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"I can take the floor," Steve says, and it's absurd. The guy is absurd.
"You look like you lost a fight with a truck." Eddie says, trying not to let his incredulousness show through his voice, "you're taking the bed."
"S'just Russians, not a truck." Steve says, freezing immediately afterward, halfway climbed onto the bed.
"Russians?" Eddie prompts when he doesn't move for a few moments longer.
"You didn't hear that," Steve says sounding slightly panicked, so Eddie nods agreeably.
"Okay, well I'm rush'in you into bed so scoot. Go on sailor boy." And what a sailor boy he makes, Eddie's not going to admit out loud how many times he's visited the mall just to get a glimpse at Sailor Steve. The guys already give him enough shit for it.
"M'not anymore, it burnt down." And maybe Eddie needs to watch the news more often, because that's certainly news to him. Though Steve seems so out of it right now who knows if that's even true.
"Aw but I was looking forward to setting sail on the ocean of flavor with you, Captain." Eddie works his softest band tee over Steve's head, maneuvering his unresisting arms through the holes.
"I'll... sail on your ocean." Steve says nonsensically.
"I'm sure you will big guy." He ushers Steve into his bed, bringing a blanket over him from where he'd kicked it half off the mattress, tucking him in softly.
When Wayne had said they had a guest, he hadn't expected Steve Harrington to come stumbling out of their bathroom, shirtless with his hair dripping wet from the shower. He'd only had a second to appreciate the view of his own sweatpants hanging low on Steve's hips before his eyes tracked across to the watercolour spatter of deep bruising darkening across his ribs and stomach, and up to his absolutely messed up face, eye swollen shut and nose crooked.
"So," he says, collapsing onto the couch next to where his uncle is repacking their first aid kit. "How did he end up here?"
"He was staggerin' down the road dressed in a sailor outfit covered in blood an' god knows what else." Wayne heaves a sigh hand rubbing over his mouth before he continues, "I pulled up to ask if he was alright an' he said 'yes' like it was a question, like he didn't know why I was askin'."
"He tell you what happened? He seems to get in a lot of fights, Hargrove cleaned his clock not that long ago..."
"Mall burnt down, heard it on the radio." Ah, so that did happen, or maybe, because Wayne looks at him then, and Eddie knows he doesn't necessarily believe it. "He worked there, right? I heard enough from you about those sailor shorts the last few weeks."
"He did, yeah. But a fire didn't do that to him, Wayne, he has boot shaped bruises, and marks from restraints around his wrists that I watched you wrap myself." Eddie argues, ignoring the rest of it. The redness in his cheeks is from annoyance and nothing else. "And his pupils are all blown out, could be the concussion but he's acting so out of it. He did say it burnt down but, he also said something about Russians? There's not a burn on the guy."
"He said somethin' about Russians in the truck too, got real squirrely after." Wayne shakes his head, "nothin' for it now, maybe in a few days he'll be willin' to talk when his head's more straight."
"A few days?!"
"Ed, he came out of the mall lookin' like that and decided to walk home alone. He said his parents are home but that boy's a terrible liar, he's stayin' here until I can be sure he won't be found dead on the floor of that big house o' his." And it's a good point, it's kind of an open secret, Steve Harrington: big house, no parents. While it may have been great for the ragers King Steve used to host a year or two ago, it always sounded kind of lonely to Eddie. He and Wayne mostly cross paths on his days off and at meal times, when Wayne's leaving for a shift or making his way home, and Eddie wouldn't trade that time for anything.
Then again Wayne wasn't Richard and Delia Harrington, so who knows.
Still, Wayne's right, Steve isn't leaving until he's at least able to look after himself.
Which leaves plenty of time to dig into the mystery of the so called mall fire.
"Don't you go pesterin' that boy before he's ready, go get some sleep, I'll wake 'im up in an hour." Wayne says, because he knows Eddie well.
"Yeah yeah, leave the giant glaring mystery alone, but where am I gonna sleep? There's a sailor in my bed."
"Hes not dressed like a sailor anymore is he? pretty sure we're gonna have to burn that thing with how dirty it is." He says, ignoring Eddie's forlorn noise. "I'm sure the two of you can figure the rest out." Eddie ignores his knowing smile, it'd do no good to give the old man an ego.
"He's said he'd take the floor. Him. On the floor." He says, both to change the subject and have someone to share his indignance.
By the time they're finished talking, Steve's got two very concerned Munsons ready to eagle eye his every move.
***
When he tiptoes back into his room he expects Steve to be long asleep, looking like he could barely keep his eyes open before as it was. Instead as soon as Eddie looks at him his eye snaps closed like he doesn't want to be caught, tears silently tracking down his cheeks. Eddie's torn between pointing it out and letting him get away with it, but in the end he just can't let him cry alone.
"Hey, you alright?" Wow, great opener, Eddie thinks to himself with a mental face palm, because that one's not obvious at all what with all the injury and the tears. "Do you... need something?"
"Nah man, m'fine." One watery eye peers back at him, "s'nothing."
"Okay well, not that I don't trust you but, maybe I should be the judge of that?" Eddie says awkwardly, he's already known from watching Steve over the past year that he's not the same asshole he was when he hung with Tommy and Carol, but it's still weird to have him in his bed.
"Didn't know f'you were coming back." Eddie waits, sure more is coming, until he realises that maybe Steve just didn't want to be alone and didn't know how to ask. Or maybe he just assumed Eddie wouldn't want to stay.
Well he'll just have to keep him company then, anything to keep that sad little look off his face.
"Just had to check in with Uncle Wayne, he's gonna wake you up in an hour to keep an eye on your noggin." He explains, watching Steve get more comfortable, rubbing the less injured side of his face into one of Eddie's pillows.
"Kay," he says blinking slowly, quiet a while and Eddie could almost believe he was already asleep until, "s'nice."
"Hm? What's nice?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Your uncle."
"Oh. Yeah he's the best."
"S'friendly," he adds, and Eddie snorts, because usually the only word people use to describe Wayne Munson is gruff. Steve's frowning at him now, an almost stubborn pout on his face. "He is," he insists.
"Sure he is, when he likes someone well enough."
"Oh, then why-" he shakes his head, sighing heavy and impatient before Eddie can figure out what he meant. "M'tired."
"Yeah? Well, how about you get some sleep?" Eddie pushes Steve's still slightly damp hair out of his face, lets himself indulge.
"You staying?"
"Yeah, I'll be just down there," he points a thumb over his shoulder and Steve's eye narrows.
"I'll go home," Steve slurs, and Eddie narrows his own eyes at him in return.
"What? No you won't."
"Get on th' bed."
"I am on the bed?" Eddie says, confused, and Steve groans at him, sounding so put out.
"Why're you being difficult. C'mere." He wiggles a bit, an innefectual attempt to move over and make some room Eddie assumes, and then pats the mattress next to him.
"Oh. If you wanted to cuddle you just had to say so Steve," he says, voice sly. And sue him, he's being a little more liberal with the flirty teasing than he would be if Steve was more himself, but it's not like he'll get another chance where he won't risk being punched in the face. Steve probably won't remember this come morning anyway.
"I want to cuddle, Eddie." Steve says dryly, slow and matter of fact.
And well. Eddie wasn't expecting that.
"J'st-" he slaps the bed beside him, sluggish and uncoordinated. The only reason Eddie follows the direction because it's pitiful. Really.
"Alright Stevie, keep your hair on." He sits down next to Steve, above the covers thank you he's a gentleman, and settles in against the wall. It's not late enough yet for him to sleep, maybe he'll read something if the light isn't too annoying for Steve to sleep through, though he looks about ready to drop off any second. The time his eye stays closed when he blinks is getting longer, but he's still staring fixedly at Eddie, like he's waiting for something.
Eddie must take too long to figure out what it is that he wants, because Steve huffs at him, sounding even more put out than before, shoving his forehead into Eddie's hip and mumbling something into the space between them too quiet to make out.
Leaving the lamp on, he figures Steve will tell him if he wants it off, he picks up the closest book. Opening it up he intends to read silently to himself, but after a moment of scanning through the first page Steve's arm slowly, cautiously, makes its way across his thighs, hand anchoring around his opposite hip like Eddie's an oversized teddy bear.
Freezing momentarily Eddie forces himself to relax when Steve's arm stiffens in response, lets one of his own hands drop next to Steve's head, fingers curling into the hair at the back of Steve's neck he clears his throat.
"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit." He starts, and Steve melts into his side, prompting Eddie to continue with a hum. And continue he does, letting Steve drift off to the beginnings of Bilbo's adventure, anything else can wait.
***
Steve wakes with a groan, his head pounding and the sliver of light that managed to invade his blearily blinking eye before he snapped it back shut sending zaps of pain through his skull. He gives himself a moment to get oriented, inhaling the smell of the pillow his head's wedged against and getting a hit of tabacco, weed, and the same 3 in 1 his own hair currently smells of. A crime, but he'd had little other choice if he didn't want to leave all the blood in there.
So he is in the trailer, and it wasn't all an elaborate dream, then.
He can't remember all that much of the last... however many hours he's been here, getting flashes of memories of both Wayne and Eddie, of showering, of the little bit Wayne had made him eat- just enough so his stomach wasn't completely empty but his nausea wasn't set right back off- of Eddie's soft voice as his body finally felt safe enough to let him sleep.
He's not going to examine that one too closely yet.
The last thing he properly remembers is leaving the mall carpark, Robin and the kids having been bundled up one by one and driven off by their parents as dawn broke, until he realised there was no reason for him to wait anymore, and without his car keys the only thing to do was start walking.
When he'd left, he'd felt mostly fine. Sure his head hurt something fierce, and breathing didn't feel great, and his whole body was kind of aching and throbbing, but he could walk just fine.
A few miles down the road the adrenaline had finished wearing off and he'd felt a whole lot worse, the sun fully rising so he'd had to squint to see while the morning heat was beating down on him, turning his thoughts more and more soupy as time passed.
He knows he said and did some probably extremely embarrassing things yesterday, even before Eddie got home, that Wayne woke him up hourly for half the... day? Night? until he was deemed clear headed and coherent enough to sleep.
Sitting up makes his head spin, room tilting a little to the side as he makes himself stand up anyway. Eddie's gone, and Steve doesn't know why a small bubble of hurt has lodged itself in his sternum at that.
Sure, he's been coming by to scoops a lot the last few weeks and sure, maybe Steve's been flirting and sure, Eddie had responded by calling him 'pretty boy' that one time before scurrying out of the store like he was on fire. But it's not like Steve's exactly pretty right now.
"Oh hey, Sleeping Beauty awakens," Eddie says, and his voice is soft, mindful of Steve's head, even while his face is loud. "what are you doing up?"
"Giving you your bed back, thanks for that by the way, I owe you one." He walks while he talks, trying to look casual about it in spite of bumping his hip into the counter as he passes it.
"Just sit down dude, Wayne made eggs a minute ago, he's just grabbing your meds and shit from the truck."
"I don't- my meds?"
"Yeah he picked up some stuff for when you woke up."
"I-" before he can finish protesting the door opens, Wayne looking him up and down skeptically.
"Sit down before you fall down." Wayne says, heading to the stove and starting to plate up food around where Eddie is making coffee, they move around each other with ease, somehow staying out of each other's way even in the small kitchen.
"I'm good, really, see?" Steve gestures down at himself, trying to exude steadiness he doesn't feel, he's imposed for long enough. "Besides I was just about to get out of your hair."
"I don't have much of it for you to get into, kid, so y'might as well sit down." He looks up from where he's plating up scrambled eggs onto toast, pan in one hand and spatula in the other that he uses to point at Steve as he adds: "I'm not letting you outta my sight for a while yet."
Steve sits, because there's not much else to do in the face of Wayne Munson brandishing a spatula, and now that he can smell food and coffee his stomach is protesting, days without anything besides bin popcorn catching up to him.
"You're going back to bed after this," Eddie says placing a plate and coffee in front of him, "we have more of our book to get through."
"Oh," Steve says, fishing for any memory of what Eddie was reading beyond the feeling of fingers stroking through his hair and a warm melodious voice, "... Bilbo?"
"Yes!" Eddie almost shouts, catching himself at the last second and turning it into more of a stage whisper, "I'm gonna make a nerd of you yet Stevie." He murmurs, and Steve is so busy watching him he barely notices Wayne drop two painkillers down next to his plate, staring at Steve until he washes them down with a little coffee.
"Now, I have to head out, Ed'll keep an eye on you while I'm at work, there's Arnica in the bag, Ed can help you put that on-" "Waaayne." Eddie whines, but Wayne continues as if he hadn't said a word. "-before you two get back to bed." He ruffles Eddie's hair on the way past, does the same to Steve a moment later.
"Yeah yeah, Nurse Munson on the job, don't think I don't know what you're doing old man."
"I'll see you in the mornin' Steve." Wayne says before heading out the door, and it doesn't sound optional, so Steve answers:
"If you insist, Mr Munson," and gets a snort from Eddie for his trouble.
"Okay so," he starts, "what do you remember about the Hobbit?" Steve watches him talk more than listens to everything he says, catches something about Bilbo's dinner party and rowdy dwarves as Eddie takes their dishes over to wash in the sink, only pausing to tell Steve to 'keep his ass in his seat' when he makes to help, and continue on without missing a beat. Steve feels that warmth back in his chest, fiddles with the tube of Arnica just for something to occupy his hands so he won't tear up at the feeling of being cared for for the first time in god knows how long.
All he can think while Eddie ushers him back to bed is maybe... maybe staying one more day won't hurt.