the boy in the garden

Because Eddie thinks, after everything, after being what had stood between Eddie and death, after being what brought him back, after being there for everything that happened after, Steve Harrington just may see him better than anyone else does. Certainly, Eddie knows, loves him enough to.

Sleepily, now, Steve pulls him closer. Pulls him into his chest as he noses into Eddie’s curls, his palm resting on the give of Eddie’s stomach. 

“Eddie,” Steve mumbles, “I can hear you thinkin’ too hard.” He worms himself closer, tangling their legs together. “Wha’s wrong?”

He wants to tell him. Even if Steve never calls him anything but Eddie. Wants his boyfriend to know something about him that no one, now, but Wayne does. Wants to give him this piece of himself because he knows, no matter what, Steve would take good care of it.

Would take better care of it than his parents did.

Eddie rests his hand over Steve’s. Locks their fingers together. Soaks in the quiet of Steve’s bedroom, silent in comparison to the endless noise of the trailer park. “That’s not my real name, you know.” 

Eddie’s voice is just above a murmur and Steve, after a beat, shifts in response, obviously more awake now than he was a moment ago and Eddie turns in his hold, rotating to face his boyfriend’s sleep-drunk face. 

The face squints at him, blinking him into focus, eyebrows furrowed like he’s trying to catch up with Eddie’s words. 

“Eddie?” He repeats, still a little lost. 

Eddie nods, suddenly more self-conscious now than he was a moment ago. “It’s Theodore.”

For a moment, Steve doesn’t react. Just blinks again, in the near-complete darkness, against the strip of moonlight that’s broken through the gap in his curtains—

And then he smiles. Wide and warm and loving Steve smiles, bringing his face down to kiss Eddie on the cheek. “Theodore,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the name on his tongue, the syllables slow, like he’s savoring them, “I like it.” 

And Eddie knows he means it. Knows Steve understands what he’s given him. That he’s treasuring it.

Steve’s kiss to his cheek trails, and Eddie turns his head so his boyfriend can kiss along his jaw, behind his ear. He hums, the vibration felt through the press of his lips. 

“It feels like you.” Steve wraps his arms around him, squeezing tight. “Teddy,” he continues, his mouth still so close to Eddie’s neck he can feel how Steve’s lips move around the word, “cuddly like a teddy bear.”

Steve’s voice is still low and deep, sluggish with sleep and Eddie feels his face flush, feels his chest go cotton-candy soft as Steve buries himself in the crook of Eddie’s neck. “Never mind,” he grumbles, his words dripping affection, “you ruined it.”

Steve laughs, already calling bullshit, and holds him tighter in response, locking their legs back together. 

“Theodore,” he hums, “‘ve never heard Wayne call you that.”

The curtain shifts against the cool fall breeze, bathing the room in its soft white glow, and Steve tucks his face further into Eddie’s chest, hiding from the light of it. 

“Wayne doesn’t call me that,” Eddie replies, soft, and he fidgets, playing with the hem of his shirt, “you’re the only one who gets to call me that.”

Eddie watches as his words sink in. As Steve, slowly, uncurls himself from his hiding spot. 

His frown is back. Considering, now, instead of confused, and he brings up a hand to cup Eddie’s face. “Theodore,” he says, again, and Eddie doesn’t remember the last time someone said his name so many times in one night.

But he likes the way it sounds in Steve’s mouth. Likes the low timbre of Steve’s voice as he wraps his tongue around the words and the quiet reverence in which in says them. 

“Do you like Teddy?”

Again Eddie feels himself blush, feels his blood grow hot and his fingertips tingle under the affection that so easily comes to him, now. 

He’s still not used to it.

“I do.” He can’t even be an ass about it. Can’t pretend like he doesn’t when Steve’s looking at him so soft and fond, when his own heart feels like it’s going to turn into a puddle against his ribs.

Again Steve smiles, the considering frown dropping, and he switches their positions, again, so Eddie’s the one pressed to Steve’s chest.

He likes it here. As much as he loves to hold Steve, to wrap him up in his arms, he likes it here the best. Likes how the press of Steve’s skin always makes him feel so safe.

A kiss is placed to the top of Eddie’s head. “Love you, Teddy.” And already Steve’s voice is dropping, getting sleepier.

Eddie wriggles closer. Tucks their quilt up over their shoulders. “Love you too, Stevie.”

His heart beats, solid and sure, and Eddie knows, understood.

THIS FIC NOW HAS ART!!!! The link is here and please go shower it in all the love it deserves!!!!!

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