Chapter Text
Steve held Winston’s collar as they approached, Eddie pressed against his side every step of the way. Ever since Hopper’s kid went missing, the former cop had been — strange. They needed to be careful.
His house was lit up like a Christmas Tree. Security lights flashed on and blinded them. The hum of additional lights snapped, and Eddie stepped solidly in front of Steve, stopping their forward progress. Listening.
Steve was about to ask what was up when he heard the distinctive sound of shot being loaded into a chamber.
“Show me your eyes!” Hopper shouted from behind the wall of lights. A flashlight swung across their bodies. Eddie yanked his sweatshirt off and threw it over Steve’s face.
“It’s me, Eddie!” Eddie yelled, bare-chested, hands in the air like he was surrendering. “It’s me and Steve Harrington! Can you kill the lights, please?”
Steve dug his shades out of a pocket, then peeked out from beneath his makeshift shield to glimpse Joyce by Hopper’s side. She was holding the flashlight. Hopper had the gun.
“What the hell are you two doing out here without a vehicle?”
Steve thought of telling him about the Beemer, all torn apart in the garage, thought about Eddie’s rusted old Jeep, probably still parked in the mountains.
“We need your help with something,” Eddie answered instead. “Can you turn the lights down?”
Steve heard Joyce’s voice, calming. “Come on, Jim. They’re just kids.”
“I don’t care,” her husband gruffed. “They ain’t coming any closer until I see their eyes.”
Eddie’s hand came to rest on Steve’s chest. It was warm, and he had to feel how Steve’s heart raced.
“It’s OK,” Eddie soothed. “Just. Do what he says and we can —“
The lights powered down, and the flashlight jumped across them. Eddie spun, reaching down for Steve’s hand. It was most likely to keep his balance as his eyes focused in the sudden blackness. It was torture thinking it could have been anything more.
Eddie, however, didn’t let go as he squared his shoulders and took the brunt of the torch over his face. And he didn’t let go when Hopper told Steve to remove his sunglasses, as Joyce swung the light in his face, too.
“Are we clear?” Eddie asked, squeezing Steve’s fingers. “Can we come inside now?”
Hopper sounded reluctant when he answered, but it was only half-hearted. “It’s late.”
Eddie huffed beside Steve. “Do you wanna see what I brought or not?”
It appeared Hopper did, because there was the sound of a lock and chain being removed.
They continued up the driveway, surrounded on both sides by a tall fence around Hopper’s house, trailing off into the dark and the garden in the backyard. He and Joyce stood behind a ten-foot gate, which was topped with razor wire, just like the rest of the perimeter. The gun was pointed at them.
Eddie leaned in to whisper as they neared the gate. “He’s not fucking around.”
“No shit.”
Joyce looked apologetic as she let them through the gate. “Can’t be too careful, you know that.”
Steve did know. So did Eddie.
So did Winston. He swiveled his head, sniffing in each direction, before bounding inside the house with his tongue lolling out.
They entered the brightly lit foyer of one of the oldest homes in the Bay, built of stucco and clay in the traditional Californian style. Steve shielded his eyes and handed Eddie’s sweatshirt back. His friend’s skin was marked with gooseflesh.
Joyce, empath that she was, caught on immediately. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she gushed, hurrying down the hall to dim the lights. Winston followed her jauntily. “Just let me get a few of these.”
Hopper, behind them, grunted. Both Eddie and Steve spun around, startled.
“Well? What do you need help with?”
Steve cleared his throat to speak, but couldn’t find the words. Hopper was glaring as if Steve was the one who made his daughter disappear. It was paralyzing.
Eddie, however, had no such problem. “We got footage of those coyotes.”
Joyce, switching off the lamp in the oversized living room, gasped. She waved an arm, urging them further inside the home. Hopper, suddenly shifting gears to the more welcoming kind, guided them down the short hall with a hand on each of their shoulders.
“Come in and sit down, boys. Let me get my things.”
(The term ‘boys’ was a misnomer. At twenty-five, he and Eddie had long since passed that mark.)
By ‘things,’ he meant an old-fashioned tape recorder, an 8mm camcorder in pristine condition, a corded microphone, and an old crate full of file folders. Joyce, for her part, disappeared into the attached kitchen. Eddie and Steve watched as she set a kettle of water on a gas stove and took down mugs and spoons. Hopper laid his supplies on the long coffee table, suggesting sternly that Steve and Eddie should sit.
The two friends shared a glance where Steve understood that Eddie knew more about the situation than he did. There was something to be learned here; it felt like Eddie and Hopper had discussed more than the usual movie night with the Byers. It intrigued Steve.
They sat side-by-side with Winston perched at their feet. Steve gripped the handle of his backpack tightly. Eddie’s knee bounced up and down as they watched Hopper arrange his equipment.
Joyce, bless her, made small talk from the kitchen. “So sorry about all the lights,” she repeated. “If I’d have known you were coming, you would have had a much different greeting.”
She glared at her husband. He ignored her.
“That’s OK,” Steve said. “We probably should have called first.”
Eddie shot from the couch, marching into the kitchen and intercepting Joyce’s hand on the kettle.
“Let me do that,” he said.
Joyce smiled and left him to it, collecting a tray of spoons and milk. She took one look at the mess on the coffee table and turned her eyes skyward. It was clear she didn’t exactly approve of low-tech spy gear spread all over the living room.
She found a side table and Eddie followed soon after, mugs of steaming liquid in each hand. He gave one to Joyce first, then served Steve with a concerned look. His friend was in protective mode, and there was nothing Steve could do about it.
“Everything OK with you in that big house?” Joyce asked Steve as she sank into a chair. “I’ve been meaning to check on you before this. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”
Joyce was the motherly type. When his dad died she’d showed up with way too much food for the freezer. Still numb from the shock, he hadn’t had the strength to refuse. It was about three months after El had disappeared, and the two of them found solace in their shared loss.
Hopper, however, was a tough nut to crack.
He’d worked with Steve’s dad years ago, and they’d been the kind of work friends that bled into personal. Hopper took it hard when his friend died; the two men had worked non-stop following leads, first for Steve’s mom’s disappearance, then Hopper’s daughter, to no avail. They were inseparable, their shared traumatic past a strong connection. That connection didn’t seem to pass onto Steve.
Hopper would barely look him in the eye. Eddie seemed to have a plan to fix that.
“Take out your phone,” he said to Steve, returning from the kitchen with tea for himself and Hopper. “Show him.”
“Hang on,” Hopper said, words clipped. “I gotta hook up the battery on this camera.”
They proceeded to set up a contraption that allowed Hopper to take video of Steve’s camera. Apparently, the man didn’t trust any kind of technology connected to the internet.
“That Elon Musk keeps telling us we’re in a simulation, that the government is watching and directing everything we do. I’d bet a million dollars I don’t have that he’s behind all this.”
Eddie, smug, elbowed Steve gently. “See?”
It was suddenly clear what Hopper and Eddie had in common: conspiracy theories.
“OK, ready,” and Hopper pressed a button on the camcorder. The tiny screen lit up with a miniature version of Steve’s phone. He reached in to hit play on the video.
All four leaned over the table to watch the dry grasses doing nothing interesting, then the shadows as they crossed the screen. The pack of animals doubling back, focusing on the camera. And then the eyes.
“Holy shit,” Hopper hissed, entranced. Joyce covered her mouth. Eddie sat back, knowing what was coming next.
When the lead animal’s mouth split and then split again, both Joyce and Hopper leaped to their feet. They watched in horror, eyes and mouths wide, as the camera went black.
Hopper was the first to speak. “What the hell was that?”
Eddie shook his head, knee still vibrating the couch. Steve, worried about his friend’s state of mind, said, “Those are the things that keep stealing our cameras.”
Hopper’s eyes flew to Eddie’s face, filled with shock and confusion, both. Joyce reached down to stop the recording, then laid a trembling hand on her husband’s forearm. She looked about to be sick, weaving slightly, and Steve was about to rush to her aid when Hopper threw his arm around her.
He was scared.
“Show me where.”
Joyce squeaked softly, sliding both arms around him. Hopper tightened his hold, jaw set.
“Now?” Steve asked, already understanding it was a stupid question.
Eddie jumped in to save him from making more of a fool of himself. “Out by the old compound. We’ll have to take your truck.”
There were a few heated moments where Hopper insisted one way and Joyce insisted the other, but they came to an agreement when Eddie insisted they were safer together, and all four plus one piled into Hopper’s truck with enough surveillance equipment to storm Area 51.
Winston took his job as lookout seriously, with both front paws on the center console, head ducked low to be able to see out the windshield. Joyce instinctively stuck her hand through his collar to keep the dog from falling as they rode over the bumpy mountain road. Steve felt a twinge of gratitude toward her.
They stopped next to Eddie’s jeep, looking through the windows, searching for anything unusual. But the rusted bucket of bolts gave zero clues, and Eddie urged them onward, explaining he’d walked the rest of the way to avoid detection.
Hopper seemed to have no worries about making noise. He was a man on a mission, determined to see for himself the state of Eddie and Steve’s cameras. They’d have to move them anyway, seeing as the coyotes probably had their scent now. It would make fact collection that much more difficult.
“All right,” Hopper scowled, voice lowered and the engine off. “Nobody goes off alone. Not even the dog.”
Steve was about to explain that Winston never left his side at times like these, but Hopper and Joyce and Eddie were already out of the truck, instruments in hand.
Eddie had his phone out, checking the other cameras. One was black, and the other two showed the local vegetation. And the fourth was still offline, deep in the belly of an alien creature.
“Here,” Eddie hissed, his head close to Steve’s. “Take this. Just in case.”
In the palm of Eddie’s upturned hand, a black-bladed knife rested, completely harmless, gently used. Steve, fumbling in his backpack for Winston’s leash, balked.
“Eddie —“
“Take it,” he ordered, folding the blade and pushing it into Steve’s sweatshirt pouch. “Not messing around.”
Steve stuck his hand in the pocket, wrapping fingers around the cool solidness of it, while Eddie clipped the leash onto the dog.
“Ready?” he asked.
Steve flashed his phone. “Ready.”
They walked for quite a while, huddled together with Eddie in the lead. Winston stopped several times to sniff the ground, giving it up as Steve pulled hard on the leash. He wrapped the handhold around his wrist three times, cranking up on the length to give him more leverage. They didn’t need an overly aggressive tracking machine to give them away.
Steve watched the location dots of each camera, clicking on one and then the other, checking out the view. At one point the dead camera flickered, but Steve figured it was a trick of the darkness. There was nothing there. There couldn’t be. It was damaged beyond repair. It had to be.
When the screen flicked again, Steve stopped walking and restarted the app. Joyce and Hopper and Eddie kept moving forward slowly, but it didn’t concern Steve. Winston was leaning against Steve’s leg, panting from the exertion of the climb. His dog would alert him if something went wrong.
And then the screen blipped and turned on, the lens blurry, out of focus. He tried to get a clearer picture manually, but there was nothing he could do on his side.
When the image slid into clarity, it took a moment for Steve to recognize what he was looking at. A person standing in a clearing, hunched over slightly. A dark shape sat at its feet, an animal leaning slightly to the side. And Steve made an audible gasp as he put the picture together.
He was looking at himself.
Slowly, Steve turned into the night where the recording was being filmed. Sure enough, a red dot of light shone through the black.
Several things happened quite suddenly as Steve froze in shock. Something big came charging out of the desert, and Winston ripped the leash from his hand. There was an overwhelming wave of cold, dense air, bringing with it the putrid stench of something like an ancient bog. Joyce shrieked, and Eddie shouted. And Steve, without regard for his own life, ran into danger to stop his dog.
“Winston!” he cried, ignoring the frantic shouts from the humans behind him, focused only on the snarling bark Winston gave as he tore off. Something was emerging from the dark, something even darker than the world around them; a shapeless, sentient void. It loomed high overhead and beneath his feet as he approached the dog, bouncing and diving around some kind of slashing vine.
“Stop!” he yelled, lungs cloying with dust particles that he didn’t understand. It seized his diaphragm, clogged his throat. Something struck him, buckling his knees and clawing at his upper thigh. Later, he shuddered as he wondered what would have happened to him if Eddie’s strong arms hadn’t wrapped securely around his waist.
“Steve!” Eddie grunted, pulling Steve away from the encroaching – thing. “Fuck, no! Come on! We gotta get outta here!”
Winston continued to bark hysterically, dodging and weaving and snapping steel-like jowls at whatever it was that was attacking. Before Steve could argue, before he could tear himself from Eddie’s much stronger arms, Hopper and Joyce were pulling on him, too.
“No!” he screamed as they hauled him away, as they set off running back toward the truck. Over one shoulder Steve could see his dog jumping away, getting down on his haunches before leaping again.
Steve knew what Winston was doing. It was the only thing that allowed him to be dragged down the mountain.
Eddie practically lifted Steve into the back seat the second the door was open, and before he could close it, Steve whistled for his pooch. Winston had been barking the entire time, and he never seemed to get very far away. It was like he was causing a distraction so the others could get to safety.
“Hang on to something,” Hopper shouted as he started the vehicle. Joyce slammed herself in the passenger side, and Eddie crawled up and over Steve, leaning across his lap to close the door. But Steve had his foot in the way, screaming for Winston to ‘hurry the fuck up, the train was leaving the station.’
With a final excited yapping, higher than the rest, the dog appeared, literally running for its four-legged life. It launched into the back seat, toppling Eddie to the opposite side. Hopper was already giving it gas when Steve slammed his door shut, too.
“What the fuck was that?” Eddie shouted. It wasn’t clear whether he was referring to the creature outside or the way Winston had taken him out.
“I dunno!” Joyce shouted back, palms gripping the dashboard as Hopper’s tires spun in the soft sand. “Drive, Jim! Hurry!”
“I’m going as fast as I can!” he yelled back, reaching across the console to grab his wife by the thigh, holding her firmly to the seat.
Eddie succeeded in pushing Winston away, but the dog refused to give up his position by Steve. He had to collect the animal onto his lap so that Eddie could slide over, wedging them firmly against the door.
“Shit,” Eddie panted. “You OK?”
“Other than being scared shitless, yeah!”
There was something else needling in the back of his brain, but the adrenaline drowned it out, as did the way Eddie’s fingers reached for the back of his neck and pulled him in for a hug.
“You stupid idiot!” he hissed into the side of Steve’s face. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”
A thought struck Steve, and he pushed Winston to the floor. The dog growled at him, but Steve clamped his thighs around the dog’s neck, keeping him off the seat. He had to check something.
“Oh my god,” he said as Eddie quickly leaned back to see Steve’s phone. He’d been right; the camera outside Steve’s house showed the pack of coyotes. They were howling, circling the perimeter. As if they’d figured out –
“No,” Eddie whispered. “That’s not possible. They can’t have –”
“We’re taking you back to your house so we can –” Joyce began, but both Eddie and Steve shouted at her.
She blinked, surprised. “Then where do you suggest? I’m pretty sure you don’t want us rushing you to the ER!”
Eddie’s head whipped around and his fingers tightened around Steve’s neck. “What? Did you get –?”
Hopper answered where Steve couldn’t. “I saw something grab your leg, Steve. We gotta make sure you aren't injured.”
The way Eddie was staring at Steve was enough to make him sick. Nobody ever looked at him like that, like they actually cared about his welfare. Not since his parents. Not even Robin could work up such fear, such protective, terrified concern.
Robin.
“Take us to Robin’s house!” Steve offered, prepared to do anything to keep Eddie from blowing their cover while escaping from something the government was hiding in the old abandoned lab. “Robin Buckley. Take us to her place.”
Joyce turned her head between Hopper and Steve, not quite convinced that was the best route, but apparently willing to accept it as a backup plan.
“Right,” Hopper said and took a curve much too quickly, changing direction and squealing back onto the main road.
Eddie ended up leaning hard against Steve again. He grabbed the point of Steve’s chin with his free hand.
“You listen to me, Harrington.” His voice broke. Those big brown eyes began to tear up. “You don’t get to keep things from me. Got it?”
Like Steve wasn’t keeping secret the fact that he was in love with his best friend?
“OK.”
Robin lived down by the old resort, her parents’ place a part of the gated community that disappeared after all the freak storms and landslides. Nobody wanted to live that close to the ocean, in case they slid right into it. Theirs was the only house on their cul-de-sac that still had power. Mr. and Mrs. Buckley were a bit mad about living off the grid.
Steve found himself glad for it as they pulled into the drive.
“Stay here,” Hopper ordered as he climbed out of the truck. He’d left it running, and Steve was unnerved by the way Winston peered into the darkness. The dog was smart enough to know where they were; he was strangely quiet, considering how he usually acted around Robin.
Robin’s dad met Hopper at the door, and after a short conversation, Robin herself pushed past both men, marching determinedly toward the truck.
“Shit,” Eddie groaned.
“She’s gonna kill me,” Steve muttered. Hadn’t he promised her he’d keep Eddie away from the compound?
But Robin was controlled, smiling as if she was genuinely pleased to see them. Like it was a social call.
“Thanks so much, Joyce, for bringing them here instead of the hospital,” she crooned, putting on a confidence Steve didn’t feel in the least. “You know how they were with Eddie the last time.”
“I know,” Joyce said, hesitant. “You sure they’ll be OK here?”
Robin laughed. “Of course they will! My parents are doctors. They’ll know what to do.”
Robin’s mother was a pharmacist and her dad was a dentist.
“All right then.”
Hopper returned, and Robin grabbed a fistful of Steve’s sweatshirt. She pulled him out of the vehicle, marching him back toward the house. Eddie and Winston followed a safe distance apart.
Smart.
“Hello, Mr. Buckley,” Steve tried cheerfully, hoping he wasn’t about to be thrown to the wolves. He wasn’t sure if Robin’s parents could be trusted or not.
“Hello, Steve.” He held the door open as the three friends passed over the threshold. “I see your dog is joining us, too?”
“He’s fine, Dad,” Robin answered, silencing Steve and Eddie with a look. “Best behaved dog you ever met. Doesn’t even shed.”
Winston did shed, lots, but Steve didn’t dare push it.
Eddie handed over Steve’s bag, his own slung over one shoulder. Robin pushed the both of them up the stairs.
“Now you boys go clean up for dinner. Mom and dad had no idea you were coming, and they insist on good table manners, got it?”
Steve glanced sideways at Eddie. Eddie was frowning.
“But Robin?” her dad called after them. “I thought Steve was hurt?”
Steve’s stomach fell right to the floor, but Robin recovered nicely. She sighed heavily and hissed into Eddie’s face.
“Bathroom, top of the stairs. First aid kit is under the sink.” Then, to her dad, “It’s just a scratch. I’ll get an ice bag from the basement. He’ll be fine.”
From the look on Eddie’s face, he didn’t believe it for a moment. He clutched at Steve’s elbow, climbing the stairs with renewed purpose, while Robin ran back down the stairs to the bottom floor. Winston stood halfway up the stairs, unsure which one to follow.
“Go with her,” Steve said, pointing after Robin. “Make sure she doesn’t freak out.”
The door swung shut behind them and Eddie turned the lock. He dropped his bag and went immediately for the kit under the sink, then turned to face Steve with another order.
“Show me where.”
Steve set his backpack down and held one hand to the rip in his trousers. Eddie sank to his knees to get a better look.
That’s when Steve felt a heated flush, and his knees began to wobble. The tear was damn near the crease of his thigh, and if Eddie touched him there, he was going to die.
Eddie caught on that something was wrong. “Sit on the toilet lid.”
Steve obeyed. And he only made a small tortured sound when Eddie tugged off his shoes, then pulled Steve to his feet to get rid of the trousers, too.
Left in his boxer briefs, terrified to look down at the stinging gash on his thigh, Steve held tightly to the shower bar and prayed he wouldn’t embarrass himself further.
“Fuck.”
Eddie was gentle as he pushed aside the loose part of Steve’s underwear, exposing a four-inch-long cut just below where leg met torso. He didn’t touch the injury itself, just smoothed the hairs away, bending close to be able to see.
Steve tipped his head down to look at the top of Eddie’s curls, just as the man gripped the unaffected knee and pushed himself more closely between Steve’s thighs.
“Oh,” Steve whimpered, and long lashes fluttered up in his direction.
“Does it feel like it’s crawling?” Eddie asked, and it sounded like he meant it. Steve wondered if that’s what the coyote had done, if that’s how it was for him. If so, there were no words invented that could describe how wrecked Steve felt.
“No,” he answered honestly, but Eddie still glared at him like he didn’t believe it. “I swear. It’s just a scratch from the brush. That thing didn’t touch me –”
But Eddie wasn’t listening. He leaned backward to reach for his bag, fumbling with one hand in search of something while the fingers of the other slid up the length of Steve’s leg.
Eddie’s thumb was damn close to his balls.
Steve closed his eyes against the surge of electricity inside his veins, which surely meant the blood was beginning to flow southward. His head spun and his ears buzzed, and when he opened his eyes, Eddie was squeezing a drop from Steve’s mother’s emergency tube.
“What –?”
“Grabbed it just in case,” Eddie explained, intently focused on portioning the same amount Steve had done. “Just like the sunscreen.”
This was not like the sunscreen. Eddie stayed clear of Steve’s intimate parts when applying it to his skin. This was going to come within inches of his dick.
His dick which was currently at half-staff thinking of Eddie and mother fucking sunscreen.
“Let me know if I hurt you,” Eddie hummed, leaning in once more to press a gentle finger to the cut. Steve thought of reminding him about gloves, just in case, but he was too mesmerized by the cautious, careful way Eddie touched Steve with the ointment.
He used a forefinger along the lower edge, drawing it sideways, slowly pressing down so that the hairs moved in the same direction. Then he rounded the corner and repeated it along the upper edge of the cut. He finished off by smoothing it over with the pad of his thumb. And as Steve watched, open-mouthed, Eddie slid back his own sleeve and applied the leftover medication to the matching cut on his wrist.
Steve made a sound that was wholly uncomplimentary to their friendship.
Eddie heard it.
His eyes returned to Steve’s cut, checking out his handiwork while rubbing in the remaining ointment into his wrist. Eddie seemed satisfied, but before pulling away, before searching for gauze and tape to cover it, his friend did something completely unexpected.
Eddie absolutely noticed the reaction he’d created in Steve, the gentle bend in Steve’s dick inside his readjusted underwear. His eyes fell on and lingered and lingered and lingered there while Steve’s face went hot and his heart set about racing. And as Steve tried to cover it with his hand, tried to pretend he wasn’t sporting a boner while his friend touched him so intimately, Eddie looked up with surprised cow eyes, and said something Steve never thought he’d hear out of the man’s mouth.
“Are you – are you hard – for me?”