Written for @steddiemicrofic!
'PRIDE' wc: 481 | rated: T | cw: N/A | Tags: Getting Together, Rain, Storms, Eddie is a wet cat, good thing Steve likes wet cats
Eddie's luck takes a classical bad turn, but that doesn't last for long.
There’s rain soaked through every molecule associated with Eddie as he stands on Steve Harrington’s doorstep. His van sits empty and dead ten minutes down the street, incapable of taking the blame due to the infirm of old age.
Steve hasn’t answered the door, because Eddie hasn’t knocked, or touched the doorbell, or yelled at the top of his lungs that he’s going to drown in this fucking downpour if somebody doesn’t save him.
He was on his way home from a job when his beautiful, guileless baby broke down. He’s not going back there for help. Around here, the only other person he knows is Steve, who is as distant as he is manfully polite when paying him for services rendered, and despite everything about himself, Eddie has always wanted to impress him.
Thunder cracks and the wind blows colder, and he shivers so hard his knuckles just barely brush the door, but the minuscule noise it makes breaks the ice. He swallows his pride and knocks loudly, like throwing authority into it will save his image.
It takes a few times, but eventually the door swings open. Warmth radiates like a magic barrier between them, separating their worlds. Steve looks him up and down while Eddie does the same back—the guy’s in sweatpants and a wrinkly t-shirt. His hair is sticking up. Eddie might swallow his tongue.
“C’mon,” Steve says, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling—Eddie stumbles across the threshold. “What happened to you?”
He sounds grossed out, maybe by the wet cold thing in his hand. Eddie tries not to feel like a sewer rat.
“Van broke down. It’s raining.”
Steve turns his face away to yawn like a snake unhinging its jaw, then grabs the front of Eddie’s vest and starts pulling layers off.
“I can do it myself?” Eddie asks, instead of says, because Steve’s so efficient he’s got him down to his t-shirt and jeans before his mouth catches up.
“Sucks to do it yourself,” Steve mutters, tugging at Eddie’s belt like the cuffs will just open. “What’s up with this?”
Eddie can only give in. It’s warm in here, and Steve’s looking real good while he’s being so handsy. He undoes his belt and Steve continues, getting him down to his shorts, then claps his hands on his shoulders.
“Hot shower?” he asks, already steering Eddie towards the stairs.
“Sure,” he agrees feebly. The place is empty, but it’s still way above his paygrade—he’s too naked to walk through Steve’s house.
“I gotta shower too,” Steve says. Eddie shrugs. “Maybe I could warm you up.”
Eddie doesn’t respond to the joke until Steve shuts the door behind them both. He must’ve caught Eddie looking, but he’s also turning on the water and pulling his shirt and sweats off, so clearly Eddie’s dreaming.
Steve steps into the water and holds out his hand, smiling.
