#werewolf steve

A man, Eddie realizes, upon closer inspection. A young man, maybe the same age as him.

He’s stunning.

From behind the trees, Eddie rakes his eyes over him. Tanned skin, sweat-drenched auburn hair, broad shoulders and a muscular back, thick hair on his chest…

He’s completely naked.

Eddie swallows, heart thudding.

The man writhes, face screwed up in pain, fingers digging into the earth and Eddie’s about to approach and offer help when he sees them.

The claws bursting out from the tips of those fingers, blood dripping in their wake.

Eddie hesitates.

The man screams, the sound curdling Eddie’s stomach, and he can’t just stand here, even though he knows exactly what this man is, exactly how dangerous it could be to approach, but…something tells Eddie this man, this werewolf, won’t hurt him.

The man opens his eyes. Honey-brown, full of agony. They lock on Eddie.

“Help,” he croaks, and Eddie’s moving, running to the man’s side and kneeling in the dirt.

“What can I do?” Eddie asks shakily, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. He’s warm, too warm, skin clammy below Eddie’s palm. “Tell me…tell me how to help.”

“I don’t know,” the man whimpers, then goes rigid again, mouth open in a silent scream as his bones seem to shift below his skin.

Eddie drags him half into his lap, wraps an arm around him, wishes his uncle was here because he’d know what to do. “How do you usually get through the change?” Eddie asks once the worst of the pain seems to fade again.

The man pants with his head on Eddie’s thighs. He shakes his head, eyes closing. “First time,” he whispers.

“…oh,” Eddie manages, unhelpfully.

“Took my clothes off, didn’t want to ruin them,” the man gasps out. “Then I…I came here, far away, so I wouldn’t hurt anyone.” He swallows, cracks open a bleary eye. “You should leave me. Run.”

“I’m not leaving you like this. What’s your name?”

“Steve.”

“I’m Eddie. I don’t think you’ll hurt me, Steve.”

“You don’t know.”

“I do.”

Steve looks up at him, briefly lucid. “You feel it, too?”

Eddie nods. “Not how I imagined meeting my soulmate, but here we are.”

Steve smiles, tired, and god he’s beautiful. “You’ll stay?”

“I will. Where’s your pack?”

“Don’t have one.”

“You do now. I’m no wolf, but I’ll look after you. Just relax, let it happen.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” Steve gasps, throwing his head back as his skin sheds and his wolf bursts free.

You get bit by one demodog and you had severe drawbacks, go figure.

It was hard enough trying not to stick his nose in Eddie’s collarbone—scenting, Robin called it. He didn’t want to know what the hell she was reading—and envelop himself in Eddie's forest, smoky scent while leaving his own behind. Even though he was literally the only person in Hawkins who could smell the difference, getting bit had come with all these other weird instincts.

Somehow, dealing with the transformation every full moon was easier than navigating daily life when every slight against the kids, against Robin, against Eddie had his claws and fangs bursting out with an inhuman snarl.

That he needed nearly two and half times more calories than ever just to not feel like he was going to pass out by midday.

When every time he looked at Eddie, he wanted so intensely his jaw hurt until they were close enough Steve could catch his scent. Close enough to always know he was okay because Steve was close enough to get to him.

Steve sighed, tapping his fingers on the counter.

“I’m just going to buy some.”

Robin leaned into his eyeline, a fearsome frown on her face, and jabbed her finger into his chest. “You’ll die, dingus.”

“Only if I directly inhale it.”

She flicked him. “Why is it important?”

Eddie wasn’t at the house, yet. He had chauffeur duty for the impeding Christmas-ification of Steve’s house—tinsel, garlands, lights, the whole nine yards—and the plan had led to Steve’s badly wonderful idea.

The kids would be so distracted decorating/devastating his house, Steve could easily pull Eddie aside for a private moment.

And they had both been too much shit. Eddie was worth more than a plain old kiss.

The kids entered the house in a whirlwind, shouting and laying out boxes and shopping bags to tear into without so much as a hello. Steve chuckled to himself.

He smelled Eddie before he saw him, and raised his head. His dark curls were dotted with melting snow, cheeks pinkened by the cold. Eddie stared intently at them, with something hidden in his hands.

Robin dismissed herself, hissing quietly at him before she darted off, “Just do it.”

Eddie didn’t watch her leave, slowly stepping into the kitchen until Steve met him halfway. Steve still couldn’t see what he was holding, Eddie’s fingers curled around something small.

Steve breathed in his fresh scent—pine forest and smoke—the tension in his shoulders fading.

“Um, I had this, sort of…thing. An idea,” Eddie started quietly.

“Do I get to hear it?”

Eddie started to roll his eyes, and then stopped himself. Like he was trying not to fall into old habits. Strange.

This idea had to be something special.

“So, I really want to kiss you.”

Steve’s heart pounded so loud in his ears, he hardly processed that Eddie had kept speaking, his enclosed hands moving in their usual way. Drew Steve’s attention all the more to what he was hiding.

“I thought, Christmas, mistletoe. Perfect opportunity.” Steve bit his lip to keep from smiling, since Eddie had gone onto the inevitable conclusion. “And then I remembered that would probably kill you before we ever got to enjoy it.”

Steve clicked his tongue. “Yeah.”

“So, instead, I made this.” Eddie opened his hands, and extended out what looked like a small plant with oval leaves and red berries.

Hesitantly, Steve reached for it. Eddie wasn’t about to poison him, but Steve wasn’t sure what to expect as he grabbed with two fingers at the nearest leaf. The thing crinkled as Steve lifted it.

“Paper,” he said with a soft smile.

He held the faux-mistletoe in one hand, examining it with the other. Stems of green oval leaves, tiny red berried and tied together at the top with a white ribbon. It was soft and slightly fuzzy like construction paper, and Steve faintly smelled Eddie’s pine forest all over it.

“And safe,” Eddie said.

All this to overcome Steve’s werewolf allergy. Because they both wanted to kiss.

For some reason, particularly under mistletoe.

Steve looked at Eddie, his eyes wide and waiting. He chuckled. “We have made this so complicated.”

Eddie arched a brow.

“You transform into a hairy beast every full moon and I really want you to hold me down and lick me all over the rest of the month. Let’s just say our lives haven’t been simple for a while.” He stepped close, plucking the mistletoe from Steve’s hand to run it over his lips.

He flicked his eyes toward Steve over the paper leaves, playful and heated. A pleased growl rumbled through Steve’s chest, and Eddie’s eyes just gleamed. They had moved close enough that all one of them had to do was drift that much closer.

“Are you going to kiss the mistletoe?” Steve asked, peering at Eddie’s mouth and imagining the taste of pine and smoke. “Or me?”