#hideous thing sbb

By the shed, though, two figures caught Steve's eye. A girl with a high, bouncy, blonde ponytail and Carver's letterman – Chrissy Cunningham. He often wondered why such a sweet girl was with Jason, she was always friendly with the basketball team and managed Jason's mood swings with ease, not that she should've had to. But beside her, half hidden in shadow, stood her total opposite.

Eddie Munson flicked the ash from his joint and laughed at something Chrissy said while he leaned against the metal shed with her. The distant fire caught, just barely, on the shine of his dark eyes and the curls of his hair. Steve wondered how he wasn't cold. Chrissy clutched her jacket close while Eddie's leather jacket and denim vest fell open to the cold autumn air, revealing some tee for a band Steve didn't know. He hadn't seen Eddie around since midway through his own senior year, Eddie's second attempt. But he hadn't come back to school after winter break.

The rumour mill churned out every kind of story about it – that he'd dropped out or gotten sick, or he'd died, or he stole a car and ran to the coast (whichever one seemed more dramatic). Seeing him here at Penny's party was surprising, either way. Must be back to dealing.

Steve's gaze lingered. He looked pale, but… good, smiling fondly at Chrissy as she kept speaking, something about the newest cheerleader. He had a dimple in his left cheek when he grinned, just above some intense scarring on his jaw Steve didn’t remember from school, but there was something with his teeth– 

These children that Steve surrounded himself with–or, from the stories Dustin had been telling, it sounded like they adopted him instead–were insanely brilliant and brave, and the way they talked about Steve now that he wasn’t around wasputting even more cracks in the walls Eddie had put up to keep Steve at a distance. Not that it’d been working well in the first place. Steve himself had smashed a hole through it when he offered Eddie his own blood (something Eddie did his level best to Not Think About), despite only knowing Eddie for a little over a week. But Dustin, Max, and El, all so much more like Eddie than Steve was in school, and yet here they were, describing how he’d stopped some kind of lost swamp creature from ruining a farmer’s field, and probably being killed for it, with nothing but his charm and a big bag of compost. What a big damn hero he was.

So, sue him if he’d been rethinking all of his Doctrine bullshit. Steve wasn’t King of Hawkins High anymore; he was grumpy on the mornings he had an early shift, he indulged Eddie’s long-winded ramblings, owned a terrifying amount of medieval weaponry, and he took care of his people. And Eddie had found himself temporarily counted amongst them. It chafed and made him feel special at the same time.

Sometimes he found himself sneaking around the gym attached to the monster hunter library while Steve–no, Harrington swung around all sorts of dangerous and spiky implements in a training regimen designed to put all his rippling muscles on very athletic display. Eddie told himself he was studying up. In the unlikely event that Harrington did turn on him, of course. It was the smart thing to do.

Eddie had zoned out thinking of said training when he heard a car door close outside. Snapped out of his daydream, Eddie's head twitched towards the noise, and when Max’s did too all the kids were on high alert.

“That’s not Steve and Robin,” Max warned.

Dustin looked at Eddie, wide-eyed, and Eddie felt his hands clench in the arm of the couch. “Maybe it’s one of your moms?” he suggested, but Max shook her head. “Fuck.”

“It’s fine, I’ll answer the door, people know me and Steve are like this,” Dustin wrapped his middle finger over his index, “so that shouldn’t give anything away. I’m here all the time!” His nonchalant shrug did nothing to conceal how his voice cracked nervously and Eddie’s confidence sank lower. “Y’know what, maybe they’re just turning around and won’t even knock–”

Three hesitant knocks echoed down the foyer and Dustin winced.

Max glared, unimpressed. “You jinxed it, moron.”

“Shut up!” he hissed. Waving his hands around like a manic conductor, Dustin made everyone sit in silence while he stared at the door. Eddie hoped this would work, just waiting the person out, but his hopes were dashed when they heard slightly more frantic rapping. “Shit. Alright. Time for Plan B. Eddie, prepare for Plan C.”

“What’s Plan C!?” Eddie whispered anxiously. He hid his face in his hands when Dustin copied Eddie’s Dracula pose from earlier. “No, no, absolutely not, Dustin. Wait, hey!”

The kid raced to the door when the knocking came back and Eddie flung himself to the floor to not risk being seen. The sound of the lock was all the warning he got before Dustin opened the door and: “Oh, um. Hi there, you’re Steve’s friend right?” Eddie knew that voice. “Is he here still?”

Eddie popped up over the couch. “Chris?”

She grinned and waved, so Eddie scrambled off the floor and ran to tug her inside, deftly avoiding the sunshine, then wrapped her in a tight hug. Seeing her was more of a relief than he’d thought. Being stuck in Steve’s house without his stuff, his friends, his uncle…

“Oh fuck, I forgot to leave a note for Wayne.”

Chrissy snort-laughed into his shirt. “He called me and I told him you were okay, but I had to make sure.” She stepped back. “You do look okay. Good, actually. Even though, uh,” she trailed off and saw Dustin standing at the closed door wiggling his eyebrows at Eddie.

He narrowed his eyes at Dustin and subtly shook his head, only getting an eye roll in return. “We’ll talk about that later, I think,” Eddie said. “In the meantime, wanna help me babysit?”

After introductions were made–and El made Chrissy giggle when she bluntly but admiringly stated, “You’re very pretty,”–and they’d all settled back in, Eddie found that Chrissy fit right in. Dustin was a little starstruck at first, which Eddie chalked up to the whole freshman nerd kid and senior cheerleader thing, but as soon as she started asking about the summer camp hat he wore he started infodumping like his life depended on it. Chrissy, used to listening to Eddie’s endless speeches, participated like a pro. The way Dustin’s grin kept growing made Eddie think she’d just earned a friend for life. Eventually Max peeled Dustin away from Chrissy with a few well-placed taunts so she and Eddie could catch up.

Chrissy’s life had been going along as normal, though she’d been keeping tabs on Jason just in case, she told Eddie. He wished that hadn’t made her wince with guilty regret, but they’d fought before over her relationship with him so badly once it nearly cost him their friendship, so he kept his opinion to himself. As far as she knew, though, Jason was acting normally.

Eddie had a little more to talk about. Gossiping about Steve with her was a relief; who knew he’d learn so much about the former King in just a few weeks of forced cohabitation?

“You know, he mumbles to himself,” Eddie said, ignoring that he was also mumbling. “He’ll mumble and when I try to talk back he gets in a little snit and says ‘I wasn’t talking to you!’” Chrissy giggled at his very poor impression of Steve’s voice. “What does he expect me to do? He asks himself questions and I answer and he gets all bitchy at me. But I can’t win, because, get this, he’ll bitch at me again when I don’t respond because he’s mumbling in the same damn tone!”

Eyes sparkling with mirth, Chrissy covered her smile with a hand, her knees tucked up to her chest on the couch. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” she teased.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie said, eyes narrowed. Her smile grew wider behind her hand, and when she raised an eyebrow he folded his arms. “Don’t get any ideas, Cunningham.”

“No, nope, no ideas.”

He glared at her for a few more seconds before a song came on over the TV that jogged his memory and he pointed at the screen. “And you know what else he does? He sings. Into objects. Like his hairdryer, straight out of the movies like a weirdo!”

A loud snort caught his attention and Eddie’s gaze snapped to Max who was watching Eddie from the corner of her eyes with a smug, knowing expression. He felt like a deer in headlights suddenly, until Max rolled her eyes and went back to talking to El and Dustin.

“Despite all that, looks like you’re doing pretty well here. And you don’t seem, um, thirsty.” She whispered the last word with a curious quirk to her brow, and Eddie shrugged.

“Got it covered, the last time. You don’t need to worry about me so much, Chris, you’ve got your own stuff to handle.”

“Yeah, okay, my best friend being framed for murder isn’t something to worry about,” she said, rolling her eyes before turning sombre. “Eddie, I’m gonna worry until you’re safe. I hate that I can’t do anything about it.”

Eddie shifted in his seat. He was always uncomfortable with people worrying over him, but it’s not like she was wrong. This was serious, the worst scrape he’d ever been in and he didn’t even know why it was happening in the first place. Dragging a hand down his face, he heaved a sigh and looked down at the floor. “Sorry, Chris. You’re doing enough just by being here.”

Her mouth pursed unhappily, but before she could say anything more, car doors slammed outside once again and Max perked up.

“Steve’s home.”

Before he could react, the door flung open and Steve stood there, his eyes darting across the group. When he caught sight of Chrissy, he sagged. Robin, right behind him, looked ready to fight until she also saw that everyone was fine.

Eddie tracked Steve as he trudged up the stairs without a word. He was smeared all over with dirt, his face grim and tense, but the walkway above obscured him from view before Eddie could get a better read on him. Robin drifted into the living room and curled up into the one empty chair, almost swallowed by the plush cushions. Dustin got up and switched the TV off.

“What happened?” he asked.

“‘Nother werewolf,” Robin said quietly, and the words spread like a shockwave through all of them.

So, Dustin’s plan had worked. The killer struck again, proving that Eddie was innocent, but also that there was someone with a vendetta against werewolves. Steve must’ve had to bury the body too, and that made Eddie’s stomach drop to his feet. With a glance up, he saw Max looking more stormy than usual. She, Robin, and Steve were all in danger, then, more so than Eddie himself was, in his opinion, and now he really understood how Chrissy felt. How could he help them, stuck in this house, unable to go out in the daytime, waiting for the killer’s next move? His hands started to shake, whether it was with fear or anger he couldn’t tell, but he stuck them under his armpits and squeezed, ignoring the way his jaw tensed and his leg started to bounce.

“I’m so sorry, Robin,” Chrissy whispered, and Robin’s head snapped up like she didn’t even realise Chrissy was there, her eyes going wide.

Robin nodded, her surprise quickly eaten away by dread and she murmured a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Were there any new clues?” Dustin asked with an unusual amount of respect.

“Steve and Hopper didn’t find anything, but Jason Carver showed up and said some things. Steve could tell it better but, uh, he should rest. This was… hard on him.”

“Jason?” Chrissy frowned.

“Yeah, I dunno, something about finding the body first but Steve didn’t really wanna talk about it. I think, maybe, we should talk about it in a day or something.” Robin fidgeted with her rings, looking from Chrissy to upstairs to the floor.

Eddie’s eyes were drawn to the upper floor where he could still faintly hear Steve’s heartbeat, the occasional foot fall, like he was pacing but trying to be quiet about it. His lips pursed into a thin, worried line.

“He didn’t tell you anything?” Dustin asked.

Robin gave him an unexpectedly angry look, so Eddie jumped in. “Dustin, man, you’ve been researching all day, give it a break alright?”

“But–”

“Push it and I’ll tell Jeff to kill off your beloved little warlock next session.”

Dustin’s eyes narrowed, but Eddie’s serious tone must’ve gotten through to him because all he did was huff and cross his arms.

“Maybe we should go,” El said, looking upstairs now too.

“I can’t drive, and Eddie can’t until tonight.”

“Shouldn’t leave at all, probably,” Eddie added dourly.

“I can drive you.” Everyone turned to Chrissy. “I’ve got my mom’s station wagon. It’s no trouble.”

Eddie nudged Chrissy with his knee. “You sure you wanna handle these gremlins?” he teased.

“I’ll keep him in line,” Max smirked while Dustin pouted.

Dustin crossed his arms and tilted his head back imperiously. “Eddie said grem-lins, plural, Maxine.”

“You’re pushing it, nerd.”

Robin stood in a sudden flurry of movement. “Okay! Better get all of you gremlins home before Chrissy decides to take back her very generous offer. Come on, shoes on, chop chop!” She clapped her hands in a way that Eddie intrinsically knew came from Steve, and the kids all stood and started towards the door for their shoes.

El, though, stopped beside Eddie. “Can you thank Steve for having us over for us please?” She said it so seriously, so earnestly, that Eddie swore his heart grew two sizes.

“Of course kiddo.” He reached out and ruffled her long hair, and she giggled while leaning away.

When Chrissy got up to leave, Eddie joined her, wrapping her in another hug before she left. “Thanks for taking everyone home.”

She shrugged. “It’s something I can do, at least. And, well, maybe Robin can tell me a little more about what Steve might’ve said about Jason. I’m… I’m really worried, Eddie.”

“I know Chris. I’m sorry.” He squeezed her a little tighter. “We’ll figure it out.”

With the brats corralled, Eddie waved them off from the shade of the doorway. Robin gave him a short, awkward wave, a blush over her cheeks when Chrissy put her hand on the back of her seat to back out of the driveway, and Eddie filed that away for another time. Then he shut the door against the sunlight and returned to the now eerily silent house.

It was something he noticed the longer he stayed here. When Steve was away at work, Eddie left to his own devices, all he had to do was read the books he’d brought, maybe snoop around for some others, plunk away at his guitar and fill the silence with the old records that the Harringtons left to collect dust. But even with the music playing, the house seemed to absorb noise, like a museum. And there were barely any signs of life, except for the occasional bit of mess that Steve left around when he ran out of time in the mornings. Everything that Steve left alone: the whole dining room, entire guest rooms, even the hallways seemed to eat noise and repel clutter that showed anyone lived there, even Steve.

Eddie had, admittedly, snuck into Steve’s room once or twice. He’d left the door open, what was a curious, bored vampire expected to do? There, thankfully, was some personality, though the awful plaid wallpaper did its best to drown it out. The messed up bed that Steve couldn’t be bothered to fix up, a few clothes scattered by his hamper, some magazines–sports, mostly, and some gossip mags, to Eddie’s disappointment–piled on his nightstand. He didn’t bother poking around in any drawers, didn’t want to risk moving too much in case Steve caught on and got miffed.

What did Steve even do in this house all alone? What did he do before he had to cohabitate with Eddie, who, he would readily and sometimes proudly admit about himself, was a rather irritating guest at times. Eddie kinda hated thinking about it too hard.

But right now, the silence was disturbed, just barely. Eddie could still hear the pacing above.

He was torn. Something in Eddie wanted to check on him, but Steve hadn’t come down to even speak to the kids. He would’ve heard them leaving. Would he even want the nosy freeloader in his house knocking at his door?

His feet started to move towards the stairs before he even decided. Each stair he climbed, he tried convincing himself that he was just heading to his own room–not his room, the guest room, nothing in this place was his, jesus–but he passed the door that he should have stopped at. Kept going to the end of the hall, and the pacing stopped.

“Hey, uh, Steve?” Eddie knocked on the doorframe, even though it was completely unnecessary. “You alright in there?”

No response. Eddie could hear Steve’s heart, racing too fast to be mistaken for calm. A few seconds passed. A few more.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled. Turning, he was about to walk back to his room when the door opened.

“It’s fine.”

Steve had one hand on the door, the other hanging limp at his side. He was still covered in dirt; smelled like it too, fresh soil and sweat, and something distinctly off and Eddie had to fight wrinkling his nose at. It made Steve look pale, and Eddie felt that was wrong. Steve was built for the sun, for being golden, he shouldn’t look pale.

“You should shower, dude,” Eddie said, trying to a rueful smile, but the humour didn’t land. Steve just shrugged it off.

“I guess. I will.” He turned and wandered back into his room, leaving the door open, and Eddie couldn’t find a reason not to follow. It felt enough like an invitation. Walking in, he tried to make it seem like he was seeing the bedroom for the first time, but Steve scoffed.

“I know you’ve been in here, Eddie, I could smell you in here when I got home once, you don’t have to put on an act.”

Eddie stiffened. “Oh. Uh. Sorry dude.”

“Whatever. I kind of expected it.”

“That’s a lot of trust you’re placing in the resident drug dealer.”

Steve shot him an unimpressed look. “You sell weed, Eddie,” he said flatly. Wobbling his head, Eddie mouthed the words back at Steve silently, mockingly, which finally drew a tired laugh from him. It wasn’t the kind of laughter he could get after verbally tearing Frank Sinatra to shreds while they got high on the living room floor, but it was good enough. The sound didn’t last, though, fading like every other sound in this fucking house, leaving a gaping silence where they both stood awkwardly, a few scant feet between them.

Eddie shifted on his feet, stuck his hands in his pockets then took them out and folded his arms over his chest. Meanwhile, he watched Steve, who couldn’t look up from the carpet. “You probably don’t want me lingering around in your domicile, so I’ll just–”

“Are you thirsty?”

Now that, that rang out through the room. “What?”

“You spent all day around the kids, and you haven’t fed since, uh, since last time when everyone was around.” Steve finally looked up from the carpet, something burning in his eyes.

“Nah, I’m fine, pretty good actually,” Eddie stumbled out.

“You said you fed from Chrissy every few days though.”

Truth was, Eddie was hungry. It was sort of an ever-present thing, though easy to manage once he’d learned how to sate it in a way that actually satisfied him. And yeah, it had been a few days since he’d bitten Steve’s wrist, but the way Steve acted around him the next day–flighty and awkward, not sticking around in the same room too long–made Eddie less than inclined to ask for more.

“I can deal, Harrington, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.” Steve started walking closer. There was a determination, a heat, in his gaze that made Eddie feel a little warm and jumpy, and he started backing up. “You should be in peak condition if something happens. And I–”

Steve reached out behind Eddie and closed the door, Eddie having to back up against it, trapping them both in the horribly plaid room that Eddie couldn’t even see, because Steve was right there, in his space, so close Eddie could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Steve’s arm was still outstretched, hand pressed against the door by Eddie’s head.

“I want you to.”

Heat flashed under Eddie’s skin, his sluggish heart beating faster. “What the fuck do you mean, man?”

“I mean.” Steve ran a head through his hair, messing it up worse, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “It makes me feel good–better. The bite. And, you gotta drink, so it’s like. Win-win or whatever.”

“Win-win?” Eddie said, high and nervy, “The hell? How does it make you feel good?”

“Just, please?”

His voice sent a lance of desire and hunger through Eddie’s spine. Steve’s face looked haggard, dirt caked into every worryline, but something burned in his eyes, something needy, and he was so fucking close they were sharing breath. Eddie could see the blood coursing through his neck, the artery so close to the skin, and he must’ve stared long enough, hesitated enough, that it spurred Steve on. He deliberately pulled down the collar of his shirt and tilted his head to the side, baring his long, freckled neck to Eddie.

That desperate, unnatural hunger that had haunted Eddie since he woke up on a cold forest floor in Chrissy’s arms, ever-present and voracious, grew like arousal in Eddie’s gut. Saliva pooled under his tongue and, unbidden, his teeth began to elongate as his gaze locked onto that pulsing rush tantalisingly close to his face. The longer he looked, the faster Steve’s heart raced, the more tempting he was, the warm scent of his heightened emotions wafting into the air like wine and pulling Eddie closer.

Just a taste, he promised himself. 

Eddie let one of his hands wrap around the back of Steve’s neck, fingers threading through his soft hair, while he grabbed the hand Steve was using to hold the shirt down, pulling it further out of the way. One last glance at Steve’s face, and Eddie saw his eyes had gone heavy-lidded, his mouth dropping open just slightly when Steve caught sight of Eddie’s fangs. Cocking one eyebrow, he tilted his head further, into Eddie’s waiting palm, trusting he’d be held, and Eddie couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

He surged forward, and bit into Steve’s neck. The first gush of rich, metallic blood made Eddie groan and Steve gasp. Instinct made Eddie bite harder, deeper, his teeth sinking without resistance into flesh and muscle.  Eddie’s fingers clenched where they held Steve, pressing him flush against his own body. Steve didn’t even flinch, seeming to arch into the touch, panting. His skin flushed; Eddie could feel the flood of warmth down Steve’s neck from his face as it bloomed against Eddie’s cheek.

Feeling bold and ravenous, Eddie withdrew from Steve’s neck to manhandle him against the door instead, slamming him against it with a bang and pressing against the long line of his body before licking up the rivulets dripping from the punctures. The soft oh he drew from Steve felt as intoxicating as his blood. Clinging to Steve like he was, Eddie didn’t feel his hands move until Steve’s fingers dug into his side, keeping Eddie close.

Steve’s free hand clutched Eddie’s, the one resting on the unmarred side of his neck, twining their fingers together and squeezing, and Eddie’s breath hitched as he squeezed back. He laved the flat of his tongue over the wounds before pressing his lips around them in an open-mouthed kiss and sucked, drawing a fresh flood to the surface. The taste was fucking addictive. Something lurked in Steve’s blood that made the most base, monstrous parts of Eddie sing and snarl with greed, something heated and needy.

It clicked, when Steve’s hand roved down. Grabbed Eddie’s ass though his jeans to hold him still while Steve rocked his hips up, his hard dick brushing against Eddie’s own and making them both moan. And oh shit, Eddie was so hard it was painful.

That taste was desire, hormone-spiked blood, more potent than any drug or liquor Eddie’s ever had. The instant he placed it, he knew he wanted more. More blood, more of Steve. He met the next roll of hips with a reedy whimper, muffled against Steve’s neck as he still drank deeply of that heady taste, let Steve’s hand guide him this time, enjoying the thrill of being led. Until.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve groaned, low but loud in Eddie’s ear, and reality crashed down around him.

Eddie shoved himself off of Steve, ripping himself out of his grasp and pressing the back of his hand to his blood-stained mouth. Wide, panicked eyes met Steve’s, still heavy-lidded and dark but growing confused. God, what a vision he was as he leaned against the door, gasping for breath and hard in his jeans, flushed deliciously red despite being drank from like a fucking juice box. It was… it was terrifying. Fear sparked and caught in Eddie’s chest. What the fuck was he thinking!?

Brows furrowed, Steve stepped forward. “Eddie? What is it?”

“Shit.”

Eddie bolted. Dodged past Steve, whipped the door open and ran to the guest room as fast as his unnatural speed let him. He slammed the door behind himself and braced against it, scared that Steve would try to bust it down as soon as he came to his senses. And he would. There was no fucking way Eddie could get away with that.

He knew his bite did something. Chrissy had tried to do research for him, but couldn’t find much without Jason catching on, but she’d told him the bite makes prey less likely to fight back. But she’d only ever relaxed, like getting high, not–not like Steve trying to rub one out on him. Not like moaning Eddie’s name while they were so close together Eddie could still feel how it rumbled in his own chest.

Anxiously, Eddie licked his lips and only tasted Steve, wincing at how that made his cock throb against his zipper. “Shit,” he whispered shakily. A manic laugh threatened to bubble up but he swallowed it back.

That was so stupid. All of it. He should’ve realised as soon as Steve asked to be bitten again that something wasn’t normal about this and put a stop to it. Could’ve called Chrissy; she was coming by tomorrow anyway. Now he had to worry about Steve kicking him out and forcing him to walk home with the murderer still at large. The one who fucking framed him, for a reason none of them have discovered yet. He let his head fall back against the door with a hollow thud, and waited.

Minutes passed, then hours. The sun began to set, and Eddie found himself anxiously pacing around the room, packing his duffel bag then unpacking it, his clothes strewn out of it like a racoon had rifled through them all and found his wardrobe lacking. Yet through his own chaos, Eddie couldn’t stop himself from keeping an ear out for Steve.

He hadn’t left his room, not once. Sometimes he paced, and Eddie caught the occasional frustrated huff. When Steve’s habit of talking to himself kicked in, Eddie resolutely ignored it–meaning, of course, that he listened anyway but felt deeply guilty about it. But nothing he heard made any logical sense. “What did I do?” spat as a frustrated whisper was the most baffling, but Eddie refused to contemplate that it might mean anything other than Steve wondering how he’d gotten suckered into bumping clothed uglies with The Freak.

So Eddie paced and unpacked and re-packed and stewed over the countless stupid life choices he’d made to bring him to this moment until the sun was well beyond the horizon and his hair was a frizzy mess with how often he’d been digging his fingers into it. The carpet, shockingly, didn’t show a single dent with all the trudging around he’d done.

Simultaneously wiped out and still wound up, Eddie flopped onto the bed with an explosive sigh and slapped his palms over his face, grunting loudly. If Steve was debating whether he would kick Eddie out or not, he’d rather Steve get on with it and put him out of his misery before the sun came up. He didn’t want to burn to a crisp before he got to see Wayne again.

“Fuck it,” came another irritated whisper from Steve’s room. Eddie braced himself for stomping down the hall, for Steve ripping the door open, furious, demanding that Eddie leave. Instead, he heard bed springs squeak. It took little effort for him to listen closer, frowning in confusion.

Then, Eddie heard the quiet zip of jeans being undone, and shuffling. A relieved sigh.

What?

Was Steve doing what Eddie thought he was doing? There was no way. No fucking way. Sure, Eddie had been staving off the raging hormones he’d drank straight from Steve’s veins all night with little success, hoping he’d burn through them with his pacing and ignoring how he’d been half-hard for most of it. Steve had to have crashed from the high by now.

And yet. There was a hitched breath from behind the two doors separating them. Eddie swallowed, and dragged his hands down his face, letting them flop to his sides. This might be Steve’s home, but did he really have to do this now?

Eddie didn’t even want to admit what had happened, not that it helped. With Steve apparently jerking it just down the hall, though, the images rose unbidden behind Eddie’s scrunched eyelids anyway. How the blood flowed slowly over the tendon in Steve’s neck to pool in the divot between his collarbones, the dark desire in his blown-out pupils. The way Steve’s fingers dug into the meat of Eddie’s ass to pull him where Steve wanted, right against his cock.

The sound of Eddie’s name in Steve’s mouth as his lips brushed Eddie’s ear.

He swore soundlessly. Wriggling a little and hissing at the growing tightness in his pants, Eddie sent up prayers to whatever deity was listening to make him Not Horny. No thoughts of old people or relatives or complex dungeon traps could take his mind, or his hearing, off of Steve masturbating quietly just a few feet away. Didn’t he realise that Eddie could hear him? Steve wasn’t the only one with super hearing. It was rude, and terrible hosting behaviour, and–

Steve moaned softly, though it cut off like he knew he might be heard–too fucking late for that–and Eddie wanted to scream in frustration so badly he clamped his hand over his mouth. His dick throbbed, though, at the new sounds echoing his way. Wet, slick sounds.

Fuck. Swallowing down a wave of guilt, Eddie let his hand trail over the bedspread, along his hip, and cupped his dick through his jeans with a shuddery sigh. He bit his lips together to make sure no noises escaped as he squeezed himself. It’d been too long. Out of respect to his werewolf host, he’d hadn’t rubbed one out the whole time he’d been at Steve’s. Steve, apparently, had no such reservations. So…

So why not? Why the hell not. Eddie undid his fly and quietly as he could slipped his cock out, already hard, the tip flushed red. He couldn’t help remembering that he had Steve’s blood in his body now. How he’d tasted. Breathing heavily, Eddie stroked himself, thinking of the way Steve’s plush lips parted, the fire in his eyes as he begged Eddie to bite him… how big his cock felt, though it was trapped in his jeans.

The familiar weight of his own cock twitched in his hand, a spurt of precome dripping down, slicking the way. He could hear how Steve’s heart rate picked up now that he’d given up trying not to listen; now that it, too, had become familiar.

Steve made another sound. A groan, deep in his chest. Eddie’s mouth dropped open with a harsh sigh. He was so fucking turned on. The taboo of listening to Steve get off, jacking off to it, praying Steve couldn’t hear him too, made that frisson under his skin rise and burn so fast Eddie started to feel breathless, wound tight.

He stroked himself faster, hips canting up into his grip, desperate to chase the feeling as he imagined how Steve looked sprawled on his bed with his massive hand wrapped around his cock. Eddie couldn’t help wondering what it’d feel like to have Steve’s hand replace his own and that image made him clamp his mouth shut around a quiet whimper. 

Eddie heard Steve swear again, his voice going a little higher, and Eddie found himself nodding, like the other man could see him. He wanted to be seen. Wanted Steve to rush in, see him furiously pumping his dick and know exactly what got him here. Maybe he’d crowd Eddie against the bed and start to take him apart with his long fingers, grind their cocks together, fuck his way inside as they kissed all heated and dirty and chant Eddie’s name–

Steve moaned, then, quiet enough that Eddie almost missed what he said.

“Eddie.”

Shock forced a desperate whine out of Eddie’s throat before he choked it off with a gasp. Oh shit. Oh shit. He froze, could tell Steve had too. Steve heard him. He knew. He felt his heart in his throat, thundering away.

Until he heard it again. A tentative, “Eddie?” from down the hall. Confirming he’d been caught. Why didn’t Steve sound pissed?

There was the distinct click of a cap being opened. Still frozen, Eddie couldn’t believe his ears when he heard Steve start up again, jerking himself off slower now, the sounds slicker, wetter. He… he knew Eddie was listening, could easily guess why Eddie had fucking whined like that, and he was still…

God. Fuck. Oh fuck that was hot. And terrifying. How the hell was this even happening!?

Steve keened, loudly, and Eddie cursed as his hips bucked helplessly into the hand still wrapped around his aching cock. This was insane, absolutely nuts; Eddie had never even thought of something like this despite his expansive and wildly horny imagination. But he followed suit and started fucking into his fist, fast and filthy, past the point of caring that Steve could hear the bed creaking slightly with his movements.

And then Steve did it again. “Fuck, Eddie,” he moaned. Deliberately. Eddie couldn’t hold back the needy cry that rose from his throat, muffled as he bit his lip against the growing pleasure sparking along his nerves. He was gonna come, quickly, felt it barreling closer like a freight train. Steve wasn’t holding back his sounds anymore either, every gasp and groan unconcealed, stroking his cock without any fucking shame.

Eddie was shaking, panting hard, losing his rhythm. Thoughtlessly he started to beg, “Please, please please please.”

“Shit, yeah, do it, c’mon Eddie,” Steve urged, “gonna come too, oh shit!”

Fireworks exploded behind his eyes. Every muscle in Eddie’s body seized as he came, whining so fucking loud as he spilled over his fingers, cum splattering his shirt and soaking in warm and sticky, cock pulsing hard when he heard Steve cry out, a satisfied, guttural thing. Gasping for breath, Eddie went limp on the bed, his mind empty of all thought except for the way Steve moaned his name, how he sounded when he came.

There was no more movement from Steve’s room. Eddie could hear him in there, his breathing evening out along with his heartbeat, but he didn’t get up.

Was he waiting for Eddie? There was no way he’d go over there himself. He was still processing the everything that just happened. What if Steve had still been affected by the bite, and now that he’d gotten it out of his system he regretted literally jacking off with Eddie? More or less.

It had been a good night. He’d made a few deals, enough to slip Wayne a bit of rent before he’d left for the plant and kept some for his new guitar fund. The thought made Eddie grin. Shifting, he glanced at the cut out ad from the metal magazine he’d snagged from the record store, taped up on the mirror. An old cigar box sat beside his Fender amp, propped open with the steadily growing stash solely for the Warlock. He couldn’t fucking wait to get his hands on it. Wayne’s old guitar was great, sure, but a Guyatone is no Warlock. Soon as he had his hands on that pretty thing, he’d be unstoppable. Y’know, figuratively.

Sighing, he flopped back onto his bed and recounted the money in his head, the calculations easy after all the times he’d run them through. If he’d had a motivator like this in school, maybe he’d actually bother to pay attention in math class.

Not that it mattered anymore. Kinda hard to attend class when sunlight burned  his skin like gasoline on a bonfire. Turns out, being a vampire wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Eddie should’ve taken Louis de Pointe du Lac more seriously instead of rolling his eyes at the book and calling him dramatic. And he knew dramatic. Who wouldn’t want to live forever as a badass creature of the night? Well, he ate those words for sure.

He sings along to another song now, the rapid drumbeat pulling him out of his tiny pity party. “Now you’re alone but alive for how long? Dead men tell no tales,” he rasps out, throat dry from the smoke, but managed to wail along and play some air guitar with a small grin.

It would’ve drowned out the knock on the trailer’s front door, should have if not for the whole “vampire thing.” But little escaped his notice now. It was annoying when the neighbours in the Winnebago a few lots down wouldn’t do the decent thing and fuck quietly. It’s like they didn’t care that a creature of the night lurked amongst them. The nerve of some people.

The knocking came again, more demanding this time, and Eddie groaned loudly. Not bothering to turn off the cassette, he rolled out of bed with a frown and stomped down the hall. As he unlocked the door, he started speaking.

“If you’re not a petite blonde or looking to get high, you’d better have a great fucking excuse for–”

The words died out as soon as he saw Steve Harrington looking up at him from the bottom of Eddie’s stoop, half lit by the light from the kitchen, half shaded by Eddie’s silhouette. One of his eyebrows twitched up quizzically, as if Eddie was the odd man out here. He nearly laughed before his throat closed around the sound.

Not only was it weird to see Harrington gracing the Forest Hills trailer park with his presence; not only was it strange to see Harrington at his door when they’d barely even interacted before. It was fucking terrifying. Eddie knew what he was. Chrissy had told him. Steve Harrington, star of multiple Hawkins High sports teams in his day, rich and entitled asshole hailing from hoity-toity Loch Nora, hunted goddamn monsters on the side for funsies. And Eddie, of course, was one of those monsters.

Shit.

“Well, well, well. The Hair Himself at my humble abode. To what do I owe the honour?” Eddie asked with a tight smirk, bowing sarcastically.

“Uh,” Steve said eloquently. His eyes darted over Eddie as he straightened out of his bow, his confused eyebrow drawing higher. “Just hoping to buy some weed, man.”

Eddie hesitated. Weighed his options. “Fine. One sec,” he said, turning back inside. He went to close the door and leave Harrington waiting outside, but Harrington jogged up the steps, following like a lost puppy, and Eddie froze, staring at him.

“What, you’re really leaving me outside? It’s cold,” Harrington said. It must be, Eddie figured, though he didn’t exactly feel the cold anymore. But Harrington had shown up in a polo of all things, not a jacket or sweater to be seen.

Had he planned it that way? It was a good excuse to get inside, and if Eddie denied it he’d be an asshole at best, but look suspicious at worst. Or, y’know, more so than the rest of Hawkins already thought. Eddie might seem like he was hiding something. He hated being out-schemed.

“Bring a jacket next time,” he sneered, but left the door for Harrington to close behind himself. 

Trudging to his room, Eddie heard Harrington follow a short distance behind. His heart beat faster than its usual sluggish pace, knowing he now had a whole-ass monster hunter in his home, had turned his back to the guy even. Jesus christ. If he survived this–if Harrington really was just after some weed–he’d thank whatever unholy thing probably held his undead soul captive for letting him see another night.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t got much left, so you might be S.O.L. if you’re looking for more than a few grams.”

“Got any pre-rolled? Kinda bad at doing it myself.”

“Of course,” Eddie muttered to himself. Then, louder and sarcastically sweetly, “I’ll whip one up just for you, sweetheart.”

“Thanks.” He heard Harrington give a short laugh.

In his room, Eddie gestured to the one chair least covered in dirty clothes. “Make yourself at home.”

Harrington stared down at the clothes pile before apparently deciding to lean against his dresser, arms crossed over his chest. Eddie fished his lunchbox out from under his bed–sending a few dust bunnies and crumpled campaign notes scattering–and sat on his bed with a huff, watching from under his bangs as Harrington awkwardly took up space. He’d started to aimlessly rifle through the various odds and ends piled on the dresser.

“You’re nosy,” Eddie commented dryly, and Harrington withdrew his wandering fingers, tucking them back under his arms. Unfortunately for Eddie, he could sense the flush of embarrassment that flooded Harrington’s cheeks, blood tingeing his cheeks just the slightest bit pink that might as well have been a flashing neon sign to Eddie’s ever-present hunger, even if it did smell a little… different. Must be something about hunters, and that thought pulled Eddie right back to the present. Telling himself to screw his goddamn head back on straight, or as straight as it could be, Eddie pulled out some rolling papers, weed, and a grinder and got to work.

“So what’ve you been up to these days?”

Eddie snorted at the question. “Don’t need to make small talk, dude, awkward silences are just fine with me.”

“I wasn’t- I’m just curious, Munson. Don’t see you around town much.”

“So you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” Eddie tried his best to sound not terrified. Maybe leaned a little too flirty, but it was hard to control the impulse when the thought of Harrington watching out for him sends a thread of panic down his spine. It might prove to be a decent distraction at least.

Scoffing, Harrington said, “Nah, you’re just hard to miss.”

That, at least, made Eddie laugh some. “Got that right,” he mumbled, shaking the grinder out into a rolling paper. “Been up to this, Harrington. Selling illicit substances to the not-so-sober populace of Hawkins. Maybe playing a few shows at The Hideout once in a blue moon.”

“That’s all, huh?”

He sounded casually judgemental, even stood there examining his nails, but Eddie didn’t miss the keen way those brown eyes met his briefly before glancing down to his chest. Eddie swallowed.

“What, not good enough for you?”

“Just saw you at Penny’s party last weekend, hanging out with Chrissy Cunningham is all.”

Eddie’s fingers paused around the half-rolled joint. He couldn’t look up. Forced his hands back into their habitual motions. “Yeah. I go to parties sometimes. Kinda part of the job.”

Silence stretched like frost between them, a chilly, widening divide, while Eddie finished the joint. Somehow he managed to keep his hands from shaking. Eventually, he had to look up, so he did and held the joint out across the chasm of the small room.

Harrington was watching him. Really, it felt like he hadn’t taken his eyes off Eddie since his first question, his gaze intense. His stomach threatened to drop through the floor.

“You guys go anywhere else that night?”

He blinked. “What- is that what this is about?” He stood and tossed the joint to the floor. “Did fucking Carver send you? Is that asshole seriously sending his old basketball buddy to come intimidate me because he thinks ‘his girl’ is fucking another guy? Well, newsflash shithead, we didn’t do anything!” Eddie glared at Harrington as he stomped towards him, ignoring the voice in his head telling him to calm the hell down. He really couldn’t afford to lose control. But he was tired of getting kicked around by these fuckers for no actual reason, and he sure wasn’t going to let them drag Chrissy through the mud either.

To his credit, Harrington stood his ground as Eddie stalked forward. “That’s not what this is–”

“Oh, it’s not?” Sarcasm dripped from Eddie’s words. “Good. Then get the fuck out of my house.”

“No.”

“Fuck you, Harrington. Get. Out–”

With a single step, Harrington got right in Eddie’s face. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, he brought his free hand to Eddie’s face and before he could pull away Harrington jabbed his thumb against Eddie’s lips. His upper lip. Pushing, he exposed Eddie’s teeth. Eddie froze.

Oh fuck.

“Weird how your teeth got pointier the angrier you got, Munson.”

Breath caught in Eddie’s lungs. Not that he needed to breathe anymore. But as his wide, panicked eyes stared into Harrington’s cold, single-minded stare, he still felt like choking on air. That thumb still pressed against his sharpened canine tooth, the warmth of it as shocking as it was… enticing. Eddie could feel the subtle pulse of blood under the pad and, unbidden and unwanted, he started to salivate. Goddamnit, this wasn’t the time.

“Listen–” he began, his tongue brushing against that fucking thumb and sending a wave of hunger through him right as Harrington tore his hand away from his mouth with a sneer. “Man, I swear, I haven’t done anything or killed anyone-”

“So that werewolf in the woods out back was, what? A ghost?”

“Sorry, werewolf?”

Harrington yanked him closer. “Don’t play dumb, Munson.”

“I’m not!” Eddie yelled, but Harrington wouldn’t budge. He could hear it, in his elevated but steady heartbeat, saw it in the set of his brow. Shit. Shit.

Whatever. He was just a fucking human. Trained to fight things like Eddie, sure, but that’s all. Eddie wasn’t.

The low light of his room grew brighter as his eyes changed. He could see, now, the faint jump in Harrington’s neck, but pushed it aside. Grabbing Harrington’s arm, hand still clutching his shirt, Eddie twisted, fast, faster than a human. The momentum, the speed, sent Harrington stumbling. His knees hit the bed, but before he had the chance to recover, Eddie ran.

As he sped down the hall, a low growl rumbled out of his room. “What the fuck. What the fuck!?” he panted.

Rapid footsteps thundered behind him. Eddie’s hair stood on end. Reaching the door, he went to throw it open, desperate to get the hell out of there, but Harrington slammed into him. A broad hand shut the door with enough force to knock mugs off the wall and rattle the window. Another landed on his back. Eddie’s face and chest hit the door. He let out a pained groan, wincing his eyes open.

There, right by his face, was the hand Harrington had been examining earlier. Only the blunt nails were growing. Thick brown hair started to sprout from the back of his hand as dark, curved nails–claws–embedded themselves in the metal of the trailer door with a muted squeak.

“What the fuck are you, man!?” Eddie’s voice broke, raw and breathless. The hand on his back grabbed his shirt and flung him towards the living room. Nearly tripping, Eddie floundered until he found his footing, spinning to face whatever Harrington was turning into as fear clawed its way up his throat.

Standing in front of the door, chest rising and falling rapidly, Harrington looked changed. Like he was mid-transformation. His hands were the worst, furry, animalistic. His eyes were flashing more golden than brown, and his face–

“You should already know. You killed one of my kind last weekend,” Harrington grit out, almost growling, his lips moving awkwardly around the strange array of canine and human teeth, his nose and jaw uncannily elongated.

“I told you, I didn’t do it!”

Harrington’s head cocked to the side, dog-like, as his eyes roved over Eddie’s face. They narrowed. Just as he opened his mouth, primed to say more, the door behind him crashed open. Both men jolted, and Harrington whipped around to face the sound.

He came face to face with a tiny, furious cheerleader wielding a wicked crossbow, the bolt pointed between Harrington’s eyes. Her hands shook, and her eyes widened when she saw what Harrington looked like, but she didn’t waver.

“Leave him alone.” Her demand rang through the room, her usually sweet voice strong.

Eddie wished he could collapse with the relief that flooded through him. Still, he stayed upright, tension keeping him at a knife’s edge. Harrington wasn’t budging, so Eddie leaned into a crouch to pounce if the asshole tried to attack Chrissy. Like hell was he going to let her get hurt, coming to his rescue again.

The trio didn’t move. It felt like a stand-off. Eddie hated it, hated staring at Harrington’s back and hoping he could catch any telltale twitch of muscle foreshadowing an attack. The fur on his arms kept receding and growing, like he was stuck, deciding whether to fully transform–into a goddamn werewolf–or revert back to a human. It was weird as fuck to watch.

“Chrissy, you shouldn’t be here,” Harrington eventually said, hands balling into fists.

“No, I really should be. Whatever you’re after him for, he didn’t do it. He doesn’t kill people.”

“He’s a vampire, of course he does.”

Eddie let out an indignant, “Hey!”

“Okay, and werewolves, what? Don’t lose control on the full moon? Don’t randomly attack people?” she asked. Her perky sarcasm nearly made Eddie laugh, couldn’t help but let a small snort escape. Yet, while she spoke, Harrington’s head tilted to the side again. Like he was listening for something. In the silence, Eddie caught it too. Bike wheels.

They came to a skidding stop and the bike clattered to the ground while a familiar voice cursed up a storm and bolted up to the trailer. A mop of curls barely contained by a cheesy trucker hat bounded in the open door, past Chrissy, shouting, “Wait! Wait, wait, wait!”

“Henderson?” both Harrington and Eddie said, the two of them glaring at each other.

“Yes, because apparently all of you need someone around with some actual goddamn sense!” Dustin waved his finger at all three teens, who looked at him with varying levels of annoyance, before landing on Harrington and pointing with the utmost sass. “Especially you, Steve! I told you Eddie was innocent. But did you listen? No!”

Harrington gave an offended scoff. “Are you kidding me? Dustin, it’s him. He’s a vampire, has the strength and speed to take down a whole werewolf if he really wanted to.”

That was news to Eddie, who didn’t bother hiding his surprise. Dustin immediately looked to Eddie, but instead of fear he looked fascinated. Awed.

“Really?” he asked, a grin breaking over his face. When he started walking towards Eddie, Harrington held him back with a decidedly human hand. Thank fuck the claws were gone. Dustin tried to shake him off, but the grip on his hoodie was too strong.

“Don’t go to him!”

“He’s not gonna hurt me, Steve, jesus christ you’re so overprotective.”

Eddie started to put his hands up, but went slower when Harrington began to growl again. “Listen, Harrington, I have zero interest in hurting Henderson. Or anyone. I swear on,” he gestured to the ceiling, and then the carpet, “whichever deity you’d trust more. I have no idea what you were talking about with this werewolf either.”

Squinting at Eddie’s chest again, Harrington gave a frustrated huff, and Dustin finally broke free from his restraint to speed walk over to Eddie. He didn’t even hesitate to grab Eddie’s wrist and start feeling his pulse, which Eddie protested with a half-hearted, “Hey!”

“You know he’s telling the truth Steve,” Dustin said. Harrington merely crossed his arms and went back to glaring at Eddie. In turn, Eddie pursed his lips and wiggled his head with mock triumph, letting Dustin do whatever poking and prodding he wanted to do just to prove to Harrington he could shove his suspicions where the sun don’t shine.

Chrissy, who watched the exchange alertly, finally lowered her crossbow and worked at getting the bolt out. “Why are you after Eddie, Steve?” she asked.

“The night of Penny’s party, Dustin and his friends found a dead werewolf in the woods a little ways away.”

“It was decapitated,” Dustin helpfully supplied, as if it were a fun fact and not a gruesome murder.

“Oh.” Chrissy paled. Meeting Eddie’s worried expression with her own, she said, “That’s pretty bad.”

“Doesn’t explain why you went after me, though,” Eddie said. “Do I just give off ‘werewolf killer’ vibes?”

Harrington’s jaw clenched and he stared at the floor. “You smelled like blood. At the party.”

“I what now?”

Sighing, Dustin planted his hands on his hips. “Yeah, because, clearly, he’s a vampire. Of course he’s gonna smell like blood.”

“I didn’t exactly know that, Dustin!” Harrington threw his hands up. “And where’d he be getting the blood from anyway?”

“Oh. Uhm. That would be me.” Dustin and Harrington turned to gawp at Chrissy. She’d leaned the unloaded crossbow against the open doorway and had started fiddling with the bolt, avoiding the sharp point. It was so at odds with her preppy, pastel sweater. She smiled at Eddie apologetically. “I might’ve insisted, since it’d help him eat regularly and he wouldn’t have to try and find it somewhere else.”

When Dustin turned to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at Eddie, he frowned and smacked the kid’s shoulder. Lightly. Light enough. “No.”

“Does Jason know?” Harrington asked, seeming tense. It didn’t ease when she shook her head, but he did let out a slow exhale.

“Is that the only reason you went after me? I just stank?”

It was Harrington’s turn to shake his head. “No, we found one of your weird band shirts there.” 

“Oh yeah, like there aren’t other metalheads in Hawkins,” Eddie snarked. Not that he thought any of the ones he knew could take on a werewolf, if Steve’s strength was anything to go by.

“It smelled like you, man.”

“Which is exactly why my theory is that you’ve been framed!” Dustin said, completely interrupting Eddie’s bizarre realisation that Harrington knew what he smelled like. He held his index finger aloft. “Someone knew it was yours, planted your shirt there, killed the werewolf. Why? Maybe they had some sort of feud. Maybe they thought other werewolves would find the corpse and seek revenge.” Eddie had a flat expression on his face as he motioned to Harrington, but Dustin waved him off impatiently while Harrington rolled his eyes. “No, no. I don’t think we were supposed to find it. No one knows about Steve except for our group, and maybe one or two creatures we’ve helped. Creatures who definitely wouldn’t do this. The killed didn’t account for us. And, I think, didn’t account for you being a vampire.”

Eddie groaned. “Okay, great. Someone’s pinned a fucking murder on me! This night just keeps getting better!” Without anything better to do, and wanting to ignore the desperate desire to grab Chrissy’s hand and run, he flopped onto the couch hard enough to make the springs squeak and covered his face with his hands.

“But! You have us on your side now.”

Peeking through his fingers, Eddie took in the sight in front of him. Dustin, hands on his hips again and chest puffed out, grinned in a way that was somehow both egotistical and childish. Harrington looked only slightly less aggrieved than Eddie felt, but at least he looked fully human again.

Slowly, Chrissy walked over to Eddie and sat beside him. She took one of his hands away from his face and held it reassuringly, despite the clear furrow of worry between her brows. He gave her hand a squeeze, a silent thank-you.

“Fine. What do you propose, my little detective?” Eddie asked, taking a tiny bit of glee from the slight sneer Dustin made at being called “little.” 

“I propose that we hide you away, make it so the real killer doesn’t know where you’ve gone, and see if that either flushes them out while they try to find you or if they commit another murder.”

“Jesus christ, Dustin, we can’t just wait around for another person to die!”

“I know, Steve, but that’s the cold, hard truth! We don’t know their next move. Hopefully they try to find you,” Dustin pointed at Eddie, “before they find another werewolf to kill again.”

Eddie didn’t miss Harrington’s pained grimace as he shuffled uncomfortably. The guy may have just pinned him against his own front door and flung him across his living room, but Eddie could, begrudgingly, sympathise. Harrington could very well be that next werewolf. Which, what a wild discovery that was.

“Did you know Harrington was a werewolf?” he whispered to Chrissy while Dustin and Harrington argued about the plan.

“No, not at all. Pretty sure Jason would’ve warned me if he knew, too. Though…” She pursed her lips and glanced at the subject of their gossip. “Maybe not. I don’t think he’d leave Steve alone if he knew.”

That seemed like a massive understatement. With what little Chrissy could relay about Carver’s reputation, Eddie knew that Harrington would be at just as much risk as Eddie would be if that asshole knew. Watching Harrington as he bugged out his eyes and shook his head at Dustin in frustrated disbelief, he also knew that he’d have a trump card over Harrington if he tried to rat him out to Carver or any other hunters. At least that was an upside to getting found out so disastrously.

Dustin seemed to win the argument, clapping his hands once and turning on his heel to face Eddie and Chrissy again. The kid really had a flair for the dramatic. “Alright. Eddie, you’re coming with us.”

“The hell I am,” he laughed, baffled.

“You need to. Either the killer got your shirt from somewhere, or they broke into your house and stole it. And pretty much everyone knows where you live, so. You can’t stay here.”

“And my uncle is, what, chopped fucking liver? What happens if he’s here, but I’m not, and the killer comes knocking?”

“I doubt he’s at risk. He doesn’t seem like a likely target. Unless he’s also a vampire?” When Eddie shook his head, Dustin continued, “There you go. Problem solved. You’re staying at Steve’s until we find this person.”

Harrington met Eddie’s offended look with one of resigned dread. “No way. Hide me at Chrissy’s.”

“I don’t think my parents would, uhm, agree to that.” Chrissy laid her other hand on top of Eddie’s. “Not to mention Jason.”

A low, whiny groan oozed out of Eddie as his head thumped back against the couch. It got louder when Dustin said, “Plus, if we saw you and Chrissy together, who’s to say the killer hasn’t?”

He felt like throwing a temper tantrum, fists flying and legs kicking, the whole shebang, if he weren’t being framed for murder. “Holing up at The King’s giant rich bitch mansion for who knows how long? Great. Wonderful. Always wanted to see how the other side lived,” he grumbled, not missing the loud sigh Harrington let out.

“Deal with it, Munson. This is the best we’ve got. I’m not thrilled about it either.”

“Oh goody. I’m an unwanted houseguest, even.”

“Eddie,” Chrissy started, “I know you’re scared, I am too. But… I do think they want to help. Their plan makes sense to me.”

Sighing, he dropped the sarcasm and dramatics. For now. “Yeah. I guess. Alright, Detective Henderson, I’ll go along with you and your loyal bloodhound.”

The Bimmer’s doors shut behind them with finality as they walked up the long driveway of Penny Brady’s house, a group of teens spilling out of the front door and laughing loud enough to make Steve wince. He felt a bit of petty jealousy that Robin could handle it all just fine, the overwhelmed senses. It had been a year since Billy’s attack and he still struggled to tune them out, so this was part of Robin and Dustin’s plan: exposure therapy. Sounded like a shit plan if you asked him, which, of course, they didn’t. Steve was sure it was only going to expose him to a migraine but they wouldn’t relent until he agreed to go to Penny’s Halloween party, so, here they were. At least Robin agreed Dustin couldn’t come. The little twerp would draw too much attention, his pen and notepad out and pestering Steve with questions all night.

Robin led the way into the house, not even pausing, forcing Steve to keep up for appearance’s sake. The music, the people, everything felt like a viscous wall of sound as soon as he passed the threshold, clinging to and muddling his hearing. His shoulders rose as if to block it out. A few people greeted him, only the familiarity of his own name cutting through, and all Steve could manage was a thin smile and a nod, following the bobbing, scraggly white wig Robin wore to complete her Doc Brown costume. Finally she stopped in the kitchen, the door closing behind them and blocking out only some of the racket. Some couples dispersed as they entered, but another group stuck around, chatting to themselves in a corner.

Robin bumped him with her elbow. “You look like you ate a whole lemon.”

“I’d rather do that than be here,” he complained quietly, reaching for a solo cup and grabbing a generous ladle-worth of the spiked punch. He probably would have smelled the vodka even before this, and Steve hoped the strong fumes would distract him from the music at least. When Robin wiggled a cup at him, he filled it for her too.

“It’s not gonna get better unless you get used to it, Steve,” she said, at the same volume, leaning into his space. 

“I know,” he grumbled. And he did. She’d gone through all of this already, years ago and way too young, and as much as he hated to admit it, she was right. She was his self-appointed Werewolf Mentor, as much as the title made him roll his eyes. At least he had someone to help him through all this werewolf shit.

Transforming into a wolf-human hybrid for the full moon as well as the day before and after, drastically intensified senses, heightened strength and speed even in human form, an increased diet of meat, and a seemingly endless well of energy; Steve had known all of this from a young age too, younger than Robin, even, but from a different perspective. Being born into one of the longest, most respected, and traditional hunter lineages, Steve Harrington had known all about werewolves and everything else that went bump in the night since he was old enough to read. His parents had trained him to hunt the supernatural, keeping it controlled and away from unknowing civilians. He was the heir to the Harrington line. And as of last year, he was also a werewolf.

It sorta put a kink in the whole hunter thing – though the heightened senses and strength did help – but while Robin taught him her werewolf ways he taught her how to avoid and fight hunters off, and went about hunts with a lot more compassion than he’d had before. Hunter code required them to only “exterminate” targets who were a danger, and Steve was already too soft-hearted by most hunters’ standards, so he stopped giving a fuck and did what he felt right instead. Steve put himself between the humans of Hawkins and its population of supernaturals, trying his best to keep a balance instead of burning and salting the earth.

Unlike the Carvers, whose son just barged into the kitchen. Jason plastered on an obviously fake smile as soon as he caught sight of Steve and Robin huddled together and Steve felt Robin stiffen beside him.

“Hey Harrington. Haven’t seen you around in a while,” Jason said, holding his hand out. Steve shook it once.

“Carver.”

“We were beginning to worry about you, if it weren’t for the stories I’ve heard around town I would’ve thought you’d skipped town.” Crossing his arms, Jason leaned on the counter closest to the door, effectively blocking their exit. Steve stifled an irritated huff. He didn’t miss this stupid posturing. The Carvers weren’t worried about him, he could guarantee that. It was more likely that they wanted the title of the only hunters in Hawkins, since Steve’s parents were gone on consultations all the time.

“Yeah, well, I’m still kicking,” Steve said with practised nonchalance.

“Good to hear!” Jason clapped Steve on the shoulder just this side of too hard, gave Robin an assessing look, and left the kitchen with a, “see you around.”

“‘See you around,’” Robin mocked, and Steve hummed, agreeing. “Was he always this much of a douche?”

“Oh yeah. A total kiss-ass too. Followed me around during hunter and basketball practice begging for attention.” Steve was glad that his fall from Hawkins High royalty had stopped Jason’s off-putting hero worship of him; he'd been tired of it since their parents forced them to socialise as kids.

Robin snorted. “That’s not surprising.”

They stood and drank their pungent drinks, trading gossip idly, until Robin asked, “Ready to brave the living room?”

Instead of answering, Steve downed the last of his punch, braced himself for the noise, and joined the party proper. Waiting in the kitchen while his senses adjusted had made a difference, he only felt like his head was being smashed by a rubber mallet instead of a sledgehammer, so he let Robin push him into the living room where most people mingled and danced.

“Alright. Tip one: distractions,” Robin whispered. “Focus on my voice, not anyone else’s, not the music.” She began to ramble, picking out costumes she recognized, or thought looked bad or lazy, occasionally picking out a girl she thought was cute for Steve to either agree or disagree, drawing him into telling embarrassing stories about the popular kids he used to hang around with. Listening to her voice was simple, easy, and before he realised it the noise faded a little more into the background.

When a guy walked by reeking of body spray Steve dug his nails into his palms to keep from recoiling, nose wrinkling, and he tried to swallow past the affront to his sinuses. Robin also winced. “Tip two: breathe through your mouth. Though I doubt that’ll help much against that.”

“Pretty sure I’d choke. That’s chemical warfare. One spray is enough, for christ’s sake,” he complained, giving the guy a nasty glare.

“We should tell him he’s violating the Geneva Convention.”

They watched from their patch of wall as he stepped up to a group of girls, trying to chat them up with a smarmy grin. When the girls each made similar queasy expressions and dispersed, Steve and Robin snickered a little meanly.

Crossing his arms with a smirk, Steve asked, “Anything else?”

Robin shrugged. “If all else fails, go outside or find a quiet room. Just don’t use it as an excuse to smoke or anything, I’ll know.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved an unconcerned hand at her and she glared harder. He held up three fingers and said, flatly, “Scout’s honour.”

“You weren’t a Boy Scout, you ass. Now, go, spread your wolfy wings and fly from the nest like a very strange bird.”

Confused by the bizarre analogy, he let Robin shoo him into the crowd so he could mingle. Mostly, he let people come to him; old classmates, customers, kids whose parents knew his own (exclusively outside of hunter circles), still drawn in by his old reputation. Penny herself came up to talk to Steve at one point, asking how he was and what he’d been up to. Like Robin instructed, he focused on her voice instead of everything else.

The attention was nice. His dry spell had lasted longer than he wanted to admit, and he’d given up trying to pick up customers at Family Video when he struck out every time. She was pretty, he thought, with long, straight dark hair and hazel eyes, wearing some kind of subtle vanilla perfume, and when Robin waggled her eyebrows at him across the room he brushed her off with a smile that was only a little bit smug. Leaning into her space a little, Steve could hear Penny’s heart rate pick up over the bright poppy music, saw the slight pink blush in her cheeks and let himself feel just a bit accomplished. He’s still got it, he thought. But then something crashed upstairs, and Penny had to race off with panicked apologies.

Damn. He stood in the room by himself for a moment and watched, hands in his pockets, until he caught Robin’s eye and jerked his head towards the back door. When she waved him off he waded through the thinning crowd and escaped into the much calmer backyard. Skunky smoke wafted through the air, but that was something Steve could handle. He dug out his secret stash of cigarettes and lit up as he leaned over the railing of the small deck, exhaling with a heavy sigh.

The small backyard was enclosed by the forest of thin trees that surrounded half of Hawkins. Most had lost their leaves by now, littering the ground instead, and the lawn was meticulously cleared of them. A shed sat closer to the house, and a small fire pit burned a few feet away, crackling and watched over by drunken teens.

By the shed, though, two figures caught Steve's eye. A girl with a high, bouncy, blonde ponytail and Carver's letterman – Chrissy Cunningham. He often wondered why such a sweet girl was with Jason, she was always friendly with the basketball team and managed Jason's mood swings with ease, not that she should've had to. But beside her, half hidden in shadow, stood her total opposite.

Eddie Munson flicked the ash from his joint and laughed at something Chrissy said while he leaned against the metal shed with her. The distant fire caught, just barely, on the shine of his dark eyes and the curls of his hair. Steve wondered how he wasn't cold. Chrissy clutched her jacket close while Eddie's leather jacket and denim vest fell open to the cold autumn air, revealing some tee for a band Steve didn't know. He hadn't seen Eddie around since midway through his own senior year, Eddie's second attempt. But he hadn't come back to school after winter break.

The rumour mill churned out every kind of story about it – that he'd dropped out or gotten sick, or he'd died, or he stole a car and ran to the coast (whichever one seemed more dramatic). Seeing him here at Penny's party was surprising, either way. Must be back to dealing.

Steve's gaze lingered. He looked pale, but… good, smiling fondly at Chrissy as she kept speaking, something about the newest cheerleader. He had a dimple in his left cheek when he grinned, just above some intense scarring on his jaw Steve didn’t remember from school, but there was something with his teeth– 

Eddie's eyes flicked up, and met Steve's instantly. Something swooped low in his gut, he couldn't name it but it made his heart kick up a couple beats faster. Adrenaline? No. All the warmth in Eddie's face faded as soon as he saw Steve staring, chased away by a hard, emotionless expression. Catching on quickly, Chrissy glanced back at Steve, then to Eddie again, leaning in to whisper. Eddie kept staring back at Steve, who couldn't look away. He felt pinned, his cigarette turning to ash, and Steve thought that maybe he shouldn't look away, like this was some kind of battle of wills. Robin would mock him for trying to be macho, but he couldn't help it. Didn't want to.

Maybe it had something to do with his heart beating faster, tricking his body into fight or flight, but Steve could feel his senses honing in on the pair. The music from the house was still too loud to hear what Chrissy was saying, but Steve could still smell something. Beyond the weed, fire, and cigarettes, the beer and sweat, cologne and perfume, there was a familiar warm, metallic tang. It was subtle, woven between and underneath the rest, and Steve had to resist sniffing at the air like a bloodhound to suss it out. Before he could place it, though, Chrissy took Eddie’s ringed hand and began to pull him away.

The muscles in Eddie's jaw jumped and his chest rose and fell with a slow, deliberate breath before, finally, he tore his magnetic gaze away and released Steve from whatever that was. Steve swallowed. He tracked Eddie and Chrissy while they walked to the side of the house. Chrissy cast one last look at Steve, giving him a small, hesitant smile before following Eddie's dark figure out of sight. Refusing to parse out whether he was disappointed or relieved, Steve stubbed out the cigarette butt and tossed it into the short bushes that bordered the deck with a quick mental apology to Penny’s parents.

That was… weird, right? He thought about what had happened, still hunched over the railing, absently digging his thumbnail into the wood grain. It was also a little strange to see Chrissy with Eddie, since he and Jason had been at each other's throats in school more often than not, and as far as Steve knew he and Chrissy were still an item. Sure looked it, since she wore his members only jacket.

Robin found him still standing there some time later, staring into the middle distance until she kicked his calf. “Ow, what the hell?” he said, glaring.

“That’s what you get for hiding out here.” She scowled. “Also you stink of smoke. I told you not to, I thought you’d quit anyway.”

“You know I didn’t.” He tried. It didn’t last, clearly.

“Yeah, well, I was waiting for you to admit that, you coward.”

Steve scoffed. “You can smell it, Rob. Figured that was enough to clue you in.”

“Still a coward,” she said loftily. “Anyway, I’m bored, drive me home.”

“Right away, your majesty.” Rolling his eyes and stifling a smile, Steve pushed off from the railing and followed Robin back through the house, only a little disappointed that he didn’t see Penny again before getting to the door. Steve did, however, fill Robin in on who he’d spotted in the backyard once they stepped outside.

“Oh wow, Jason must hate that friendship,” Robin said.

“Right?” he replied with some satisfaction, “I’m no fan of Munson’s but I’ll get behind anything that ticks Carver off.”

Robin looked thoughtful for a moment as they walked down the dark street. The Bimmer sat parked under a streetlight, burgundy paint faintly sparkling. Somehow, after all the hunts and mishaps Steve had taken her on, she was still pristine. Eventually, Robin said, “As long as he doesn’t get the shit kicked out of him, though.”

Steve shrugged at first, but an image of Eddie’s face covered in blood and bruises similar to the ones Jonathan and Billy had given him flashed through his mind’s eye and he winced internally. Yeah, he wouldn’t really wish that on someone who didn’t deserve it. “He’s survived this long, he’ll probably be fine,” he said instead.

“Maybe, but-” she cut herself off, head tilting towards the car. “Steve? You hear that?”

He did. A faint voice, crackling over the walkie Dustin gave him that he’d stuffed under the passenger seat. “Shit.” 

They jogged to the car, Steve fumbling with his keys and whipping the door open, diving for the walkie under the seat as he heard Dustin loudly announcing, “Code red! Steve, goddamnit, where are you!? Code red!”

“Dustin! What’s wrong?”

“Werewolf! In the woods! It’s dead, over!”

Steve met Robin’s shocked expression, her blue eyes wide with worry. “Where are you?”

“We’re behind Forest Hills. And you have to say over, Steve! Over!”

Groaning, Steve resisted the urge to smack his head against the car door. Instead, he reached over to unlock Robin’s door so she could get in. “Why the fuck are you in the woods at night, Dustin? Over.” He emphasised the last word with every bit of frustration he felt at the moment.

“Just. Get. Here. Over!”

“Fine! Jesus christ, over and out,” Steve snapped, slammed his door shut and started the car, peeling away from the curb.

They got to the trailer park in record time, despite Steve ranting at Robin about how the brats shouldn’t even be out this late at night while Robin kept reminding him to please concentrate on the road and save the chewing-out for the kids themselves. He parked at the end of the road, which was barely more than cracked asphalt and a toppled over concrete divider, the Street Ends sign long since stolen. The dark trees loomed tall and slender, a sparse barrier at the end of the small field that was only half lit by a flickering yellow street light, but Steve could already tell that’s where the kids had gone. He could smell them in the air and saw the trampled spots where they’d walked their bikes through the tall grass. A dog barked in the distance, agitated. He nodded at their trail and looked at Robin, said, “Let’s go,” and took off.

Robin kept pace with him easily as they loped through the trees. Even with the moon almost new they could see their way without difficulty, lacking most colour but seeing every detail; each scuff in the dirt from a tire and their muddy footprints standing out in the quiet forest. Their scents grew stronger too, and alongside it, something else. Something Steve had smelled earlier. He ran faster.

Voices began to filter through the woods. The kids were, unsurprisingly, arguing. By the time Steve and Robin crashed through the underbrush and ran into the Party, who screamed.

“Holy shi– be quiet! It’s us!” Steve shouted. While the kids did shut up – thank god – they all glared at him.

“What did you think would happen, Steve?” Dustin yelled back, arms flailing, “Warn us next time! That’s what the walkie is for!”

“I forgot it in the car since you idiots told me you were in the woods with a dead werewolf. How do you even know they’re a werewolf anyway, they–” Words caught in his throat as Robin choked back a scream. Finally, Steve turned his attention to the body on the ground behind the row of kids. “They’re human when they’re dead.”

They were supposed to be, at least. Steve hadn’t killed a werewolf before, hadn’t had to. Even when Billy went feral he refused to do it. They were still people and it was the one line Steve refused to cross as a hunter. He knew, though, that when a werewolf is killed in wolf form, they shift back into a human. So why was this one still a werewolf?

The body looked like every other werewolf Steve had seen when shifted: elongated limbs tipped in blunted claws, distinctive feet, brown fur everywhere, a clear mix of human and wolf. A ripped white shirt and torn blue jeans still clung to the body in spots, like they didn’t have time to get them off before they shifted. The only difference was the head. Or lack of one.

Steve shoved the nearest kid behind him – Lucas, who he could feel was shaking slightly – and stepped forward, unable to take his eyes off the stump of a neck. Dark blood, almost dried to blackish-brown, spilled down the werewolf’s chest, worsened by gashes left by, Steve guessed, the werewolf’s own claws, which were bloodied too. The cut was disturbingly clean. Level. Whatever weapon had done this was sharp. Bile rose in Steve’s throat.

“Turn around,” he said, somehow managing to not sound sick, looking back at the Party. Lucas and Will already had, the latter standing with his arms wrapped tight around his chest, but Mike was still half-turned, like he couldn’t take his eyes off it, and Dustin stared at the body with an analytical gleam that would unsettle Steve if he didn’t already know what these kids had gone through. Still. “Dustin, turn around.”

“We’ve been looking at it for ten minutes, Steve, it’s fine,” Dustin retorted, but Steve grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to face a very pale Robin, who still had her hands over her mouth.

“You shouldn’t have seen it in the first place! What the hell were you thinking, coming out here at night?”

Mike spoke up this time, sounding like he’d swallowed something disgusting. “We were patrolling.”

With a sigh that felt much too heavy for his age, Steve dragged a hand down his face. “You’re children. You don’t patrol.”

“We’re fifteen! You were partying! We couldn’t leave the town unprotected–”

“I was at a party because you told me to go to,” he interrupted Dustin sharply, “and I told you to stay home.” These kids were going to drive him into an early grave through stress alone. When Dustin opened his mouth again to argue back, Steve hissed, “Zip it! You’re in the wrong here.” The kid crossed his arms and scowled at Steve, but gave in.

Now that they were silent, Steve cast his gaze around the scene. He couldn’t see any sign of the missing head. There were signs of a struggle, though. Claw marks scored into tree bark to the left, large paw prints and faint shoe treads that could have looked like a dance. Next to the body, though, Steve saw scraps of fabric and bent down.

They were soft and black. Nothing like what the werewolf wore. A flash of a logo, some kind of yellow-and-red lettering, stood out on the corner of a larger scrap. Steve heard Dustin whisper, “Shit.”

Steve's head whipped around. “What?”

“Nothing!” He answered too quickly, too high-pitched. Steve could hear the skip in his heart, and though that wasn’t a reliable tell it wasn’t nothing.

“Dustin, you have to tell him,” Lucas said.

“Tell me what?”

The Party didn’t speak. Eyes flitting between them, Steve caught sight of Dustin’s clenched fist stuck deep into his pocket. He raised an expectant eyebrow.

“It’s Eddie’s. Eddie’s shirt.” Will’s voice was quiet and empty.

That’s when it hit Steve. The smell. He’d known it was blood when he and Robin had run into the kids, saw the corpse. But now he knew he’d smelled it earlier – at the party. From Eddie and Chrissy.

When he saw Eddie try to put his infamous lunchbox into his patched up duffel bag, Steve put his foot down. “No, you’re not bringing that into my house.”

“I’m an entrepreneur, Harrington, don’t tell me I can’t keep up my business. One that you’ve personally partaken in, in fact, so you being stuck up about it isn’t gonna fly.” he replied with a tight smirk.

“Business?” Dustin asked, but went ignored by every teen.

“If you’re still out making–” Steve glanced at Dustin. “Making money, running around town, that messes up the plan. And you can’t have them come to my house either.”

Eddie grit his teeth, clearly trying to bite back a sneer, then tossed the lunchbox onto his bed a little rougher than Steve thought was necessary, narrowly missing Chrissy who was unfazed. Steve just rolled his eyes.

There was an awkward moment of silence, then Dustin spoke again. Bluntly. “Eddie, are you a prostitute?”

Eddie burst out laughing, loud and unrestrained. Chrissy choked out a giggle, hand over her face. Eddie doubled over with his arms wrapped around his waist and Steve’s eyes were drawn to the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, dark lashes fanned over his cheeks while tears started to clump them together. Swallowing, Steve looked away and ignored how his face heated at Dustin’s question.

“Jesus H. Christ, kid, that’s a new one,” Eddie said around his poorly contained cackling, wiping at his eyes. “I’m a creature of the night, not a man of the night. There’s a difference.”

Of course, Dustin wasn’t deterred. “What’s in the lunchbox then?”

It was then that Eddie scooped up the joint he’d rolled for Steve off the floor, like he’d just remembered it was there, and shoved it into his pocket. “Something I’ll tell you about when you’re older.”

“No, you will not,” Steve said firmly, glaring at Eddie who held his hands up in surrender in a way that was distinctly sarcastic, a glint in his eye like he knew he was pushing Steve’s buttons. It set his teeth on edge. The dimple that appeared when Eddie smirked and winked at Dustin made it worse.

But, eventually, they were on their way. Chrissy drove off after promising to stop by Steve’s in a day or two, and also after extracting from Steve a promise to keep Eddie safe. She and Eddie had hugged for a long time while Steve loaded Dustin’s bike into his trunk, which did nothing to convince Steve there wasn’t something going on between them, but at this point it wasn’t really his business.

On the way to drop Dustin off, the kid asked Eddie an endless stream of questions which Eddie could only answer half of. Was he able to go out in sunlight? No. What happens? His skin starts to boil and blister. Did he have a healing factor? Yes. Could he turn into a bat or a wolf? He fuckin’ wished.

When Steve parked in Dustin’s driveway, Dustin was in the midst of asking, “So who turned you?”

“Uh, wasn’t a ‘who’ as much as it was a ‘what.’” Eddie leaned into the space between the front seats, tilting his chin up and pulling down the collar of his shirt. There was no missing the scarring on Eddie’s jaw, but it was shocking to see how far it went down, and how ragged the scarring really was.

“Did you get used like a chew toy?” Steve asked, which got a snort out of Eddie.

“Bet you’d know all about that, huh?” he teased. Steve’s lips pursed and he hoped it was dark enough they couldn’t see the flush in his cheeks. He shouldn’t have said anything.

Before Eddie could start explaining, the front door swung open, spilling light onto the driveway and Claudia stepped out, hair in curlers, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, and wearing a deeply worried frown. Dustin cursed under his breath and scrambled out of the car with a hasty goodbye.

“You’re welcome!” Steve said, but Dustin slammed the door shut before he finished, trapping the following sigh within the leather upholstered interior.

He only half-listened to the muffled conversation between the Hendersons, having heard the worried questioning brushed off too many times to count, now, and returned the smile and wave Claudia sent his way before they went inside.

“Kid’s really got an ego,” Eddie said with a nervy laugh, and Steve snorted.

“You could say that again,” he replied.

The drive home was, well, probably the most awkward one Steve had ever experienced. For all of Eddie’s bluster in the trailer he fell unnervingly silent. His leg, though, kept bouncing rapidly, and he picked at his cuticles while he kept his gaze fixed out the windshield. Even his slow heart picked up to something a little closer to a normal, human pace.

“You okay, man?” Steve eventually asked once the bouncing started to drive him a little insane.

The laugh that escaped Eddie sounded manic. “Sure, dude, just waiting for the point at which you pull over and take me out like some supernatural hitman.”

“Wait, what? I’m not gonna t-take you out!”

“You mean you weren’t waiting to get me alone just to assassinate me?” 

Steve shook his head, baffled. “No! I’m literally just taking you to my place. That was the plan, not whatever… insane thing you’re thinking of.” Sparing Eddie a glance, he caught him staring back with wide, tense eyes, his irises black in the darkness of the car. “I promise, Munson. No funny business.”

He let out a long exhale, but finally Eddie slumped heavily into the seat. “Thank fuck. I don’t particularly want to die, especially not at the hands of a monster-hunter-turned-werewolf.”

“If it helps, I’d make it quick and painless,” Steve said, smirking. He hoped the joke would land and not make Eddie either more worried or, worse, piss him off. He didn’t want an angry vampire loose in his car.

Thankfully, after a pause, Eddie barked out a laugh, head thumping against the headrest. “Good to know I’m in the hands of an ethical killer, then.”

Steve chuckled along, but it faded quickly as the words soured something in his gut. He had to set that straight, right now. “I don’t, uh, kill. If I can help it.” Catching Eddie’s interested look, he continued. “It kinda goes on my record as a hunter, and not as a good thing, but I can’t bring myself to do it. There’s some stuff that’s really just an animal, and if they go feral then I have no choice, but that’s, like, the very last option. Most creatures are pretty sentient, so…”

“So killing them feels wrong?” Eddie supplied where Steve trailed off, and Steve nodded, finally pulling into his own darkened driveway.

“Yeah. They can be reasoned with, somehow, or led away to a safer place, y’know?”

“Huh.”

With the Bimmer in park, Steve turned to Eddie. He had his head tilted to the side, curls draped across his unscarred cheek as his eyes darted all over Steve’s face. A tiny line formed between his eyebrows. Steve felt examined, like Eddie was assessing him, and wanted to look away, get out of the car and walk off the buzz the intensity left under his skin. Maybe it was just a vampire thing.

A slow smile stretched Eddie’s full lips, one that felt much more genuine than any others Steve had seen that night. “So you’re just a glorified wildlife rescuer?” he said, amused. Steve just shrugged.

“I guess so. Supernatural wildlife.”

“Now that makes me feel a lot better. Bleeding Heart Harrington, who knew?”

“Shut up, you’ll ruin my reputation,” he joked. Shoving Eddie’s shoulder, he said, “C’mon, let’s get you settled in Munson.”

—

Having someone in his house 24/7 was an experience Steve hadn’t had since he was a kid. Once he hit his mid-teens, his parents started going on consultation trips and left Steve in as the resident Harrington Hunter in Hawkins, only backed up by the (usually ineffective) police, and the Carvers. He did well enough for himself, and he took a little bit of pride in being independent, told himself he liked the quiet. Filling the house with parties, before everything went to shit, was just expected of him. Having Robin and the kids around a few times a week was just for hunter business (and to hang out with his best friend).

This, though? Having a bored, listless, undead roommate messing with his things, moving them out of place, leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor even though the basket was right there, closing all the blinds and curtains instead of staying in the guest room to sleep during the day, like a normal person would? It was the most annoying experience of his life.

Each morning he’d join Steve in the kitchen before work, his eyes boring longingly into Steve’s mug of coffee. The first morning he offered to brew more, yet Eddie shook his head and said, “Wish I could, buddy, but I don’t think either of us wants to clean up that mess,” and cackled at Steve’s disgusted grimace. But it turned into a routine from there, with Eddie poking fun at his mom’s dull decor choices and Steve’s hair care habits while Steve struggled to bring his brain up to speed with Eddie’s seemingly endless energy. He did notice the dark circles under Eddie’s eyes growing a little more intense each day, but if Eddie didn’t seem bothered by anything, Steve wouldn’t mention it.

Steve would come home to find his parents’ records strewn all across the off-white carpet, Eddie lying amongst the pile listening to whatever he’d claimed to be “barely tolerable” at a truly ridiculous volume. He couldn’t get too mad, because when he’d ask Eddie to turn the volume down he’d give a genuine apology and scramble up to reach the volume knob, but still. Annoying.

Add to it the rest of the Party, who demanded to invade his house as soon as Dustin told them all the news, and Steve was ready to pop a blood vessel.

He wasn’t supposed to have to babysit a group of middle schoolers and a fully-grown adult nerd, and yet. Here he was. At least the others would be arriving soon for a meeting.

They were so loud, too. Dustin, Mike, and Eddie sounded like they were arguing but from the sounds of it they were just excited. Will, Lucas, and Max sat in their own little bubble, talking just as loud if only to hear themselves over the obnoxious yelling. Steve had to close himself in his kitchen and breathe for a few minutes before he could face the noise, and how Max managed to handle it he had no idea.

“Alright, hey!” he shouted over the mass of nerds huddled in his living room. They didn’t stop. He clapped his hands, loudly. “Hey!”

Finally all their heads turned to him. Will and Lucas at least had the manners to look apologetic. The rest of them were unimpressed–though Max was exempt, Steve couldn’t change that if he tried.

“Keep it down, you’re gonna make me burst an eardrum.”

“Whatever, old man,” Max snarked with a little smirk. Lucas laughed, making Steve roll his eyes with a fondness he’d deny.

“Sorry, Steve,” Will said.

He sighed. “It’s fine. Don’t know what you’re all screaming about anyway.”

“Eddie was telling us about his D&D campaign,” Dustin said.

“Of course. That definitely means you have to shout at the top of your lungs.”

Mike, Dustin, and Lucas all gave him a glare that screamed, “Duh.” Brats. But then Steve saw the thoughtful look on Eddie’s face. One that spelled bad news.

“Y’know, I couldn’t run a campaign for you tiny tots through Hellfire because of the–” he waved a lazy hand at the curtains shutting out the weak autumn light from the backyard, “but maybe I can now.” He grinned when the boys all started shouting again and Steve let out a groan.

“Maybe if you all shut the hell up,” Steve said, surly and rubbing at his temples. That was when the doorbell started to ring, repeatedly and insistently, and Steve stormed off to go answer the door.

Robin opened it with her key just before he’d gotten there, grinning. “Hey, dingus!” Nancy and Jonathan stood behind, the former glaring at Robin and the latter wearing a sheepish smile. Before he could even invite them in, Robin pushed past with an affectionate shoulder bump.

“I’m sorry, I think she heard that racket and–”

Steve finished Nancy’s sentence while pulling her into a one-armed hug. “Decided to be an ass? Yeah. That happens. I’ll get her back by stealing her food at work.”

“I heard that!” she shouted from the kitchen needlessly.

“Good!”

Jonathan chuckled at the exchange and gave an awkward nod when he followed Nancy inside. All they were waiting on now was Hopper and Eleven’s arrival. The teens gathered on the fringes of the kids’ loose huddle around Eddie, catching up on their day-to-day, which mostly meant commiserating about school and work, until the last knock on the door came and Steve let Hopper and El inside.

El gave Steve a bright, wide smile and raced off to the kids, leaving Hopper shaking his head fondly at her.

“How’s it going, kid?” he asked, clapping Steve on the shoulder.

“It’s fine. Looking forward to getting this solved though.”

Hopper hummed in agreement, making his way to the group.

“Oh, fuck.” Eddie’s eyes went wide when he saw Hopper, quickly looking at Steve. “Why’s he here!?”

“Good to see you too, Munson,” Hopper droned, “but for once it’s not because of your shitty life choices.”

Eddie snorted. “Says the guy who buys–”

“Shut it.”

Steve watched the two, biting back a smile when Eddie zipped his lips and gave a mocking salute, Hopper’s eyes narrowing at the gesture. Catching his eye, Eddie smirked at Steve, the corner of his mouth pulling down in amusement. He couldn’t help it, a smile cracked through Steve’s resolve and he dipped his head to hide it.

Sighing, Hopper began again. “So, I assume at this point everyone’s been caught up on the situation?” A round of nods and he grumbled, “There’s no secrets in this damn group. Fine, makes this easier then.” He jerked his chin at the kids. “You lot, you’re to stay out of anything that isn’t research. You’ve seen enough already.”

Where Will and Lucas looked a little queasy at the memory of the werewolf, Dustin, Mike, and Max started protesting. El merely glanced between them all curiously, but when Mike started to make his defence, she began to nod.

“We were the ones to find it, we know what to look for!”

“You know a dead werewolf body when you see it, great job,” Hopper snarked. “That’s more than you should’ve ever seen, so you’re benched, got it?”

They groaned.

“If anyone calls the paper about some weird sightings, I’ll follow up on it and let everyone know. And maybe Jonathan and I can check the archives, on the off-chance that there’s something there?” Nancy said, earning a nod from Hopper.

“Steve?” He looked up when his name was called. Hopper seemed almost apologetic about what he was going to say next. “Your best move is to do nothing. We can’t have you drawing attention to your squatter.”

“Hey, I was invited, thank you very much,” Eddie said.

Steve sighed, frowning. He knew it was right, but he hated being put on the sidelines. It also meant he couldn’t be out there, helping. “So no patrols?”

“Nope. Sorry, kid.”

He folded his arms and leaned further against the corner he’d claimed. “What if something else happens? Other hunter stuff?”

“Leave it to me, alright? Me and the guys can handle it for a while. Hell, maybe we’ll even make the Carvers pull their weight for once.” Steve and Hopper both shared a scoff at the idea, though Steve still wasn’t confident that those in the know at Hawkins PD could handle much at all.

“I guess that leaves me on Dingus Distraction Duty.” Robin sidled up beside Steve, offering him an open bag of chips pilfered from his own kitchen.

“I think now you’ve got two dinguses to distract, if you’re hanging out here,” he said. She and Eddie locked eyes expressionlessly for a moment, then pointed finger-guns at each other, giggling. Why did this suddenly seem like a very bad idea?

“If anything comes up, like if you find another corpse, you’ll call me, right?” Steve asked, a little worried about his fate if Robin and Eddie got along as well as he dreaded they would, and Hop nodded.

“You’ll be the first person I call.”

“Wow, Harrington, you’d rather hang out with a dead guy than an undead guy? That hurts.” Eddie put his hands over his heart. “That hurts right here.”

“That feels discriminatory,” Robin said. Eddie nodded excitedly.

Steve just hung his head with a sigh.

The meeting wrapped up not long after, with rides arranged and meet-ups for later organised. Robin left with Nancy, Mike, Jonathan, and Will after threatening Steve into hanging out after their shift tomorrow (not that he really needed to be threatened), the other kids getting ferried home by Hopper.

Steve waved them all off and closed the front doors with a relieved sigh. Finally the house was quiet. Steve walked back to the living room, expecting Eddie to have started ransacking his movie collection only to find him still in his spot on the couch, looking paler than usual. His hand was clamped tightly over his mouth, eyes screwed shut and chest rising and falling in very slow, measured breaths. Something about it had the hairs on the back of Steve’s neck standing on end.

“Whoa, dude, you okay?” he asked, stepping closer. Eddie flinched hard.

“Just gimmie a sec.” Eddie’s words, muffled by his palm, were flat and forced.

Steve froze. “Sure, yeah, okay.”

Afraid to move, Steve stayed in that spot halfway to Eddie between the couch and the coffee table. Neither of them spoke. All Steve could hear was Eddie’s harsh breathing. After a few minutes his shoulders eased away from his ears, but he still hadn’t opened his eyes, or removed his hand.

“Can you, like, open the windows or something? Let some fresh air in?” His throat bobbed.

“Yeah.” Steve backed away, then opened the windows, doing his best to keep the blinds and curtains closed against the sun. Without moving closer, he asked, “Uh, that better?”

Eddie kept breathing slowly, but the tension around his eyes started to dissipate. He nodded.

“Thank–” Eddie cleared his throat. “Thanks, man.”

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” 

It might’ve sounded a little accusatory, though Steve tried to rein that back. But some little animal instinct in him was still waving a whole field of red flags. Eddie looked like he’d been in pain, broken bone kinds of pain, and now that he wasn’t so wound up Steve could see that he was shaking.

“Been a while since I’ve been around so many people. And, uh, also been a while since I’ve had a drink.”

Steve was about to ask what he meant before it clicked. A drink, of blood. Oh shit.

“When was the last time you… did that?”

“Last week. It’s been too long. The night you showed up, Chrissy was coming by so we could, y’know.”

“Shit.”

Eddie chuckled hollowly. “Yeah, shit.”

“You can call her, it’s fine if she comes over.” He started to walk to the phone but Eddie shook his head, hand falling away from his mouth. He still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“She’s got cheer practice. And if she’s seen here? In broad daylight? And before you suggest animals, they can only keep me going for a few hours. I’ve tried it.”

Staring at Eddie, hunched on the couch and looking like a man on death’s door, Steve weighed their options. Well, the only one he could even consider at the moment. It didn’t take him long to do, and he pushed aside all the weird thoughts, surprises, and worries and buried it all under his desire to help and professional curiosity.

“Bite me.”

Eddie’s head snapped up. Finally, Steve noted with relief, his eyes were open.

He thought, at first, that something had happened to Eddie. But he didn’t sound hurt, and Steve heard the sound of skin on skin before Eddie probably froze. And Steve had felt reckless, and brave, knowing Eddie had been listening to him jerk off and had to do it too. It’d been so hot, listening to Eddie moaning and whimpering about Steve that he played into it. Steve felt warm, remembering what he’d said.

So he wasn’t all that surprised that Eddie didn’t come to his room after, and Steve didn’t want to push or something. He let Eddie have some space and told himself they’d talk in the morning like they always did now. They could clear the air. Steve would tell Eddie about the feelings that’d been growing in his chest, and hopefully, if last night was anything to go by, Eddie felt the same. 

But Steve wandered sleepily to the kitchen and found it empty. Sometimes Eddie made coffee for Steve before he woke up, but not this morning. There was no vampire lurking in the darkened room, and Steve’s heart sank with disappointment and worry.

Maybe he should’ve stopped. Shouldn’t have said those things to Eddie, or at least gone to check on him afterwards. It was weird, what they’d done, right?

Sighing, Steve scrubbed a hand over his mouth and got to work getting the coffee going and hoped Eddie would come downstairs while he was eating. He didn’t show, though, and Steve ate his cereal alone for the first time in over a week now. He’d told Robin yesterday how nice it was that Eddie was around all the time, so of course he’d gone and messed it up.

When there was still no sign of Eddie after Steve had eaten, showered, and gotten dressed for work, Steve resolved to go knock on his door to check in on him.

“Hey, Eddie? You okay?” Steve asked hesitantly. He was mostly met with silence, but Steve could hear Eddie’s slow heart beating behind the door. It kicked up a little faster the longer Steve waited. “Listen, I wanted to talk–”

The door whipped open. Eddie had moved so fast that Steve didn’t even register it. He stood there with a pleasant enough smile on his face, but his fingers tapped out an anxious rhythm on the door frame. “Hey, Stevie. I slept in if you can believe it. Weird, right?”

“Uh, yeah–”

“Yep! I think I’m kinda sleep-hungover too. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t sleep all the time anymore.” Eddie yawned and Steve frowned. Vampires didn’t need sleep, and sure, Eddie didn’t ever seem to, so maybe he was telling the truth. It didn’t feel like the truth, though.

“Sure, maybe,” Steve started. “But like I said, I wanted to talk about last night. If you do?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Just a bit of blood sharing between buddies, right? Easy to get swept up in it, but it’s water under the bridge as far as I’m concerned.”

Eddie was still smiling, but Steve swore he could feel the nerves radiating off him in waves. His fingers kept tapping the door frame and then stopping, like he caught himself in a bad habit. Guilt welled in Steve’s chest. He must’ve pushed too far, made Eddie uncomfortable. And since he doesn’t have anywhere else to go right now, he was trying to tell Steve to back off gracefully.

Running a hand through his hair, Steve backed away from the door, laughed, and said, “Yeah, man, of course. It’s no big deal. I should probably head out, but there’s coffee if you want some.”

“Thanks, dude. See you later.”

Steve nodded. He barely noticed the tightness at the corners of Eddie’s smile just before he closed the door.

The next few days were… more normal. But not exactly. Whatever camaraderie they’d built up was stilted now. Eddie was still friendly, he still joked, but the teasing and flirting he’d done before were gone. Steve kept kicking himself for it. He’d messed things up like he always did. All he could do was keep his distance and make sure Eddie knew he wasn’t getting kicked out or creeped on again. And even though Steve couldn’t get the sounds Eddie had made while masturbating out of his mind–and, christ, his dreams sure kept reminding him–he kept his hands off of himself now.

Venting to Robin at work didn’t exactly help.

“So you both,” she did a jerking motion with her hand and Steve grimaced, “within earshot, heard each other, kept going, and the next day you’re both like, ‘nah bro it’s cool! Just guys being dudes! Just vampire junk! Super normal, buddy!’ And you haven’t tried talking to him about it again?”

“No, Robin! I’m not gonna make him talk to me when he’s stuck in my house.”

“I think him being stuck in your house is the perfect reason to talk to him about this.”

She slapped a palm over her face and groaned. “This is stupid. You’re both dumb.”

“That’s not fair. It’s complicated. And I tried to talk to him, and he shot me down.” Steve glared at her, crossing his arms. “We don’t know how long it’ll take to find the killer, either, so maybe just letting it be is better.” The other worry that’d been plaguing Steve sat insistent at the back of his throat. He glanced around Family Video to make sure no customers had snuck in while they’d talked, but it was a slow morning and the store was thankfully empty.

“What if he’s not like us?” Steve asked quietly.

Robin huffed and put down the tape she’d been fiddling with, also glancing around the store out of habit. “I get it, I’m sorry. But I don’t think he’d push you against the door and grind on your leg if he wasn’t a little bit gay, and I really don’t think he’d beat his meat–”

“Uhg, come on–”

“Beat his meat to hearing you do it too if he weren’t a lot bit gay.”

Steve still grimaced at her word choice, but tilted his head in unwilling agreement. “I guess so.”

“So you’ll try talking to him again?”

“Maybe.”

Sighing melodramatically, Robin slouched over the counter. “Well, whatever. If you two stay friendly after we catch that murderer I’m gonna make you talk then. There’s no way I’m wrong about this.”

Steve shook his head, rolling his eyes fondly. “Sure, Robs.”

“But, speaking of the murderer… what’re we gonna do about next weekend?”

He crossed his arms and grit his teeth. That was something he’d been mulling over too. The moon would be full, and he, Robin, and Max would have to go out for their run that night. They were fine usually; not much dared to mess with a fully shifted werewolf on a full moon, but who knows what the killer might do. Just the risk of being seen was enough to make Steve jumpy.

“Maybe we should call in some backup,” he suggested, already knowing he’d regret the decision.

Robin dropped her head to the counter with a resigned groan.

—

The full moon conveniently rose on Saturday night. It was the only thing Steve was grateful for that day.

Most full moons, Steve would go pick up Robin and Max, sometimes Lucas and El, bring them back to his place so they could have free reign in the woods behind his house. When Steve and Max had first been turned, Dustin, Mike, and Will insisted on coming, the latter to watch and hang out, the former to do his “research.”

When that research got so annoying Steve nearly snapped at him when shifted, they all agreed to keep their gatherings small. Dustin would argue he was threatened into agreeing, but as far as Steve was concerned, that counted. Anything to get him to stay home.

But as soon as Steve asked if Nancy and Jonathan could come keep an eye on them, the kids–those nosy little shitheads–demanded to come along. Loudly. Over and over again.

“Lucas and El are already going!” Mike complained.

“You need experienced people on the look-out!” Dustin insisted.

“Well, if Jonathan and El are already gonna be there, I might as well come too, right?” Will said reasonably.

Steve, who’d been cornered after dropping Robin off at school, rubbed at his temple. He knew Will wouldn’t be any trouble, and he had a point, but if he let Will go, Dustin and Mike would only get louder if they couldn’t. So when he caved and said “yes,” all three of them whooped in triumph.

Now the sun was setting and his house was a flurry of activity. Nancy and Jonathan had brought all the kids, as well as picnic supplies, claiming that was their cover if anyone found them out in the woods. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike raided his cupboards for more food as Nancy had Jonathan stack up blankets to keep them all warm during the cold November night. Will and El kept track of the flashlights. Robin and Max wouldn’t stop giving Steve looks like all this fuss was his fault.

He kept glaring back, because it wasn’t.

Throughout it all, Eddie flitted around, teasing the kids about preparing for a quest or something. Steve can’t keep his eyes off him. It’s the most he’s seen of Eddie in days, mostly running into each other in the hall between their rooms.

It drove Steve a little nuts, especially as the pull in his chest grew stronger and restless the lower the sun sank below the treeline.

“You’re gonna love this, Eddie, I swear. It’s like the only cool thing about Steve,” Mike said, and Steve’s attention snapped from Eddie’s back to the rest of his surroundings.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Eddie said.

“What?” Dustin ran into the living room from the kitchen. “What do you mean? You’ve gotta come!”

Eddie half turned, like he couldn’t help glancing back at Steve, looking a little caged. “I mean, it’s probably not good to have me out wandering the woods right? What with the whole killer thing.”

Dustin looked doubtful. “That’s literally why we’re all here. Safety in numbers. Plus, you can see further in the dark than all us humans, we need your eyes!”

Lucas ducked around the kitchen door to say, “And what if the killer’s waiting for the house to be totally empty before they try to kill you?”

Waving his hand, Eddie tried to seem unconcerned, but Steve could still see the tension in his shoulders. “You’d still be nearby, it’d be stupid to pull a stunt like that. And Steve wouldn’t want me around for this, right Steve?”

Robin’s head whipped around to stare at Steve from the sun room, and Nancy, standing behind her, noticed. Because of course she did. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes as she glanced between him and Eddie, and Steve felt himself start to go red. Shit.

“Wh–I–” he fumbled, and Dustin glared at him.

“What did you do, Steve?” he asked.

“What did I–? Hey! I didn’t do anything!” Steve lied. Now Max was paying attention, probably heard his heartbeat give him away, and Steve started to grow redder.

He didn’t want Eddie to come, was the thing. It was hard to hide emotions–to control his impulses as Dustin would say–when he shifted. Steve didn’t want to give himself away, not just to Eddie, but to everyone, if his werewolf side decided to get cosy with Eddie, on top of making the man feel even more awkward around him. But now that everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at him, Steve couldn’t actually say no without coming off like an asshole.

“You should come,” he said to Eddie, trying to sound like he meant it. “Like Dustin said, we could use your night vision or whatever.”

Eddie chewed on his thumbnail as he gazed at Steve, and Steve did his best not to look at his mouth while he thought it over. Eventually he said, “Sure, alright, I guess I can volunteer my eyeballs for the sake of everyone’s safety. Wouldn’t want to miss out on seeing you guys all wolfed out either.”

“Great!” Dustin said, and Steve held back the impulse to shake him by the shoulders.

“With that settled, we should get going. It’s getting dark out,” Nancy said. She started herding everyone outside, double checking that everyone carried what they needed as they passed. Steve brought up the rear to lock the door behind them, and she held back too, waiting quietly.

“Thanks for organising the little shits,” Steve said.

She shrugged. “It’s fine.” Steve moved to catch up with the ground, but Nancy held him back. “If you really don’t want Eddie to come, I can think of something,” she said, but he knew there was something else lurking behind her words.

Steve glanced at the rest of their friends. They weren’t at all out of earshot of Robin, Max, or Eddie, even though Nancy spoke quietly, so he shook his head. Nancy gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, smiling kindly before nodding at the group and following after them. Before they left the backyard, though, Steve paused. A car drove up, headlights flashing through the slats of the fence before it parked.

The whole group was quiet, holding their breath anxiously, until the driver got out and Eddie started grinning from under the blanket draped over his body to keep the sun off his skin. “Chris!” he called, darting to the back gate before anyone could stop him. He let her in, wrapping her in a blanket-covered hug, and Steve shoved down the flare of jealousy he felt at the sight. Leading her over, Eddie asked, “What’re you doing here?”

“I’ve just been thinking about the other day, so I wanted to come and ask Steve something. Am I… interrupting something?” She wrung her hands as she realised how many people were there.

“No!” Robin said too loudly. Steve looked at her, confused. “Well. It’s just. The whole,” she flailed a hand at the darkening sky, “moon thing? We’re werewolves.”

“All of you?”

“Nope, no, just me and Max and Steve, but we’re doing this whole safety in numbers thing–”

“Robin,” Steve interrupted.

“Right. Uh. Wanna join us?”

Multiple voices all spoke out in confusion and disbelief, but Nancy spoke out louder. “Chrissy should come since she’s already here. If you’re okay coming with us?”

Chrissy looked at Eddie, who nodded encouragingly, then at Steve. Eddie already looked more at ease than he had in days, and no matter the swirl of emotions that stirred up, Steve couldn’t deny him something that made him feel more comfortable.

“We should have enough blankets for you,” he said, and she smiled, relieved.

The walk through the forest was filled with chatter. The kids were excited to hang out, and Steve wondered if they also felt like they were helping in a way. They weren’t allowed to do anything other than research, and since that was a dead end, they’d been benched and complaining about it for days.

Steve and Robin walked together, communicating with expressions and gestures and half-formed sentences that everyone else had learned to ignore. He teased her about how she started rambling at Chrissy, and she shot back by pointing out how he red he got around Eddie.

They kept going, getting to the point of starting to shove each other around–the urge to playfight always got worse with the full moon–until the last people either of them really wanted to talk to caught up with them. Chrissy and Eddie fell in step, both of them looking nervous. Steve gave Robin one last push when she blushed and smiled goofily at the other woman.

“You two really have ants in your pants tonight, huh?” Eddie said.

Steve couldn’t help the tiny flare of hope in his chest. “Yeah, makes us kinda itchy.”

“You might wanna get that checked out, Stevie. Could be fleas.” The slight teasing smile Eddie wore just fed the flame.

“Hey, I’m well groomed, I can’t have fleas,” Steve scoffed, privately delighted when Eddie’s grin grew wider.

“That’s not really how fleas work.”

Chrissy giggled while Steve shot Robin a glare, and she just held her hands up as if to ask what else he expected her to do.

Eddie gasped loudly then, and said, “What if they’re were-fleas?”

While the others ahead of them all kept talking, completely ignorant, the bubble that surrounded Steve, Robin, Chrissy, and Eddie filled with silence. Steve mouthed “were-fleas” with baffled despair. Robin narrowed her eyes like she wanted to study Eddie under a microscope. Chrissy simply sighed.

“How would that even work?” Robin asked, but Chrissy cut Eddie’s impending explanation off with a stern, tired hand in front of his grinning face.

“Don’t get him started. Seriously. He’ll go on forever,” she said, and Steve nodded knowingly. He’d blundered into Eddie’s bizarre, not at all hilarious or charming, rants one too many times now. “And I still have to talk to you, Steve.”

“Right.” Steve stuffed his hands in his pockets. He really would rather not have to remember burying the second werewolf body tonight of all nights, but if it was important enough for Chrissy to drive over for, he’d do it.

“Robin said that Jason showed up at the, um. Where the body was found? What time?”

Steve frowned, trying to remember. “I dunno, but it had to be some time after 3:30 I think.”

“Did he say why he was out there? Because he’d told me he had some extra drills to run with Coach Swann that day, like, all afternoon.”

“Unless Swann has him doing cardio in the woods, I doubt it. He said he’s been out for a run and found the body, had to go home for his kit so he could bury it and found me and Hop doing it instead.”

“That’s weird,” Robin mumbled.

“Yeah, weird place to go for a run,” Eddie said, suspicious, but Steve shrugged.

“Not really. We patrol around the Quarry pretty often.”

Chrissy folded her arms across her chest, looking uncomfortable from more than just the cold. “It’s weird that he’d lie to me about it though. He doesn’t tell me everything about hunting, but he tells me when he’s going for patrols.”

Steve glanced at Eddie. He’d heard all of the complaints Eddie had about Jason, could even agree with most of them. A muscle jumped in his jaw and Steve guessed he must be holding at least a few of those complaints back. Eddie confirmed it when he met Steve’s gaze with his own steely one.

“Maybe because he didn’t want you to worry or be grossed out about it?” Robin said doubtfully.

Chrissy shook her head and a disgusted grimace twisted her face. Eddie rubbed a reassuring hand over her shoulder, his lips pulled thin. “He gets kind of… proud. Of his hunts. And descriptive. I don’t think he’d lie for that.” She paused, and the words sunk in. Steve secretly added to his list of things to dislike Jason for. He knew the asshole liked to brag, he’d always been insensitive and deeply tacky like that, but this was an extra layer of tastelessness. After a steadying breath, Chrissy stared Steve down and asked, “Did he say anything else strange?”

He ran through the conversation in his head, hoping he remembered everything. The image of Jason looking down on the werewolf so coldly while being chipper with Hop and Steve kept rising like bile in his throat as he thought it through. Until he remembered something that’d been pushed aside in the aftermath of exhaustion and horror and… the incident with Eddie.

“He mentioned you, Eddie. Said he’d heard about the other werewolf and the shirt we’d found and instantly brought you up.”

Eddie’s already pale face blanched further, his dark eyes widening. “Oh shit. Shit. But how’d he know!? You said you and Hopper left that out of the report!”

“We took the only piece of the shirt big enough to show a clear design anyway,” Robin said, “because there wasn’t even a whole shirt there, just pieces.”

“What was the shirt?” Chrissy’s voice sounded hollow and put Steve on edge.

“It was black with some kind of zombie skeleton dude’s head,” he said, and mimed the only legible letters in the air as he continued, “said Iron and an M–”

“Maiden?” Chrissy interrupted, turning to Eddie. “The shirt you loaned me. The one that went missing.”

“Fuck.” Eddie’s face fell, and Steve ached to do anything to make him feel better, even as his heart sank at the idea of Eddie giving Chrissy one of his shirts.

Stepping between them and halting their steps, Steve held both Eddie and Chrissy’s arms in a way he hoped was calming. He could feel Chrissy shivering, and Eddie leaned into the touch subtly. “When did it go missing?”

“Before all this, by like, a month maybe? I didn’t realise it’d gone missing until I remembered I even had it and wanted to give it back to Eddie. I know my parents didn’t find it because they would’ve been so mad, and my brother would’ve blackmailed me by now if he had it.” She looked at the ground, unseeing, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. Robin stepped closer and closed their little circle by putting her palm on Chrissy’s back, making her take a shuddering breath before she spoke again.

“I think… I think Jason took it.”

Steve felt Eddie tense under his hand and started rubbing circles into his arm with his thumb  as Chrissy’s words sat heavy between them all. The implications were impossible to ignore. At best, Jason found the first body before the kids had and planted the shirt there, framing Eddie as payback for what could be seen as coming on to his girl. Or, as jealous as Steve knew Jason could be, maybe he’d jumped straight to assuming they’d been hooking up.

At worst… Jason was a trained hunter, and as much as Steve hated admitting it, he was good at it too, and known to be brutal to his kills. While beheading werewolves who hadn’t attacked anyone was a whole bunch of steps too far, and framing Eddie for it just as awful, Steve didn’t rule it out. He hoped it wasn’t the case. He didn’t want Chrissy’s boyfriend to be murdering werewolves and blaming Eddie for it. But the way he’d looked at the body that day…

“We’ll figure it out,” he said eventually, confidently. “Maybe we can go ask him some questions in a few days.”

“I can look around his house,” Chrissy offered, but Robin shook her head.

“You shouldn't have to do that, Chrissy. It’s risky, especially if he might be… suspicious of you.”

“I’m your best bet. Even if he doesn’t trust me as much anymore, Jason trusts Steve even less.” Chrissy’s brows pulled together as she bit her lip, anxiety fighting with her determination. “I’m having dinner there tomorrow, I might be able to look around then.”

It was their best option, even if Steve hated the idea of Chrissy investigating alone. “Okay. Just don’t push it, alright?”

“You’re seriously okay with her spying on her dangerous boyfriend?” Eddie snapped, pulling away from Steve’s grasp.

“Of course I’m not okay with it,” Steve hissed, “she shouldn’t have to do anything!”

“‘She’ can make her own choices,” Chrissy insisted. She stood tall, braced on Robin’s hand still, and Robin had this expression of awe and worry. “I’ll do it whether either of you want me to or not.” Steve and Eddie gave sheepish and begrudging apologies, respectively.

“We should talk about this later,” Robin said, nodding ahead of them. Steve turned to see Dustin had lagged behind the rest of their friends, watching the four of them until he noticed he’d been caught and twisted forward again.

Sighing, Steve mumbled, “Nosy kid,” and felt a weight lift when Eddie snorted in agreement.

Max led them all to their clearing, as they’d called it. It was just a small break in the thin trees. A riot of oranges, yellows, and reds painted the ground, fallen leaves that were swept away while the non-werewolves amongst the troupe set up their picnic. It was funny to see so many of their friends there, but to Steve it also felt… right. He had his people around him, watching out for him, Max, and Robin. Keeping them safe. A tiny smile lifted the corner of his lips as he watched Nancy and Jonathan wrangle the kids, while Eddie and Chrissy egged their chaos on.

Eddie peeked at Steve after he set Mike on a tirade against Nancy and Steve’s smile grew, just a little. In return, Eddie winked, then shooed him off towards the trees with a hand. He was right. It was time. Steve nodded at Max and Robin before they disappeared into the woods, rolling his shoulders and relishing the stretch as he walked off to find his usual spot to strip down.

The need to shift had been rising in him all day. It felt like a low thrum in his muscles, like the steady drip of adrenaline priming him before a fight. Now, under the dark, bare boughs, with the silvery-blue light of the full moon reaching through the shadows, the thrum rose into a pulse, a buzz, one Steve could feel deep in his bone marrow, threatening to shake him apart if he kept clinging to his skin.

With his clothes shed, left in a hollow between the roots of a tree, Steve breathed deep and tilted his chin up, out of the shadows, into the bright, clear moonlight. He exhaled, and in the release of air, he released his control, his skin, himself.

Bones crunched and stretched, muscles snapped and reformed, teeth rearranged. All of it a familiar agony, overshadowed by sheer, overwhelming relief at being free. Instead of reducing him to a shivering mess of pain and terror–he’d never forget that first shift, he’d been so unprepared and fought it the whole way–Steve stretched into the change, welcomed it.

Why would he fight it when it gave him so much freedom?

When it was finished, Steve bit back the urge to howl, even if his instincts and his happiness and the thrill of the change shooting through his nerves made it hard. He shook his head, pointed ears flopping, and opened his golden eyes.

The forest always came alive like this. Colours were duller, sure, but shadows were lighter, lights brighter, scents even stronger. He could hear bats flying around a few feet away, the shuffling of a mouse under the leaf litter, the cacophony of his friends in the clearing just behind him, and, of course–

Steve barely managed to brace for impact before a ball of blonde fur came barrelling at him from his right. They went tumbling down to the ground, their laughter sounding like panting, and Robin swatted at him when Steve gained the upper hand and shoved her into the forest floor. Before he could fight back, Max darted in and tackled him, sending him sprawling with a yelp.

Scrambling upright, he dug his claws into the earth and stared at them both. Max and Robin faced him down, their ears pinned back but their body language loose and playful. Just like him, they’d both grown about a foot in size; instead of the girls he knew, they’d shifted into their wolfish, humanoid forms. Their faces had stretched into a muzzle full of teeth and they were covered in thick fur that more or less matched their hair colours. Seeing their golden eyes shining mischievously in the night, Steve realised they’d planned to gang up on him. But they weren’t going to get him that easily.

Steve bolted. Heart pounding, he raced through the trees, back towards the clearing. Not only was he trying to distract, he was trying to show off too. Eddie was there. He’d never seen Steve like this and he wanted to impress him, grab his attention.

He breached the treeline in moments. Robin and Max were right on his heels, Max a little closer. She was faster than both of them when she really tried. Steve was always proud of her when she ran full speed through the woods and outpaced them both, or when she leapt into the air and caught a bird mid-flight in her paw-like hands.

The group heard the commotion, flashlights lighting the way, and Steve zeroed in on Eddie sitting at the edge of the spread out blankets. Lips stretching into a wild grin, Steve headed straight for him.

“Uh, is that Steve? Whoa, shit, wait, Steve stop, Steve–!” Eddie squawked and folded in on himself, preparing for Steve to tackle him, but Steve deked at the last second, leaves scattering underfoot, letting his hand brush Eddie’s shoulder as he sped by.

Max made that huffing laughter sound as she veered around the group as she followed Steve. Robin wasn’t so graceful. Steve glanced back when he heard a sharp yip and saw her legs slip out from under her on the turn. She fell, a mess of uncoordinated limbs that nearly bowled Eddie and Chrissy over. When Chrissy started laughing hard, Robin let out a grumpy, grumbling whine. He knew she’d be glaring at him, but with Max on his literal tail, he couldn’t spare another glance.

“Go Max, get him!” Lucas cheered, and El and Will started whooping, urging her on. Everyone started cheering for Max and Steve rolled his eyes, but then he heard Eddie’s voice.

“Run, Steve! Make Red eat your fucking dust!”

It spurred Steve on and made his heart soar, but the burst of speed wasn’t enough. Max gained on him, swift and light. He heard her pounce before he felt her slam into his back. Steve collapsed with a grunt, his teeth clacking when he hit the ground. Max crouched on his back, tail wagging, waiting for Steve to surrender. With a sigh, the fight left him and Max climbed off, huffing triumphantly before bounding over to Lucas.

The night was spent running around, roughhousing, and lying around with their friends. Steve basked in the comfort of having them all in one place, all happy and content despite the cold. Jonathan handed out hot chocolate from some thermoses, and everyone either curled up together under some blankets or had a werewolf around to keep them warm.

And even if Eddie didn’t need the warmth, Steve still stuck close to him. Steve’s doubts faded under the easy simplicity of thought and heightened impulsivity his werewolf form gave him. And Eddie seemed fascinated by Steve like this, so why keep his distance when Eddie kept looking at him all wide-eyed and dazzled?

Robin and Max laughed at him for it, communicating with gestures, twitchy ears, and curled lips that they thought he was being embarrassingly obvious. Steve thought that was pretty ironic, seeing how Max was curled up on Lucas and El’s laps, and how Robin kept trying to play fight so she could show off for Chrissy.

Steve did give in to the play fighting though. It was fun, and it absolutely did impress Chrissy when Robin gained the upper hand. And maybe Eddie too, when Steve started winning.

The night stretched on and the sky grew brighter. Lucas, Will, Mike, and Dustin had fallen asleep jumbled together. Nancy snoozed on Jonathan’s shoulder while he talked quietly with El and Chrissy. Eddie had his arm around Chrissy’s blanketed shoulders and his free hand was buried in the thick fur at Steve’s nape, nails scratching in a way that made Steve want to melt. He nearly did, stretching out, laid half on the blanket and half on the leaves and heaving a great big sigh that made Eddie chuckle, but the moon’s pull was fading fast.

Grumbling at Robin and Max to get their attention–they’d curled up on the blankets too once their energy ran low–he nodded towards the treeline and as one they stood. Steve shook out his whole body, partially to shake off debris but also to push back the ghost of the feeling of Eddie’s fingers in his fur.

He almost wished he didn’t have to change back. That he could spread out under Eddie’s nimble hands, unreserved and relaxed, for much longer. Eddie might go back to being standoffish again once he got over the wonder of seeing a werewolf in the flesh for the first time and Steve was back to looking human again. There was nothing to do about it though. 

The shift back came quickly. It sometimes felt strange being in a smaller body again, but like a welcomed restriction. Shifting on the full moon spent so much energy that it felt like a part of him tucked away to sleep afterwards, safe in his human skin. Sighing, with exhaustion dragging him down, Steve stepped back into his clothes again and met back up with his friends under the light blue of the pre-dawn sky.

While helping them pack up, Steve heard a branch snap out in the woods and snapped upright. Eddie twisted towards the sound, and Max and Robin straightened too. Hushing everyone, Steve tuned into the sounds around them.

The air was still. Songbirds called to each other in the morning light, and underneath that he heard the slow, tentative steps of something that was probably a deer sneaking past the noisy group of people. He couldn’t smell anything unfamiliar. When nothing else stood out, Steve relaxed. At Robin’s concerned look, he shrugged and said, “Probably just tired and paranoid.”

The trek home was punctuated by yawns and little else. Everyone had told their parents they’d be at Steve’s, so they didn’t have to worry about spending the rest of the day catching up on sleep. They dropped their gear on Steve’s dining table at his insistence–”I’ll clean up tomorrow,” he said–and everyone drifted off to their usual guest rooms to nap.

Steve and Robin had been sprawled out and fast asleep on his bed when they both woke up to frantic knocking at his door. The fading light from the window told Steve they’d slept through most of the day. He grunted as Robin flailed and elbowed him in the ribs, and he shoved her off so he could go see who the hell was being so loud.

“What?” he snapped when he opened the door to find Eddie and Nancy, looking frazzled and worried. Nancy’s voice wavered as she spoke.

“The kids are gone.”

Steve shot him an unimpressed look. “You sell weed, Eddie,” he said flatly. Wobbling his head, Eddie mouthed the words back at Steve silently, mockingly, which finally drew a tired laugh from him. It wasn’t the kind of laughter he could get after verbally tearing Frank Sinatra to shreds while they got high on the living room floor, but it was good enough. The sound didn’t last, though, fading like every other sound in this fucking house, leaving a gaping silence where they both stood awkwardly, a few scant feet between them.

Eddie shifted on his feet, stuck his hands in his pockets then took them out and folded his arms over his chest. Meanwhile, he watched Steve, who couldn’t look up from the carpet. “You probably don’t want me lingering around in your domicile, so I’ll just–”

“Are you thirsty?”

Now that, that rang out through the room. “What?”

“You spent all day around the kids, and you haven’t fed since, uh, since last time when everyone was around.” Steve finally looked up from the carpet, something burning in his eyes.

“Nah, I’m fine, pretty good actually,” Eddie stumbled out.

“You said you fed from Chrissy every few days though.”

Truth was, Eddie was hungry. It was sort of an ever-present thing, though easy to manage once he’d learned how to sate it in a way that actually satisfied him. And yeah, it had been a few days since he’d bitten Steve’s wrist, but the way Steve acted around him the next day–flighty and awkward, not sticking around in the same room too long–made Eddie less than inclined to ask for more.

“I can deal, Harrington, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.” Steve started walking closer. There was a determination, a heat, in his gaze that made Eddie feel a little warm and jumpy, and he started backing up. “You should be in peak condition if something happens. And I–"

Steve reached out behind Eddie and closed the door at his back, trapping them both in the horribly plaid room that Eddie couldn’t even see, because Steve was right there, in his space, so close Eddie could feel the warmth radiating from his body.