Dennis wants to tell him to take his time. He wants to say a lot of things, really. He wants to ask ‘why me?’ and he wants to demand ‘get me alone and stop being a coward,’ but he doesn’t say any of that. Enough boundaries have been pushed and crossed as it is, and anything he could say would be based on assumptions. Robby’s twice his age and could have anyone else, and Dennis is just a touch-starved med student who latched onto the first man who put his hands on him kindly. Not that any of that means it’s completely off the table, but Dennis doesn’t really feel like he has a whole lot to offer.

Movement behind Dennis and a bump of knuckles against his back tells him that Robby’s pulling his glasses out of his chest pocket. Dennis wants to turn and look, but he doesn’t want to be obvious. He stares enough as it is, heats up and goes beet red whenever Robby touches him, purposefully gets in his way just so he’ll be physically moved out of it, and he’s already leaning back into Robby’s body, so. So turning around and salivating at the sight of Robby in his reading glasses while they’re close enough to breathe on each other probably isn’t the best idea.

It didn’t used to be this bad. In the beginning, Dennis wasn’t so obsessed, wasn’t aching with need every time Robby was near. He had a little crush in the beginning, maybe, but it has spiraled so far out of his control that he thinks it has to be completely obvious at this point.

Anything he can do to mitigate that obviousness is probably for the best.

“So,” Robby says as he clicks around with his mouse.

Dennis doesn’t look at the screen, doesn’t look back at Robby, just looks down at his notebook cover and the pen laid on top of it. He lines it up with the spine of the book just for something to do with his hands.

“Your rotation’s ending soon. Where’re you going next?” Robby asks. “And when can we expect you back?”

“Well, it’s not really up to me where my residency is, I mean, they take my choice into account, but it’s not a sure-thing,” Dennis answers like this is just a normal conversation. Like Robby isn’t leaning into his personal space, like it isn’t making his dick throb with interest to be this close to him. “I still haven’t exactly decided what I want to go into yet, either, so…”

He’s pretty much decided on it, but he doesn’t want to sound too eager. He’s been thinking some time away from the ER will do him some good. He can get over Robby during his next rotation and come back for his residency ready to do good work with minimal distractions. Right now, the distraction is too much. He’s scared he’s going to start making mistakes.

“You’ll be coming back,” Robby says matter-of-factly. Which has to mean he wants Dennis to come back. It means he’s doing something to make sure that happens. “You want to, right?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I’ve really enjoyed being in emergency medicine, and it would be nice to be matched with a hospital I’m familiar with.”

“You’ll be back,” Robby says again.

He clicks something on the computer with an air of finality and then stands up straight again. He puts his hand on Dennis’s shoulder again, squeezes it, rubbing his thumb right where Dennis’s shirt touches his neck.

A shiver ripples through him, his whole body twitching at the touch. Robby’s hand drops like he suddenly remembered where they are, and Dennis finally allows himself to turn in the chair and look at him.

Robby scratches the back of his neck, face scrunching like he wants to say something but is fighting against it. Dennis doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but part of him always does. Robby lives in his fantasies, a future with him creeps into the edges of his thoughts even when he doesn’t mean for it to, even if it’s just for a second before he pulls himself out of it.

“Look, I…” Robby trails off. “Let me take you out for a drink after work. To congratulate you on finishing your emergency rotation.”

No mention of Javadi, who is also about to finish her own rotation before moving on to psych for her next one. Dennis doesn’t know if she’ll be coming back here after she gets more experience elsewhere. Shouldn’t Robby want to send her off with a friendly celebration, too?

“Oh. Uh.”

“Or not?”

“No, I mean. Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah, I’ll go out for a drink with you.”

“Sweet. Find me at seven. Don’t be late.”

Robby disappears after that and Dennis gets pulled out to chairs with McKay for the rest of his shift. He’s grateful for the space between him and everyone else right now. McKay is cool, and if she notices Dennis is a little jittery today, she’s cool enough not to mention it.

When he sees Dr Ellis arrive, he knows there isn’t much more time left in his shift, and ‘a little jittery’ turns into full-fledged anxiety. He knows he has no reason to be nervous, but he is. Not necessarily because of the Robby of it all, but because Dennis doesn’t really have much experience in the dating department. If this even is a date, which Robby didn’t say it was, so Dennis shouldn’t even assume—

“You can head out,” McKay says with a kind smile. “Night shift is trickling in, and I’m good out here. Go get some sleep, okay? You look like you need it.”

Dennis nods his head in thanks, wishes her a good night, and hurries toward the lockers. Trinity is already there, leaning against the row of lockers with her bag slung over her shoulder and a slight blush on her cheeks while she talks to Ellis.

“I’ll see you later?” Ellis flashes a smile at Trinity and shuts her locker.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” Trinity laughs nervously, and Dennis thinks she might start twirling her hair around her finger if she’s given enough time. “Twelve hours, right? I’ll be here.”

“Have a good night, Doctor Santos.”

“Yup,” Trinity says with a salute. “You too. Parker. I mean, Doctor Ellis. Have a good night.”

As soon as Dr Ellis is gone, Trinity puts her face against one of the locker doors and groans.

“If it helps, I think she’s into you,” Dennis offers as he pulls up on the locker handle to open it. He pulls his backpack out, and then his jacket.

“I’m such a loser sometimes. Twelve hours, right? God, Santos, be cool for once,” Trinity mumbles to herself with a shake of her head. She twirls her car keys around her finger and looks at Dennis. “Are you ready to go?”

Robby walks into the locker room, and suddenly the hallway feels a little too crowded. He slips past Dennis, close enough that he just barely touches him by accident, and Dennis struggles to find his train of thought.

“I have plans with someone?” Dennis answers after a second too long for his liking.

He’s too obvious. The night shift is shuffling in and Dennis can’t help but think they’re all going to figure it out. It’s bad enough that people on his own shift see him making goo goo eyes at their attending, he doesn’t need the opposite shift to see it too.

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Trinity snorts.

“I have plans with someone,” Dennis says again.

“O-o-okay,” she says, drawn out like she doesn’t quite believe him, like she’s waiting for him to say he’s just kidding. “You have plans. That I’m just now hearing about. You never have plans. I’m your only friend.”

Dennis rolls his eyes at her. “Okay, well, I do. Thanks, though. I’m glad you think so highly of my social life.”

“We’re doctors, Huck, we don’t get to have social lives.”

Dennis shrugs and shakes his head, like whatever. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

He meets eyes with Robby, silently asking if that’s okay, and he gets a nod in response.

“Wait,” Trinity says, grabbing Dennis’s arm to stop him. “Is it someone from the hospital?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re leaving from here instead of coming home? Like, you aren’t even gonna change out of your scrubs? You’re obviously going somewhere with someone who’s already here and doesn’t care that there’s probably piss on you.”

“I—”

That’s actually a good point.

“I could still change,” he says instead of admitting that Trinity is right.

“Cut the shit, Whit. Who are you going out with?”

“Okay, fine,” Dennis says. “I was going to tell you as soon as we got outside.”

“Oh shit, you don’t want anyone to know.”

Dennis doesn’t say anything until they’re out of the hospital and out of earshot of anyone else. It’s not like it’s a secret. He knows Perlah was standing nearby when Robby was leaning over him earlier, and he thinks Samira was within hearing range when Robby asked, so it’s definitely not a secret. Dennis just doesn’t want to sound like an idiot around anyone else if he’s reading too far into things.

“Robby’s taking me out for a drink,” Dennis finally tells her.

“Wait, really? Are you pulling my leg right now? I don’t know whether I should be happy for you or not. I mean, I know you like him, but he’s our boss… It could get messy.”

Dennis appreciates that she cares even if there’s probably nothing to worry about whatsoever.

“Well, it’s not even a date, so,” Dennis shrugs. “It’s to celebrate me being almost done with this rotation. Just a drink between colleagues. Nothing more.”

“So I take it Crash is going with you?”

“He didn’t say anything about her.”

“Right.”

“So you do think it’s a date, though?”

“I think Robby’s been wanting to jump your bones since day one, dude. I can’t believe he actually has the balls to make a move, though. This could ruin his career. Maybe yours, too.”

“As far as I know, it’s not the first time he’s been involved with a med student. I don’t think anyone really cares.”

Word gets around the Pitt. Someone will let something slip like ‘Robby has trouble committing,’ someone else asks how they know that, and then glances are thrown in directions, and voices get lowered, but not enough, and suddenly Dennis knows way too much about everybody involved.

That knowledge, however, has kept Dennis from losing hope completely.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. You know I’ll have to pick up the pieces if you do and I don’t think we’ve known each other long enough for that.”

“I’m not gonna get hurt.”

“Okay,” Trinity says. “Just, if you do. I’m here. And tonight, if you need me to, I’ll come get you.”

Dennis nods. He knows. The past three months have taught him that underneath all the sharp edges of sarcasm and deflection, Trinity Santos is a big softy who really does care about people.

“Hey, you don’t think he’s, like, some sort of chaser, do you?”

She nudges him in the side with her elbow, and Dennis knows the earnest moment is lost.

“What? No,” Dennis says. “I mean. Why would you say that? Why would you put that in my head?”

“Text me if you’re coming home, or not, okay?” she says when they make it to her car. “I can bring you some clean clothes tomorrow, but you’ll have to do the walk of shame into the ER to get them.”

“Gee, thanks.” Dennis rolls his eyes. “I’ll probably be home. It’s not a date. And if it was, I still don’t appreciate your assumption that I’m gonna spend the night with him.”

“You love me, Huckleberry.” She opens the driver’s side door and salutes him before getting in. “See you tomorrow.”

*

Dennis makes his way back into the hospital through the ambulance bay. A few nightshift nurses and doctors nod in his direction, and someone asks if he’s just now coming in for the day. He dodges people and questions and glances as he searches for Robby again.

Something in him thinks that maybe Robby left without him. He could’ve gotten the wrong impression of the relationship between Dennis and Trinity and decided not to get in the way of it. Not that going out for one drink with Robby means anything that could ruin a relationship if it existed, but—

“Whitaker, there you are,” Robby says from behind just as a big hand settles on his shoulder.

Robby spins him around, turns him face to face, looking down as he nearly towers over Dennis, and gives him a sweet little smile that crinkles his eyes.

“Here I am,” Dennis says. “So, uh, who else is coming?”

He has to know. He has to know if this is something or not. He has to know if he’s reading too far into everything.

“Oh,” Robby says, his smile dropping ever so slightly. “Just us, if that’s okay with you.”

It is, of course it is, but Dennis doesn’t want to sound too eager so he just nods, and says, “Okay, cool.”

Robby leads him out of the hospital, that hand never leaving his shoulder. Dennis doesn’t want to think about how that might look to other people. Do they see how much Robby has his hands on him? Do they think Dennis is only here because he’s fucking their boss? Or do they see it as nothing? Maybe it is nothing. It’s probably nothing.

They reach a car and when they stop next to it, Robby’s hand stays on him, thumb pressing against his neck. Dennis just looks at him, the way the lines around his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at Dennis.

He doesn’t know if any of this is normal, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

“You’re nervous. Aren’t you?” Robby asks softly.

“What? No. Why would I be nervous?”

“Your heart rate is elevated.”

He rubs his thumb over Dennis’s pulse point and it makes him shiver. He wishes he could just play it off as the late November weather, but he knows it’s obvious.

Is this how Doctors flirt? Is Robby going to pull out a pen light and check his pupils to see if they’re equal and reactive next?

“I’m good. I’m okay,” Dennis says. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

Dennis doesn’t really know. It just felt like the right thing to say, but now he’s not so sure. He’s fucking this all up and Robby is going to change his mind, not that Dennis even knows what his mind would be changed from because this is not a date.

How many times can he tell himself that before it gets old?

“What is this?” Dennis blurts out. He stumbles over his words, trying to get them out without sounding too pathetic. “I mean — is this a-a date, or just… Tell me this means something. Please.”

Robby presses his thumb deeper into Dennis’s skin, his hand squeezing where it rests on his shoulder, he slides it down to Dennis’s chest and gently pushes him back against the car door. The world falls away, and all Dennis sees is Robby. All he smells is the scent of hospital antiseptic and the cigarettes Robby pretends he doesn’t sneak every chance he gets. They’re so close now, Dennis is scared just breathing will pop the bubble he’s found himself.

“Fuck,” Dennis whispers.

“I hope I’m not being too forward,” Robby says. “But I want to be clear: I really like you, Whitaker.”

“Dennis,” he whispers. “Call me Dennis.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want, baby.”

“Oh fuck. That one. Call me that.”

“You know, I had a whole plan,” Robby says. “I was going to take you out, buy you a drink or two, invite you to dance… I was going to be real subtle about it, you weren’t even supposed to know it was a date until I had you pressed against me on the dance floor, but now…”

“But now?” Dennis presses.

“But now I just really want to take you home.”

Before he can start to question whether he actually heard that right, he nods his head.

“I’m — yup, I’m good with that plan.”

Robby takes a step back and reaches around Dennis to open the car door for him. He stands there while Dennis climbs into the passenger seat and situates his backpack at his feet, and then Robby shuts the door when Dennis has all his body parts inside. He circles the front of the car, opens the backdoor to put his own backpack on the floor behind the driver’s seat, and then he gets into the car.

As soon as the door slams shut, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the car.

Dennis isn’t nervous, he really isn’t. He’s… Just out of his depth.

Like, okay, Robby established that he likes Dennis and wants to take him home, so that removes a very prominent line of thinking he’s been trying to avoid all day while miserably failing, but… Now what?

He doesn’t know what’s actually allowed here. If he tries to kiss Robby, would it be welcome? If he touched him, would Robby let his hands wander?

“I don’t live too far from here,” Robby says. “Unless you still wanna get that drink?”

And okay, that does sound like a pretty good idea. A drink in his system would do wonders for his nerves, just enough to make him a little looser after all the tension today.

“Yeah,” Dennis says. “Buy me a drink.”

There’s another crash outside and Eddie’s heart thumps in his chest, and his entire body jumps off the couch, and he knows it’s just a raccoon trying to get into his neighbors’ trash because Eddie’s seen the creature out there every night this week, and in fact just saw it while he was sitting on the step soaking up the pleasant night breeze while he smoked the last couple puffs that put him in too fucking much territory. 

It still scares the shit out of him when he hears it, even if he knows it’s out there, that’s all he’s saying. 

If he had a dog, it would scare the raccoon away. 

Or maybe his dog would get rabies. 

That would fucking suck. 

Eddie knows how rough rabies shots are. He wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy, and certainly not his imaginary dog who protects him from the things that lurk outside. 

And now he’s thinking about the shit that lurks outside, and he really needs this high to subside a bit so he can think about this a little more rationally. Except rationality goes out the window when monsters are fucking real and Eddie almost died because of them. 

Fuck. 

He’s gotta call someone before he crawls out of his skin. 

It’s getting kind of late which means his options are pretty limited. Most of his friends live with their parents and don’t have their own phone lines. He could probably get away with calling Nancy, but she’s got a lot going on these days and Eddie knows she needs her sleep. He could run across the trailer park and tap on Ronnie’s window since she’s home for the summer, but he’s honestly too scared to go outside right now, and he’s not calling and waking up Granny Ecker at this hour, so Ronnie’s a bust, too. 

That pretty much just leaves Steve. 

Steve, whose parents aren’t home most nights, and Steve would has a direct phone line right to his bedroom, but also Steve, who Eddie’s been kind of avoiding since he got out of the hospital because he likes Steve just a little too much in a way that freaks him out because he knows every time he sees Steve it gets worse and worse, and right now he’s so fucking stoned he’s not sure he won’t just spill his guts to the guy if he calls him. 

But Eddie’s too fucking scared not to call him. 

He makes a point to reread Steve’s phone number five times before he attempts to punch it in, and then because his head isn’t on right, he hangs up halfway through another three times because he thinks he’s gotten it wrong. Chances are, he’s got it right every time, but he isn’t confident until try number four. 

“Hello?”

Steve’s voice is clear on the other end, which takes Eddie by surprise because he thought for sure Steve would be sleeping at this hour. He sounds wide awake, though, almost like a midnight call is super normal and expected. 

“Uh,” Eddie says. “Hey, Harrington. It’s —”

“Eddie, hey,” Steve says. “What’s going on, man?”

“Sorry for calling so late.”

Eddie rests his forehead against the wall next to the phone and takes a breath. He’s too aware of how he’s breathing right now, of the way the plastic of the phone feels under his fingers, too aware of the way his teeth feel in his mouth. 

“No, it’s alright. I was up. You okay?”

“Hm,” Eddie grunts. Neither a yes or a no. 

“Gonna need more than that.”

“Yeah, no, yeah. I’m… I’m alright. Nothing, uh, life threatening, or anything. Just… Needed to talk to someone. You said if I needed — well, I know it was a while ago, but you said I could call.”

He doesn’t really wanna tell Steve why. Like, how embarrassing that the town dealer can’t handle his own pot, you know? But he can’t risk Steve hanging up right now, and he needs to say something, and needing someone feels embarrassing to admit, too, but Eddie tells himself it’s better than the alternative. 

“No, yeah, of course, Eddie. Do you wanna come over?” Steve asks. “I get it, man. You can come over if that’ll help.”

“Ah,” Eddie says, gripping the phone a little bit tighter. “No, nah. I, uh, no. Can’t really drive right now.”

He feels like he could fuck up getting a glass of water right now. Getting behind the wheel like this would probably result in someone dying. If he felt like he could make it outside in the first place. 

“Oh,” Steve says softly. “That’s okay, man. Did you want me to come over instead?”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” Steve says. “I’ll come by, alright? Will you be okay for, like, ten minutes?”

Eddie nods before realizing Steve can’t see him through the phone. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

He hangs up and heads down the hall to his bedroom. The floor is a mess, covered in dirty clothes and empty beer cans. He should clean up, but he knows he isn’t going to make much of a dent in this state. 

He sits down on his bed and starts picking up the underwear and dirty socks scattered around at his feet. They nearly make it to the laundry basket when he tosses them, but he doesn’t make any attempt to adjust his aim. 

It’s hard to tell how long he sits there trying to think of what needs to go in the laundry basket and what needs to be thrown in the garbage. This should be easy, even when Eddie’s smoked a little too much, but he’s so far gone he would rather just not think at all. Not thinking at all seems like the best course of action.

By the time he hears Steve’s tires on the gravel outside, he’s barely made any progress on his bedroom. Maybe Steve will be fine sitting on the couch in the living room instead of hanging out in Eddie’s bedroom. Eddie doesn’t even know why he automatically assumed Steve would want to be in his bedroom at all. 

Steve lets himself in, and Eddie realizes it’s probably a really bad idea to keep the front door unlocked when he’s like this. Anyone could come in and do anything they want to him, and if they were trying to hurt him, he’d probably get no warning either. At least Steve announces himself when he comes in, calls out Eddie’s name and makes some noise shutting the door again. 

“In here,” Eddie calls back, but Steve probably already guessed that.

He shows up in Eddie’s doorway a second later. 

“Hey, man,” Steve says, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. 

It’s dark in Eddie’s room, but light in the hallway, so when Eddie looks up, he can barely make out the look on Steve’s face. He might be smiling, or maybe grimacing over the mess in Eddie’s room. It’s hard to tell. 

Steve doesn’t turn on the light.

“You hungry?” Steve asks. 

Eddie thinks for a second and then nods. 

“Let’s go to the diner.”

“Oh, uh.”

He doesn’t think he should leave if he’s being perfectly honest. It feels like he’s wearing a sign on his forehead that says “I’M HIGH OFF ILLEGAL SUBSTANCES, PLEASE CALL THE COPS ON ME,” so he doesn’t really know if going to the diner is the best idea. 

“It’s alright,” Steve says. “My treat.”

Which isn’t what Eddie was worried about even if he doesn’t have more than a couple dollars in his wallet right now, but he doesn’t think Steve would understand if he explains his problem, so he just nods instead. 

“Let me, um,” Eddie starts, looking around his room. “Shoes.”

“Your white ones? They’re by the front door. I’ll go get them, okay?”

“Okay, but—”

“It’s alright, man,” Steve says again. 

“Steve,” Eddie tries. “I’m really high.”

“I know.”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes. 

With that squared away, Eddie feels a little bit better about the whole thing. 

“I’ll get your shoes, you just take a minute,” Steve says, then he turns and leaves Eddie’s room again. 

Eddie takes a minute to breathe, like pulling normal air into his lungs will replace everything he smoked and take him down a few notches. In the end, he doesn’t feel any less stoned, but Steve returns with his shoes in his hand and Eddie has to focus on putting them on his feet.

Without asking, Steve squats down and starts tying them for Eddie. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Eddie mutters.

“I know,” Steve says, moving on to the other one. “Just let me help you out, okay?”

So Eddie lets him and then accepts the hand Steve offers to pull him up off the bed. 

Outside, Eddie scans the immediate area for any signs of the raccoon, and even when he doesn’t see it, he walks to the car as quickly as possible. He doesn’t even consider the raccoon could’ve been hiding under his stairs waiting to swipe at his ankles until after he’s safe in the car.

As Steve drives, Eddie feels like he’s still getting higher, like those last puffs are just now kicking in after he was already too high. Maybe it’s all in his head.

He knows, realistically, that this won’t last forever, but it doesn’t feel like the end is in sight. He should have just gone to bed as soon as it got too scary for him, shouldn’t have called Steve in the middle of the night, or should’ve told him not to come over at all. 

“C’mon,” Steve says when they’re parked. “There’s nobody here.”

Eddie’s surprised to see Jonathan Byers in uniform when they walk in. He seems to be the only employee on the front end of the diner, but Eddie can hear music and voices in the kitchen. Steve’s right, there’s no one else dining right now. It makes it a lot easier for Eddie to feel comfortable, to ease his worries about someone figuring out what’s wrong with him. 

He must’ve known Jonathan was working tonight and picked this place because obviously Byers isn’t gonna care that Eddie is blasted out of his mind. 

“Hey,” Jonathan says when they come in. He throws the towel he was using to wipe down a table over his shoulder and gets them a couple menus from the host stand. “Booth or counter?”

“We’ll take a booth, man, thanks,” Steve says before Eddie can even process the question. 

Jonathan brings them over to the booth he just finished wiping down, and sets their menus on opposite sides of the table.

The old booth upholstery has seen better days and Eddie picks the side with less cracks in it, knowing the chain on his wallet will catch and stick in one of the holes. He’s too high to even think about detaching himself if it comes down to it. 

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” Jonathan asks.

“Water,” Eddie mumbles, resting his head against the window while Steve messes with the jukebox on the table. 

“I’ll take a Coke, thanks,” Steve answers. “Ed, you sure you don’t want a pop?”

“Water.”

“If you change your mind, just wave me down,” Jonathan says. 

It’s only been a few months since the Byers got back to town, but Jonathan already has a job. Eddie’s been applying to places ever since he quit the Hideout two years ago, and none of the places have even bothered calling back. He knows why — he’s accepted it, but that doesn’t completely tamp down the bitterness in his throat over it. 

He picks up the menu on the table instead. 

“I can’t even think about this,” Eddie mumbles to himself. 

“Doing okay?” Steve asks. 

Eddie grunts in response and nods once. He just needs some water and then he’ll be able to think about this menu and what he wants to eat. 

“What are you thinking?” Steve asks. “Breakfast or burger? They have the full menu all the time.”

“Yes,” Eddie agrees. “I mean — uh.”

Steve chuckles across the table. “Get both if you want.”

Eddie sinks a bit in his seat, feeling a little embarrassed over the entire thing. All of it, from getting too high, to calling Steve, to needing help tying his shoes like he’s a little kid, to this — Steve’s kindness and understanding.

He doesn’t want to feel this way, like he’s some idiot that needs caring for just because he can't handle his pot like he used to. 

A hand covers his on top of his menu, and Eddie glances up, across the table, to see the softest, kindest eyes he’s ever seen in his life. A light smile, something reassuring and not at all patronizing, like maybe Steve just really wants to be helpful. 

“Get whatever you want, Ed.”

So Eddie nods and focuses a little bit harder on the menu, so by the time Jonathan comes back with his water, he’s able to order. 

“Can I do a cheeseburger? And maybe, like… a side of scrambled eggs. But not, like, instead of fries. I want eggs and fries. And bacon,” Eddie says. “And bacon on the burger, too.”

Jonathan snorts and writes it all down, then takes Steve’s order.

“Hey, man, do you have anything on you?” Jonathan asks before he leaves to give the order to the kitchen.

Eddie shakes his head. “Come by Forest Hills after your shift, though.”

“I’m glad you called me,” Steve says when Jonathan leaves. “I was getting pretty hungry. Thought about coming here by myself, even.”

That could be a lie, but Steve says it so earnestly, Eddie just has to believe him. He starts to feel a little bit better about it.

Eddie drinks all of his water before the food comes, and then asks for a cup of coffee and another water. He pours more sugar in the coffee than probably necessary, but Steve doesn’t say anything about it. 

The meal might be the best thing he’s ever eaten in his life. 

Steve gives him a piece of his sausage in exchange for a piece of bacon, and Eddie wishes he ordered a side of that, too. 

When Jonathan brings them the check, Steve doesn’t let Eddie see it and refuses his offer to pay for his half. Eddie thinks he’ll figure out a way to pay Steve back for it, maybe by washing his car, or cleaning the leaves out of his pool, or maybe he’ll send Steve home with a joint or two after he drops him off. 

On the drive back, Eddie feels a lot more like himself than he did on the drive there. He feels stupid for needing to call Steve. It’s not like he’s never been too high before, and he’s handled it just fine in the past. 

It’s just different now. 

And he hasn’t seen Steve more than a few times since everything happened, and okay, so maybe he missed the guy a little bit. This is nice, having a midnight diner run with a friend. It’s been a while since he’s had this and it reminds him of late nights with his band after they finish a show. He did this with Ronnie a lot, the few times they made enough money at a gig to get dinner afterwards. 

Something about sitting in a booth with cracked upholstery for hours while he sips shitty coffee and smokes too many cigarettes — it’s these nights that he knows he’ll look back on when he’s fifty. 

He just hopes that when he looks back, Steve’s still in his life. And a stupid, pathetic part of him hopes it’s because Steve has a big fat crush on him, like the one Eddie has on Steve. That stupid, lovesick part of him hopes they spend their lives together and think about this as one of their first dates, and look back at it and laugh over Eddie being too stoned to say more than five words the entire time. 

If he can’t have that thirty years down the line, though, he’ll settle for this night going on just a little while longer. 

“Still doing okay?” Steve asks. “Feel any better?”

“Yeah,” Eddie answers. He tries to clear some of the creeping dryness out of his throat. “Can you, uh, stop at the gas station by me, maybe?”

“Sure thing.”

As soon as the car stops in front of the gas station, Eddie realizes this might have been a bad idea. His legs don’t quite feel right, and he thinks if he gets out of the car he’ll walk funny and make a fool of himself. And that’s not even considering how he’ll act when he actually gets inside and has to make a decision about what he wants or when he has to count his money at the counter. 

“Sorry, I—” Eddie starts. “Never mind, I don’t really need anything.”

“Hey,” Steve says softly. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m just,” Eddie groans. “Still not feeling right.”

“What do you want? I’ll go in,” Steve says. 

“No, that’s okay. You can just take me home.”

“Well, I need cigarettes, so.”

And then Steve gets out of the car, leaving Eddie alone in the deserted parking lot. 

Eddie quickly gets out and follows him in, not wanting to be alone in the middle of the night so close to the woods. He finds Steve standing in front of the drink case, hands on his hips while he looks over all the options. 

“Cans of pop are discounted if you get two,” Steve says. “But I’ll probably only drink one, so…”

“I—”

“You might as well get one,” Steve adds. “I was thinking about a big bag of chips, too, did you want some?” 

“Okay,” Eddie agrees, a little reluctant. 

Steve seems to be on a mission, and Eddie doesn’t want to get in the way of it. 

He does put cash on the counter for his own stuff when they get up there, not wanting to make Steve pay for everything tonight. He gets a pack of cigarettes, too, watching as the cashier bags everything up into one bag for the both of them. 

“Do you wanna, like, hang out?” Eddie asks when they make it back to the trailer park. “I just… It’s hard being here at night. And I’m pretty sure if you leave, I’m just gonna start smoking again, and I think I’ll just freak myself out all over again, so, if you wanna stay and hang out, you know… You don’t have to, though. If you’re busy, or whatever. I know I called you out of the blue.”

“Yeah, I’ll hang out,” Steve says easily. “Might fall asleep on you, though. Haven’t, uh, been sleeping great lately, so.”

“Hey, if you’re tired, just drop me off, it’s cool, dude, go get some sleep.”

“No, man, that’s not — I mean, I have a hard time being alone, too. That’s all I’m saying. It’s always easier, in my experience — at least — to, you know, fall asleep with someone else breathing in the room.”

“Alright,” Eddie says. He won’t argue with that. “Just, you know, Wayne’ll get home in a few hours and he sleeps on the pull out in the living room, so you’ll have to bunk with me. And my bed’s not all that big, so I hope you don’t mind the inevitability of me kicking you in my sleep.”

Steve snorts. “I think we can make it work.”

The thing is, now that Eddie’s not so fucked up, he remembers he set out some magazines before he smoked. thinking he’d get just high enough that jerking off feels like the best thing in the entire world. That means there’s gay porn sitting on his nightstand when they make it into his bedroom, and Steve sees it before Eddie can shove it back under his mattress. 

“Um,” Eddie says, feeling caught. 

“It’s all good, man,” Steve says. Like it’s really just all good. Like it’s not proof Eddie’s a faggot freak who likes muscly men in jockstraps. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Which, right, because Steve’s pretty muscly, and probably has his fair share of jockstraps, being an athlete and all that, which honestly makes the whole situation a million times worse. 

“If you wanna leave now, I get it,” Eddie says. 

“Huh? No, dude, I’m — I mean, me too, you know?”

“You too?” 

What?

“I’m, like,” Steve says, waving his hand vaguely like the words will just present themselves. “I’m into… That. Men. Sometimes.”

“Oh.”

“So, I’m not weirded out, or anything.”

They just stand there looking at each other, and Eddie can’t help but notice the pink rising in Steve’s cheeks over it all, and Eddie can’t even say anything because he’s been bright red since he realized what was sitting out in the open, so. 

So. 

“Cool,” he says. “That’s cool, man. Thanks for, uh, telling me, and all of that. I won’t — I mean, obviously I won’t tell anyone, you know? And I mean, I — People already think they know about me, but don’t, I mean. I don’t want them to actually know, so—”

“I won’t tell anyone, either,” Steve promises. “C’mon, let’s…”

He toes off his shoes and unzips his jacket, laying it carefully over Eddie’s vest on his desk chair.

“Shoes off,” Steve tells him before squatting down to start untying them for Eddie. 

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m going to,” Steve says. “Just let me help you out, Eddie. You’re still baked.”

“Not that bad anymore,” Eddie mumbles. 

But he lets Steve do it, and then lets him slide his hands under the opening of Eddie’s leather jacket, slipping it over his shoulders.Steve’s practically undressing him after saying he likes guys, too, and it’s — fuck, it’s weird, but not at all unwelcome.

“Do you sleep in your jeans?” Steve asks after laying Eddie’s jacket over his own. 

“Boxers, usually, but, um,” Eddie starts. “I have pajama pants I can put on since, y’know.”

“Whatever you’re comfortable in. Could I borrow some pants?”

Eddie nods and goes to his dresser, rifling through the drawers of clothes he doesn’t wear too often anymore. There’s a pair of sweats at the bottom of one that should fit Steve, so he tosses them over, and starts to look for something for himself. 

“Hey, man, if you sleep in your underwear, I’m not gonna be weird about it,” Steve says as he drops his jeans to the floor. 

Eddie tries not to look, but he does anyway. Clad in just a polo and a pair of tighty whiteys, Steve looks like all of Eddie’s fantasies. He shakes the thoughts away and goes back to his mission. He needs another layer between them so it’s harder to feel his dick when he inevitably chubs up laying beside Steve. 

“It gets kind of cold in here,” Eddie lies. 

It’s the middle of July.

“Okay,” Steve says instead of calling him on it. 

The air between them has shifted considerably, and now that Eddie’s sobering up, he doesn’t even have the excuse of being high to explain why he’s acting so weird. It’s not every day the guy you’ve been fantasizing about for as long as you can remember shows up wanting to borrow your clothes and share a bed with you. Eddie is entirely out of his depth here. 

“Do you want some?” Eddie asks, holding up a baggy of bud and a couple joints he rolled earlier. 

“I don’t think you should have more,” Steve says carefully. 

“I’m coming down a little too fast,” Eddie says. “Just need… Like three hits to sleep.”

Steve eyes him for a second and then nods. 

“Okay, just… Just a little for me, too, then,” he agrees. 

And that’s how he ends up with Steve Harrington high and giggly in his bed as they laugh about… Something. Eddie can’t remember now that he’s staring at Steve’s lips, now that he’s taking another puff of the joint Steve’s smoking most of. He passes it, watches as Steve brings it to his mouth, pinched between two long fingers, and oh fuck, Eddie’s gotta look away before he does something stupid, but he can’t. 

“You good?” Steve asks with a little laughter in his words. A beautiful smile on his lips as he takes another puff. Smoke swirls in the air between them. Oh wow, they’re a lot closer than Eddie realized. 

“Mhm.”

“This stuff’s good,” Steve says, giving it back. 

“Mhm,” Eddie agrees, handing it back without smoking any more. “I think, uh. I’ve probably had enough for now, though. Finish it if you want.”

He probably shouldn’t have lit this one up to begin with. He doesn't know how to act while he’s this close to Steve. 

“Mhm,” Steve parrots after another small hit. He hands it back. “Me too, put it out.”

Eddie has to reach over Steve’s body to put it in the ashtray and Steve shifts to give him more room, but then when Eddie comes back, Steve shifts again. He slips his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, giving him no choice but to press in close. 

“I’m glad you called me,” Steve says when Eddie’s settled against him. 

He feels so warm, cheeks heating up awfully quick over the position they’re in. 

Steve’s fingers are playing with the ends of his hair, brushing against Eddie’s back with little electrifying grazes. 

“Shit,” Eddie breathes to himself. 

This is not happening. He’s dreaming this. His shit was laced and it’s all a hallucination. 

But god, it feels so real. It has to be real. It just doesn’t make any sense. 

“You okay?” Steve asks softly, tilting his head so it rests against Eddie’s. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “You’re killing me, though.”

Steve hums in response, just a little hm, of acknowledgment. 

“I’m really glad you called me,” Steve says again. “Been wanting to see you, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Wasn’t sure about what?” 

Steve shrugs. “Just didn’t think you wanted to be friends, you know? I wasn’t the greatest guy back in high school. My friends were really mean to you. Just thought, you know, maybe we save the world once in a while, and never see each other in between. I don’t know.”

“I wanted to,” Eddie says. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Why didn’t you call sooner?”

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Toosh.”

“It’s touché,” Eddie snorts. 

“Whatever. Yeah, that.” 

Eddie presses his laughter into Steve’s neck, letting his hand find a place on Steve’s stomach. 

“So we’re both kind of stupid,” Eddie says. “If we wanted to be friends and neither of us called, I mean.”

“Can I be honest? Like, don’t be weird about it if you don’t… I mean,” Steve starts. 

“Yeah, anything. I mean, you saw my porn, dude, I think we’re past being weird about things.”

“Yeah, about that,” Steve says. “It’s… I mean, honestly? If I’m being completely honest, I didn’t really want to be friends, I…”

Where the hell could this even be going? Surely not where Eddie wants it to go. 

“When I said I’m into guys sometimes, I meant,” Steve continues, and Eddie holds his breath. “And just so you know, this isn’t just the weed talking, to be perfectly clear. I feel this way when I’m not high, okay? I just happen to be right now while I’m telling you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Please just tell me. 

“I really want to kiss you.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes. 

“But if you don’t feel the same, just tell me, okay? I won’t be mad. I know not all gay guys like every guy in the world, so I get it if you don’t.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” 

“I’d let you kiss me.”

Steve slides down on the bed, no longer propped up against the wall and the pillows, but now laying on his side facing Eddie. He leans forward, just a little bit, hesitant like he isn’t quite sure Eddie wants this. 

At Eddie’s slight nod, Steve’s eyes slip shut and he moves closer again, nose nudging against Eddie’s, foreheads bumping, but not their lips. Not yet. Eddie just stays where he is, letting Steve lead into this with soft, hesitant bumps of their noses. He wonders if Steve’s ever hesitant like this with anyone else, he wonders if Steve’s as nervous as Eddie is right now. 

“You sure?” Steve breathes against his lips. “If you’re not sure, just tell me, we can table this for another time.”

“Steve,” Eddie whispers, a hint of a whine working its way up his throat. “Please.” 

And Steve kisses him, just barely at first, like he’s waiting for Eddie to pull away, but Eddie doesn’t. He won’t. Not even as Steve creates a breath of space between them, his heavy eyelids opening so they can look at each other in the dim lamplight. 

“Eddie,” he breathes like he just can’t believe they’re here. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”

And then Steve kisses him again, one hand coming up to brush Eddie’s hair from his face, tucking it tenderly behind his ear as he does it. Steve tastes like weed, but then Eddie does too, and that makes him laugh into Steve’s mouth, just a little chuckle that has Steve pulling away to look at him with confusion furrowing his brow. 

“I’m just happy right now,” Eddie whispers. 

Steve swipes his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip, pressing down on the scar that cuts through the middle of it, following the line down and to the left side of Eddie’s jaw. Another press of lips to his, slotting them together once more. It’s not gonna go much further than this, Eddie can tell, but it’s nice. 

“Me too,” Steve whispers. “Are you still gonna be happy in the morning?”

There is no world in which Eddie wouldn’t be happy about kissing Steve Harrington. 

He nods. Steve smiles, pressing it into Eddie’s cheek. 

“I’m really glad you called me,” Steve says again. “Not scared anymore, are you?”

“No,” Eddie answers. “I feel good.”

“Me too,” Steve agrees. 

“Sleepy, though,” Eddie admits. 

He knows Steve is feeling the same way, the way his eyes flutter shut and open slower after each blink. 

“You should sleep,” Steve tells him, nosing at his face again before stealing another kiss. 

“Will you still be here when I wake up?” Eddie asks. 

Because Steve can say he’s wanted this, he can say it’s not the weed talking, he can ask Eddie if he’ll still be happy in the morning. But none of that means Steve will actually stick around. Eddie’s been hurt too many times by too many people leaving to not worry.

“I’ll be here. Promise.”

“I’m glad I called, too. Just to be clear,” Eddie tells him. 

It earns him another soft kiss, and then Steve’s rolling away. 

“Where’re you going?”

“Thirsty.”

He gets their drinks and the chips from the gas station bag, and passes Eddie’s Mountain Dew over to him before cracking open his can of Coke. 

Eddie has a few sips of his and has to reach over Steve to put it on his nightstand. Fingers curl around his wrist as he draws it back, and Steve tugs him in close again. 

He feels heavy and light all at once, letting himself be moved to Steve’s liking. He ends up with his head on Steve’s chest, Steve playing with the rings on Eddie’s fingers. It’s like they do this all the time, like this isn’t the first time they’ve really hung out post-Vecna. 

It’s easy. 

Maybe that’s why Eddie called Steve in the first place. He makes everything feel a little bit easier, the way he just knows what to do for the people around them. Like getting someone their shoes and paying for their dinner is just second nature to him. 

Steve plays with Eddie’s rings until Eddie can’t stay awake any longer, and maybe he keeps going after Eddie slips away into sleep. If Byers stops by looking to buy, Eddie sleeps right through it. He only wakes briefly when Steve shifts out from under him and comes back a few minutes later, hands smelling like the soap from the bathroom.