter. "If anything, I'm just as guilty."

Eddie snaps his gaze up to Steve's. Searching again. And finding, again, raw honesty, and maybe a bit of want, there.

What the fuck?

"Oh. Okay. Yep." Eddie nods. "Yeah. That's — cool."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Fuck yeah."

Steve smiles. "Good."

What the fuck? Oh my god, what is happening, what the— is this, holy shit, is Steve actually flirting back, what the fuck—

Eddie clears his throat. "Right. Back to making sure you're not gonna fall apart on me."

"No promises there." Steve grimaces as he readjusts.

"I know it hurts, but I need to check a bit more, see if anything is broken." Eddie whispers mournfully.

"How'll you know it's broken?"

"'Cause I've had a cracked rib before."

"What?" Steve's eyes go goddamn wide again, fuck goddamnit those goddamn eyes are just —

"Yeah. Uh, long, weird story. But, I, uh, I know a few things." Eddie cocks his head with a grimace. "Probably gonna hurt like hell though."

"Can't be worse than now." Steve grumbles.

"Well." Eddie hedges.

"It's gonna hurt worse, isn't it?"

"Probably."

Steve groans. "Great."

"Take a deep breath for me? Like, 5 seconds in, hold 3, 5 seconds out."

And Steve does just that. He's about 3 seconds on the intake when he visibly winces. Once he's done, Eddie asks, "Alright, did it hurt?"

"A bit?" Steve scrunches his brow. He pokes his chest, a few inches above the bruise. "A bit tight here."

"Okay. Any pain around the bruised area?" Eddie skims his fingers across it.

"Not anymore than it already hurts."

"Promise?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yes, Eddie, I promise."

"Okay." Eddie nods. "That's at least a good sign. Now, try twisting side to side, slowly."

"Alright."

Steve leans back and slowly twists side to side. Except, he doesn't make it far before he hunches over with a piercing wail. "Goddamnit, fuck—"

Eddie immediately reaches out, hand on Steve's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay, I'm here. I've got you, Stevie, you're okay."

He doesn't really know why, but he pulls slightly, tucking Steve to his chest. Steve immediately just slumps to the floor on his knees, basically straddling Eddie's lap, and curls his head into Eddie's neck, and fucking sobs.

Eddie is stunned.

He sits there a few moments unsure how to even proceed before Steve whines his name and then he's wrapping his arms gently around Steve, holding him close, hands soothing up and down his spine, whispering quiet assurances and praises.

In that moment, Eddie vows to make Tommy Hagan's life a goddamn living fucking hell for the rest of forever. Signs his soul over on Steve's behalf in his mind. Swears he's gonna do more than just dislocate the fucker's shoulder. Really just wants to fucking rip into him until not a speck of unbruised or unbloodied skin is left.

And Eddie knows that all of that? That's Al talking. That's the anger of his fucking dad coursing in his veins. Except Eddie swears he's channeling it to protect. That Tommy fucking deserves it, and he does. Eddie knows that Tommy, and, honestly, quite a lot of Hawkins, deserve to get their asses handed to them.

He's quite happy to be the one to fucking do it, too.

Especially on Steve's behalf.

"Sweetheart," Eddie murmurs. "I think you really need to a see a doctor."

"No. No doctors." Steve mumbles into Eddie's neck, which absolutely does not make Eddie shiver.

"Steve. It—"

"I can't, Eddie." Steve's voice is pleading. "My parents, they — they just…no, I can't."

Eddie swallows hard, channels the pain radiating through Steve's voice. Thinks about his own fears when it came to his parents, to his dad. And, he gets it. But—

"I'm sorry." Eddie softens his voice, fingers drifting up to the back of Steve's neck, winding in the soft hairs there. "If it's cracked, which I think it might be based on that reaction, it could be pressing your lung or an artery or somethin' worse. They'll need to x-ray it to make sure nothing worse is goin' on."

"Fuck." Steve sobs, tears starting anew.

Eddie's shirt is soaked through, but he honestly doesn't give a fuck right now. All he cares about is getting Steve the care he needs, to make sure he's not gonna fucking bleed out internally or some shit.

Time goes muddy around them. All that can be heard is Steve's soft, erratic cries, Eddie's calming assurances, the slight squeak of the tile whenever they adjust. Eddie's heart is fucking broken with everything happening. The Steve-shaped hole in his chest aches, keeps pushing at him to do something, to fix this, and, like, he doesn't fucking know how. He's sure Steve needs to see a doctor, but it's not like Eddie can force Steve to go. Steve's an adult. He can make his own choices. But…

"I have an idea." Eddie whispers.

Steve barely grunts in response.

"There's a clinic my uncle told me about. They help people…who can't really go to a hospital or something. It's discreet."

Steve slowly leans back, his eyes puffy, face streaked in tears, the bandage across his cheek already damp. Still somehow incandescently gorgeous. "What is it?"

"It's, uh," Eddie swallows, gently pulling his hand around to Steve's cheek, tracing over the bandaged bruise. "A clinic for…abuse victims."

That makes Steve flinch back slightly. "I'm not—"

"Steve. Listen. You are, okay? This counts."

"No." Steve softly shakes his head. "No, I don't —"

"You do." Eddie's gaze is imploring, pleading.

"What Tommy did — no, it's not."

Eddie's voice hardens. "What Tommy did is fucking assault you. I heard it. I saw it."

"Eddie." Steve's voice breaks. "What if…other people need it more."

"Oh." Eddie swipes a tear from Steve's lash line. "Trust me. They have plenty of resources to help everyone. And that includes you."

"Yeah?"

"Promise."

Eddie waits.

He sits and he waits as Steve thinks. Fingers softly tracing Steve's skin, trying to emit every ounce of calmness and protection he can. His eyes are pleading, he knows, but he just really wants to make sure a real doctor takes a look at that bruise, just to make sure it's nothing worse.

And then, blissfully, Steve whispers, "Okay."

"Okay?"

Steve nods. "Yeah. Okay."

"Thank fuck." Eddie pulls Steve back in, tucks Steve's head into his neck. His fingers wind into Steve's hair again and start scratching, relishing the way Steve fucking melts into his chest, the way Steve sighs, how the tension just bleeds out.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

Steve's voice is quiet, timid. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course. Who do you think's drivin' you there?"

"But, uh," Steve honest to god nuzzles his nose against Eddie's throat and Eddie feels about three seconds away from combusting on the spot. "Will you…stay…with me?"

Eddie's movements still, his voice equally soft. "Do you want me to?"

"Please."

"Then I'm there. Not leaving your side."

"Thank you." Steve sniffles, and Eddie swears he feels soft lips press against his pulse point. His breath hitches at the touch and he holds Steve even closer.

"Of course, sweetheart."

Eddie's going to get Steve bandaged up. Gonna make damn sure that he's okay.

taglist (open):@sunshine-daydreams0809@saramelaniemoon@probablyin-bed@bookworm0690@watermelonmite@sanctumdemunson@5-fievel@nicememerino

divider credit:@saradika-graphics

thank you for reading :)

title from "fly" by djo :)