Archive of Our Own

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limitless undying love,
which shines around me like a million suns,
it calls me on and on across the universe,
Across the Universe, The Beatles

1987

Steve is comfortable on his back, laying against the trunk of his car, looking up at the night sky, when he sees a shooting star rush across the vastness of space. It was right there in front of him a second ago, and then gone in the blink of an eye.

Like it maybe never existed at all.

It was pretty, the few moments he got to spend looking at it, and he wishes Robin could have seen it.
Hell, he wishes Eddie could have seen it. 
The last thing Eddie saw was that awful, bat-infested, red sky of the Upside Down, and that’s a fucking shame. Steve quickly thinks:

I wish we'd had more time. I wish you'd gotten a different ending, a different life. I wish I could have fixed this.

But he can't fix this. They didn't have more time. And Eddie barely got to live at all. They came up with a plan on the fly, a little too unprepared, and Eddie didn’t come home at the end of the night. And as much as Steve hates it, regrets it. That can't be undone.

Steve can never unsee Eddie's body on the ground, can never unsee Dustin crouched over him, protectively. Dustin tried. Steve tried. Nancy tried. Robin tried. Nothing they did was gonna change it.

Eddie was just gone, and they couldn’t fix that.

They were too late.

And it can't be fixed that the gates started closing before they figured out a way to bring him back through. To bring his body home. It's a regret Steve lives with every damn day. You don't leave a man behind, and he did exactly that. Against his will, maybe, but it still happened on his watch and he feels like that's on him.

Robin was screaming, pulling on him. Trying desperately to drag him along with her, trying to get him to let go of Eddie's body. He didn't want to give up, and he was barely hearing Robin, or Nancy, as they were both yelling at him to come on, right now. Nancy kept turning her head, screaming at him, as she helped walk a limping Dustin towards the trailer. Steve thinks that Robin may not have been able to get him to stop trying to lift Eddie, if they hadn’t used Dustin as the reason he had to go, had to move.

Now.

Something was happening, and it felt like the beginning of an earthquake. Small tremors, rolling under their feet. Steve stood, barely able to keep his balance. Taking one last look at Eddie, in apology. In sorrow.

In regret, for what would never be. For Eddie. For any of them.

Eddie had cut the sheet, and now Dustin needed help getting back up and through the gate, and the girls couldn’t do it alone. So, Steve went. Followed them, helped. Found a step stool and pushed each of them up through the gate, and back into the real world.

He'd turned, and looked towards the door, considering.

And Robin had been standing there, above him, crying. Begging him to just come through. Hand stretched out, holding the remnants of tied together sheets for him to grab. He stepped down one rung on the ladder, and she had shrieked at the same time the ground buckled, groaning, as it got ready to give way, and he grabbed a hold of the sheet, and pulled himself through.

They crawled out of the trailer in the real world, just as it started to split, getting devoured by the fiery earth below.

And that was that.

They had a war to fight, to win.

And they did.

Vecna is gone, but so is Eddie.

And now the shooting star is long gone, too.

Steve looks at the stars left behind, just like him.

But maybe Eddie did see it, somewhere. Steve's learned that nothing is impossible. Not now. Things happen that can't be explained. Walls open in bedrooms and monsters crawl out. There can be tunnels underground, well-worn paths just for monsters to travel deep beneath your feet.

And there can be a gate at the bottom of a lake that greedily sucks you under, and spits you back out into hell.

Weird shit happens in this world, that's just a fact.

So, there's no reason he couldn't believe that Eddie saw that shooting star, somewhere else, in space and time.

But Steve doesn't believe that, not really, but for a brief moment he can pretend he does. He really wants to believe that somewhere, in some other universe, Eddie was looking up at the same night sky. One that wasn’t red, wasn’t bleeding with the color of devastation, of evil. One that was full of bright, beautiful stars. Full of potential. Of a life yet unlived, undreamed, with endless possibilities laid out before him.

Eddie was only twenty years old. He hadn't really lived life, not yet. Hadn't got the chance to see the world, to see that there are things beyond the narrow-minded confines of Hawkins, Indiana.

Steve's twenty now, too. Almost twenty-one. His birthday came and went, with little fanfare. No longer a teenager. He's caught up to Eddie, and very soon, he'll surpass him.

He swallows, trying to shove the emotion of that realization down.

It's been a hard year, harder than any of the others.

Because Steve’s become fixated, canonizing this man he barely knew. Robin has tried, desperately, to get him to stop obsessing. To let the guilt subside. He doesn't know Eddie Munson. Not really. And now he never will.

And that's a whole bunch of horseshit.

He feels a strange pulling in his stomach, and before can even sit up, he pops out of existence. 
 
they tumble blindly,
as they make their way across the universe

Across the Universe, The Beatles

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

you can imitate everyone you know,
i told you so, all i want is you
Dig a Pony, The Beatles

1924

Steve re-materializes in front of a mansion. An old one. Like the Creel House, but not as shitty and falling down. He looks down, and he doesn't know what the fuck he's wearing. This doesn't look right. He's not sure what right is, but it's not this. He knows that much. He must be dreaming. That’s gotta be it.

"Steven! Come inside!" and he's pretty sure that's his mom's voice. He hasn’t seen her in weeks, they were in Europe the last he knew.

He follows her voice, and on the inside, this is their house. Sort of. But not. Maybe if he was in the olden days. His mom is sitting in a hardback chair. And she’s in a fucking costume.

Like, what?

She is highly respected, but has no sense of whimsy or fun, so that's highly unlikely to be the case.

Is this what they'd look like if they lived in the past? That would be trippy.

"What’s going on? What are we doing here?" he asks, and he’s pretty sure this is not where he is supposed to be, wherever this is. Weird fucking dream to be having.

"What do you mean, Steven? You better go on. You’ll be late for the races," she says, and he isn’t exactly sure what kind of racing he’s supposed to be doing dressed like this. Then she adds, "Go on, now. Take Lizzie."

He doesn’t know who Lizzie even is, this is fucking weird as shit. He hopes he doesn’t have a sister in this weird fever dream.

"Go on now, hurry along," she says, and points to the back door, so he follows her finger.

Goes out the door, and walks around until he finds a man working in a garden shed, the gardener, he assumes, "Um, hi. Do you know where Lizzie is?"

"Yes, Mr. Harrington, she’s out front," he says, and Steve follows behind him, as he’s led towards…a car. It’s probably a Model T, he thinks. Or something very similar. He definitely doesn’t have the knowledge, or desire, to identify old ass cars. He doesn't care. He knows it’s old. Really fucking old. And apparently named Lizzie.

"I’m supposed to take her to the races," Steve says, and the man nods, "and they are located…?"

"Just outside of town, Mr. Harrington," he says, like Steve’s an idiot. Steve feels like an idiot.

He gets in and doesn’t even understand the foot pedals in this deathtrap. There seems to be three of them. Well, okay, maybe it’s a standard? He can sort of drive one of those. In theory, anyway. He gets the concept of a clutch, at least.

He turns the key and nothing happens, and the gardener just watches, surely confused at this nonsense that’s happening in front of him.

"I just, I don’t…" Steve says, unable to admit that he doesn't know how it works. Assumes that will sound crazy. Surely, he's supposed to know how to drive this thing.

"Let me help you, Mr. Harrington," he says, and if this is extremely odd behavior from him, the gardener doesn’t let on, "the engine is probably cold, we’ll need to prime it."

He walks to the front of the car, and Steve follows to watch as he pulls out a little stick, and then does some cranking on another, and Steve watches, counting.

One, two, three.

Okay. Three half-ish turns of the whatchamacallit lever and one pull of the whoozit.

Simple. Easy.

The gardener walks up and pushes up and down the little levers by the steering wheel, and then comes back, grabs a hold of the front fender, and gives one hard crank and the thing fires up, sounding like a lawnmower. Or a weed eater. Something loud. He snaps his fingers, pointing. It sounds like a generator. Like the one at Family Video that they could fire up, if the electricity went out. That’s what it sounds like.

But then he wonders, what’s Family Video? That popped into his head, easily, but he doesn’t actually

know

what he’s thinking of. Can’t see it. Can’t remember. That’s weird, and he doesn’t like the feeling of it. Like it’s on the tip of his tongue. Tip of his brain? But he can’t actually roll it over into a full memory.

The gardener takes a step backwards, and moves the little lever left of the steering wheel downwards, and it starts sounding smoother. Like the timing has been adjusted. He’s never going to remember all this, no fucking way, even if he can make it out of the driveway. Maybe the gardener would take him and drop him off.

He doesn’t ask, and the gardener clearly trusts him to take off in this contraption. If he makes it where he's going, maybe he can leave it idling all day. Maybe it wouldn't get stolen. Or maybe it would. Steve has no clue if grand theft auto is prevalent here.

Steve gets in and really doesn't understand how this works. The gardener pulls down on a stick to his left, telling him to put his foot down, hard, and then he reaches across Steve, and is gently pulling down on the right lever, and the car starts to move.

He nearly wrecks at the end of the lane, car not at all minding his gentle request to turn, when he suddenly has a realization:

No power steering, no power steering, oh god!

Steve panics, but cranks the wheel, around and around wildly, much harder than he's ever yanked on a steering wheel, ever. Even more so than the RV in the trailer park, and he makes the corner, just barely. Goddamn. That was close. Too close for comfort. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. But at least he’s starting to remember. He remembers stealing the RV. He remembers that he worked at Family Video with Robin. They rented movies to the whole town. And before that, they scooped ice cream in the mall. The one that burned down.

He remembers that they've fought monsters.

He knows. He remembers who he is, and where he’s from.

And it's definitely not from here. Not this time, not this place.

He misses Robin.

And he’s just glad he knows who Robin is at this point. He's pretty sure he didn’t twenty minutes ago. He barely knew who he was, and that feels weird. It's unsettling to not know who you are, he thinks.

He pushes up on the hand lever, and tries to coast, not trusting himself to push this thing. It's too unpredictable, and sounds awful. He's sure he's grinding the gears, like he's never driven a car before.

He finally makes it to the race track, somehow, though it was scary as shit and a little touch and go at times. And he had to ask for directions. Do you know how hard it is to find someone to ask for directions, when there isn't a convenience store on every corner? Hard. Really goddamn hard. Steve knows that now, especially since he has barely figured out how this car works.

Steve wishes he had his atlas from his car. The trusty Rand McNally, that he's sure he could navigate the entire country with if he had a reason to. But no, he's stuck here, with nothing familiar. Without his own car that he knows how to drive, like second nature. And on top of it, he has no idea where the fuck he even is right now. Not the place, and maybe not the time.

It's been a day.

But he made it to the track. He followed a line of cars all headed in the same direction, and they led him right to it. Coming to a stop is hard, but he manages, and leaves where it is, in the far corner of the dirt lot. He climbs out after he decides it's in park, but he thinks if it rolls away while he's gone, well, then good fucking riddance.

He takes off his hat, smoothing back his hair as he walks towards the building across the lot. It's a horse track, he realizes. He can see the horses at a distance, the jockeys standing around.

Once he's inside the building, he looks around. This is something, really something. He's never seen anything like it before. And he's been to a horse track with his dad, once, when he was little. But it didn't feel like this. This is something else. There are men, and a few women, everywhere. A huge crowd of folks, waiting around, talking, most dressed nicely. Like they are out at an event, not just a day at the races.

He spots a calendar of events on the wall, and walks closer to check it out. It's 1924. Holy fucking hell. That's…a long time ago, for fuck's sake.

Steve gets in the line for the ticket booth, because that seems like the natural thing to do, since that's where people are funneling themselves. And he just looks around, people watching. This is wild. Crazy. Unbelievable.

He just keeps looking everywhere, taking it all in, and he's distracted as the line moves without him.

"Hey, you wanna place a bet?" the bookie asks, and Steve turns towards the sound. He knows that voice. He’s wearing a hat, but it’s Eddie Munson behind those bars. He’s sure of it.

Oh, this

is

a dream.

His first instinct is to feel crestfallen at the realization, but it is a good dream, lifelike and real, so Steve just turns and smiles at this conjured dream Eddie. Steve'll take a good dream, no question. It's a damn sight better than the nightmares.

"Sure, I’ll place a bet," Steve teases, walking up to the counter, happy to see Eddie again, even if only here, in his dreams.

"Okay," Eddie says, looking at him expectantly. Steve doesn't know what to say to move this forward. He isn't really one to make bets, not real ones. It's one thing to bet Robin, or Dustin, about stupid shit.

This is actual gambling, and he doesn't know anything about it.

"On a horse," Steve finally says, and Eddie laughs. It's a great sound, and Steve wishes he'd heard it more before Eddie died.

"Well, that's good, I guess. That's usually how this works. Means you're in the right place, because we aren't racing gophers today," Eddie says, a little sarcastically, but with no heat. He's funny. Steve had forgotten that, if he ever knew it. Maybe Eddie didn't have time to be funny in the short time they'd spent together, under such duress.

Steve smiles at him, "Sorry. I'm kind of new."

"Yeah, I gathered that," Eddie says, "so, straight or across the board?" Eddie questions, and Steve wonders if this is a sexual question or not.

"Um, across the board?" he finally answers, not at all confident in his choice, but whatever.

"Sure, half a loaf is better than none. Which horse?" Eddie asks, looking like he's finally getting a little impatient with Steve not knowing what the fuck he's doing. Probably because the line behind him is growing, quickly.

There's a big chalkboard behind Eddie, with horse names written on it. Eddie points at it, and Steve studies them, reading all the options, and then he laughs when he sees one of the names. That's it. That's definitely the one.

"I’ll bet on Big Boy."

"You got it," Eddie says, but doesn’t really look like he recognizes Steve, and doesn’t at all react to the Big Boy joke, "That’ll be six dollars. Two dollars each," Eddie says, sliding him a ticket. Eddie points at three two dollar prices, and explains that they are for winning, placing, and showing. All three are two dollars a piece, for a total of six.

Steve doesn't really know what any of that means, not for sure, but he nods.

Two dollars each is high, Steve thinks. Especially for this time and place. Six dollars is not far off of two fucking hours of work at Family Video. And that’s over sixty years in the future.

"Six dollars?" Steve questions. He’s not the best at math, but that seems wrong.

"Six dollars," Eddie confirms, a little impatient.

But, Steve just fishes out his wallet and opens it. The bills look fake. For one, they're fucking huge. This can't be right. But Eddie is looking at him, impatient, so Steve counts out six of these cartoon-sized one dollar bills and hands them over.

Eddie takes them, without any commentary.

"You’re Eddie, right?" Steve asks, needing to prolong this interaction in any way possible.

"Yeah, what’s it to you?" Eddie snaps, suddenly less friendly than before. Steve wonders if he still has long hair tucked up under that newsboy cap. If he does, Steve would like to see it. That’s probably weird. He can't be weirder, he's already off-balance. He needs to pull his shit together.

"Nothing, you’re just familiar," Steve says, lamely. "I feel like I've seen you, you know, around."

"I don't think so, rich boy," Eddie says, and Steve knows he's being dismissed. He's been dismissed by Eddie before, in school. Eddie never had any time for anyone he deemed popular, or conforming, or whatever he was always screaming about all over campus.

Steve tries to not let it get under his skin, let it hurt. But it does. It feels like their old dynamic, from

before.

When they were in the same high school, where Eddie was

the freak,

while Steve was

the king

and that's all there was to it. They weren't ever enemies or anything as dramatic as that. They just weren't anything to each other. Steve didn't think about him at all, most of the time. Eddie Munson, freak, just didn't matter to him.

Just like Robin Buckley, weirdo, didn't matter either.

Now, they both matter a whole fucking lot, and Eddie doesn't remember that. Doesn't remember him. Steve doesn't know what to say to change that. He supposes he can't.

Eddie isn't giving him the chance to, anyway, and looks around him to the man behind him, "Next."

So, Steve takes his betting slip and turns away, letting Eddie cut him loose. But at least he’s seen him. He turns and glances at him one more time, wanting to remember him like this, alive and on his feet, instead of gray and bloody on the ground, torn to shreds, just in case this dream ends here.

This is kind of a shitty dream, though. He's not getting what he wants at all. He closes his eyes and wishes to change the course of this dream. To end it on a good note.

Nothing happens, but he's still in control, so he can't help himself. He moves so that Eddie catches the movement and looks over at him again, "Hey, Eddie. It was good to see you again."

Eddie just furrows his brow, confused, and is definitely a little pissed, and then looks back at the other man in front of him instead. Ignoring Steve.

The dream doesn't end, so Steve walks up and sits in the stands, people-watching. He sees some familiar faces. Dustin is a horse jockey, which Steve is never, ever gonna let the little twerp live down. Not ever. And so is Gareth, Eddie’s friend. His best friend, if Gareth's side of the story is to be believed. That's even funnier. This will be good blackmail material for the both of them when they annoy him, and Steve wishes,

desperately,

that he had a camera.

But if he did, he probably wouldn't know how to work the damn thing, just like the antique car.

A man sits down beside him, and Steve looks over. It's Goodie, the bass player for Corroded Coffin. Awesome, a familiar face.

"Oh, hey, Goodie," Steve says, trying to be friendly. Maybe if he gets in good with Goodie, Eddie will give him the time of day later. And that's the real goal. The real challenge.

But Goodie looks at him like he has three heads, "My name is Charles. Charles Goodwin, of the New York Goodwins," he adds, and he's being sarcastic. Clearly. He's not dressed like he's rich, not like Steve is, and everything he's learned about Goodie since Eddie died is that he's

insanely

dry-witted.

Steve laughs, because it's funny. Goodie's funny. Well, Charles has certainly gotten awfully fancy since Steve's seen him last. He's pretty sure the last time he saw Goodie, he was shaking the Doritos crumbs out of an empty sack into his mouth as Jeff sat by, listening to Gareth ask a thousand and one questions about the Upside Down.

"My mistake, then. I thought you were Goodie Goodwin, of the Hawkins Goodwins."

Goodie narrows his eyes, and just looks at Steve like he's an idiot that he can't figure out. Steve's used to that by now, so it doesn't really faze him. Nothing much does, these days. He's seen it all. Twice.

And he’s gotten to know Eddie’s friends a little since he died. They weren’t going to let it go, not in a million years, not with the shitty, flimsy excuses they were trying to blow them off them with. A bullshit story about falling into the earthquake crack definitely wasn’t cutting it. Not with Gareth Jones nipping at your heels, like a poorly trained puppy.

Gareth wasn't buying that the earthquake just

happened

to start in the middle of Eddie's trailer for no reason. Nor would it have split and burned from the top, in that way, from an earthquake. Steve tried to make excuses, tried to half-heartedly gaslight Gareth into believing he'd just seen it wrong before the government hauled the evidence away. But Gareth declared it un-fucking-likely. Steve tried to tell him it had to start somewhere, and the earthquake must have just fried the wires, starting a fire, but Gareth wasn't buying any of it.

Since when was this little shit suddenly a fire marshal?

Steve tried to deflect, flimsy excuse after flimsy excuse.

But Gareth wouldn't relent, dragging Goodie and Jeff along for the ride, until they wore the rest of them down, and they just brought them into the fold, telling them the truth. That was going to be the path of least resistance. And Jeff and Goodie have been fine since finding out the truth, not really interested in getting terribly involved with Steve’s fucked up life, and that’s okay. Preferable. He doesn't blame them. He wouldn't want to get involved in this either, if he had the choice.

But Gareth is a persistent little shit, a thorn in Steve’s side. Steve thinks he’s somehow inherited Gareth from Eddie, and Steve is tolerating it, only because he feels like Eddie would want him to, would want Steve to make sure his friend adapts to this new reality where there was a whole-ass evil world under their feet.

Even if it's closed up, permanently sealed, now.

Eddie would want Steve to adopt his little sheepies, and take them into his own flock. Overlapping it further than it already was, so Steve does just that. He accepts Gareth's presence, his questions.

He had to draw the line when Gareth wanted to go on a rescue mission of some sort, and Steve had to sit him down, one-on-one, and explain

in graphic detail

why that wasn't possible. Just telling him the gates were closed wasn't enough, having to actually spell out the gruesome truth that

Eddie's neck was ripped out

wasn't anything Steve wanted to say, or Gareth had wanted to hear.

Eddie had died. Had bled out all over the concrete, blood flowing into the weed-laden cracks under his back. There was no question about that.

But now Eddie's a bookie, in the fucking past, collecting oversized dollar bills to broker bets on horses with names that are clear references to their brief interactions with each other. Steve doesn't know what to think, besides, this is a dream. A goddamn dream.

Steve looks again, and this man beside him

is

Goodie. It was made

very

clear to Steve, very early on, that he should only call him Charles on pain of death, so this is really funny. At least his imagination is having fun with this, he supposes.

"Who are you betting on today, Charles?" Steve asks, and Goodie glares at him.

"My friends," he finally says, "one is the jockey, the other the trainer."

Steve squints, and sure enough, Jeff is standing next to Gareth and the big horse. They seem to be arguing, and Steve feels sorry for poor Jeff, having to wrangle Gareth

and

a horse. That sounds like hell.

"Gareth and Jeff?" Steve asks, and Goodie raises an eyebrow.

"How do you know them, rich boy?" Goodie asks, like he doesn't quite believe that Steve actually knows them, and Steve just smiles.

"Oh, from here and there," Steve answers vaguely.

Goodie nods, but is still suspicious of this conversation, Steve can tell.

"I know Eddie, too. Do you know Eddie?" Steve asks, looking at him, hopeful.

"Why are you asking me about Eddie?" Goodie saying, and that's obviously a yes.

"I just…no reason, I just knew him a little, a long time ago," Steve says, lamely.

In the future. I knew him in the future.

"Leave him alone," Goodie says, and Steve nods. He will. Eddie clearly didn't want him around, and Steve's not gonna force it. No matter how much he wants to do just that.

So, they sit there in the uncomfortable silence, waiting on something, anything, to happen on the racetrack below.

"Are you in a band?" Steve asks, because he wants to know how close this gets to their reality at home. And because he can't stand just sitting idly, saying nothing.

"No," Goodie says, staring him down. "Stop talking to me."

Steve nods, he can do that, and he turns to face forward. Looking at the track, hoping this race starts soon.

Then, it finally does start, and it's exciting for a brief minute or two. It's a pretty damn close race, and Steve would have bet on Dustin if he'd known that was an option. But Steve loses, they all lose, but Steve didn’t expect anything else. His luck has never been all that great. He is starting to think this isn't a dream, though. It’s gone on too long, and had too many boring parts.

He isn't

that

interested in a horse race, especially not enough to make up all of this sitting around and waiting in his head. It's like one race every half hour. If he'd made this up, surely it'd have been race after race, all excitement, with hardly any down time.

This is mainly sitting around and waiting.

Goodie gets up and leaves without saying anything else, and Steve just stays there, and he doesn't see him again for the rest of the evening. Doesn't see anyone he knows.

After the last race, Steve lingers in the lobby area, hoping to see Eddie again, but he doesn't.

So, he walks towards the far side of the parking lot, and worries if he'll ever be able to get back home again. Both to the dated mansion, and to Hawkins, in 1987. His real home.

He worries that he's disappeared, and that Robin is frantically searching for him after finding his car abandoned on the outskirts of town. He hopes that's not true. He doesn't want that for her. Not at all.

He gets to Lizzie, and just stares for a second. Hoping he remembers the right method to get her going again.

He doesn't.

And Steve's been trying, desperately, to start this antique for a long fucking time. He doesn't remember the exact sequence of events, the fucking magic trick it takes to fire this damn thing up. He's used to turning a key and putting the car in gear. That's it.

The dirt parking area had cleared out long ago, and Steve's unfortunately still there. The last one. Not that long ago, he'd watched Gareth, Jeff and Goodie leave together. Off in the distance, each one of them with a girl tucked under their arm, and Eddie trailing behind them, solo.

Steve wonders where they went, where Eddie went, who the girls were, as he's still moving levers, turning the crank, pushing the pedals. It's hopeless. He doesn't remember how this works, he's already forgotten the steps.

He's about to give up and walk. But he doesn't even know how to get back to that house again. And how is he going to ask directions for that? They will think he's insane if he doesn't even know his own way home again. This sucks.

Maybe he's the dumb Harrington kid here, and nobody would even question why he can't remember how to get home again.

He rears his foot back, getting ready to kick it.

"You need some help?" he hears, and

yes,

he thinks.

Please. Thank you, Eddie.

"Please," he says, "I don’t know what I’m doing wrong."

"You flooded it," Eddie says, "here, get in, and you push on the floor pedal while I crank."

Steve slides onto the bench seat, and tries to follow Eddie’s directions as best he can, and he must do okay, because it fires up.

Thank god.

"Thank you," Steve says, and he looks around, and there are no other cars left, "you need a ride somewhere?"

Eddie looks a little suspicious, but finally says, "I guess so. Sure. Okay, thanks."

And climbs in next to him.

They get going down the road, with a little help from Eddie as he reaches over and pulls down on the lever to get them moving, refreshing Steve's memory, and it's

still

hard to drive. Power steering was a fucking great addition to cars, for sure, Steve really understands that now. Appreciates how easy it is to drive his own car back home.

"You act like you've never driven before," Eddie says, looking over at him, "you have driven before, right?"

"Yeah. Just, not this car. It's weird, new, I'm not used to it yet," Steve says, hoping that's enough of an explanation.

He gets up to speed, and it’s probably not that fast, no more than thirty or forty miles per hour, but on these bicycle tires, it feels like ninety and Steve laughs, wildly. This is actually fun with Eddie by his side.

"Where to?" Steve asks, looking over at Eddie, expectantly.

"Are you a bluenose?" Eddie asks, and Steve raises an eyebrow. Confused. It must show in his face, because Eddie tries again.

"A killjoy?" Eddie adds.

"Am I a killjoy?" Steve repeats. He doesn't like to think so, but Robin and Dustin have accused him of such things a time or two or ten. The babysitter. Always the goddamn babysitter. So, he's probably not as cool as he likes to think he is.

"No, I'm cool," Steve insists, trying to act cool. Trying to

will

a little bit of coolness into reality.

"You're…cool?" Eddie asks, laughing a little.

"So cool," Steve says, "as a cucumber, even."

"You're an odd bird," Eddie laughs, "but I can take us to a place. If you're

cool,"

Eddie repeats, slowly. So slowly. Like Steve's an idiot, which he definitely feels like right now.

"I'm totally cool," Steve assures.

Eddie laughs at that, "Yeah, I bet you're a real cake-eater," he says, but then he gives Steve turn-by-turn directions, and eventually they pull up to what appears to be an abandoned building. A back alley, with a few other old-ass cars parked in a row. After they manage to get parked, they walk a few blocks, Steve trailing Eddie.

Eddie stops in front of a plain door, and pulls a small piece of brick loose from the side of the wall, and pushes a doorbell. Once, twice and then two more times in quick succession, and then waits. Finally, after a long fucking time, there's a knock on the otherside of the door. And Eddie knocks back with a series of specific sounds, and it's clearly a code.

This is some spy shit.

Is Eddie a spy?

Finally, a little slider in the door opens, and there's a pair of blue eyes staring back at them.

"What's the password?" is the gruff request, in a low, put-on voice.

"Let's see. How about,

let me the fuck in, Gareth,"

Eddie says, and Gareth laughs.

"Who's this with you?" Gareth asks, meeting Steve's eyes, checking him over as far as he can see from the little slot in the door.

"This is Steve," Eddie says, "he's cool, apparently."

Eddie laughs, which makes Gareth laugh, too. And then Steve hears a series of slides and locks disengaging before the door is cracked open enough for them to slide through.

Steve walks down the steep set of stairs, following Gareth and Eddie down, down, down, and then they are in a basement bar. A speakeasy. This is fucking speakeasy.

Whoa.

Not a spy, then, this just must be during prohibition? He’s not totally sure, though. He thinks that was happening in the twenties. Maybe it was the thirties, though? He wasn’t really paying that much attention in history class. He didn't think it'd ever matter to his life. Mrs. Click hated how uninterested he was, and now, she was fucking right. Maybe he really did need to know these things someday.

Not that he could have ever predicted just how fucking weird his life was gonna be. Monsters, and now…time travel? Ridiculous.

Eddie takes off his hat, and shakes his hair out. His long hair. Steve smiles at the motion, at Eddie, and Eddie pays no attention to his gawking, as he stuffs his hat into his back pocket.

Gareth presses a glass into both of their hands, and then heads back towards the bar. It's pretty, all wood, with colored glass behind it. It's a shame it's hidden down here, like this. It's an antique. Well, it will be. If it survives. Steve supposes it's not an antique. Not yet.

Goodie is sitting on a stool, with a girl at his side, and that's the only person he's paying any attention to. Jeff is talking to…Chrissy Cunningham? That's definitely Chrissy Cunningham, in a little dress with fringe all over it. She squeals when she sees Eddie, and is in his arms, getting swung around, the fringe on the bottom of her dress swinging with the motion.

This is weird. So weird.

Seeing them both, here. Alive, and well. And happy.

Steve swallows. It's almost too much.

But Steve likes to see Eddie happy. It’s a good look on him. And Steve hadn't gotten to see it very much, not with all the running and dying they were doing the last time they crossed paths.

Gareth is on the little makeshift dance floor, and there's a girl pressed against him in a way that is probably incredibly lewd for this period in time. His hand splayed on her back, her ass, pulling her close. It's like the employee clubhouse scene in

Dirty Dancing

in here,

Steve thinks.

The music playing isn't Otis Redding, but it's not bad. Not at all.

Robin dragged him to the theater to see

Dirty Dancing

just last week, in the dog days of summer, before she started back up at community college. It's all she's talked about since, and he humored her, because he knows she stayed in town for him, for the kids, when she could have gone on to bigger and better things.

He regrets that she did that for him, but loves her for it, at the very same time. He doesn't know if he'd have survived without her, and he's had trouble leaving Hawkins for some reason.

These days, he goes to Skull Rock, he goes to what's left of the trailer park, Lover's Lake. Sits in Reefer Rick's boat house, and drinks a Miller High Life, all by himself. It's unhealthy, and Robin's worried. He knows she is, but he can't help himself. He's been obsessed with a ghost. A ghost that's currently standing in front of him.

Back home, he'd tried to be more engaged with her, with the kids. The living.

Pretending that he wasn't slinking off into the night, mourning a man he barely knew.

So, he'd thrown himself into group activities. Tired of being the only one left responsible for driving the kids all over town, he'd finally taught Robin to drive this summer. Her brand new license burning a hole in her pocket. They'd found her a used car, a little thing not unlike what Joyce Byers always drove, but this one is all hers. And it runs. Steve made sure of it. Having it looked at for the things he couldn't fix himself.

He shakes his head. He can't think about Robin right now. He wishes she was here, and looks around the room, hoping. But he doesn't see her, and sags down onto the only open stool, the one on the other side of Goodie.

Goodie looks in his direction, "You again."

"Me again," Steve answers, a little sadly.

"You actually did know Eddie," he says, dryly. It's not an apology, and Steve wouldn't expect one.

"Yep," Steve answers, taking a swig out of the glass and he nearly spits it in Goodie's face.

Holy fucking hell.

Goddamn, son of a bitch.

Steve spits it back into the glass. He can't swallow that. He can't. No fucking way.

It's lighter fluid. Kerosene.

Maybe just pure gasoline. He's really not sure, but it can't be fit for human consumption.

"What is this?" Steve chokes out, resisting the incredibly strong urge to wipe his tongue on his shirt collar.

"Gin," Goodie says, "or what passes for it, these days. I told Gareth he couldn't skip the juniper oil, but he didn't listen. That's what you get when you let the kid make the bathtub hooch," Goodie says, dryly.

Steve isn't sure if he's kidding or not. He can't tell. So, he just nods, eyes watering. He can't drink this.

Nobody

should drink this. It took his breath away, and Steve thinks his liver would get up and crawl away in protest if he even tried.

"It'll put hair on your chest," Goodie adds with a smirk, and Steve laughs at that. He's already got plenty of hair on his chest, thanks. Drinking this isn't worth all the chest hair in the world.

Steve puts his glass down on the bar, and sees a bowl of cut lemons, so he reaches for one, sucking on it. Just to try to get the taste of that shit out of his mouth. Gareth does not need to be making liquor, Steve's one-hundred percent certain. Not if that shit is the best he can do.

Goodie just arches an eyebrow at him, and then looks back at the girl on his other side, clearly bored by Steve again, just like he was back at the track. Just like he is back home, honestly. Goodie isn't one for hanging around Steve, pestering him.

No, that's a job for Gareth and Gareth alone.

Steve looks back towards the dance floor, looking for Eddie. Chrissy is dancing around him in circles, and Eddie is clearly delighted by her. Egging her on. Holding a hand up in the air for her to spin herself on, skirt flying in a hypnotizing manner. Steve looks at her legs, can't not, as she spins and giggles.

She's gorgeous.

Maybe they're together, here, Steve thinks. Eddie and her. Steve prepares himself for that possibility. Tells himself that'd be okay, and a fair trade-off, just for seeing Eddie alive. Seeing both of them alive.

They deserve to be happy, and if that's together, that's fine. Totally fine. Steve has no claim on Eddie Munson, despite wishing he did.

Then, Jeff slides his hands around her from behind, tugging her back into him, and she laughs and leans into him. Okay. Good. That's good, that's great. Steve likes that. Definitely.

So, Steve smiles, and when Eddie looks up and meets his eyes, he heads Steve's way.

"You're a dancing fool, huh?" Steve asks, teasing him, and Eddie is sipping on that horrible alcohol, and Steve can't imagine how he's doing it and not gagging. It's terrible.

"Oh, yeah," Eddie says, leaning against the bar next to Steve's shoulder. They both watch the dance floor, and Steve thinks if Gareth doesn't cool it, this is gonna be a whole different kind of illegal venue sooner rather than later.

"Gareth, huh?" Steve says, like that's enough of an explanation of what he's thinking.

"You'd think getting married would cool them down, but no. Not at all," Eddie says, grinning.

Married?

How old is Gareth? He still looks sixteen. Is he sixteen, married

and

a bootlegger?

"Married? How old is he? He looks sixteen," Steve says, this time out loud to Eddie.

Eddie chuckles, "Eighteen. Old enough, I guess."

Steve looks at Gareth again. He really doesn't look a day older than he did the last time Steve saw him, just a few days ago, when he was pestering Steve about college stuff. Steve had tried to brush him off, because really, what does Steve know about going to college? Nothing. He told him to ask Jeff, but Gareth had been persistent.

As he always is.

Steve looks back at Eddie, and a thought suddenly comes to mind, "Are you married, too?"

Eddie throws back his head and laughs, "Uh, no. No, thank you."

Steve laughs, "Me either. Not married. Single and ready to mingle."

And Eddie laughs even harder, "You're an odd bird, Steve. All these sayings of yours."

"So you've said," Steve answers, and it's then that Steve realizes it's probably slang from the future he's using, and he doesn't know how to, like, fix his vocabulary. To turn it off. To adjust.

At least Eddie seems amused by, instead of scared of, the weird dude with the strange words.

Gareth is groping

his wife

in public, but Steve realizes this isn't in public. Not really. This is a private club, just friends, and Eddie invited him along for some reason. Trusting him to come into their inner circle. It makes Steve happy that Eddie considered him a friend.

If only for tonight.

"Did you not get a drink?" Eddie asks, and Goodie laughs, and Steve turns to glare at him.

"Uh, it was a little strong," Steve says, trying to be diplomatic about it, as much as he can. 
"He nearly cried," Goodie butts in and tells Eddie."I did not cry," Steve says. But he did. He nearly cried, for sure."Goodie, be nice," Eddie says, and Steve lulls his head back in Goodie's direction."Goodie, huh? I thought your name was Charles," Steve says, giving as good as he's gotten."You must have misheard," Goodie says, and then turns back away from them, ending the conversation.
Eddie laughs, and then smiles at Steve, jerking his head towards the back of the bar. Steve follows, and Eddie leads them through the back of the bar, through a small apartment, and finally reaches up into a kitchen cupboard, pulling out a glass bottle. And Steve recognizes it.

Jack Daniels.

It looks, oddly enough, basically the same. Older, sure, but the same thing he's seen a million times at house parties. Eddie pours them both a glass, and Steve accepts his. Even if he's scared this will taste just as awful.

It doesn't.

Yeah, it burns, and no, it's not his favorite way to consume alcohol, he'd much rather have a beer, or at least this mixed with some Coke, but it's good. It tastes familiar, normal, and Steve smiles at Eddie.

"Thanks, Eddie," he says, holding the glass to his chest, as he grins at the man in front of him.

It's Eddie. It's really Eddie, and Steve uses his free hand to reach out and tuck some of Eddie's loose curls behind his ear.

Eddie blushes, and waves him off, "That better? More to your liking?"

He's teasing him, and Steve just nods. It is definitely to his liking.

The teasing.

The whiskey is just okay.

Late into the night, they leave the speakeasy, and Eddie is sitting next to him in the car, his hair blowing in the wind, whipping all around his face, and it's beautiful. He's beautiful.

Steve doesn't think he's even tipsy, not off one drink hours ago, but he feels drunk on Eddie being at his side. It's been unreal, and amazing, and he doesn't want it to ever end. Sure, he wants to go back home, but as far as dreams go, this has been a pretty damn good one.

They drive down a road that's only lit by the slightly shoddy headlights and the moon overhead. He's barely looking at the road, he can't tear his eyes away from Eddie.

"What are you looking at me like that for? You’re really being weird, Harrington," Eddie says, his cheeks flushed. Steve's not sure if it's the open air, or all that poison whiskey they called gin that Eddie was drinking all night long.

But Steve grins even harder, "You just called me Harrington. Do you remember me?"

Eddie looks at him,

really

looks at him, "No, but I feel like I should."

"Good. That's good enough for now," Steve says, and it is. Eddie is here. Maybe he's not

Eddie

Eddie, not the real one, but he’s definitely some adjacent version, and that’s better than nothing, that’s for damn sure.

Anything is better than nothing.

And before…before he was thrown headfirst into the past, he had

nothing

of Eddie.

Nothing but an empty grave, with a bullshit headstone and a bloodied battle vest that he hung on his closet door, wanting to see it. To remember.

That he failed.

They stop out in the middle of nowhere, in a field, and there’s no light pollution out here, and it’s peaceful, and quiet in a way Steve isn’t sure he’s experienced very often in his lifetime. Maybe out at Skull Rock?

But it’s nice here. He likes it.

He looks up at the stars, and they aren't unlike the ones he'd seen back home before he was thrown headfirst into the past.

Eddie comes to stand next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and it feels familiar. Steve closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, Eddie has shifted. He's standing in front of him now, looking at him expectantly.

"Harrington, where are we?" Eddie asks, right in front of him, just barely leaning forward onto the tips of his toes. Leaning towards Steve, and Steve wants to lean into him this time, towards him, instead of shying away like he did while stomping through the woods of the Upside Down.

So he does.

"I’m not sure," Steve says, and he isn’t. He looks around, and it doesn’t feel like Hawkins.

"New York," Steve decides. He doesn’t know if that’s true, but that sounds good enough. And maybe Goodie wasn't kidding about being of the New York Goodwins.

"No, I meant,

when

are we?" Eddie asks, and it’s the best thing Steve’s ever heard.

"You remember?" Steve asks, hopeful. So fucking hopeful that the answer is yes.

Eddie reaches forward, and clutches both of Steve’s arms, squeezing.

It feels like an invitation, so Steve takes it, and leans forward and kisses him. If this is just a dream, he’s going for it. Eddie kisses him back, and it’s good, it's fucking great. It doesn’t feel like a dream, it feels real. As real as anything he’s ever experienced in his whole life.

He feels Eddie's fingers pressing into his skin, even through his shirt. He takes a step closer, crowding up to him, wanting to be as close as they can get. Steve tangles his hand in Eddie's wild hair, careful not to pull the tangled strands, but wanting,

needing,

to touch him just a little bit more.

When they finally pull apart, Eddie laughs, slightly unhinged, "Steve Harrington just kissed me."

Steve smiles. Yeah, he fucking did. And he wants to do it again. And again.

But he says, "I don’t know where we are, but I'm happy we’re together.

You’re here.

How are you here? What’s the last thing you remember?" Steve asks, cupping Eddie's face, feeling his wild, unruly hair against the palms of his hands.

Eddie moves even closer, bumping their hips together, and Steve shifts his hands down, gripping Eddie's lower back, tugging him closer.

And Steve watches as Eddie thinks,

really thinks,

clearly trying to remember the last thing he remembers. He seems to be struggling to pull it into his mind. Steve understands that feeling. He felt it, too.

Finally, Eddie speaks.

"The bats. In the Upside Down. Henderson," he says, and then he visibly blanches, "Is Dustin okay? I tried to get him to stay out of trouble, I tried-"

"I know you did. He’s okay, last I checked. And here in this world, I think he was one of those horse jockeys. Him

and

Gareth."

"They are both short enough," Eddie snarks, and Steve pulls Eddie to his chest, and Eddie mumbles into it, "I didn’t know you even knew Gareth."

Steve didn’t, not really, not before. He does now, though. He knows all of Eddie’s friends, and his Uncle Wayne. He’s spent time with them all, learning about the guy that showed up, and then slipped right through his fingers before he could even realize it was happening.

He’s spent so many nights daydreaming, wondering if he made it all up. He knew he was into guys, too, that was no surprise. But maybe Eddie wasn’t into him. Maybe Eddie was just teasing Steve, mocking him, not flirting. Steve’s not the best at reading these things sometimes. He knows that.

But with time, he'd convinced himself it was true. That if they'd just had enough time, or enough privacy, that maybe something would have happened between them.

When Eddie came down those trailer steps, telling him to make Vecna pay, Steve had wanted to pull Eddie into his arms. Hug him, kiss him, maybe, and tell him it was going to be okay.

But he didn't, and it wasn't okay.

And then Eddie was gone.

"You owe me big time for putting up with Gareth," Steve says, teasing resting his forehead against Eddie's, "he's awfully chatty."

"Well, then I have some bad news about you spending time with me," Eddie teases.

But that's not true. Steve wants to hear Eddie talk. About anything. Everything. He just has to get them back home from here, and he doesn't know how. How do you just skip forward sixty years? Maybe they can't. Maybe they're stuck in this world. He hopes not, but if they are, at least he's with Eddie. And since he's seen some of the others, maybe Robin's here, too. He could survive this, if he has Robin and Eddie. He's sure of it.

"I miss Gareth. I miss Henderson. I miss all of them," Eddie says, and Steve nods. He knows that feeling.

He doesn't understand what Eddie remembers. They were

just with

Gareth, but maybe Eddie doesn't remember that now?

"We’ll go back to the track tomorrow, and look for them. I sat next to Goodie in the stands, and Jeff was Gareth’s horse guy. So, they were all right there. We'll find them, I promise."

Eddie shakes his head, "No. No, not them. The real versions."

"Do you remember being at the bar? The speakeasy?" Steve asks, meeting his eyes.

Eddie nods, "Of course. I just…right now, feel like those guys aren't them. Not the

real

them, I guess. Is that weird?"

"It's not weird," Steve promises. "Do I feel real? Like the real version?" Steve asks. Not that Eddie really knew him all that well, but still. He needs to know.

Eddie nods, and then tugs on Steve's hand, and Steve allows Eddie drag him into the backseat of the Model T. Eddie lays on his back, his legs falling open, and he's too tall for the space, they both are, but Steve crowds on top of him. Slotting their legs together the best he can. He definitely didn’t read this wrong. It’s cramped and a little uncomfortable, but he’s not about to complain. This is what he’s wanted, what he's longed for, he’s sure of it.

Steve smiles down at him,

"I think this is a dream," Steve whispers, "but I’m still glad to see you again. Even here. I’d be glad to see you anywhere."

"Did we lose? The war? With Vecna?" Eddie asks.

"No," Steve says, "no. We didn’t. We lost the battle, we lost you. But we didn’t lose the war. He's gone, dead, El made sure of it. The Upside Down is sealed up tight, El did that, too."

"The girl with the superpowers?" Eddie asks, like he's trying to figure this out.

Steve nods.

They'd done it, they just did it too late to save Eddie.

Eddie opens his mouth, but before he can say anything else, the world pops, just like a bubble bursting in the sky, shattering everything around Steve. It isn’t painful, but it’s loud, and a little scary, and he doesn’t know what happens next.

If anything at all.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

we all want to change the world,
but when you talk about destruction,
don't you know that you can count me out?
Revolution, The Beatles

1944

Steve pops into existence on a plane. It's loud and rattling, and he's standing, rocking on his feet, holding a handle, swaying with the harsh, jerky movements of the aircraft.

What the fuck?

It's not a commercial flight, no, definitely more industrial. He looks around.

Military.

This is a dream, and a crazy one. What the fuck does he know about being in the military? Only what he learned from watching

M*A*S*H,

and well, that's about the extent of it. Though, this doesn't feel like a dream. He feels queasy, sick to his stomach as he lurches around, trying to stay on his feet, trying not to stumble and fall.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to remember what the fuck he was doing last. What can he remember? He thinks he was looking at the stars, maybe?

No, horses.

There were horses.

Eddie.

Steve was at the horse races with Eddie. Gareth. Goodie. Jeff.

Prohibition.

That awful gin.

That kiss.

And then the overhead light by the door turns green, and the men,

the soldiers,

in front of him start jumping right out of the side of the plane.

Fuck that shit, no way.

No, no, no.

He turns back to look behind him and Tommy H. is right there, leaning close. He can't help it, Steve's sure, they're crammed in here pretty tight. But he feels crowded, cornered. One guy right in front of him, moving ever closer to the door, Tommy at his back.

"I'm not doing this!" Steve yells back towards Tommy, trying to make himself heard over the noise of the plane, as it's rattling him to his bones in a way that is almost deafening, painful.

"What?!" Tommy yells back, clearly not having heard him. Leaning towards him. His helmet bumps Steve's.

Steve yells it louder, closer to Tommy's ear, "I'm not doing this!"

"You have to!" Tommy yells back, nudging him forward. "You can't be a goddamn rock in the door, Steve!"

"I don't know what to do! I don't remember how!" Steve screams over the roar of the plane, the wind, and the bile that's rising in his throat.

He's gonna fall to his goddamn death.

"Well, you better remember really fucking quick!" Tommy shouts back. "I'll see you on the ground!"

And then it's his turn, he's at the open door, feet firmly planted, and then he's suddenly in free fall. He isn't sure if he jumped on instinct, or if Tommy pushed him out of the plane.

Either way, he's falling. And he grapples for anything that seems like a ripcord to deploy his parachute, before he realizes that his parachute is already open, billowing above him, in the clear sky.

Once the panic subsides that he won't hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, and he's gliding downwards, he really takes a look around.

It's beautiful. Terrifying, but beautiful. He can't really see much above himself, not with his open parachute over his head. But he can see off to the sides of him, and he can tell that the sky is filled with other paratroopers. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of men gliding to the earth, landing in the green grass below. The planes are still buzzing overhead, letting more and more men jump after him. The sky is positively full of tethered silk, floating gently back to the earth.

He wonders where he is, which country. It isn't the United States, he's pretty sure of that, at least. He wonders what year he's in, too.

Before he can do anything to stop it, he's drifting, further away from where the rest of the men are landing. He needs to go left, he's pretty sure, but he's headed right, floating away from everyone else, fast. He pulls on the straps of his harness, but he can't seem to affect his direction in any real way, not really, so he's quickly resigned to the fact that he's just along for the ride at this point.

He glides further from them, until the ground is quickly approaching. And so are the trees. He just hopes he touches down before he's over top of them, because he'll definitely be fucked if he gets trapped in a goddamn tree. He tried to watch how the others landed before him, and it looked like they did it by sliding in on their asses and backs, so he's decided to try that method himself, if he can.
He does.
Steve's sure it wasn't pretty, but he doesn't break his legs upon impact, and he's not in a tree, so that's a win, even if he's a little scraped up. He looks around, and there's nobody else nearby. Great. He's lost. So fucking lost. He looks around for Tommy, and he's not here. No one is. He's landed a little too close to the treeline, since he didn't come down with everyone else. He looks back towards where he should have landed, and he can see them running off in the distance, looking like ants, as they're seemingly picking up their gear and hauling ass. If he'd been able to steer his parachute, he wouldn't be all the way over here by himself. Can you even steer a parachute? Fuck if he knows.

He came close to landing in a tree, he's pretty fucking sure.

Either way he's missed the landing zone, and has wound up, all alone. Separated from everyone else. He can see other parachutes still coming down, and he'll just have to head that way. Try to meet up with some other people, maybe Tommy, or see if he can find anyone he knows from the real world.

See if he can find Eddie.

That is, if he can get this parachute off his back. He can't go anywhere until that happens.

He's fighting it, as his parachute is yanking him along, dragging him across the earth in the opposite direction he needs to be headed. He doesn't know how to get free of it. He tries to dig his feet in, but it's just too strong to really wrangle. If it wants to yank him, yank him it will.

He finally gets to his feet, and gets his parachute collapsed on the ground. At least it's not filled with air anymore, but he's still dragging the heavy chute behind him, pulling, tugging on it as he leans against a tree, bracing himself as he tries to figure out how to untether himself. Looking for a buckle, a clasp, anything. He has a knife on his leg, he can feel it, see it, so maybe he can cut himself free.

He's reaching down to get it, when he hears someone rush out of the tall brush, cocking their rifle in his direction. He freezes, scared to move. Scared to look up, suddenly terrified he's landed behind enemy lines. All he can see is their boots as they approach, and he's frozen. Not wanting to make any sudden movements.

Then the barrel of the rifle is pressed into his chest, and Steve stands on instinct. He doesn't want to be executed while bent over, cowering.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, just wait…" Steve trails off, holding up his hands in surrender. He definitely doesn't want to get shot if he can help it.

"Little bit lost?" the soldier asks, poking him with the barrel once more for good measure, before lowering his weapon.

An American, with a painted face, thank fucking god.

Probably a kid, no older than him, Steve's sure.

And now that Steve's upright and not about to shit his pants in fear, he can see that it's Gareth under that helmet. That's good. Great. That probably means maybe Eddie is nearby, which is

exactly

what Steve was hoping for, honestly. That's the best case scenario, because this would suck if he's wound up here, and there's no Eddie to be found.

Gareth looks him up and down, then reaches forward and slams his fist into Steve's chest, popping open the silver disc, releasing the parachute from his back. Losing the weight of the harness feels really fucking good, instantly. Freeing, in a way he's never experienced in his whole life. A monkey coming straight off his back.

"Thanks. Yeah, I'm definitely lost," Steve tells Gareth, and that's a goddamn understatement. He's

really

fucking lost, by about about forty years. So, an improvement over sixty years, he supposes. Maybe next time he'll be in the sixties, and then back home.

That's doable. He can do that. He can hop through time, in twenty year leaps, until he's back in Hawkins, looking up at the stars, back home. He could do it in a week's time, easy easy. Bing, bang, boom.

"What company are you supposed to be with?" Gareth asks, interrupting Steve's thoughts, as he chases down Steve's parachute.

Steve has no idea. Not a goddamn clue.

"I don't remember," Steve says, and Gareth laughs.

"You don't remember what company you're assigned to?" Gareth asks incredulously, "Did you hit your head on the way down? Or are you a replacement? Nevermind, it doesn't matter. You're at least a mile off your target. We're the only unit that's supposed to be this far over here."

Okay, a mile. Steve could run a mile, easy. Even with this heavy equipment strapped to his back. He was worried it was further than that, and he has no idea how close they are to enemy territory right now.

And he'd rather just stay with Gareth. If that's an option.

Gareth is just looking at him, as he's carefully folding up Steve's parachute. And it's nice. He wouldn't know how to repack it himself.

It's less nice, when Steve realizes that that's not at all what Gareth's doing. Gareth folds it up as best as he can in a hurry, before shoving it into his own already bulging pack. Steve isn't sure if he should oppose this or not, and then just decides he doesn't care. Whatever. He hopes he never has to use it again.

Gareth can have it. Good riddance.

"Well, c'mon, then. Let's go find someone to get you back to where you once belonged," Gareth says.

"Get back, Jojo,"

Steve sings automatically, and then laughs to himself.

"Who's Jojo?" Gareth asks, cutting him a glance.

"Nobody," Steve says. He misses Robin. She would have laughed, would have gotten it, but he gets why this version of Gareth didn't. The Beatles definitely aren't a thing yet. They might not even all be born yet, he's not sure what year he's in. If John Lennon died at forty, and it's WWII now, and Steve's holding his hand to his helmet, as if that'll help him do the math, when Gareth interrupts him.

"You sure you didn't hit your head?" Gareth asks, looking at him like he's an idiot.

Steve shrugs, he's not gonna eliminate that as an excuse for his sure to be odd behavior. It might come in useful.

"Well, we ain't gonna babysit you, Pretty Boy. Head injury or not. We've got places to be. A job to do," Gareth tells him, stomping off as quickly as his legs will carry him.

"I'm Steve," Steve says, jogging to follow Gareth, chasing after him, honestly, because Gareth's moving faster than he's ever seen him. He still has the swagger, but it isn't as loose. He's in a hurry, and now Steve's just along for the ride.

"Roundtable," Gareth says, introducing himself, barely glancing back at him, and Steve cuts a glance in his direction. That's a weird nickname, and definitely isn’t anything Steve's heard him called back in the real world. Gareth the Great, he would have expected. But he must have gotten it here, in the war. That’s common, Steve thinks.

Well, if

M*A*S*H

is to be believed, anyway.

He follows Gareth, staying close, and when they get to where Gareth was clearly headed, there are probably a half-dozen other guys, getting ready in a circle, chattering with each other. Preparing for something. Checking each other's gear, patting each other down, checking each other's faces for the stripes of war paint. Whatever they're doing, they've done it before, and have a system. They aren't confused, they aren't lost, not like Steve.

"Lou, I found a lost sheepie over there," Gareth says, and Steve is embarrassed. It's not his fault he was dropped, quite literally, into a world war with no training. It's not like he's

chosen

to do this thing. It's not like he's been through boot camp.

He doesn't even know when this is, for sure. He still thinks it's probably WWII. He doesn't think there were paratroopers in WWI. But history wasn't his best subject, so who the fuck knows? Not him, that's for damn sure.

Gareth takes his helmet off, rubbing his head, revealing a mohawk. That cannot be regulation, no matter when they are. Steve takes off his own and feels his hair. It's shorter than he wears it at home, but all there.

Thank god.

"Gareth, I don't have time to babysit," Eddie says, and Steve turns to look in the direction of his voice.

"Figured as much," Gareth says. "But did you want me to leave him there, a lost little lamb, ripe for the slaughter?"

Steve cuts Gareth a look. Steve might be confused right now, but he's not green. He's not an idiot. He's fought in a war, and won, it just wasn't this one, that's all. No, it was underneath Hawkins, against a big bad with firepower far stronger than weaponry.

"What are you guys doing?" Steve asks. If they give him a plan, he can follow it. He's sure of that.

"Securing bridges, you run along back to your own unit," another voice says. Jeff.

"He doesn't even know what company he's in," Gareth crows.

"I'm not fucking babysitting this replacement," Goodie, says, dripping with disdain at the mere idea. "Want me to just put him out of his misery?"

Steve gapes at Goodie. Surely he's not going to fucking murder him just for being lost and confused.

"I'll let you know if that becomes necessary," Eddie answers, but Steve can tell he's teasing, thank god.

Goodie looks disappointed, as he bites down on the cigar that he keeps chomping on, rolling it around in his mouth. Every minute or so, Eddie takes it from him, pulls on it, and puts it back between Goodie's lips.

Blowing out a cloud of smoke, as he points at the map in his hands.

Steve isn't even sure if Goodie is even smoking it at all himself, or if he's just keeping it lit for Eddie.

Steve would be Eddie's cigar man, if that's what it takes to stay.

"You need to get back to your own unit," Jeff says, and Steve can't really do that. "Think hard. Where do you belong?"

Hawkins, Indiana. 1987.

"Yeah, because you'll just slow us down, greenie," Goodie adds, "we don't take replacements. No need for 'em. No need for you."

Steve thinks it's goddamn ironic that they think

he's

the inexperienced fighter amongst them. That's pretty fucking rich, coming from these D&D nerds. Not one of them has ever fought anything in their lives.

Steve has fought all manner of creatures straight out of hell. None of them can say the same.

Well, Eddie can. He fought the bats. He lost, but he fought. He didn't run away. Dustin has made that clear, many times.

"I'm plenty capable," Steve finally says, and they all just ignore him. Except Eddie.

"Fine. But don't slow us down, or fuck anything up," Eddie says, and Steve just nods. "Look, don't touch. And if you get court-martialed and sent to the firing squad for desertion of your unit, it's not on me. Got it? We're the demo crew. Do what I say, without question, and we'll all get along just fine, Pretty Boy."

"Steve's fine," Steve says, hoping.

Eddie grins, wolfish, "Pretty Boy, we don't pick our own names around here, and I think Gareth's already christened you."

"I thought that was Roundtable?" Steve asks, unable to resist. Apparently Gareth has special privileges.

Eddie laughs, "Fair enough."

Then he looks around, and starts introducing the rest of the guys, "Goodie. J-Bird. Roundtable. Wild Bill. Buzz. Shorty. Shifty."

"And you are?"

"Eddie," Eddie says. "But they call me Lou. Looey. I'm not."

Steve raises an eyebrow, "You're not what?"

"A lieutenant. Just acting as one for this unit of misfits," Eddie says, and he smiles, just for a second. It looks nice. "They all outrank me. They're just smartasses. Troublemakers. That's our thing. You may have heard of us. The Nasty Nine."

Steve nods like understands. He doesn't understand.

"So, what should I call you?"

"Anything you want to, Pretty Boy," Eddie says, and smirks. Giving Steve a wink.

Steve just nods, trying to keep his dick from getting hard. He assumes that'd be a terrible idea right this second.

But Eddie is right in front of him, sounding like he's flirting with him, and Steve

wants,

he can't help that. It reminds him so much of Eddie in the RV, leering in his direction, calling him

big boy.

This time, he wants to pull him close, hug him, kiss him, and never let him out of his sight again.

He doesn't do any of that, though. Just stands there, waiting for orders to be given.

"Alright, let's get moving," Eddie says, and they all fall in line, Steve going with Eddie and his merry band of misfits.

Eddie's their dungeon master, still, and they all hang on his every word. Just like they always did.

Steve doesn't blame them, he's right there with them.

Eddie has his map out again, and is pointing and giving orders, and the men follow them. To the letter. No questions, no pushback. They might be the troublemakers, the outcasts, but they are effective. Wildly, it seems. It's kind of amazing to watch them work. And Steve just tries his best to keep up. To be helpful. To not slow them down. It's a brutal pace, Eddie's setting for them. They have six days to secure all the bridges and waterways and capture Eisenhower.

They've been left in charge of protecting three bridges, and it seems like too big of a job for so few soldiers.

It's not.

Eddie has given orders, has a plan, and it's all followed perfectly.

"What do we want with President Eisenhower, anyway?" Steve finally asks, scrunching up his forehead, confused, as he's trudging behind Gareth through the tall grass.

"President who? You mean Commander Eisenhower?" Gareth asks, giving Steve the look he's getting awfully used to. The one saying without any words just how stupid he thinks Steve might actually be.

"Eddie said we needed to capture Eisenhower," Steve says, quietly, now unsure. Maybe he's misunderstood. It wouldn't be the first time.

"He didn't, he surely said Eindhoven. Clean out your ears," Gareth says, annoyed.

Steve hadn't heard him say it, he'd seen him write it down. And Eddie's handwriting is apparently atrocious, so now he feels stupid.

And Eisenhower isn't the president, not yet. A working knowledge of world history would sure be great right about now. He shouldn't have slept through Mrs. Click's class. If he ever makes it home, he's definitely gonna find some way to apologize to her for sleeping through all her lessons.

Robin would definitely say

I told you so

if she were here.

He really misses Robin.

"My bad," Steve says, and tries to give Gareth a sheepish smile, but Gareth just rolls his eyes. Very sick of Steve's stupidity. They don't want him tagging along, Steve knows that, but Eddie said yes, and his word is law.

Getting there is a bit of an issue. They need someone to get across the field in front of them, to run the explosives, and they'll surely be under fire the whole time, even with coverage. Steve is concerned that Eddie's gonna do it himself, when Gareth stands.Eddie loads him up, and there's no hesitation.He runs.It's beautiful. A dance is the best way Steve can think to describe it. It's like Gareth has the ability to tell where the gunfire is going to land before it reaches him, and he bobs and weaves, dodging it all.Other soldiers haven't been so lucky.And when he gets to the other side, he turns back and gives Eddie a thumbs up and sets up the explosives.And then he runs back.

With one bridge down, and two to go, they had six days to complete this objective, but Eddie made them push hard and do it in thirty-six hours.

And then they sit. And sit. And guard their bridge. Not moving, not doing anything until they get word otherwise. It's days later when Gareth finally comes to get him from his post.

"Hey, Pretty Boy. It's time to go help capture

Eisenhower,"

Gareth says, ribbing him.

Steve smiles, but gathers himself up, ready to follow, "Very funny."

They finally crossed paths with other units, but nobody laid a claim to Steve, so he just trudges on with Eddie. That's where he wants to be, anyway.

Finally, he sees Jonathan, in with Hopper.

So, Steve approaches him.

"Where are we?" Steve asks, as loud as he dares.

"Outside Veghel, I think," Jonathan says, and that doesn't tell Steve shit.

"Is this…is this

World War II?"

Steve asks, and Jonathan looks at him like he's an idiot. That's nothing new.

"Only for the last five years," Jonathan says dryly, quietly, trying not to draw the ire of Hopper. Steve doesn’t know how something that sounds so dry can also be so snarky, but he knows it when it hears it.

Steve's figured out, yet again, that nobody knows what's happening but him. Eddie remembered last time, with the horses, anyway. But this version of Eddie doesn't seem interested in engaging with him, so maybe not even Eddie will know this time.

Steve, unfortunately, doesn't know the rules of time warping.

He just feels very alone, even surrounded by all these people he knows, Eddie included.

Later, Steve sits against a tree, and hopes to catch a short nap. They've pushed hard, and fast, for days. Maybe weeks. He just needs ten minutes to recharge, and he'll be ready to go again. Eddie and Gareth are off rendezvousing with the others, and the rest of them just have to sit around and wait.

When they collapse from their latest assignment, Steve sighs. He takes off his helmet, and rests his head back on a tree. They'd barely escaped enemy forces. Everything they do these days feels dangerous, extremely so, and he doesn't know how they all keep skating by, just barely by the skin of their teeth.

Eddie sits down beside him, and takes off his helmet, too. His mohawk is longer on the top than Gareth's. His hair must grow fast, Steve thinks.

"Good work, Pretty Boy," Eddie says, ruffling his head. "You ever gonna join us merry band of misfits for real? Since you're probably AWOL from whatever company you're supposed to be with."

Steve just nods. He'll do anything Eddie wants him to do, no questions asked.

"Good. Let's get that hair taken care of then. Razor!" Eddie yells and Gareth turns up with a straight razor that looks scary as shit.

Worse than jumping out of an airplane.

This better not be permanent. He wouldn't allow this if it was anyone other than Eddie Munson, and the fact that he's pretty sure when he pops into somewhere new, his hair will be fine.

Goddamn, his hair better be fine.

This lasts forever. Months, it feels like, even if Steve's sure it's not. But he's lost track of the days. Because day after day they go on mission after dangerous mission, and Eddie

still

doesn't seem to know who he is. Not the real him, anyway. It doesn't make sense. The first time, when he was sent to the one with the horses, it was just one day. One single day. Only a few hours, really.

But now, he's deep into this war, and Steve's getting freaked out that he's stuck here in the forties, in the middle of a world war, with an Eddie that will never know him. Not the real him, anyway.

He's filthy, and tired.

Today, they were protecting the wire-laying unit, getting set up for their next mission. It was supposed to be no big deal, just guard dog duty, but there was stray fire coming from nearby and Gareth's been grazed. Steve's wrapping a bandage around Gareth's arm, where a bullet slid right past him, as if he were made of butter. He's lucky, that kid. Steve's seen him weave and bob in and out of gunfire and grenades, like he's not got a worry in the world that he might actually get hit.

But today he got nicked, when he didn't even realize he was in any danger. Figures.

Luckily, it's just a scrape, and there are no medics around, all of them off and busy tending to way worse wounds than this one, so Steve has stepped in to clean it out, to bandage him up so he'll be ready for the next bit of hell they have to face.

"Tore my damn shirt," Gareth complains, looking at the hole in the fabric in his hands.

"I'll sew it up, good as new," Eddie says from his position above, standing over the top of them, watching Steve work.

"Oh, great, so I'll look like a little ragamuffin for the rest of the war," Gareth whines.

"You already do, all the time," Eddie banters back, and reaches down to rub at Gareth's mohawk, "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Gareth answers, "It's just a bug bite."

They are spending the night in a bombed out building, and they're sitting around, playing cards. They'd secured the regimental command post, and now they're just ordered to stay close. So they are. Eddie is dealing them all in, making up the rules as he goes. Steve smiles. This place is hell, it's all hard, and he's dirty and tired.

But this is fun.

He wonders if this was what it was like to see Eddie be the Dungeon Master for Hellfire Club. He thinks, maybe it is. He hopes so. Eddie is animated, and everyone else is laughing and having so much fun. Even while they're losing.

Steve slides his cigarettes to the center of the table, "I see your two, and raise you three."

Everyone bursts into laughter as Eddie has to try to get a read on whether Steve is bluffing or not.

Eddie takes the bet, and Steve wasn't. He unfurls his hand, showing his four of a kind and everyone groans as Steve sweeps the cigarettes, candy and coins in his direction.

He laughs, and Eddie shakes his head.

Eddie never wins, always folds his hand and shuffles it away, without showing it. Steve's pretty sure he's rigged this, has made it so he'll never win. Never take anything from his underlings, and it's a kindness. One Steve doesn't need, but maybe the rest of them do, and it makes Steve feel even more for Eddie than he already does.

That he's generous with these guys, his guys, giving them what little he has, all under the pretense of losing a bet.

Gareth has left to take a piss, and when he comes back, Goodie is rifling through his pack. Still chomping on his cigar, which Steve has figured out over time, isn't just for Eddie. Goodie's hardly ever seen without it, to the point that Steve thinks he might sleep with it in his mouth.

"Hey, dickhead, stop that!" Gareth says, snatching it back.

"Why are you carrying your reserve chute around? Throw it away," Goodie says, and looks around the table, looking for backup.

"Mind your own business," Gareth snaps, looking inside, like he needs to make sure it's all there.

Steve is pretty sure Goodie didn't actually bother anything, he was just trying to get Gareth all riled up. And it worked.

It always works.

They are just this way. A lit match thrown into gasoline, for sure.

Gareth kicks Goodie under the table, and clearly misses by the way Jeff yells, and Goodie laughs.

"Goddamnit, Roundtable, that hurt," Jeff says, pushing back from the table, hopping around on one leg, like that'll fix it.

"I'm sorry! You know that wasn't meant for you," Gareth swears.

"Sure, sure," Goodie says, fanning the fire.

"Goodie," Eddie says, trying to head this fight off at the pass. But it's too late.

Gareth dives over the table, knocking everything to the ground, as he scrabbles and scrambles, trying to get at Goodie.

It takes several of them to break it up before it gets started, but Gareth is getting madder by the second, because Goodie just keeps laughing at him, making faces.

Eddie manages to drag Gareth away, and Steve takes the opportunity to step outside. He just needs a minute alone.

Steve stands outside, leaning against the building, smoking one of his newly won cigarettes.

Eddie comes out of the shadows, "Can I bum one? You took all mine, and Gareth crushed the rest with his goddamn knobby knees."

It's said with such disdain, Steve laughs, but he fishes his pack out of his pocket, and hands it over, "You keep it."

"I'll owe you," Eddie says, smiling. Flirting, maybe. It's hard to tell with Eddie. Everything he says has a slight flirting edge, Steve thinks. It's hard to decide what's actually flirting, and what's just Eddie's charm oozing out of his pores, unbidden.

"What's next?" Steve asks, because they've just been waiting for new orders, for days. They are specialists, well, the others are. Steve's just a tag-a-long. But they usually have things to do, Steve's learned, idle time hasn't come around very often.

"Not sure," Eddie admits, and he's fidgeting. Steve knows he'd rather be busy, rather be working, than just sitting around, waiting. "France, maybe."

"Hopefully it has a shower, before my dick rots off," Steve says, and it makes Eddie cackle.

"Can't be having that happen, Pretty Boy," Eddie says, and there it is, the flirting edge again.

It's more than Steve can stand, sometimes.

New orders eventually come, and once they are completed, they're evacuated out and Steve thinks he's in France, now. He doesn't know, and honestly, doesn't care.

All he cares about is that they have a few days off, and everyone is making plans on how they're gonna spend them. Where they're gonna go to find girls. Goodie and Jeff have big, big plans.

Gareth just wants to make sure there's an APO he can get to, to send out a package.

Steve is listening to Gareth whine at Jeff about the postal situation, when Eddie sidles up to him, leaning into his side, just a little.

"You wanna go to Paris, Pretty Boy?" Eddie asks, and Steve just looks at him, a little confused.

"Do we have time to go to Paris?" Steve questions. He's bad at geography, especially of the non-US persuasion, but it doesn't feel like they have time to go to Paris from here.

"Not really. Wanna do it anyway?" Eddie asks, a glint in his eye. Mischievous.

"Sure," Steve says. Because really, none of these choices he makes are gonna matter, long-term. This world will end, and he'll end up somewhere else, or back home. He figures those are the only two options.

His choices have no real consequences.

So, he'll go with Eddie to Paris. Sure.

He just hopes Goodie and Gareth don't kill each other while they're gone.

Steve wasn't expecting first class, and it's definitely not, as they're currently riding in the back of a supply truck, hitching a ride, and Steve looks out of the back of the truck at the pretty countryside. Eddie is beside him, sleeping with his hat pulled over his face to block out the bright sunshine.

Steve's never been to Paris.

Eddie slumps in his sleep, and rests his head on Steve's arm, and Steve looks down at him and smiles.

In Paris, Eddie is flopped on the bed, while Steve is lounging beside him, watching as Eddie reads a folder of notes. He's still working, even if he's decided to take a break.

Steve is a little bit bored.

"Looks like you need cleaned up, Pretty Boy," Eddie finally says, and Steve pauses. The words go to his dick, and he's not sure if they're supposed to.

"What?" he asks, and feels stupid.

Eddie smiles, and reaches up to run a hand over Steve's head, "Your hair grows fast. Like mine. You do me and I'll do you?" Eddie asks.

Uh. Yes, please.

But that's not what Eddie means, and Steve knows it. But Eddie could do him all day if he wanted. Twice on Sunday, just for good measure.

"Yeah, you can do me. Or I can do you. You got a razor?"

Eddie grins really wide, like maybe he's in on the joke, and Steve's heart thuds in his chest.

Eddie does have a razor, but Steve's never shaved anyone's head before. Gareth usually does Eddie's touch-ups. But he presses his fingers into Eddie's neck, into the warm skin, as he holds him steady and still as he shaves down the sides of his mohawk, right to the skin.

It's intimate, at least it is to Steve, and he goes slow. Takes his time, never wanting this to end.

It does, of course, and Eddie rinses his head in the sink, getting off the last of the shaving foam, and examines himself in the mirror, "You did good, Pretty Boy."

"Thanks," Steve says, just looking at him through the mirror, and wants to crowd him into the sink. Wants to do a lot of things to him,

with him.

For him.

But he just sits down on the stool and waits for his own turn. And Eddie obliges, but it's faster, and far more efficient than Steve had worked.

"You know, the first one. The first mohawk, before D-Day, Gareth gave it to me with my combat knife," Eddie says, making conversation as he drags the razor along Steve's scalp with practiced ease. Of course he has more practice, he's been doing this for a lot longer than Steve has.

"Your knife?" Steve questions.

"My knife. Dry, sitting on the ground, waiting for our plane. Then I returned the favor, and before long, my whole unit had them. A train of paratroopers, sitting down on the ground, shaving each other's heads."

"I can't believe they even let you keep these," Steve says. Because no other soldiers he's seen have had mohawks.

"My unit, my rules," Eddie says, like that's how it works. "The muckety-mucks didn't like it, not really. Not regulation. But we were about to jump out of airplanes and, well, let's be real, probably die. So, they let it slide. Didn't matter much what our hair looked like under our helmets."

Steve can't nod, not while he's being shaved, but says, "Non-conformity is your thing."

And Eddie laughs, "Yeah, that's me."

Afterwards, they stand side-by-side, looking in the mirror. Both of their heads, freshly shaven.

They lay in bed in Paris, shoulder to shoulder, since one double bed was all they could get. The town is full, bustling, and Steve hasn't seen anything like it in this world yet. It's like actual civilization, again. This hotel isn't anything like the ones back home, it's actually fancier, even if it didn't cost all that much. And while Steve knows Eddie doesn't remember him, not the real him, he still wants to kiss Eddie again. Unfortunately for him, Eddie hasn't acted interested in that, so Steve's tried to not press his luck. This is enough.

Just being with Eddie, one-on-one, away from the war, is enough.

Passing a cigarette back and forth, laughing about things that have happened to them, their unit, their shared experiences of the past couple months, is enough.

Just listening to Eddie breathe, a soft, muffled sound, as he deeply sleeps for maybe the first time in months, if not years, is enough.

It's all enough.

They sleep.

They eat, and drink.

And shower.

That's very important, Steve's decided. The showering.

And the bathing.

He's done a lot of both, these past few days. He'd forgotten what it was like to truly be clean. Forgot what it was like to sink into a steaming hot bathtub. Because short, cold showers taken in makeshift tents with rationed water aren't the same, not at all. And standing under the warm spray right now, having it hit all of his body, feels like fucking heaven.

To scrub his hands, under his nails, until there's no longer dirt stuck beneath them.

He runs his hand over his head, over his wet mohawk, sending water spraying off his hair and he smiles, just because Eddie gave it to him. It was a gift, an induction into Eddie's unit, into his circle of friends, into his life. At least this version of his life.

Steve won him over, somehow, even if not romantically. That's okay. It can wait. This probably isn't the time, or the place.

Steve reaches down and palms his dick, thankful for the privacy. It's funny, his need for this has waned while he's been here. Not gone, but not a major concern, either. Keeping each other alive? That's the really important thing. More than coming, fucking.

But Steve still thinks about Eddie, about his face, about that killer smile. His hands. Those rings that are nowhere to be found here in this world, and strokes his dick, getting himself hard in his hand. He thinks about Eddie bending him over a table, a couch, the back of one of those standard issue Jeeps.

He didn't even know that's something he wanted, not really, but now it's all he can think about. Eddie manhandling him, taking control like he's taken control of his unit, as he's pushing inside his body. The idea of it is intimate, and thrills him. He's never…but he would, with Eddie. He'd let him.

He'd want him to.

Reaching back, he brushes his fingers against the tight ring of muscle, testing, feeling out the sensation of it, all while his other hand keeps lazily stroking his dick under the warm spray of water. He can't really press all the way in, he knows enough to know he'd need something slick to ease the way. He tried it, once, back home, and just wound up feeling guilty that he was using the image of a dead man to get off. But now, Eddie's just in the other room, and just the idea of it, the soft pressure of the exploring touch of his fingers, pretending they're Eddie's, is all it takes.

And he comes in his own fist, with a quiet, longing gasp.

After he's rinsed off, and has decided he's clean, yet again, he wraps the towel around his waist and exits the bathroom, a cloud of steam following close behind.

Eddie is sitting at the desk, writing. Steve's not sure if it's work, or a letter back home to Wayne, because he's seen him do both a lot over the last months.

Eddie turns and looks, "Hey. Just finishing up."

Steve nods, and digs around in his pack for a clean pair of boxers.

"Wanna go get something to eat?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods.

They sit outside at a sidewalk café, and there are other enlisted men, other officers, roaming around the streets, also enjoying their passes. Steve isn't sure what happens when one overstays their official weekend pass. But they've definitely done it. It was only for seventy-two hours, and they've been here four days already. They both might be AWOL. He doesn't know, and honestly, he doesn't even care, one way or the other.

Steve sips a cup of coffee, and watches as Eddie draws up plans. He's working up ideas for the next demo they'll be required to do, at least according to the word on the streets. Eddie always has his ear to the ground, and Steve thinks that's probably how they're so good at what they do. Eddie misses nothing, and is a planner. He's two steps ahead before they've even been asked to do anything.

This is like one big, long D&D campaign for him, Steve's pretty sure.

That night, in bed, the silence is broken when Eddie says, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything," Steve answers, hoping.

"Have you fired your weapon? Even once?" Eddie asks.

It's not the question Steve expected, nor hoped for. But he'll answer it anyway.

"No," Steve says. He's gotten close a few times, but no, he hasn't been forced into it, not yet.

"I thought not," Eddie answers, and Steve isn't sure if he's supposed to be offended or not. If Eddie is calling him soft, to go right along with Pretty Boy.

His dad thinks he's soft, Steve knows that, and maybe it's true.

No, it's not, he knows it's not. He's fought off monsters with his bare hands, or armed only with his bat. But that's different, somehow.

"I'm sorry," Steve settles on, because he doesn't want Eddie to think less of him.

"Don't be sorry," Eddie says, and he reaches up like he's gonna push Steve's hair off his forehead. But Steve doesn't have that haircut. Not here.

Eddie's fingers brush his mohawk instead, "Don't be sorry. Be grateful. I am."

And Steve is.

He wakes up with Eddie's arm slung over his back, and Steve loves the feeling of it. The weight of him. He's never got to have this before, not with Eddie, and he stays still, hoping Eddie won't pull away. Not yet.

Steve's just about to doze back off, when he feels Eddie's fingertips ghosting along his back, his spine, his sides. Touching him, caressing, oh so softly. Barely a touch at all.

Steve rolls over onto his side, and looks in Eddie's eyes as he reaches out to touch him back, just as gently. His fingers sliding along Eddie's arm, feeling the raised scars all along his skin. Steve doesn't know if they're from earlier in the war, or scars he's carried with him from the real world.

"Hi," Eddie says, barely above a murmur, and Steve leans forward and kisses him. Just a soft brush of his lips, testing the waters, seeing if this is okay. If Eddie wants this like he wants this.

Eddie's hand comes up, cradling Steve's cheek, and it's tender in a way nothing in this godforsaken war has been, and Steve blinks, trying to push back any tears that might threaten to spill over. He needs this, Eddie's soft touch.

"Hi," Steve finally says back, and Eddie scoots closer, wrapping an arm around Steve's body, holding him tight. Pulling them together in a tangle of limbs.

Eddie presses his crotch forward, making contact with Steve's and Steve pushes back against him, giving him the okay. Permission.

Nothing changes, not for a while longer, they just lay close, and hold each other, but eventually Eddie slides his hand down the back of Steve's plain, white boxer shorts, squeezing his ass. It's playful, and sweet, and Steve wants more. More of that. More of everything.

Just more, more, more.

"Please," Steve begs, a soft huff of breath next to Eddie's ear, "Please."

"Do you even know what you're asking me for, Pretty Boy? Have you done this before?" Eddie asks, his big, warm hand splayed across Steve's back now, rubbing soothing circles.

He hasn't. But he wants to. Wants it more than he's wanted anything in a very long time.

"Please," Steve just says again, the only thing he can think of to say. The only way he knows how to ask for what he needs. Eddie nods against his cheek, and scoots back until he can roll Steve over onto his stomach. Steve goes, willingly.

And Eddie brushes his lips against Steve's back, and Steve arches into it. Chasing the feeling.

"Please,"

he says again, and he knows he's begging for it. For Eddie. He doesn't care.

"I have you," Eddie says, and Steve wants to cry. Eddie has him. That's all he's wanted. 
Eddie tugs down Steve's boxers, slipping them down his legs, and casting them aside. He runs his hand over Steve's ass, down to his thigh, just touching. It feels nice, and Steve rests his head on his folded arms on his pillow, and just lets Eddie explore his body. Rough fingertips, and soft palms.He loves it.Then, Eddie nudges his thighs apart, wedging a knee between them, and Steve lets him. Rotates his hips, hoping he's giving him easier access.He must, because Steve makes a sound he's never even heard himself make before as Eddie brushes his thumb against his asshole, and Steve wants to arch into it, wanting more.
More, more, more.

Eddie opens a container with a metal lid, Steve hears it, and it's Vaseline. He's sure of it. He's seen it in all their first aid kits, antique round discs, filled with the thick ointment. But Steve can't think any longer, because Eddie's finger is in him. Slick, and large. His knuckle catches on Steve's rim, and Steve is overwhelmed by the feeling of being penetrated, stretched, and he wishes he could see it happen.

Steve moans, and Eddie pets his back with his free hand, soft circles that break Steve's heart. Eddie's gentle, and kind, and the people back home treated him like he was a monster.

And Eddie's anything but, Steve knows that, as much as he knows anything.

"That's good, Pretty Boy," Eddie says, "open up for me."

Steve nods against the pillow. Trying to relax. Trying to follow orders for Eddie.

He takes the second finger, and it's a lot. He sucks in a lungful of air, against his will.

"Breathe," Eddie says, quietly. "Let it out," he instructs, and Steve does, and Eddie slides his fingers further in on Steve's exhale, "Good. So good."

He's good. This is good.

Steve presses back against Eddie's hand, feels the pressure, the burn of it. He's being split wide, and he's not sure he'll ever go back together again after this. After Eddie.

When Steve feels the blunt head of Eddie's dick pressing into him, he tenses with excitement.

"You need to relax, sweetheart," Eddie says, and the endearment is all it takes, and a few tears leak out of his eyes and into the pillowcase.

He relaxes his whole body, forces himself to melt under Eddie's touch, under his body, and it works. He gives way, and Eddie slides into him.

"Oh," Steve says, and it hurts more than he expected. More than his fingers, there's no comparison. It feels good, too, but it's a lot. A burn, a fullness, he hadn't anticipated. A warmth. He's never felt anything like this, and now he's scared he'll never survive if he doesn't get to have it with Eddie again and again. Forever.

"Too much?" Eddie asks, staying still, not rutting into him like Steve had imagined. For some reason, he thought he'd be fucked, hard and fast, and that's not what's happening. Not right now.

Eddie is just inside him, not moving.

"It's a lot," Steve admits.

"Want me to pull out?" Eddie asks, the hand that rests between Steve's shoulders, now running up his bare skin, his fingers settling for pressing into both sides of Steve's neck, offering a grounding touch.

"No, no, just let me get used to it," Steve says.

And when Eddie finally pulls back, sliding almost out of him, he pauses, and Steve can feel his fingers brushing against him again as he spreads on more of the Vaseline, trying to help ease the way even more.

Then Eddie fucks back into him, even if it's still a slow and careful slide, he's finally moving. It's restrained, until Steve presses back, asking for more, and then Eddie gives it to him. Picking up speed, and thrusting a little harder until Steve's dick is leaking all over the sheets underneath him as Eddie adjusts his angle, and makes stars explode in Steve's vision.

For a second, he thinks he's going, leaving this world, but it's not that. It's just a kind of pleasure like he's never felt in his entire life.

"Eddie," Steve says.

"You feel so good," Eddie whispers, right next to his ear, and Steve turns his head. In doing so, he realizes he can sort of see the reflection of them in the floor length mirror across the room.

Eddie pulls on his hips, raising him up, and in the movement, nearly slides totally out of him.

Steve just stares. Eddie's dick is hard, shiny, and slick. Just the head of his cock still inside of him, and then that slips out. Eddie's dick glides along the crack of Steve's ass, and Steve realizes he's totally bare as he lines himself back up, and presses back inside again.

No condom,

Steve thinks to himself. He hadn't realized. Hadn't thought about it. But it's a different time, and they are definitely in a different place, and Steve wants him all the way back inside him. Wanting more.

Wanting to feel all of him.

He should probably still be concerned about getting the clap, or syphilis. He's not. He's concerned about getting Eddie's dick into him. That's it. Anything else, he'll worry about later.

Eddie's got a firm hand in the center of Steve's back, using it for leverage as he thrusts, and Steve's glued to the mirror. Seeing what he can, here in the shadows. Watching Eddie work his dick into him, muscles tensed.

"That's it, sweetheart," and Steve comes in the sheets under himself, basically untouched at the name. It's not Steve. It's not Harrington.

But it's not Pretty Boy either.

He'll take being called sweetheart, most definitely.

Eddie pulls out and Steve misses him, immediately. He feels empty, and wrung out.

He can hear Eddie stroking his own dick, the slick slide of it, but Steve can't move. Can't turn over to see it up close and personal, because Eddie's sitting on his thighs. Pinning him to the bed. But he stares at the mirror, watching as Eddie fists his own dick.

It's the hottest thing Steve's ever seen. The muscles of his thighs and stomach, rippling, moving. He's thin, but sturdy, here.

Steve hears him come, just as he feels the warm splash of it against his lower back, his ass cheeks, and then Eddie's hand is rubbing it into his skin. Brushing a wet finger against his sore hole, and Steve

wants.

Even after it has ended, he still feels want and longing. For more.

For this man.

He'll always want more with Eddie, he's pretty sure.

Later, Steve takes another shower, washing the dried come off his skin, feeling different. Changed.

Maybe war hasn't changed him, but this? This surely did.

The radio in the room is playing

In the Mood,

and when that's over, it melts into

We'll Meet Again,

and Steve tangles his legs further with Eddie's. Eddie reaches over and passes him his lit cigarette, and Steve tries to ignore the song. It's too on the nose. Too scary, when he's literally bouncing around time with no idea where they'll meet again next.

If they will.

"We'll have to go back soon," Eddie says, "unless we both want court-martialed."

Steve doesn't want this world to end that way, so he nods.

"This was the best weekend pass I've ever had," Eddie says with a smile, and Steve kisses him.

When they show back up where they were supposed to be, days ago, the higher ups don't take to their insubordination well, and throw them in a holding cell together in the stockade, and Eddie just laughs about it, so Steve laughs, too. It pisses the officers off, he can tell, but it is funny. Just a little bit, anyway.

"Munson," the charge of quarters says, and Eddie looks up.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, sounding unconcerned by this whole situation. Steve's jealous of his attitude. They've been thrown into arrestive quarters, and Eddie just seems nonplussed by the whole situation.

"I've got one for you. They'll trade you for Harrington," the non-commissioned officer says, scuffing the sleeve of the other soldier, dragging him along.

"No," Eddie answers, immediately.

"C'mon. Nobody will take him. He's caused problems with every unit he's been in. If you do this, they'll make this AWOL problem of yours disappear."

Steve looks, and it's Billy Hargrove. No wonder they're having problems everywhere they've put him. He

is

the problem, undoubtedly.

"No. It's a full sentence. "I'm good with my unit, just as it is."

The NCO looks between them, then settles on Eddie, "Harrington is a deserter. Patton would have him shot. This is a good deal for him, clean slate, he should take it."

"He's not a goddamn deserter, and you know it. They know. He's been fighting right alongside us. He didn't shirk shit. They just misplaced him. And, well, finders keepers. He's mine. You can run back and tell your bosses that, word for word."

"That's not how this works, Private Munson."

"It's exactly how this works. I get to make up my unit.

Me.

You all know it."

"We all know you're leading a band of miscreants. We all know you're such a contrarian, pain in the goddamn ass, that you've never been promoted past Private. All your fellow Paratroopers got to be a Private First Class just by, well, existing. But not you. You're too stubborn. Too precious to conform to the most basic standards of The United States Army-"

Eddie interrupts him, "Keep going. Flattery works on me," Eddie says, and Steve bites back a smile.

"Like I was saying," the officer says, clearly tired of Eddie's bullshit. "You are difficult. So, there is one other option..."

"Well, they know they can't control me, so now they're just trying to kill me," Eddie says, looking over at Steve.

"What? Why? How?" Steve rattles off the questions, not liking the sound of that at all.

So, Eddie explains. He tells him exactly what being a member of The Pathfinders would entail. Because that was the other option offered up. And Steve is opposed as soon as he heard that eighty percent of the men died each mission. Eddie's not being dramatic. It really does sound like they're washing their hands of him, and sending him to certain death.

And that's the exact opposite of what Steve's here to do, which is keep Eddie alive. So, no. He's not on board with this idea. Not when Eddie told him that these missions only need two men, but they send down sticks of ten, because they expect only twenty percent of them to live through it? No, thanks.

Eddie shouldn't sign up for this.

Nobody

should sign up for this. It sounds crazy. Dangerous, suicide missions, basically, and they can't make them do it. It's volunteer only. But they are bribing Eddie into it, at least they're trying to, and Eddie is actually thinking about it.

Steve knows he will agree, too, if Eddie decides to sign up. They can live, or die, together this time, he supposes.

They sit for a couple more days, just waiting, until Eddie finally gives the go ahead. He'll agree, if they'll let them out, not charge them for going AWOL,

and

let him keep Steve. That's non-negotiable.

The officer said fine, ready to wash his hands of the both of them, obviously, but he said Eddie was still taking Hargrove.

Eddie reluctantly agreed, and they were turned loose.

"Where are we going?" Gareth asks, already packing up his shit, planning on following Eddie, no matter what the answer is.

"Best I see it? England, where we'll sit out the rest of the war, being trained at Pathfinder School, and then we'll go home."

"The Pathfinders, though?" Jeff asks, but he's packing, too. So is Goodie, and Steve is watching them all do exactly what Eddie's doing, without hesitation. They have questions. But they are still gonna do it, Steve is certain of that.

That's how it's been all war, and well, that doesn't seem apt to change today.

"You could stay," Eddie says, looking at Gareth, "you could take over here for me. Lead what's left of The Nasty Nine."

Gareth scoffs.

"No way. You jump, I jump," Gareth argues.

"I told your mom I'd keep you safe-"

"And you have! You will! You think I'm better off without you? Really?" Gareth says, and Steve knows Eddie is just playing devil's advocate. There's no way he's leaving Gareth behind, not if Gareth wants to go with him.

Steve watches them argue it out, and then, finally, they're all packed up. Half the unit, ready to join The Pathfinders, just because Eddie is. They've trusted him this far, have trusted each other, and clearly can't imagine falling into any other unit.

So, Steve, Eddie, Gareth, Goodie and Jeff all signed on. And Billy, but that's more of a forced situation. He volunteered, he had to, but he's being forced on Eddie, that's for damn sure.

It's more money, but they'll be the ones to jump first in combat areas, if the need arises. To help navigate all the others into the drop zones, once they've been figured out. Eddie told them all he's pretty sure this whole war will be over before there's another jump, anyway, and Steve has no reason to doubt him. Eddie hasn't led him astray yet.

They make it all the way through Pathfinder school, and the war is trickling to a close. Eddie's plan worked, Steve's pretty sure, and they're gonna spend the rest of the war here on this airforce base.

"Mail's here, Pretty Boy," Gareth says, and it's the first time Steve's gotten anything. Which isn't that surprising, since he's not exactly where he's supposed to be. In more ways than one.

And when Gareth drops it in his lap, it hurts his junk, because it's a huge bundle of letters, all tied together with twine. He presses the palm of his hand into his crotch, trying to take the sting off, as he looks at the letters.

And his heart sinks.

That many all together doesn't look good.

He cuts off the binding, and starts flipping through them. All from Robin, dating back months. He tries to put them in some sort of chronological order, and once he thinks he's gotten it, he starts reading them. They're normal at first. Just her talking about her day, asking about how things are going for him. If he's doing okay.

And the more he reads, the more frantic she gets. It oozes off the page, her worry. Her fears that he's dead, or missing in action. That he's gone AWOL and has been killed for it.

He wasn't missing, just a little misplaced.

The system finally sorted out where he was once they got threw in the clink for skipping off to Paris, and when they tried to kick up a fuss about it, Eddie basically told them to fuck off, he was keeping Steve with them. That was the deal.

And they grumbled, but allowed it. Eddie was allowed to pick his own unit. That was the deal they'd made, a long, long time ago, in trade off for him leading his men through things that were well beyond crazy. Straight into dangerous. You couldn't be assigned to Eddie's unit, you had to be invited. And, Steve? He's been invited. He's one of them, now.

Steve runs his hand over his mohawk, and smiles.

He needs to write Robin back, so he asks around until he finds some paper and a pen. Steve knows he can't tell her the truth, not through a letter that will undoubtedly be read by the United States government. But he assures her he's fine. That he's joined a new unit, and it just took a little time for his mail to catch up to him. That he's so sorry she worried, that he's sorry that he's so late getting back in touch.

That he misses her.

Loves her, his best friend, no matter where he is in the world.

The universe.

He sends it off to the address on the return label, and hopes she gets it soon. He doesn't want her to worry any longer than she has to, even if this is a different version of her. It doesn't matter. He's still Steve, and she's still Robin.

And he wishes he could see her, he needs her. Not her calming presence, because she has basically none of that, he thinks with a smile, but he needs

her.

Just her, being herself, winding him up and working him up into a lather, just for fun.

He needs her to catastrophize this situation to even worse than it is.

He needs her.

Eddie was wrong. The Germans have launched a last ditch effort they're calling the Ardennes Offensive. So, they will need to jump again, and they get their orders to jump into Bastogne. They leave in the morning, and their mission is to try and get in there to radio in some supply drops that are badly needed for the currently surrounded 101st in The Bulge. They need to get them reinforcements, get them aid, so they can continue to hold their ground.

Steve is in the latrine all by himself, washing his hands, when the door opens behind him and Eddie slides in. There's no lock, no privacy, and they've been unable to find a minute to be truly alone.

That's okay. Steve has understood, and just having Eddie nearby has been plenty.

Eddie presses his body to Steve's back, and Steve is surprised. Eddie doesn't slip, doesn't give in to his desire to touch.

"Eddie-"

"Gareth's by the door," Eddie says, and that's enough of an answer for Steve. He didn't know that Gareth knew anything about them, about their trip to Paris, but he's not surprised.

They don't have time to really get into it, but Steve turns and Eddie leans into him, pressing their lips together.

Steve hugs him around the middle, kissing him back, and it feels like goodbye. Like what might have happened outside of the trailer in the Upside Down, if they'd just let themselves lean into it.

Then they hear Gareth's voice carrying, and they separate, both going back to separate sinks. Eddie falling into a chattering that's not only extremely normal, but comforting, at this point. The other guys pay no attention to either of them, and that's that.

Tomorrow they jump.

It's still scary, jumping from an airplane, even if he's done it once before. Especially with the piss-poor visibility they've been fighting, but they got a window where it was slightly less bad, and Eddie took it. Steve sways, thinking about that eighty percent mortality rate. There are twenty of them. The five from the Nasty Nine, Billy, and four others in their stick and another ten in the other, all hand-selected by Eddie. He picked every last man, and Steve wonders how that's weighing on him. To know that out of twenty of them, only four were expected to make it. It's a lot, too much, and Steve swallows.

This feels like fighting Vecna all over again. Not enough time, not enough people.

He doesn't like the odds, not at all.

But they're doing this, and Eddie is leading the way. So, this time Steve follows Eddie to the door of the plane, and Gareth is at his back, checking that he's hooked up right, and ready to go out into the sky as soon as the light turns green.

Gareth pats him on the back, signaling that he's good, and Steve takes a deep breath.

The light turns green.

Eddie doesn't hesitate, and this time, Steve doesn't either.

As he glides down through the freezing air, he's praying he won't get lost this time, but he feels more at peace. Eddie is below him. Gareth above.

They're gonna be fine. They're all gonna be fine.

Steve hits the ground right on target, just like everyone else. Unclips his parachute, but doesn't let it go. Holding it. Saving it for Gareth, if he wants it. Steve isn't sure what his fascination with keeping them is, exactly, but Steve still wants to offer it up.

Even as they're trying not to die, right in the eyeline of enemy troops.

Gareth takes the parachute from him, delighted, bundling it up to shove in his pack.

Steve looks around as they rendezvous, and counts. There are more than four still standing. More than ten. As of right now, there are nineteen of them standing here. What was once a death sentence for eighty percent of them, has shrunken to five percent.

Five.

With Eddie in charge, with Eddie picking and choosing, they only lost one man.

Steve tries to take stock. He's fine. Eddie's fine. Gareth's fine, and so are Jeff and Goodie. There's a whole slew of Pathfinders he hasn't learned the names of yet. But no Billy.

Steve now wonders if they were one-hundred percent successful, and Billy just ditched them. Maybe he'll never know. He honestly hopes that's exactly what's happened. That Billy left them, the

shitbirds,

as he liked to call them, behind and just took off.

Because even if he hated him back home, he still wouldn't wish this upon anyone. Not death by gunfire, not death by being captured by the enemy. None of it. Not even on his worst enemy.

And now, after everything that has happened in Hawkins since Billy, even after the shattered plate to the head, Steve knows Billy wasn't his worst enemy. Not while something as awful as Vecna could exist in the world.
Vecna took Eddie from him. Billy just took part of his hearing. There's no comparison.
Eddie gives the orders, and they follow them, running all around the town, calling in supply drops and then bailing so their locations can't be triangulated and bombed. Steve and Gareth call in one on the south side, and then pick up the radio, and run. Jeff and Goodie call in the next over on the west side, and then haul ass. Then they pass off the radios to the next duo. It's an ongoing relay. Running the equipment, back and forth, criss-crossing the city. Having both sets of radio equipment survive the jump, and way more men than expected, has been fucking great. They take turns, running and calling in drops, back and forth, all over Bastogne. And it works. The planes, they come. They fly over, by the hundreds, dropping the much needed supplies over the next few days, replenishing everything that the pinned down 101st desperately needs.
It saves the war, Steve is pretty fucking sure. It has turned around what could have been a massive loss, if they couldn't continue to hold their ground.Eddie made this happen.And Steve is so proud of him. Proud of all of them.

Once their mission is complete, and the supply drops are over, Steve thought they'd be in and out, but Eddie saw help was needed, and led them into the forest. To jump into the fray, ready and willing to join the front lines.

Now, they're trying, desperately, to hold their ground in the middle of the forest. It's bad. It's so bad. Soldiers are dying every fucking day, from artillery fire, and stupid goddamn accidents, and Steve knows they can't keep up this kind of luck forever. There's no possible way.

And it's cold. So cold. Winter is here, and it's harsh, and brutal.

It’s fucking freezing, and now they are outside basically all the time. They've made it into deep winter, and the snow is miserable. Have you ever sat in a hole in the snow for days? Steve has now, and it's terrible. Awful.

They do what they can, because they're trapped, sitting ducks. And they can only wait.

They're bantering in the woods. Digging at each other, when they hear a gun cock.

Steve's stomach drops, and a single enemy soldier, a straggler, has his weapon trained on Eddie. Steve reaches for his own. He's sure he'll be a terrible shot. He's no Nancy, but he'll have to try.

He raises it, and before he can do anything more, the man falls to the snow, the deafening sound of gunfire exploding right over Steve's shoulder, it seems like.

Gareth comes around, and checks Eddie over. He's fine, they're all fine, but it was close. Too close.

And Steve wasn't ready. Had forgotten where they were, for just a moment.

"Steve?" Steve hears, and he turns around and there's Tommy H.

Tommy rushes forwards, wrapping his arms around Steve. It's hard to feel, through all their clothes, but Steve hugs him back. It's weird. It's been so long since they've been friends, real friends, and he's realized how much he missed him, suddenly.

"I didn't know what happened to you, I thought I killed you when I pushed you out over Holland," Tommy says, pulling back to look in Steve's eyes.

"Nope, still here," Steve says.

"They just said you were MIA," Tommy says, "but I kept thinking you'd get shuffled back to us. And you never did. You're a Pathfinder now?" Tommy asks, and Steve nods. He supposes he is. "How did that happen?"

"I ended up with the Nasty Nine, and well…"

Tommy laughs, bending over at the waist, "You? You ended up with that group of criminals?"

"They aren't actually criminals," Steve says, "just tough sons of bitches."

Tommy nods, but Steve can tell he doesn't understand. That's okay. They've had these differences before, but this time, Steve doesn't want to fight about it.

"How's Carol?" Steve asks, changing the subject, just hazarding a guess.

"Good, ready for me to be home," Tommy says, and like that, the topic of conversation has changed, and Steve's grateful.

Eventually Tommy goes back to his foxhole, and Steve goes back to his own.

He slides down into it next to Gareth. Eddie is off plotting, planning, most likely arguing with the other commanding officers far above his rank. It makes Steve smile. He misses him, though.

"What?" Gareth asks, and Steve just grins harder.

"Just thinking about Eddie fighting with the officers about how to get out of here," Steve says.

"If they'd just listen to him, we'd be gone tomorrow," Gareth grumbles, and he's not wrong.

Steve has a candy bar in his pocket, and after he gets it open with his frozen fingers, he breaks it in half, handing half to Gareth. He's been in this snow packed foxhole with Gareth for a long time, days, it feels like while Eddie is off running things, making plans, plotting their next move. And all they can do to help him is hold their ground, and wait it out.

So, that's what they do.

Gareth takes off his helmet and reaches inside, pulling a picture loose from the lining.

"This is my girl," Gareth says, handing over the worn black and white photograph. It's creased, and soft from being handled too much.

Steve doesn't recognize her from Hawkins, and isn't even aware of Gareth ever having a girlfriend back in the real world. But she could be the same girl from the speakeasy,

his wife,

Steve thinks, smiling.

But he isn't sure. The picture is too blurry, too worn, for him to say one way or another.

"She's a real looker," Steve just tells him, because even if he can't really see that from the old photo, can't make out any of her features, she could be any girl, it still feels like the right thing to say.

Gareth smiles, "She is. I'm gonna marry her when we get home."

"That's real nice, Gareth," Steve says, "Congratulations."

Gareth just smiles, and puts the picture back in its spot in his helmet, for safekeeping.

"She's from Omaha. And when we first jumped, on D-Day, I wanted to get assigned to Omaha Beach, because I knew it'd be fine. Because Omaha is her, you know? Safe. But we got Utah, as you know. And it was still fine. I'm still here."

Steve doesn't know any of that, he wasn't here yet, but he nods. Steve can't really add to the conversation. He didn't exist back then, at least he assumes he didn't. Maybe he did and it was a different version of him?

It makes his head hurt to think about, so he doesn't.

"That's why I'm saving the parachutes. For the silk. So she can make her wedding dress," Gareth keeps talking, and Steve looks over at him, surprised. It's thoughtful, and fucking romantic that Gareth has carried used parachutes all across the European Theater, just to give them to his girl.

"That's a great idea," Steve says, because he doesn't really know what else to say that won't sound way sappier than he should. So, Steve just reaches over and wraps his arm around Gareth's shoulder, pulling him close, trying to warm him up. He's a good kid.

"Yeah, well. She wants silk, and this is the only way she's getting any. The shortage, you know," Gareth says, brushing it off as if it were nothing at all. It's not, but Steve will definitely let him get away with it. Those parachutes aren't light, and lugging them around until he could mail them back took real effort, and Steve is impressed. This isn't the Gareth he knows, not really. Or, maybe it is, and he's just all grown up.

Maybe war does that. Makes a boy into a man, sooner rather than later.

Days pass this way, and Steve's never been so cold in his life. Eddie is shivering beside him, and has been for hours. Steve is getting worried Eddie might actually freeze to death out here. He puts his arm around Eddie's shoulders, and drags him closer. Hoping Eddie will be able to steal a little of his body heat. He's pretty sure Eddie needs it more, right now, than Steve does.

Steve takes off his fingerless gloves, and works them onto Eddie's hands instead.

Eddie's wedged in-between Steve and Gareth, squeezed into what is really more of a two-man hole, and he's still cold. Even crammed in the way that they are.

"I know," Steve says, and Eddie takes off his helmet, and presses his forehead into Steve's neck. It's freezing cold, his skin, but Steve takes it. Lets him warm up. It's the longest they've been this close in a long time, since Paris.

Gareth meets Steve's eyes, and even in the dark, Steve can see he's concerned, too. Eddie's been run ragged, spread too thin, and they're struggling here in the coldest of winters he's ever experienced.

"I'll find him something else. A coat, a blanket, something," Gareth says, climbing out of the foxhole, and Steve just sees the backs of his combat boots as he runs away.

Eddie's cold-blooded in a way Steve and Gareth just aren't. And because of that, he’s suffering, here in the darkest, coldest winter any of them have ever lived through. Steve doesn't know that Gareth will find anything, everyone else is in the same exact freezing conditions that they are. But Steve knows Gareth feels the need to try. Eddie's taken care of him, not only here, but back home before the war, and he gets his wanting to repay that.

He'd do anything to keep Robin warm, too.

It's what best friends do.

The night is still, and Steve can almost hear Eddie's watch ticking, the passage of time, slow and sure in the moments before there are sudden shouts of

incoming

and the wheezing hum of an explosive getting closer, and Steve hunkers, wrapping his arm around Eddie's exposed head, pulling him even closer into his body. There's nothing to be done if they're gonna take a direct hit, it is what it is. A helmet won't help, nothing will.

But if there's some ricochet, or whatever, Steve's not leaving him without cover.

They don't take a direct hit, not even as the barrage continues, exploding the sky, and the treetops. The trees are breaking, shattering into millions of pieces all around them, and then there's a lull. Just for a moment, just long enough for them to hear lots of yelling, screaming for a medic, screaming that someone else has been hit, and they both cautiously pop up just in time to see Gareth running towards them. Weaving through the broken forest, and Eddie is wheeling his arm, directing him to hurry up.

And then the sky explodes, once again.

They watch, unable to do anything to prevent it, as Gareth takes a direct hit on his way to them.

Not ten yards from their current hiding place.

Blanket in hand.

Eddie is up, and out of the foxhole, running away from what little protection it provides, before Steve can even try to stop him.

So, Steve follows, because he doesn't have a choice. Where Eddie leads, he'll follow. That's just the way this works.

Even if that is straight into direct mortar fire.

They scramble and scrabble through the snow, through the broken tree limbs, but when they get to Gareth, it's already too late.

Eddie's hands aren't working, from the cold and probably from the shock as he tries to grab Gareth under the shoulders, to drag him. That's never gonna work, so Steve reaches down and picks up Gareth, and he's heavy. So heavy, but Steve holds on tighter, carrying him back to their foxhole. Even if he's gone. Even if Steve knows he can't help Gareth, not now. He can help Eddie, and Eddie wasn't going to leave Gareth out there.

Steve pulls Gareth's body to his chest, as tight as he can, and slides back down the snow into the hole, falling on his ass, Gareth's dead weight crashing on top of him, taking his breath away. Eddie closely follows, no grace left in his movements, only adrenaline and fear.

Guilt and sorrow.

Eddie, who has been calm and cool and collected all these months, no matter what they've faced, has finally lost it. No matter who has died, no matter how backed into a corner they've seemed, he has had a smile and a plan. Even if it seemed likely they'd all die before getting out of whatever pinch they'd found themselves in.

But this was the straw that broke the camel's back. Losing his friend,

his best friend,

and being unable to prevent it, being unable to go back in time, and change the outcome.

Steve knows that feeling, all too well.

Eddie is pulling on Gareth, tugging him away from Steve's grasp, and Steve lets Gareth go. Allows Eddie to take him, do whatever he wants. Eddie pulls Gareth to his chest, and Steve sits by, wishing he could protect Eddie from this. Save him from it.

But he can't.

It's over and done.

The rain of fire lasts longer than it ever has before, and Steve prays to switch now.

Right now.

This second. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He holds his helmet onto his head, curling into himself.

The assault is deafening. An unending barrage of firepower. Foxholes are being exploded left and right. He wonders if he dies here, right now, if that's it? All she wrote, no more switching. No more chances.

Or if he'll just pop up somewhere new.

He has no idea.

Eddie is screaming beside him, holding Gareth to his chest, but Gareth's gone. They both know that.

Steve tries to scoot closer, but in the dark, he hits a barrier, and he realizes it's Gareth's overstuffed pack. Full of silk from their latest jump into Bastogne, that will never make it to Omaha, or if it does, it won't be for a wedding dress. Not now.

Steve wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. Then straightens up. He can't. He can't do this right now. So, he pinches his nose, and wills himself not to cry. He can't afford to. Not while Eddie needs him.

And Eddie is crying himself sick, and Steve pats his shoulder, not even sure if Eddie can feel it through his coat, through the cold. It doesn’t matter, there's no comforting this kind of hurt. It has cut him too deep.

"Let me hold him a while," Steve finally says, knowing that Eddie needs to breathe.

Eddie just shakes his head, adamantly. Not letting Gareth go. Every time another shell lights up the night sky, Steve can get a flash of Eddie's face, drawn and heartbroken. Smeared with blood that is certainly not his own.

Eddie promised he'd keep Gareth safe. Promised him, promised his mother. Eddie told Steve that long ago, in Paris, as they laid together and smoked.

And now he failed. They both did.

Steve knows how that feels, intimately.

"Harrington," Eddie says suddenly, in a voice so clear that Steve thinks he's hearing things. He's never called him that here. He only calls him Pretty Boy, just like Gareth first did. Gareth picked his nickname, and now Gareth is gone.

"Steve, Steve," Eddie says, over and over, and Steve scoots as close to him as possible, "Steve, I want to go home."

"Me too," Steve says. Steve wants to go back to the real world, desperately.

"Let's go home. To Hawkins. I want to go home to Hawkins," Eddie says, pushing his face into Gareth's neck, still clinging to his broken body. Steve feels like he's looking at a memory of himself, cradling Eddie's body long after he was already gone in the Upside Down, when he fully realizes what Eddie has said.

And Steve starts to question Eddie. To find out if he

finally

remembers. If he knows that Hawkins is home.

"Eddie, do you-"

But then this world snaps, no longer existing where it once was, only a moment earlier.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

he say,
i know you, you know me,
one thing i can tell you,
is you got to be free,
come together, right now,
over me
Come Together, The Beatles

1994

Steve is standing in front of a really fucking tall house, in a city, and he's not sure what he's doing here. Or where he is. Or when. But

that

feels familiar, and he realizes that he's getting used to the not knowing. Because what he

does

know, is that he'll figure it out. He can feel that. Bits and pieces will start to make sense, and he'll remember things pretty quickly.

He already knows he's done this before.

He knows this world isn't permanent. They never are. He blinks into existence, brand new and disoriented. And while he might not know where he is, or when, but he definitely knows he's searching for something, for someone, as he's called on and on, all across the universe.

He always finds him.

Eddie.

So, Steve looks around, and the steep as shit streets make him think he might be in San Francisco. Because just to his right is the curviest street he's ever seen in his whole life. He has a flash of Max zipping down the tight hairpin turns on her skateboard, with a flash of red hair. And he smiles. He misses the kids.

He looks at the houses, the layout of the streets, and yeah. San Francisco. He visited San Francisco with his dad once, on a business trip, when he was little. And he liked riding the cable car. What he remembers of it, anyway. And this looks like what he remembers seeing that day.

So, yes, he thinks this is San Francisco. Probably. Maybe.

But when is he? He has no idea. Modern day, at least. That much he

is

sure of, just from seeing the modern cars on the street. This isn't the twenties or the forties, and he's fucking grateful for that.

He has a sudden flash of Eddie in the snow, with a mohawk. Then Steve with his own mohawk. He immediately reaches for his head.

He has hair. All his hair.

Oh, thank god.

Then the horrible image of Gareth dead in Eddie's arms flashes through his mind, filling all his thoughts with the pain of it. The sorrow.

Jesus Christ.

He's trying to recover from it, when there's shouting coming from way over his head.

"Hey, are you the last roommate?!" Robin yells from above, interrupting his thoughts, and Steve looks up at her and smiles, instinctively. He's so goddamn happy to see her. It's about damn time. She’s leaning out over a balcony, a few floors up. She clearly doesn’t know who he is if she's asking him that kind of question, but that’s okay. He knows her, and that will be enough for now. He'll win her over. He did it at Scoops, when she thought he was the biggest dingus in the world, so he can do it again now. Easy.

He nods in her direction. He guesses he is the last roommate, whatever that means.

"Well, c'mon! We've all been waiting on you!" she yells again.

That's when he notices there's a man standing behind him with a huge camera. Like for making movies with, not just a tourist encroaching on his personal space. What the fuck is that about? He starts to shout up to Robin, to ask, but she just points him towards the set of stairs on the side, leading up to the front door, and then she disappears from the window, so he follows her directions. 
Inside the house, Billy Hargrove is playing pool by himself at a pool table, beer resting right on the felt, like an asshole. Steve sighs. Just what he needed. Apparently Billy walked off the battlefield in Belgium and straight into the art of hustling himself at pool. Steve keeps walking, ignoring him. He isn't ready for a fight this early in a new world.Instead, he catches sight of Gareth standing at the kitchen counter, talking to Chrissy Cunningham, and Steve's never been so happy to see that kid in his whole life. Alive, in one piece. Carefree, again. He looks young, and pretty much like the Gareth he remembers from back home. No longer a war-weary soldier, stuck on the frontlines, freezing. Steve hopes Eddie doesn’t remember the end of the last universe, it was brutal. As war so often is. At least this world seems a little less dramatic, less life and death, at least so far.
Steve pauses to listen to them talk, and they are clearly strangers. Trying to awkwardly get to know one another. Not two people that grew up in the same town as each other, as Steve. Sure, he's positive Gareth and Chrissy didn't run in the same circles, but they would have at least known who each other were. Hawkins isn't

that

big.

And, okay, good to know. Strangers. He should act like he's strangers with everyone.

From listening, it sounds like Gareth is from here, a local, and Chrissy is apparently from Georgia.

Since this version of Gareth probably doesn't know him, Steve says nothing to him, despite wanting to. He got attached to him, last time around, and he now realizes this is probably going to be an issue. Not just with Eddie, but with other people, as well. And he hadn't counted on the others. He's realized, belatedly, that he's gonna get close to them, and then have to start from ground up, again, over and over, just to maybe be their friend. That sounds decidedly unfun. Is he always gonna have to work hard to win over Robin? He would,

definitely,

but it'd sure be nice to not have to. He guesses he just assumed she'd deal with it, deal with him, because that's her job. As his best friend, in any universe. He frowns as he climbs the staircase, and there's another camera pointed at him from the top of the landing.

Okay.

He ignores it and is just looking for her. Or Eddie. Both, hopefully.

Robin is standing in the hallway, expectantly.

"Room claiming is about to happen, there's one single, one triple and two doubles!" she shouts, buzzing with nervous excitement. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, like she can't stand still. She needs to come down about three notches, but he still grins and nods at her. He's just so happy to see her.

She can be high strung. He doesn't mind. He never has.

He wants to pull her into a hug, but figures that's probably a bad first impression, or at the very least, would be incredibly weird, and resists.

Steve thinks for once he's finally in the best position, in all this bullshit time tripping he's done. He didn't know anything about horse racing or fighting in a world war, but he knows all these people, in what is clearly supposed to be a house of strangers. So, he's at an advantage, there. However it shakes out, whatever room he ends up in, he'll be fine.

He knows he can get along with anyone here.

Well, he'd prefer not to be stuck in a room with Billy Hargrove. But Steve has to admit, he knows Billy's bullshit, and can handle it, if that happens. Hell, maybe he should take one for the team, here. He’s probably the best equipped person in this house to put up with him, even if he might get cracked across the skull with a plate for his troubles.

It wouldn't be the first time.

Then there is a loud, rhythmic knocking on the door frame, and suddenly there's Eddie. Steve's heart rolls in his chest. He's still not used to that. Not used to seeing him, not used to feeling everything he does, so deeply.

Eddie looks great. Healthy and happy. Those big, dark eyes are taking in the new guy in front of him, pretty obviously. Steve blushes, just a little, he's pretty sure. His brain gives him a flash of skin, the image of Eddie's hands on his body, their reflection in a mirror as they moved together, and the blush creeps from Steve's cheeks, down to his neck, making him feel hot. He's pretty sure Eddie has never looked at him the way he is right now, at least not so openly, so obviously, not even in the woods of the Upside Down when Steve felt all those vibes rolling off him in waves.

"We're supposed to meet in the kitchen to decide on the rooms," Eddie finally says, eventually finishing looking Steve up and down, settling on his face.

That won't do, so Steve crosses his leg slowly, deliberately, dragging Eddie's eyes back down, flirting. If Eddie wants to look a him like he wants to fucking devour him, Steve's not going to discourage that. No fucking way.

He isn't sure where this is going to go from here, but Robin interrupts before he can make a decision.

"Do you want to look at them really quick first? The rooms?" Robin asks, and he doesn't really care, but he nods, just so he doesn't seem too weird. He's sure everyone else checked them out, scoping out what they want to get.

Robin leads him around to all the different rooms, and explains what she knows so far, and Eddie tags along, and is being kind of loud and annoying. He's

on

for the cameras, Steve realizes, and he doesn't particularly like it. He likes the real Eddie better. But any version of him he can get, he'll take. For sure.

Beggars can't be choosers, and all that, he supposes.

After they've seen all the rooms, they follow Eddie downstairs and gather around the dining room table. Eight chairs for eight houseguests.

"Do we want to draw straws?" Robin asks. "Draw names out of a hat? Something like that?"

"Do we really want to complicate things by doing co-ed rooms?" Nancy asks. "Us girls could just take the triple and let the guys battle it out for the rest."

They all sort of murmur, and don't seem to agree with her, so Nancy backs down. Steve thinks they should let Nancy sort this out, because they’d all be better off for it, but none of them know that, not here. And they’d certainly all be better off if they just shoved Billy in the single, and stayed the fuck away from him.

But they don't know that either. Steve's sure they'll figure it out soon enough.

"Okay, my dudes, short straw gets first pick," Argyle explains, holding out a fist full of straws.

They each draw one, and Chrissy comes up with the short one. She smiles big and bright, happy to get to make the first choice.

"I'll take a bed in the pink double," she says.

"Not the single?" Eddie questions, and she just shrugs.

"I'd rather not be all alone, I think," she says. And Steve can't fault her for that. He'd rather not be all alone either. He spent years feeling a little bit alone, before Robin. Before Dustin. Before he had real friends, who love him for exactly who he is, not who he's supposed to be.

They draw again, and Eddie gets to choose next, "All alone sounds great to me, suckers."

Everyone laughs, but Steve's a little disappointed. It's probably for the best, though, that he's not in the position to make Eddie uncomfortable, right off the bat. He's not sure he could keep from leering at him, because he's pretty sure Eddie is interested.

And Steve is

definitely

interested.

The rest of the rooms fill up, with little fanfare. Gareth takes the room with Chrissy,

of course

he does, the little shit, and Steve picks a bed in the other double, and Robin follows him in. That leaves Nancy with Billy and Argyle in the triple.

That will be interesting, but Steve knows Nancy can hold her own, and nothing really ruffles Argyle’s feathers.

They all scatter to unpack, and Robin is right on his heels.

"Are you cool with us being roomies?" she asks. Folding her hands together, almost nervously.

"Yeah, for sure," he says, and he wonders if she knows him. "Are you?"

"Duh," she says.

She's not acting like she knows him, knows the circumstances he's currently in, but she also doesn't seem to find it odd that she jumped to share a room with a man she thinks she met in the last ten minutes.

He knows she isn't into him, but something clearly felt safe about him to her, and that makes him miss

his

Robin, the

real

Robin, even as this one stands right next to him.

Robin opens their curtain of a door, "Welcome to The Real World, I guess."

He nods, but he's not sure what that means.

"Which bed do you want?" she asks, looking at him expectantly.

"You can choose first," he says, and she jumps up and down, just a little. She sits on both of them, finally picking the one by the window. That's fine with him. If he was choosing, he'd have taken the one closest to the door, anyway. To put himself between Robin, and anything that might come through the door.

Not that he thinks he has a whole lot of worry about here. There are probably no Demogorgons lurking. Just Billy. But he'd still feel better about it. Just in case.
A cameraman stands there, recording everything as they unpack, and Steve is just so confused. Why are they taking constant video? Especially video of something as boring as this. Is watching him fold his jeans really all that interesting? He can't imagine that it is. But he had to read 1984 in school, and this seems like some Big Brother shit.
They have a house meeting and the crew wheels in a TV on a cart, like it's movie day in grade school, and shows them a tape of the credits for this television show. Since when does MTV have television shows? He thought they just showed music videos, twenty-four hours a day. Steve’s confused, again, but what else is new. That's just how he is these days, constantly confused and in flux.

Then they immediately take the television back away, so they can't watch anything else. Weird.

He decides to just talk to Robin, to see what she knows, if anything. To see if there's a reason she immediately decided he was her person, in this house full of people she knows in another life. It took a lot longer than this back at Scoops Ahoy to win her over. She could have attached herself to Nancy just as easily, he thinks.

But she didn't. She picked him.

Twenty minutes later, clothes unpacked, Steve's sure she doesn't know they are lost in time. Robin is laying on his bed, kicking her feet, "Tell me everything," she insists.

He wishes he could, he wants to tell her everything. He desperately needs to unpack all this crazy bullshit with someone, and there's no one he'd rather do it with than Robin.

But that's not an option. Not really. So, he doesn't know what to say. Is he from Hawkins? Is she? If she thinks she is, too, that's gonna be awkward. Like,

oh, we've never crossed paths, isn't that so weird?

He'll avoid it.

"I'm bisexual," he says, and her eyes widen. He did that on purpose, to skip ahead to their big bonding moment. He doesn't care about the cameras. None of this is real. None if it will last, or matter.

"Lesbian!" she says, pointing at her chest. "Are we best friends now? We feel like we're best friends."

He turns and smiles at her.

"Yes, Robin, we are definitely best friends," he tells her, because they are.

In any universe.

"How did you get to come alone? They made Gareth pick me up at the airport, and started filming us there," Robin says. "I think they thought I'd hate him, cause, you know: me, lesbian. Him, little horndog. But he's fine. I said no thanks, and that was that."

Steve nods and laughs. Gareth definitely isn't a ladies man that he knows about, anyway. He can't possibly have the time, all he does is hang around Steve, looking sad and miserable. Missing Eddie. Though, Steve can't really fault him for that. He's missed Eddie, too. Terribly.

"Who else was paired up?" Steve finally asks, because he wants to know about Eddie without asking directly about Eddie. He doesn't want her to read him like an open book. Not yet. Though he's sure she still can, even here.

They are too enmeshed, too close, for all that to be gone, even in another universe.

"Billy and Argyle. Eddie and Chrissy. And I guess Nancy came alone, too. She's from here in town, a med student, so that's probably why you weren't paired up. Just uneven numbers," she rambles.

He's not sure how any of this would make for interesting television. He's certain there's supposed to be conflict, and maybe if you looked at all these people on a surface level, that might be true. But Billy is the only problem here, really.

Steve knows everybody else. They'll get along just fine.

They are supposed to cook dinner together, it's been gently suggested, at least. But there are no groceries in the house, which Steve assumes it by design to get them to decide on a menu, and then send someone to the store. He figures this is supposed to be part of the drama.

But they just sit there and discuss what they like, and what they know how to make. It's really pretty civil, all things considered.

In the end, they have him go with Nancy to get the groceries, and he thinks it's supposed to be entertaining in some way? But he knows Nancy, is comfortable with her calling the shots, and just stays out of her way. Lets her pick out what they need as he pushes the cart, and then he carries the bags back up the hill.

That cannot have made for interesting television. There was no drama, no fighting, not even a disagreement. They walked around a grocery store, making polite small talk, they bought the food she picked out, and now they'll cook and eat said food. Riveting.

Maybe they expected that he'd hit on her, and obviously, once upon a time, that would have been true. But not now. Not since Eddie. He has a one track mind these days. All he wants, all he thinks about, is Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

The producers prompt them to talk about themselves, but Steve doesn't know what to say, what won't sound too crazy. So he just lets everyone else talk and he'll listen. That seems to be the safest option.

Nancy is giving orders as they all cook together. Gareth is standing at the counter, eating peanut butter out of the jar, and that causes a little bit of a stir, but it blows pretty fast. Eddie just writes Gareth's name on the lid, solving the problem.

"We'll just get a new jar for the fully house-trained people tomorrow," Eddie teases, and Gareth smiles.

It's funny, and Gareth clearly likes Eddie a lot, even here in this world as strangers. He's hanging on his every word. Steve understands that. He feels the same about Robin. In any universe, they are just meant to be best friends.

Billy is making comments, trying to be a shit-stirrer, and they all try to ignore him. That seems like the best course of action at all times. If they don't give him attention, he won't keep it up. Hopefully. Maybe. Probably not. They aren't that lucky.

"I'm looking to start a band," Gareth says, and Eddie's ears perk up, clearly interested in this turn of events.

"What kind of band?" Eddie asks, eyebrows shooting up, now hidden behind his bangs.

"Metal, probably," Gareth says, and Eddie grins like a madman.

"Need a guitar player?" Eddie asks, and Gareth nods.

"Hell fucking yes, I do. I play the drums."

"Did you bring them?" Eddie asks, "I have my guitar."

"No, I didn't think that was the

best

idea," Gareth laughs.

And Steve thinks that was probably a smart move. But now he's listening as they're scheming on whether or not they could go get Gareth's drums and set them up in the basement next to the weight room. Now,

that

is bound to cause friction, Steve's pretty sure. Nobody is going to want to listen to constant drumming in the house.

"You two shitbirds aren't setting up your shitty band in here," Billy spouts from the other end of the table. "Especially not where I'm gonna lift."

Steve isn't sure the one Nautilus home gym bench they've got in the basement is really a weight room, but sure. Fine. He called it, that it would cause problems.

Gareth flips Billy off, unbothered, but changes course, "Well, I've got a garage set up. At my mom's house. If you want a field trip, maybe we could go jam?"

And Gareth looks at the cameraman, like he's definitely not supposed to be doing, like he's going to get permission. He definitely gets no feedback, and Eddie just barrels ahead.

"Fuck yes, we will," Eddie says with delight, and Steve is happy for him.

"I got a couple friends that play, too. A bass player, and another guitar player. Maybe we could have them come play with us. Round it out."

"Do it now," Eddie says, like he's very serious.

Steve's sure he is, and he hopes he gets to go watch.

Robin hands him two potholders, so Steve takes the hint and carries the pot of spaghetti to the table, and Eddie is behind him with the garlic bread. Argyle has made a homemade pizza that looks really good, despite the pineapple on it. Nancy has a big salad in her hands, and Steve is pretty impressed with what they were able to throw all this together, as supposed strangers.

Nobody caught the house on fire, nobody cut their fingers off. All in all, it went pretty fucking great, and Steve settles into a chair next to Robin, as Eddie sits down on his other side. Steve turns and smiles at him, and passes him the plate stacked full of bread, and Eddie takes it with a grin.

He scoops a big serving of pasta onto his plate.

This is a major upgrade from being stuck in a war. If he can't go home, he hopes this one lasts just as long, if not longer.

Eddie was serious when he demanded that Gareth

do it now,

because one day later, Steve settles into a lawn chair just outside of Gareth's garage, and watches as Eddie gets to know Jeff and Goodie. It's nice to see Goodie's dry ire being pointed in another direction besides at him, Steve thinks with just a little bit of glee.

Jeff and Eddie are comparing guitars, fiddling and trading off to let each other play around, and Steve smiles. Gareth is sitting behind the drums, just buzzing with excitement, and Steve's happy for him. He knows how much he's missed Eddie, missed playing with him since he died, and how it hasn't been the same. Gareth told Steve they used to play without Eddie all the time, when Eddie was busy, or out

working,

and that it was no big deal, not until he was really, truly gone. And then, well, it just felt wrong.

And it would never be the same again, couldn't be, not with Eddie gone, so Corroded Coffin dissolved with a whimper, its dispirited end leaving behind three badly broken hearts. The aftermath, an Eddie-sized hole that could never be filled.

Watching them here, and now, Steve knows that

this

version of Gareth might not know that. Might not feel it.

But Steve is feeling it for him. For all of them, that they've found themselves back together, in another universe. That they're able to do this again, the four of them.

In the days after the earthquake, Gareth had come over while they were cleaning up what was left of the trailer before the government made it all disappear, and Gareth asked where Eddie's guitar was once he noticed it was missing from his room. Steve knew it was left behind in the Upside Down, and so did Dustin, but they just had to stand there and say nothing as Gareth tore the trailer apart, searching.

Eventually, it was declared lost, and Gareth had sat down on the bed. Wayne had disappeared, and when he returned, he had slid Eddie's guitar pick necklace over Gareth's head, without a word. Passing it on, one more time.

And that was the beginning of the end. It's how Gareth

knew

there was something to know. How did they get Eddie's necklace off his neck, if he disappeared into the ground? And where was his guitar, really?

It was never-ending, and relentless.

And now, today, Steve watches as Eddie and Jeff swap guitars, that same guitar, back to their own, to get ready to actually start playing, and the cameraman shifts, trying to get a better angle on them.

For Steve, it's easy enough to ignore the camera, because Steve's decided it is a non-issue. He doesn't care what they film of him, as long as they stay the fuck out of the way. Goodie is fucking with their blocking by moving around, and Steve knows it's absolutely on purpose, even if he's never looked at the camera, not once.

Steve grins, and watches as the camera changes position, dragging their cabled cameras to another spot in the cramped garage,

again.

They finally settle on a song, and Gareth counts them in, and it's music to Steve's ear to hear Eddie's deft fingers sliding up and down the frets of his guitar. He'd heard it once at a middle school talent show, he's pretty sure, and then not again until it was happening off in the distance in the Upside Down.

Background noise. Filler. Then silence.

It's anything but filler, now. His transfixed, listening, watching.

And by looking at the other guys, the members that don't even know they are bandmates, best friends, he's not the only one. Even Goodie.

Goodie,

with his droll disdain, is smiling.

Because it sounds like they've been playing together for years, for a lifetime, and Steve feels lucky that he's getting to witness it.

When the song is over, Jeff looks over at them, a little bit shocked, "That was good. Maybe we could get a bar slot this weekend?"

"Yeah, right. What will we say? We just started this band an hour ago, can we play in your bar? We don't have those kinds of connections," Gareth bemoans. "We don't even have a band name."

And they all erupt in a simultaneous excitement about picking a name, forgetting about getting a gig, throwing out song ideas for covers, and what they should call themselves, and nothing sounds right.

Steve can't stop himself, he whistles, putting his fingers in his mouth, and blows. It's ridiculously loud, and a talent he hasn't used much after swim meets were a thing of the past, but they all stop and turn to look at him.

"Dude. Too loud," Gareth says, giving him the stink eye.

Steve just laughs, then looks at Eddie, "I know what your name is."

"Oh, do you now?" Eddie sasses, clearly amused.

"I do," Steve flirts back.

"This should be good," Goodie says, dry as dust.

Steve ignores him, and meets Eddie's eyes, "You're Corroded Coffin."

Eddie starts to argue, to make fun of him, but snaps his mouth back shut. Because he likes it,

obviously,

and he's surprised.

"Shit," Gareth says.

"Yeah," Eddie adds, "we're Corroded Coffin."

Steve smiles smugly, crossing his arms over his chest, proud of himself even if it was cheating.

They

don't know that, and he deserves at least a few perks, a few wins, for being stuck in this situation.

"Corroded Coffin. Live, this Friday, at nowhere near you," Jeff says, and they all holler with a joy that makes Steve incredibly happy.

Steve smiles. They don't have connections. But he knows exactly who does. MTV.

And this, finally, would make for interesting TV.

And on Friday, there they are. Corroded Coffin, in a bar, on a small stage that was procured by the producers. There isn't much of a crowd, in fact, most of the people that are crowded around are the fellow roommates, but that's okay. Billy's the only one that didn't want to come, and the producers tried to force it, but he just dug his heels in further and left the house in a huff.

Steve was relieved, honestly. He wouldn't have made the night better, that's the damn sure.

But Robin has, will, and Steve wraps his arms around Robin's neck from behind, pulling her back into his chest, hooking his chin over her shoulder, onto his folded arms.

"Hi," he says, and she brings her hands up, gripping his forearms, holding him to her, and it feels so normal and good, that he could cry about it. He misses her, the real her.

"He looks good up there," he says in Robin's ear, and she just laughs.

"If you say so," she snarks back.
"I definitely say so," he adds. "Do you think they wrote this?" Steve asks."Do I think they wrote Enter Sandman by Metallica? No," Robin says, dryly.Whoops. He'd totally forgotten he's in the future, and music might exist that he knows nothing about."I was kidding," he says."Sure you were, dingus. I know what kind of music you listen to, and I'm not convinced," she says, and he loves her even more. They've only known each other a little while here, but she thinks she knows him enough to have an opinion on his music taste.He'll take it.
Nancy has brought some of her med school friends, Barb and Freddie, and they are all hanging out at a table near the stage. Argyle is sitting with them, laughing up a storm, and it makes Steve smile. Odd group, there, but at least they're having fun.

Chrissy is standing at the stage, looking up at Jeff, and well, that's interesting. Gareth might be shit out of luck, Steve thinks.

If he somehow actually gets back to Hawkins before Eddie and Chrissy die, he'll have some matchmaking to do, for sure.

There's also a group of girls standing on the side of the stage, giggling, and pointing towards Gareth, and well, maybe he's got other options.

Corroded Coffin, as the hastily written sign identifies them as, play a half dozen or so songs, all covers, because they definitely didn't have time to write anything of their own, but they sound really fucking good. Nobody would ever believe they've only been at this a few days together.

Robin and Nancy are at the jukebox, and Eddie turns and glares at them every time one of their picks that he doesn't approve of, comes on. Steve loves what they're doing, and is staying out of it. Eddie and the rest of the band are crowded around the bar, dissecting the set they just played, and Steve is hanging back. Letting them have this together. Steve doesn't know how long this world will last, and they deserve to bask in the glow of being in a band together, for at least one night.
Jeff is sitting on a bar stool, talking to Goodie, not even realizing Chrissy is at his side. Gareth is standing there, oblivious to the cute girl trying to get his attention, too.

These fucking nerds,

Steve thinks, and approaches.

He slings his arm over Chrissy's shoulders, pulling her closer, and stepping up to them, bringing her to their attention.

"This is Chrissy. She's living in the house with us," Steve says, and they say hi, but don't really engage any further.

Hopeless. Utterly, hopeless.

Well, he tried.

So, he approaches the group of giggling girls standing a little ways back, watching.

"Hi, I'm Steve. Their road manager," he lies, just for fun. "I live with Eddie and Gareth," Steve says, pointing out each of them.

"They're so good," one of the girls says.

"And cute," another adds.

"Well, they definitely are," he plays along, "but Eddie is mine. Sorry to disappoint. Gareth is single, though."

And one of the girls grabs a napkin and writes her number down, "Have him call me."

Steve nods, watching as she walks away, then hollers, "Wait! What's your name?"

She stops, and looks back, giggling, "His future wife."
And her friend pulls her away, out of the bar, and they're gone into the night.
Steve just laughs, and writes on the top of the napkin:

Call your future wife.

Back at the house, Steve stands in the doorway of Gareth and Chrissy's bedroom, listening as Chrissy asks him a thousand questions about Jeff. Gareth looks like he's slowly dying inside, and Steve takes pity on him.

"Hey," Steve finally interrupts, stepping into the room and digging into his pocket, "I was supposed to give this to you. From the girl at the bar."

Gareth takes it, and reads it, then looks up, "Is this a joke?"

"Well, the wife part is, I think. But she

did

say it," Steve tells him, shrugging.

"I didn't even see a girl," Gareth grumbles, and Steve just laughs.

"Oh, I saw them! They were cute!" Chrissy adds, because of course she noticed. Everybody in the bar noticed except for the idiots that had been on stage. And Robin calls

him

a dingus.

"They were?" Gareth asks, turning his attention back to her. "How cute?"

"Oh, totally cute. Super cute, and that one was so into you," Chrissy says, smiling. It's a great smile.

"She was?" Gareth squeaks out, "Why didn't anybody tell me?!"

"Well, we figured you had eyes," Steve says, and Gareth flops back on his bed, dramatically.

"Did you at least get her name?" Gareth asks.

"I asked," Steve says with a grin, "and she said:

your future wife.

So. Do with that what you will."

Gareth pulls his hands to his chest, like he's been mortally wounded, and he looks just like Eddie in the moment, so dramatic, and Chrissy laughs right along with Steve.

"This isn't a local number, how am I ever gonna meet her if she lives wherever this is?" Gareth asks, like he's got the deepest depression from this realization.

"They were here on spring break," Chrissy says, "I talked to one of them in line for the bathroom."

"Well, where were they from?" Gareth demands. "Oregon? Please say Oregon. Or Nevada?" Gareth asks, like he's bartering with them, like they have any say over how close this girl might live.

"I don't think so. I think it was…Nebraska?" Chrissy says, and sounds unsure.

"Nebraska?! What the fuck is in Nebraska?"

"Your future wife, apparently," Steve teases.

"I'm dead, call the meat wagon," Gareth says, "a girl liked me and I didn't even notice."

"It happens," Steve says, and turns when he hears Eddie's laugh carrying through the house.

That's his cue, and he heads towards the sound.

Eddie is sitting in the kitchen, talking to Argyle, and they are both stoned out of their goddamn gourds. He wonders where they found the time, and the place, to sneak away to smoke without the camera seeing. And then he wonders why he wasn't invited along by these dickheads, but he pulls up a bar stool and just listens to them laugh about nothing.

The producers force Steve to sit down and talk directly to the camera. It's awkward and he hates it. He's not gonna talk shit on any of these people, not even Billy, because what's the point? To start a fight?

No, thanks.

Steve honestly thinks it's kind of boring in this house, and he wonders how they're gonna get a TV show out of the footage.

The producers must think the same thing, because they really keep trying to set up outings, or things to do together in the house, and for something that is supposed to be

real

it sure is manufactured. Today, the crew nudges them outside to toss around a nerf football on the street, and Steve looks around. This is definitely the wrong crowd for that. He tries to get Eddie, Gareth, or Argyle interested. No takers. Robin's too uncoordinated, and one of them will

definitely

get hit by a car if they get her involved. Nancy says no, but Chrissy says yes. Well, fucking duh. She's an athlete, too. He should have approached her first. He just wasn't thinking.

Of course, Billy has to horn himself into this, without them asking him to. Bullying everyone around him, as per fucking usual.

Robin and Eddie sit together on the curb, and Billy urges Steve to go long, and Steve isn't sure if Billy's hoping he'll fall and roll down the hill or if he's just being a dickhead so Steve'll have to climb up it again to get back to the house.

Maybe he's trying to get him away from Chrissy for himself? Steve wouldn't recommend that for her, not at all, even in this fake universe. He's not sure it's an upgrade from Jason Carver, but if that's what she wants, Billy doesn't need to involve Steve in any of that. There's no competition coming from him for her affection.

He's definitely not interested. Not now. Maybe in another life, though. Somehow, he never dated her. He wonders why, now. Maybe she was just always with Jason Carver when he was single and ready to mingle.

Billy overthrows the football on purpose, and it goes over Steve's head, rolling down, down, down the steep slope. That fucker.

Steve walks down after it, and Eddie jogs up and falls in right beside him.

"Hey," Eddie says, leaning into Steve's shoulder, nudging him, briefly. It reminds Steve of the woods in the Upside Down and it hurts. It hurts that he fucked up, that he let Eddie and Dustin stay together, alone, to distract the bats. They weren't ready.

And Eddie died.

Steve should have stayed with them.

"Hey," Steve answers.

"He's kind of a dick, right?" Eddie asks.

"Definitely a dick," Steve laughs.

"You want to go to a bar tonight?" Eddie asks, leaning close to his face, just in case the camera is closer than they think it is.

"Yeah, for sure," Steve answers, turning to look at him, smiling. "That sounds like fun."

"We'll sneak out, and just not let Billy know we're going," Eddie suggests, and that sounds like the best idea that Steve has heard all day.

He wants to do something, just the two of them.

And maybe a cameraman, if they can't shake him.

Robin is on the couch in the electronics store, and Steve flops down beside her. Nancy is off picking out a washing machine to replace the one that broke this morning. He's pretty sure that wasn't scripted, but they used it as a storyline, shipping half of them off to buy a new one instead of just replacing it.

They're hard up for content, and this is what's passing as interesting.

"Whatcha watching?" he asks, looking at the large wall of televisions, all with the same image playing. It looks like Marty McFly.

"Back to the Future II," she says, and his eyes light up. He was right. He had no idea there was a sequel. That's awesome. This is like, their thing. He likes that he's getting to see a little bit of it with her, in case he never makes it back home to see it released in his, well,

real world.

She lays her head on his shoulder

He watches Biff with his Sports Almanac and wonders if he can find out the winners and stats of, like, the last few Super Bowls and make some extra cash when he gets back home. It's not a

terrible

plan.

Nancy comes up, waving a receipt at them, showing she's ready to go. Luckily they don't have to figure out a way to transport it back to the house.

Once it arrives, they do have to set it up, though. And Steve and Billy are butting heads on the best way to do it. Nancy is about to kill them both, Steve's pretty sure, so he backs down. Whatever. Let it leak all over the floor. It's not his house.

Steve lays in bed, and listens to Robin snore, very softly. Just the rhythmic sound of her breathing, deeply asleep. It's nice, comforting, to be close to her again. Even here, as strangers. She's his person, the one person he needs the most in the world, and he's missed her.

When the clock hits the designated meeting time, Steve softly knocks on Eddie's bedroom door, the one bedroom that actually

has

a door, and Eddie slides out and follows him down the staircase, as they try to stay quiet.

They're all alone.

Well, except for the cameraman, and the sound guy, both trailing them. Steve's just gonna pretend they aren't there. They don't matter. At all. None of this is real. He's not actually going to be embarrassed on national television, despite how it feels. So, he's choosing to completely ignore their existence and focus on Eddie.

They walk down the street and Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets, and looks at him, "What kind of bar are you into? Please don't say

sports,"

Eddie teases.

"Oh man, it's only sports bars for me, dude," Steve says, teasing, and Eddie laughs. "No, anything is fine with me," Steve adds, with a laugh. He really doesn't care. Not at all.

"Piano bar?" Eddie asks.

"Sure," Steve says, easily.

"Biker bar?" Eddie asks.

"Sure," Steve says, easily. Again.

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"Karaoke bar?" Eddie questions this time.

Steve smiles.

"Sure," Steve repeats, yet again, because he'd be happy to go watch Eddie sing a little song.

"Gay bar?" Eddie asks.

"Sure," Steve says one more time, just as easily as he's answered the rest of the questions.

"I was kidding," Eddie says, backpedaling, "I know you're not…"

"Gay? No. But I'm bi. I definitely swing both ways," Steve says, looking right in Eddie's eyes, making sure his meaning is crystal fucking clear.

"Oh,"

Eddie says, and he's tongue-tied for once in his life. It makes Steve smile. He's never seen Eddie speechless before.

"You want to go to a gay bar?" Steve asks, giving Eddie the eyes, hoping he'll read into it. He wants him to. He definitely wants him to.

"Well, if you do, sure," Eddie says, and Steve nods. They can definitely do that.

Steve sits in the booth across from Eddie, and sips on his drink. Eddie got them both mixed drinks instead of beer, and it's nice. Not something he drinks all that often, but it's a sight better than the rotgut Gareth tried to poison him with during prohibition.

"So, Steve Harrington. Tell me where you're from."

Steve pauses, and then just tells the truth, "Indiana."

Eddie nods, "I'm from Ohio."

"Another good midwestern boy, I see," Steve says, teasing him.

"Oh, yeah, it's been great there," Eddie says dryly, and Steve just smiles at him. It might have been boring, but he clearly wasn't accused of satanic murder. So, it must be better here, at least a little. It has to be.

"How did you get roped into this show?" Steve asks, because he's curious. This doesn't at all seem like something Eddie would be interested in, garnering some attention, aside.

"Uh, I guess I just wanted out of town, so I made the audition tape, and they picked me. I didn't think they would. I'm not exactly TV friendly," Eddie says, looking down at himself.

He looks great to Steve, but he's not exactly unbiased. He knows that. It's good to know they made tapes to get on this show, though. He didn't know that.

"You?" Eddie asks.

"Same. Wanted to get out and see more of the world," Steve says, and it makes him smile. He's seen more of the world recently than he had anticipated. Visiting the 1920s or the 1940s hadn't been on any travel itinerary he'd ever dreamed up, that's for damn sure.

Now, he's in the future. Not the distant future or anything. But still. He's in a whole new decade than he came from. It's unbelievable.

They talk about nothing, mainly, but Steve likes being around him. That's not new, he knew that already. Knew that he found Eddie interesting, and fun.

"So, you really hit it off with Robin, huh?" Eddie asks, fiddling with his glass.

"Yeah, I think we're probably soulmates. The platonic with a capital P kind, but still," Steve says, grinning.

It's sprinkling when they leave the bar, but it's a warm rain, so it's not all that uncomfortable.

"You still want to walk back?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods. Walking is fine with him, it's not that far back to the house, and a little rain won't kill them.

So, they walk a few blocks, talking, laughing, just a little bit tipsy, until the sky suddenly opens. They start running, giggling the whole way, and as soon as he sees the opportunity, Steve pulls Eddie into an alleyway. He crowds him under an awning, trying to help get him out of the pouring rain.

Eddie laughs, tossing his wet hair back, and Steve thinks he's beautiful.

So, he reaches forward and tucks a strand of Eddie's wet hair behind his ear. Brushing his thumb against Eddie's cheek, and it makes Eddie smile at him, shyly. It's endearing, and fucking sweet, and Steve wants more.

So much more.

And he's going to make that happen, if he can. Steve reaches down and grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together, and Eddie squeezes his hand back. So, Steve kind of pushes Eddie up against the brick wall of the alley, and raises his eyebrows, in question.

Eddie nods, and Steve leans in to kiss him. It's electric, and Eddie digs his fingers of his other hand, the one that isn't clutching Steve's hand hard, into Steve's back, and Steve crowds closer. Pressing against him.

It feels good, to feel him like this, so close. Eddie opens his mouth under Steve's, and Steve slides his tongue into Eddie's mouth, touching Eddie's with his own. It's…it's fucking hot. Steve's kissed tons of people, he's kissed Eddie, but this something different. There's a heat, a warmth spreading all through him that lights him up inside.

He takes his free hand and cups Eddie's face, just kissing him, kissing him, over and over, hoping this never ends.

They finally break apart to catch their breath, but Eddie leans his forehead against Steve's and laughs, so Steve laughs with him.

They're still holding hands.

Eddie lets go, and Steve moves to take a step back, but Eddie reaches for his waistband.

Holy shit, okay.

Steve copies him, there's no way he's not getting a hand on Eddie's dick if that's an option.

Eddie cups him through his jeans, so Steve does the same thing, and they lean into each other, pressing, rutting, anything to get a little friction.

Steve's not sure what the plan is, here. Are they actually trying to come in their jeans in the alley, or are they just planning to get each other really hot and bothered. It must be the latter, because eventually, Eddie pulls his hand away, reluctantly.

And he looks at Steve, and laughs. Really laughs.

It makes Steve so happy, happy enough that he can totally ignore the cameraman at the end of the alley that has clearly just filmed all of that for public consumption. Can ignore how hard his dick is, wanting more, more, more.

They walk back to the house, and Eddie slides his hand into Steve's for most of it, just stroking the back of his hand with his thumb.

Eddie lets go when they approach the house, and sees Billy standing in the distance.

"Where have you shitbirds been?" Billy asks, smoking a cigarette out on the sidewalk in front of the house.

"None of your fucking business," Eddie says, and Steve hears what Billy calls them, but he doesn't rise to the bait. Not tonight. He's too happy.

They go inside the house, and Steve waits at the base of the stairs while Eddie takes off his jacket, and hangs it up on the hall tree to dry. Eddie turns and smiles at him, and Steve smiles back.

This is going great.

That's less true when Billy suddenly lunges at him with a vase, and Steve ducks, barely. He stumbles against the staircase railing, hitting his back, crumpling, but trying to get his feet back under him. Because he’s done this before, he knows how this ends. And if he can prevent himself from being clobbered across the skull with that fucking piece of glass this time, he's gonna do that, most definitely. That was an awful concussion, and definitely the reason for the annoying ringing in his ear that never really goes away, and he'd love to not repeat that any time soon.

He hadn't even realized Billy had followed them inside, he was too focused on Eddie.

But Billy is screaming, wildly, and it draws the attention of the rest of the house. They start appearing at the top of the staircase, sleepy and concerned.

Steve ducks, and rolls, crawls, the stairs biting into his knees, his back, as he tries to get away. He's trying to pull himself to his feet, as Eddie steps in between them, and then Gareth is suddenly bounding down the steps, to help. Billy stomps his boot at them, as a threat, laughing like an asshole and Gareth jumps a little bit. Eddie doesn't.

"The fuck is your problem?" Eddie asks, staring Billy down. It gives Steve enough time to pull himself off his knees, and back to his feet. His back is killing him. He must have hit the railing square on his spine.

Billy just laughs, and licks his lips, like he's unhinged. He lunges at Eddie, hand just grazing Eddie's neck, and Steve shoves him back.

"Don't touch him!" Steve yells, tired of this. This night had been going so fucking great, and this dickhead just had to butt in and ruin it. Billy reels back and punches Steve across the face, and he wants to collapse back to his knees.

But stays standing, looking at the crew, as if they're gonna intervene.

They don't.

So, the roommates are left to all shout at each other, and do a little more shoving, but it doesn't go any further than that again.

When they eventually all tire of it, they disperse, heading back to bed.

Steve lays on his bed, on his stomach. His nose no longer bleeding, but sore as fuck, but that's the least of his concerns. Nancy is running her hands all along his back, his spine, checking him over. She's just a med student, but he appreciates the concern.

"Are you okay?" Robin asks, hovering. She's hovering. Eddie's hovering. Gareth's hovering. It's a full house in their room right now, all watching him for signs of imminent death.

He's fine.

"My back just hurts," he admits, and Robin disappears and comes back with some ice. And then she holds it to the area he says is sore.

"Thanks, Rob," he says, closing his eyes. It had been a great night, right up until when Billy had to go and be an asshole.

"I think he's okay, but we could take him into my hospital," Nancy offers, "get him looked at, get some images?"

"I think I'm fine," Steve mumbles into the pillow.

"Can it wait until morning?" Robin asks, "See if it's better, or worse?"

Nancy seems to agree with that idea, and Steve is happy. He doesn't want to move, he just wants to lay here, and sleep.

"Anybody got anything for pain? A little morphine, or whatever," Steve asks, teasing. He would settle for a couple aspirin.

"Oh no, but a shower will make you feel better, my dude," Argyle offers, and Steve doesn't want to take a shower. A shower would require getting up.

"Yes. A shower. Let me help," Eddie says, and that's how he ends up standing in the bathroom with Argyle, Eddie and Gareth, all passing around a really fucking strong joint as the shower runs behind them.

"A shower,"

Steve giggles, and Argyle pats him on the shoulder, gently.

It was smart, getting them into the bathroom, where the cameras won't follow. Sure, they might know what's going on behind the closed door, but if they aren't filming it, there's at least plausible deniability on their part.

"You'll sleep so good now," Argyle promises.

And he's right. Steve does.

Turns out, violence towards another houseguest is one of the few things that will get your ass kicked out, apparently, and Billy is gone overnight. Good fucking riddance.

And they drop off a new roommate to fill the missing spot. Jonathan.

Oh, thank god. That'll be much better. Sure, Jonathan kicked his ass as well, but Steve had that coming. And he's grown and shit since then. He's not apt to provoke Jonathan like that now, Nancy no longer in-between them.

So, Steve smiles. He’s happy for Argyle, for Nancy, and all their lives will all go much smoother with Jonathan here instead of Billy, that’s a certainty.

Steve is stiff this morning, but he doesn't think he's in need of the hospital, so he just takes another

shower

and is good to go for the day.

He actually showers, after, and is now standing at the sink, shaving.

"So what do you think of the new guy?" Robin asks, coming up and standing very close to him at the sink.

"He's nice," Steve says, and Robin nods.

"Are you okay?" she asks, looking at his bare back.

He is, but there's the start of a bruise that's gonna hurt like a motherfucker.

"I'm fine," he tells her, because there's no need for her to worry.

"Okay, then tell me about you and Eddie," she whispers, leaning close to his face, eyes wide, nodding, egging him on.

He very suddenly wants to tell her everything.

Everything.

And something snaps in him, and Steve grabs Robin, pulls her into his chest, and kisses her on the neck. It's a closed mouth kiss, but she still yelps and flails in his arms, while he reaches his foot out, and kicks the door closed right in the face of the cameraman. Even while still squawking about it, she's allowing him to pull her towards the tub. He turns on the shower, and pulls Robin in with him, fully clothed, and she gapes at him in surprise.

"What the hell, dingus?" she asks, pushing her wet hair off face, wiping her neck with the back of her hand. Like that will somehow fix it. He could have kissed her on the mouth. She should be grateful he didn't, he thinks. "Gross! You got shaving cream all over me, too, by the way! And now I'm wet! I just did my hair!"
"I know! I know! Sorry. I'm sorry, that was weird! I didn't, I know we aren’t, like that, I swear, but I needed to get you alone, and…" he whispers, as he waves his hands around, motioning to the universe around them. The one with the cameras."But why would you kiss me?" she says, and she doesn't have to sound that disgusted, honestly."To make them think we were gonna, you know...have sex," Steve says, low and embarassed."Nobody will think that. No one. Not one person," Robin rambles, "god, I hope not, anyway.""Hey!" Steve says, offended."No offense," she says, blithely, like she didn't just stab him and twist the knife."Am I too gross for you?" he asks, putting his hand on his hips."No, you're too male for me," she says, like he's an idiot.He is. A dingus, of epic proportions. This is Argyle's fault. He gave him this idea for privacy. Steve's just under a lot of stress right now."Sorry," he says, "it was a ruse. A scheme. Not a come on.""Oh, I know," she says dryly, just looking at him like he's a fool.
It wasn't a great plan, admittedly. Most of his plans aren't.

"And that was your best idea? Seriously, Steve? You really are a dingus," she says firmly, arms also flailing. One of them is gonna end up with a black eye if they don't get their arms under control in this small, enclosed space.

But he is. He’s her dingus. That’s who he is, and he needs her to know that. He's pretty damn sure there aren't hidden cameras in the bathroom, but he doesn't know about microphones. He really didn't care if they picked up him smoking weed, but he

definitely

doesn't want them to hear this.

So, he pulls her right against him, his mouth next to her ear.

"Listen to me. This is gonna sound crazy, and it is, but it's true. I know you, Robin. I

know

you. I know everything about you. You're my best friend. You have a crush on Nancy right now. You’re an only child, and your mom is overly involved in your life. She thinks you’re weird, but you’re not weird. Or, if you are, we are both weird together. We’ve been through a lot.

A lot,

Robin, more than I can explain. But right now, I'm somehow dislodged in time. I've been bouncing around, chasing Eddie, I think. He died. In our real world. And I'm stuck following him, world to world, for some reason."

Robin pulls back from him, and he's suddenly terrified he's miscalculated. She has no reason to believe him. Not here. She should think he’s dangerous or crazy. Maybe he is crazy. Batshit fucking crazy. Losing his mind. Maybe he’s been committed somewhere and this is all a delusion? Maybe he's in Pennhurst. Fuck, he hadn’t considered that. It feels real. It always feels real, just off.

Then she leans right back in, her nose basically pressed to his, that close.

"How do you know

that

world is the real world? Pun intended, by the way," she says, and he hugs her, so fucking tight. And she lets him. She believes him. Somehow, against all odds. She believes him.

"Rob, it is. I know it is. And I don't know how to get back home," he says, saying the scary part out loud.

"And nobody else remembers?" she asks, looking in his eyes. "I don't remember. So, they don't either?"

He nods.

She loves a good puzzle, something to figure out. And he's just given her the biggest puzzle yet. Bigger, and harder, than any Russian message translation could ever be.

"Eddie will probably remember, eventually. Like, statistically that's true so far. But after a while, sometimes a few seconds, sometimes a few minutes, the world will snap, and I'll be somewhere else, and starting all over again."

"Are you, were you…with Eddie? In your real universe?" she asks.

He shakes his head.

"No. We didn't ever have the chance," he says, and he doesn't want to try to explain the Upside Down on top of time travel. She'll

really

think he's crazy, then. "But, maybe? Maybe we could have figured it out, if we'd just had more time. Now, I have all this time, but it never lasts."

"Where else have you been?"

"A horse race in the 1920s. And WWII. I spent

a lot

of time in WWII. I don’t recommend it."

"No shit," she says, and he laughs.

"How can I help you?" she asks, and he just hugs her again. He doesn't think she can, not really, but her just being here, believing him, is a damn good start.

"I don't know," he whispers, "but just you believing me is enough. I've been going crazy."

"We'll figure it out," she says, as he pushes his wet hair up and off of his forehead.

The towel around his waist is soaked, and heavy, and he's scared it's about to fall. He reaches down to tighten it.

"Yeah, you better not end up naked with me, dingus. It'll traumatize me, for sure," she teases, and he just smiles.

"I'll try to spare you," he says, then he smiles, "we hooked up last night. Eddie and me. Before the fight."

"Tell me everything!" she hisses, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Well, we went to a bar, a gay bar-"

"Without me?!" she screeches, and he laughs.

"Next time," he promises.

"So what happened?" she asks, buzzing with excitement at getting some gossip.

"We kissed, and felt each other up a little bit, in an alley," he admits.

"Oh my god!" she says, cupping her own cheeks.

He smiles at her, "It was hot, Robbie. He's so hot."

She laughs, and he knows she doesn't agree, but that's okay.

"I think, maybe, it would have gone further. If Billy hadn't interrupted," he adds, grinning.

"That asshole," she says, but then she just grins, delighted, just like he is.

They finally climb out of the shower, her clothes soaking wet. His towel soaked through, leaving puddles of water all over the floor.

"Don't forget to shave the other half of your face, dingus! You'll look insane," she says, as she hurries back towards their room, dripping water the whole way.

He's glad she reminded him, he probably would have forgotten.

He takes off his towel, wringing it over the tub, and shaves at the sink, naked. He doesn't have a second towel, so he dries off with the shirt he wore last night, and hopes it wasn't too dirty and smoky from the bar.

Robin knocks on the door later, her hand snaking in, blindly swinging around, trying to hand him a new towel, and he takes it from her, smiling.

She believed him.

When he goes downstairs, Eddie is sitting on the couch, hair wild, eating a bowl of cereal. He winks at Steve, and Steve smiles.

The rest of the house is trying to welcome Jonathan, so he doesn't feel quite so out of place as a latecomer.

Steve makes himself a bagel, and sits down on the couch next to Eddie. Eddie makes room, and they just sit there, shoulder to shoulder, eating. Sneaking glances at the other, and smiling.

This is nice. He's never gotten to just flirt with Eddie like this, so often, so openly.

"How's your back?" Eddie asks.

It's sore, but he doesn't want to think about it, "It's fine."

Eddie doesn't look like he fully believes him, but Steve changes the subject, "Wanna do something today?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks over at him, swallowing his mouthful of Honeycombs. Then he grins.

"You asking me on a date, Steve?" Eddie asks, leering at him.

"And what if I am?" Steve counters.

"Then, I say, you better impress me," Eddie goads him, and Steve just grins. He can do that. Maybe. Probably.

With some help. He's definitely gonna need some help.

"You're from here, right?" Steve asks Nancy, leaning against the counter in the kitchen, watching as she cuts up an apple. He keeps stealing slices of it, and she points her knife at him, an idle threat.

"Stop it," she snaps, and he laughs, "and yes. Why?"

"I need an idea for a date," he admits, and she looks up at him, knowingly.

"Eddie?" she asks.

"Eddie," he confirms.

"Well, what does he like?" Nancy asks, and Steve doesn't really know. He doesn't know him here that well, not yet.

"Uh…" he trails off, and she looks at him, like he's an idiot, "heavy metal?"

Nancy laughs, and shakes her head at him for being so vague and unhelpful.

"What are we whispering about?" Gareth asks, coming up and stealing an apple slice, just like Steve has been. Nancy huffs out a breath, then sighs, resigned. She pushes the cut up apple in their direction, and grabs another one out of the fruit bowl on the counter and starts all over again.

Gareth grabs the jar of peanut butter, the one that is very clearly

his

alone, and starts dipping the slices of apple into it.

"Steve needs date advice. Somewhere to take Eddie," Nancy says, and Steve looks in Gareth's direction.

"Oh, easy. Pier 39," Gareth says, like that's supposed to tell Steve something.

"Pier 39?" Steve questions.

"The seals," Gareth answers, "we were in that area the other night, after we went out. Me and Chrissy and him, and Eddie could hear the seals barking. He wanted to see them, but it was too dark. Take him there. To see the seals."

"Sea lions," Nancy corrects, "they're sea lions."

"Same thing," Gareth says, unbothered.

Going to see seals, or sea lions, sounds like a weird date, but okay. Gareth is Eddie's best friend, even if he doesn't know that right now. So, Steve chooses to trust his judgment. At least on a case-by-case situation, anyway.

He doesn't have any better ideas, anyway.

"The sea lions," Steve confirms.

And Gareth just nods, sure.

"They ended up hauling out here after an earthquake a few years ago. Nobody knows exactly why," Nancy explains, "but they just cover the docks during this time of the year now."

So, Steve gets directions on where to find these sea lions from the both of them, and hopes this is a good idea for a date.

The cameras follow along, but Steve doesn't really care. He's getting to take Eddie on a date, a real date, for the first time. He's nervous, but Eddie doesn't seem to be, so Steve tries to calm himself down.

They stand at the railing and watch the sea lions, and Eddie laughs with utter delight when one of the fat sea lions shoves another sea lion off the dock, and back into the water with a big splash. Taking up all the room for himself.

"I like that one. He's my favorite. He's got gumption," Eddie declares.

"Not taking any shit from anyone else," Steve adds, and Eddie grins as he leans over the railing.

Gareth was right. Eddie loves this. 
"I wish I could go lay with them," Eddie says, wiggling his shoulders, like he's imaginarily wedging himself in-between them.Steve grins at him.
It stinks, though. Like fish and farts, and they are constantly barking up a storm, so Steve isn't sure this was the most romantic location for a date, but the smile on Eddie's face is enough to make it not matter. To see him happy, fuck, that's everything.

That night, they're sitting together on the couch back at the house, playing footsie. Quite literally. Eddie is nudging his thigh with his socked foot, and Steve nudges him back. Flirting. It was a damn good day, and a damn good date.

Steve wants to have a million more with him.

Steve grabs his hand, and yanks on him, until Eddie spills into his lap. Eddie hovers over him, his hair hanging around his face.

Steve smiles, looking at Eddie's lips, trying to give him the green light.

Eddie leans down, and Steve leans up, meeting him in the middle.

They kiss, for the first time since last night in the alley, and Steve reaches around and cups the back of Eddie's neck, deepening the kiss.

Eddie presses closer, and it's good. It's so good.

Even with the knowledge that there's a camera crew recording their every move. It doesn't fucking matter. This isn't the real universe, so nobody will ever see it, or if they will, it won't be

this

Steve's problem. Other Steve will just have to deal with that himself, if he exists. This Steve has far too much on his plate to worry about any other versions of himself right now.

Eddie's in his lap, kissing him, and Steve reaches down and cups Eddie's ass, squeezing. Eddie laughs against his mouth, which makes Steve smile.

"Gross, dingus, the rest of us have to live here, too," Robin says, walking through the room.

"You wanna go to my room?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods, hard and sure. He definitely wants to go to Eddie's room.

They get up off the couch, giggling, holding hands as they climb the stairs. The cameraman follows.

Eddie kicks the door closed, shutting out the camera crew. He's pretty sure they aren't allowed to film two people fucking, MTV or not. Eddie walks Steve back towards the bed. And Steve goes, willingly.

Steve lays down on his back, and it's sore, but not sore enough to miss out on this as Eddie covers his body with his own. They kiss, and grind against each other.

"What do you want to do?" Eddie asks, and Steve doesn't hesitate.

"I want you to fuck me," Steve says. He's only experienced it once, in that stolen moment of time in Paris, but he longs for it again.

Eddie seems surprised by this request, but Steve just nods, and smiles. Eddie smiles back, and hops off the bed to go looking through his bag. He comes up with a tube of lube and a condom.

Steve takes the lube and looks at it. It's not familiar to him. It's a cream. Interesting. Different time, different place. In Paris, it was just barebacking and Vaseline.

But the world has changed, and Steve has to change with it.

Eddie reaches for the button of Steve's jeans, and Steve helps him, shimmying out of them while Eddie gets undressed in front of him.

Holy shit,

Steve thinks, looking at Eddie naked. He wants. He really, really wants. He hadn't really gotten to see him in Paris, not like this, and he's beautiful.

"You're beautiful," Steve tells him, because he is. Long and lean, and his dick is pretty. Steve's not sure if that's something you're supposed to think about another man's dick, but it is, so he does.

He reaches out to wrap his hand around Eddie's cock, giving it a nice, long stroke. Eddie throws his head back and groans. It makes Steve smile, and spurs him on. How'd he ever get this lucky?

Steve's never done this, any of this, so he just lets Eddie take charge. Again. He's probably skipped ahead about a thousand steps they could take first, but he's here. And Eddie's here, and Steve's not sure when they'll have this kind of chance again.

"Have you done this before?" Eddie asks, running his hand up Steve's bare thigh.

Steve wants to lie, but doesn't, and tells him truthfully, "Just once."

"We could-" Eddie starts, and Steve interrupts.

"I want to, Eddie. I really want to," Steve tells him, because he does. He really wants to experience this again, with Eddie.

"Okay, we will. Roll over," Eddie says, and Steve would rather look at him, but he does what Eddie asked. Settling onto his stomach on the bed, and then moving around as Eddie shoves a pillow under his hips.

"Comfortable?" Eddie asks, finger dancing along his spine, where the bruise is still blooming.

"Yeah," Steve says, and Eddie starts talking him through it, through everything he's doing, until Steve's pushing back against Eddie's hand, wanting more than just his fingers inside him.

"Eddie, please," Steve says, "now."

"Okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, just the same as he called him in Paris, and Steve makes a noise that's embarrassing, and very horny. Eddie chuckles, and Steve doesn't have time to be embarrassed, because he hears him opening the condom wrapper, and feels the bed shift as Eddie gets in place. Then he's pushing in and Steve tenses with excitement.

"Relax," Eddie says, and Steve tries, he really does. But Steve's too excited, too…everything. But he forces himself to loosen up, knowing this can't happen if he doesn't, and finally Eddie is pushing into him, stretched over his back.

He finally settles there, not moving, just inside him, filling him.

"You okay?" Eddie asks, pausing to get feedback on how Steve's feeling, brushing Steve's hair off his neck to see his face.

Good. He's feeling pretty fucking good.

"Yes, yes," Steve says, and he is. It feels a little strange, but he really is okay.  It doesn't hurt as much as it did the first time, or he just knows what to expect this time. One or the other. But this is what he's wanted again for so long now. "Keep going.

Please."

"Okay," Eddie says, starting to move again. Gentle thrusts that grow bigger, harder, as they learn how to move together.

Goddamnit. Fucking hell. Yes. This.

All of this.

Eddie's just finding a good rhythm that's really working for Steve, when Eddie suddenly freezes, and stutters to a near stop.

"What? What's wrong?" Steve asks, trying to look back over his shoulder.

"I just. Nothing. I got some weird déjà vu," Eddie says, running his hand over Steve's back.

Not now, not now,

if this world fizzles away when Eddie is literally balls deep inside him, Steve's gonna fucking scream. He wants Eddie to remember, but not right this second, Jesus Christ.

Can't the universe let him have this one thing?

Steve doesn't know what to say, knows he can't just tell him,

oh yeah, I know you, you know me, we fucked once, during World War II. Let's do it again, please.

"It's just so good, it feels like we've done it before," Steve says laughing, trying to keep Eddie here. Right here. In him. Moving.

Fucking.

Eddie thrusts again, but he's definitely off-kilter.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, and he needs this. He needs them to come together, right now, like this. But he needs Eddie to be okay with it, too. He reaches back and touches Eddie's arm, as far up as he can reach backwards, stroking his skin. Wishing he could look right into his eyes. But he's too scared to move, terrified that'll be the thing that shatters this world. He doesn't want to move, to breathe, and he just focuses on Eddie.
Wants to hold onto this, onto Eddie, for as long as he can. The clock is whirring, spiraling out of control, out of time, and Steve knows it.He squeezes Eddie's arm, and that must prompt Eddie to finally answer.
"Yeah, Harrington, I'm fine," Eddie says, and Steve as much as he likes hearing his name fall from Eddie's lips, his real name, the name the real Eddie liked to call him, he hates what's surely coming next. Because it sure ain't going to be him, either of them, unfortunately.

And it isn’t.

The world dissolves, snatching Eddie away, from deep inside him.

Fuck.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

all these years, i've been wanderin' around,
wonderin' how come nobody told me,
all that i been lookin' for,
was somebody who looked like you
I've Got A Feeling, The Beatles

1969

Steve pops into existence, and immediately knows where he came from. That’s new. But that means he also knows that Eddie was just inside him, and now he’s gone. This fucking sucks.

He doesn't have time to think about that though, not for long anyway, because Robin is pulling him up a narrow, spiral staircase by the hand, and he is off-balance enough without her doing that. He wishes she wouldn't, he might throw-up, and his back hurts…except it doesn't. Not anymore.

His back is fine, but he feels like he can still feel the ghost of Eddie, inside him.

That makes no sense, and he chalks it up to wishful thinking. He knows when he resets he carries nothing with him, even if he

desperately

wants to.

But he’s so happy she’s here. Happy she knows him. Happy she's treating him just like he's her best friend, because he is, and he needs her. No matter the universe.

"Robin, please, slow down. Where's the fire?" Steve asks, trying to keep from getting dizzy. It's disorienting, popping from one place to another with barely any goddamn warning.

"Don't you hear that, dingus?!" Robin practically yells, ignoring all of his complaints to slow down, just moving faster, if possible. She is thrumming with excitement for some reason, but he doesn't hear anything. Then she pushes open a heavy door, and they're suddenly on the roof of a building.

Robin is still dragging him behind her, not about to slow down for anything.

And then he hears the live music.

Oh, someone across the road is covering The Beatles. Of course Robin would be excited about that.

Then Steve listens a little harder, concentrating as he squints to look across the tops of the buildings. This looks vaguely familiar.

Oh, that actually

is

The Beatles.

This is the rooftop concert, Steve quickly realizes, and he understands why Robin is so worked up. She loves The Beatles, and she made him watch the tape of Let It Be with her last year, after she special ordered it in through Family Video and waited weeks, months, checking every shipment of tapes, to see if it had finally arrived yet. 
Keith was a little pissy about it, but what else is fucking new. He was always mad at them about something. Steve, especially. Steve knows Keith got off on bossing him around, it's definitely not a secret or anything he hid.

Steve took it until Robin was ready to move on to something else, and he followed along. Being bossed around by nerds is just his life these days, and the dude towers over Steve. He really hit a late growth spurt, and Steve sometimes wishes he'd had the same luck. Not that he's short. He's not. But being over six foot tall might have been nice.

"Oh my god, look at George's green pants!" Robin squeals, jumping up and down, clapping her hands together in excitement.

Steve squints again. The green pants are nothing compared to those crazy coats. Full, fluffy furs. And is Ringo wearing red pleather? A raincoat? To be fair, it is fucking cold and windy out here. The wind, that's the real bitch. Up this high, it's just cutting through him, even with a coat on. Steve brings his hands up to his mouth and blows warm air into them to try and keep warm. He has on a coat, but his hands are freezing.

He searches his pockets, and does find a pair of gloves. Thank you, Steve of this world.

As he tugs the gloves on, he thinks it really might not have been the ideal weather to hold an impromptu outdoor concert on top of a roof. Just saying. He's pretty sure he could never play an instrument in this weather. Not that he plays an instrument at all. Well, besides in the fourth grade band when it was required to pick an instrument for the year. A few switches, and nothing stuck, and both he and the band director accepted it wasn't gonna be his thing.

But still. Playing out here can't be easy. Paul's not even wearing a real coat.

He'll have to ask Eddie what it's like someday, since Eddie played his guitar with murderous demobats headed in his direction. That's pretty high-stakes, too.

Steve looks back across the street. Seeing John Lennon on the other rooftop is like seeing a ghost. You'd think he'd be used to it by now, after seeing Eddie over and over. But this is different, somehow. This is the last live performance of The Beatles.

He knows something the rest of the world around him doesn't, which seems to be the standard these days. He knows these songs, knows this is their last performance together. He knows John Lennon will be killed by a deranged fan, in ten or so years' time.

He knows they'll never reunite, not really.

He knows George will die of cancer, just like Linda McCartney.

Wait, no. That's not true. Steve stops, and backs that thought up.

That's not. That's not what's happened. He wonders why he just thought that, because that definitely hasn't happened. George is still alive, still making music.

He thinks that's right, but he can't look it up. That's not something he can do on the fly. It's not like he can Google it.

Steve pauses, and the word that was just in his brain is gone again. Steve shakes his head, and he has a fleeting splitting headache. Here and gone in a moment. And he's back to his same thought.

It's not like he can look it up in his dad's Encyclopedia Britannica set in his office. Clearly they'd be outdated for that information.

He's getting confused, creating false memories, he's pretty sure. All this bouncing around is scrambling his brains worse than they already were. If he thought it'd actually travel with him, he'd make a list, keep notes. But he's sure it wouldn't. His wallet is different in every place he winds up. His clothes, too. It's just him that moves around.

Robin is bouncing up and down next to him, excited to be seeing this happen right in front of her.

"I can't believe this, I can't. They don't even tour anymore!" she shouts, as if he's not right beside her.

"I know, amazing," he says, but he's not really listening to her. He's thinking. Are they in London? Robin doesn't sound British, so he wonders why they're here today. What's the excuse?

They’re playing

Get Back

right now which is funny. He quoted that to Gareth, during the war. That version of Gareth didn't know what the fuck he was talking about, but still. He wishes he could get the fuck back to where he belongs. Paul McCartney is just taunting him now, he's pretty goddamn sure.

"These are brand new songs!" she screams, clapping her hands together when one song ends. "And we're getting to hear them first!"

He holds onto the railing of the roof, standing next to Robin, and listens as they fiddle with their guitars, and then start

Get Back

all over again. This is a classic, a hit, and he knows every word.

But to Robin,

Get Back

is brand new. Wild.

He loves this for her, and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. With the excuse of keeping her warm, but he really just wants to hang onto her, find comfort in her, for just a second or two.

Steve knows this version of Robin has no idea about what will happen to John Lennon, and he’s not about to tell her. He’ll let her enjoy this for exactly what it is, at this moment. He'll let her think The Beatles will go on forever. That this was just another day, and not the last.

Steve wonders if he could somehow manage to end up in New York City right before Lennon was shot, if he could change things? He mainly just wonders if he can change anything at all. If he can change Eddie's death. He doesn't know how he will, because he's just bouncing around to all these other places at random. There's no guarantee he'll end up in Hawkins again at all, let alone somewhere in the timeline before Eddie dies. Or if he'd be able to stick around there.

It's a lot to worry about, a lot he can't control, and that makes a knot form in his stomach. If he can't change it, what's the purpose of all this, honestly? He better fucking be able to change it. If not, this will have just been torture. Seeing Eddie, over and over, getting to touch him, fall in love with him, with no hope of saving the real version.

He suddenly wonders how Eddie plays into this world. Unless he's the fifth Beatle, this seems like a really random place for Steve to turn up, with no Eddie in sight.

But then there's a commotion on the street below, which seems inevitable, these are

The Beatles

playing right here. live, and unannounced. A full on riot wouldn't surprise Steve, to be honest.

So, Steve leans over the edge of the building to look down and see what's going on. And he's surprised, but not

that

surprised, to see what definitely looks like Eddie running down the sidewalk, being chased by police officers.

Steve turns on his heel and runs back towards the door to the rooftop, towards the stairs.

"Dingus, no! I want to see this!" Robin shouts after him.

"Stay there, I'll be right back!" he screams in her direction, before he bangs down several flights of rickety stairs. Running as fast as he dares, without the risk of falling and breaking his neck. When he reaches the sidewalk, he’s lost track of Eddie in the crowd, but Steve runs in the direction Eddie had been headed.

He hopes he hasn't totally lost him in the throngs of people that are spilling into all the adjacent streets.

Steve sees a group of cops…bobbies? He knows they have a different name over here, but whatever they are called, they are loitering around the street where they must have lost Eddie, just like Steve did.

Steve backtracks and looks at the possible options. Eddie always seemed to like tight spaces, like a cat. There’s an alley that looks promising, but the cops are watching Steve, and he's sure he looks a little suspicious, too.

"Is that The Beatles playing up there?" Steve asks all innocently, acting like the dumb tourist he must sound like to them, as he points towards the very obvious sound of The Beatles. They all shake their heads, like they’re annoyed by him, annoyed by the music, and they turn their attention back to talking amongst themselves, the American long forgotten. Steve takes that opportunity and turns down the alley.

At first glance he doesn't see anything, and he thinks he must have been wrong. Eddie is somewhere else.

But then he sees a tarp, spread over some cardboard boxes, to protect them from the rain. Steve squats down, and pulls up the edge to peek inside.

And there Eddie is. Making himself as small as possible. It's very reminiscent of the boat house at Reefer Rick's house. He's glad Eddie is at least a little predictable.

"Hi, Eddie," Steve says, smiling at him, trying to look charming instead of creepy.

He must not hit the mark.

"What are you, an undercover cop?" Eddie asks, crouched in the alley, hidden behind some of the boxes. Steve had briefly wondered if Eddie would be British, but then Eddie spoke, and he’s not. Steve’s a little disappointed. He’d have liked to have heard an accent rolling off his tongue.

Steve laughs, "Do I look like a cop?"

Steve looks down at himself to see what he's wearing, and it definitely isn't cop attire as far as he can tell.

But Eddie looks him up and down thoroughly, and just says, "Kinda."

It's funny, and so is Eddie.

Steve smiles. "I’m not a cop. Why are you being chased by them?"

"Goddamn bullshit," Eddie says, and Steve nods. That’s believable. "I didn’t do anything wrong."

"I believe you," Steve says, because he definitely does. Historically, Eddie being accused of crimes he didn't commit has happened a lot. Well, it's happened twice. But that's still higher than the average, Steve's pretty fucking sure.

"You don't even know what they think I did. I could be a murderer," Eddie says, stubbornly.

Steve rolls his eyes.

"You're not a murderer," Steve insists. He is sure of that.

He might not be a murderer, but he does look cold. Eddie doesn't even have a jacket or sweater on. Just a thin shirt. They need to get out of this alley, and find somewhere safe and warm.

"Get your stuff, dude, let’s go," Steve says, and Eddie stands abruptly, gathering what little stuff he has with him. A leather satchel of some sort, and that's about it.

"Here," Steve says, shrugging out of his own coat, and helping to put it on Eddie. Eddie shared his vest once, Steve can share his jacket, "To help disguise you from the cops."

Eddie seems to accept this as an excuse to say yes, and Steve takes off his gloves, and hands those over as well, and Eddie does put them on, so Steve knows he must be cold. Then Eddie follows him up towards the opening of the alley. Steve glances out onto the sidewalk, looking both directions. He pokes his head out of the alley further, and there are no cops to be found in either direction. He thinks they can probably head in the opposite direction of where the cops were the last time he saw them and be okay.

He nods, and they head out onto the sidewalk, and Steve is walking briskly. He really hopes Eddie is keeping up behind him. He should have put Eddie in front of him, so he could keep an eye on him.

When Steve glances back to check on Eddie behind them, he catches sight of Eddie as he leans into the fabric of the collar of Steve's coat, and breathes in, deeply. That does…things, to Steve. Good things. Very, very good things. Eddie might not know him, not here, but he must be familiar in some way, if he wants to take in the smell of him to comfort himself.

Eddie looks up and meets his eyes, and there's a spark there. Recognition.

"Harrington?"

And Steve stops, and just stares at him, dumbly. They should keep moving, but Steve can't. He has to know if Eddie has remembered already. It's been minutes. The Beatles are still playing overhead, and they haven't had that much time in this world yet. Eddie already knows?

"Eddie?" Steve finally says, and takes a step towards him. Eddie reaches out and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck. Holding on so tight.

"Gareth, the foxhole," Eddie says, and Steve hugs him tighter, sliding his hands under his own coat, touching Eddie's back, gripping him tight, pulling him closer, into a hug.

"He’s fine. Gareth's totally fine. I’ve seen him since then. He’s alive and well, I promise," Steve says, pulling back, just so he can see Eddie.

And Eddie just nods shakily.

"Do you not remember the Real World house? In San Francisco? With the TV show for MTV?" Steve asks.

Eddie looks very confused, and just shakes his head no, and Steve is disappointed. They were

together,

quite literally, when that world evaporated. He wishes Eddie remembered that, wishes that maybe he'd want to do it again, because Steve wants to finish what they started. Desperately.

"I keep bouncing around all over the place. I think I’m lost," Eddie admits, his eyes big and confused, and he’s not wrong. Steve's sure of that. Because he's fucking lost, too. He just didn't realize Eddie felt the movement, the shifting of worlds, too.

"Me too, I'm lost. But I always find you, Eddie. I think I'm meant to find you," Steve says, grasping Eddie's shoulders, wanting to make him listen.

"Paris," Eddie says, and Steve grins.

"Paris," Steve echoes, "you remember Paris?"

And his hand hovers, then lands on Eddie's cheek.

"We saw them building the Eiffel Tower, that's kinda hard to forget," Eddie says, and Steve furrows his brow. They definitely did not see that. It was built by then, for sure. Like, for sure, for sure. They were in Paris together during the war, like twenty years ago. And that was a

long

time after the Eiffel Tower had been constructed. Had to be. Steve had definitely seen it while they were wandering around town.

Unless.

Unless they are lost together, but maybe also apart, in time? Fuck. Goddamnit, that's…

Steve doesn’t know how to fix this for either of them if that's true, and he’s a little scared that if he does figure it out, that he’ll just end up back home, and Eddie will still be dead.

Or still lost, somewhere else in the universe, out of his grasp.

"Where else have you been, what times?" Steve asks, hurriedly, scared this world will collapse, sooner rather than later.

And Eddie just shakes his head, unwilling to offer up any more information. The boy who never shuts up, has clammed up, and Steve wants to shake him.

But, Steve can't think about that right now, can't think about the possibility that this is even more fucked up than he realized. It's too much to worry about, so he changes the subject, fast.

"Robin’s up on the roof a few blocks away, watching The Beatles," Steve says, and Eddie laughs.

"Of course she is, that's

real music,

" Eddie says dryly, teasing. And he's him. The real Eddie. It's the best thing Steve's heard in days, and Steve takes Eddie’s hand, tugging him down the street until they’ve melted into the growing crowd.

Disappearing, together, into the screaming masses.

They'll meet back up with Robin, Steve will tell her just like he did last time, and she'll listen, she'll believe him, probably. And then they can formulate a plan on how to get out of this. How to get home. The three of them.

As they approach the block where The Beatles are performing, the crowds are thicker than ever, and Steve turns to reassure Eddie, to pull him along towards the stairway leading up to Robin, but he feels the familiar swoop in his gut, and…goddamn.

He's gone. Again.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

you better run for your life if you can, little girl
hide your head in the sand, little girl,
catch you with another man,
that's the end, little girl
Run For Your Life, The Beatles

1950

"Agent, are you listening?"

Steve snaps his head up at the sound of Hopper's voice. Is he talking to him? He guesses so, because Hopper is looking right at him, expectantly.

"Yeah, sorry," Steve answers. Trying to get reoriented to wherever he's fucked off to this time.

Looking at Hopper’s clothes, it's back in time. How far, Steve's not really sure. They seem to be in a meeting room of some sort. A heavy wooden table, and several chairs. It's pretty nondescript, but Steve tries to figure it out while still looking like he's paying attention to what Hopper's saying.

"As you know, the public has shown great interest in this accidental Top Ten Most Wanted list. So, I'd appreciate it if we could capture at least one of these fugitives, and fast, to prove this method of looping in the public is beneficial. Turn Hoover’s accident into an actual FBI program that works in our favor."

Steve looks at the paper on the table in front of him, and does a double-take.

It's Eddie. Of course it is, but he looks so different without his long hair. He looks haunted. Scared, terrified. Like he was the worst kind of cornered. Steve runs his finger over Eddie's face.

Hopper slides him another piece of paper, a ledger, with columns of typed words. Murder? Not again. Jesus. Eddie wouldn't murder anyone.

Steve opens the file, and scans the case notes. They think he murdered his girlfriend, Chrissy Cunningham, in Bloomingdale. Well, that's familiar. The scenario, not the town. Steve has no idea where Bloomingdale is. He also wonders if she was actually his girlfriend in this universe, or if that was just a mistake, too.

Is Steve part of the FBI? Is that what's happening?

It must be.

"Here are all the leads we've got on Munson. You can decide what you want to follow up on, but I think Hawkins, Indiana seems the most likely," Hopper says, like Steve has a choice, but it doesn't really sound like a choice at all.

Steve nods.

He can go to Hawkins and look for Eddie, the wanted for murder fugitive. No problem. Been there, done that. If they think he’s going to turn him over to them once he finds him, though, they’re in for a hell of a surprise.

That's never gonna happen.

But he's happy with the opportunity to go home, even if it isn't exactly the same Hawkins he left, just to look around. That seems like a manageable request.

But Steve isn't sure where he is, so he doesn't know how to even get to Hawkins. Does he drive? Fly? It's not like he can ask, he'll seem crazy.

He walks out into the parking garage and there are rows,

rows

of nearly identical black cars. Godammit. He's never going to figure out which one is his. He holds the keys in his hand, and looks at them. There's a little round tag, it reads

13.

Oh, he hopes that's a parking spot number. He looks, and they don't seem to be marked, but he counts thirteen spots from the door, hoping that's the direction they were numbered from. He tries to slide his key in the door lock, and nothing happens.

Shit.

He guesses he's just going to have to go down the entire lot until he finds the one that his key works on. That's some Cinderella bullshit. He pauses when someone else comes into the lot, trying to look casual, like he's not so fucking lost. But on the second try the key slides right in and unlocks the door. Score.

He climbs inside, and cranks the engine to life, and backs out of his parking spot, eventually pulling onto the street. As he drives down the road, he looks for a water tower, or anything, really, that has the city name on it. At least this car is easier to handle. Still no power steering, he realizes, but it at least feels like a real car to him, more than the Model T did, anyway.

He passes a church, and sees a sign out front. Indianapolis.

Good, great. That's not so far, eighty miles or so. He can handle that. If he can just see something he recognizes, or a landmark, anything. He looks for a sign for I-69, but doesn't have any luck. He finally stops by a gas station, to see if they have a map.

They do, and he spreads it out over the large steering wheel of his black, boat of a car.

The highways are different, but he traces a route with his finger, something he thinks he can follow, and heads in that general direction and hopes for the best. He thinks Highway 37 should get him in the right direction. And once he's out of the city, and gets closer and closer to Hawkins, the landmarks he's familiar with start to appear. Just a little different than he remembers them being. The two trees that close and meet over the highway, a familiar little tunnel guiding him home, right now are still little, still growing into their full size and not meeting overhead. Not yet. But they're there. Welcoming him.
And he's not lost, not anymore, and that's a fucking relief. 
It's nice to know where he is, even if only briefly.

Steve rolls into Hawkins and gets a room in a little motel that doesn't exist in the 80s. It's been replaced by a strip mall. But after he checks in, he decides to go looking for Eddie. He doesn't want to wait any longer than he has to. The quicker he finds Eddie, the quicker this moves along. Well, in theory. So far there's been no rhyme or reason that Steve can tell for how long these worlds last. It can be a day. It can be weeks, or months. Minutes. Eddie can know for a moment, or longer. Steve can't find the pattern. If there even is one.

He thinks he was only in the last one for less than an hour. Blink and you'll miss it.

Steve thinks he should probably be progressing in some way, learning, but it doesn't feel like that. They don't feel connected. He isn't sure how he's supposed to figure out a puzzle that doesn't seem to have been set up to be solved at all. He's just drifting.

Lost.

And if Eddie's actually lost, too. Well, fuck.

Maybe he can't figure it out. Maybe there's nothing

to

figure out. Maybe he died, and this is heaven? He hopes not. This doesn't seem all that peaceful of a way to spend eternity. Maybe he's in a coma? Or just asleep?

Maybe Vecna came back. Maybe Steve's floating above Hawkins somewhere, his bones snapping, his mind on a different plane of existence than his body.

He doesn't feel like he's asleep, doesn't feel trapped in a nightmare, but what the fuck does he know? Nothing. He knows nothing, that much he's sure of, totally.

He just doesn't understand. He's been to a handful of places, and he still doesn't know shit. All he knows is that he ends up somewhere, finds Eddie for an indeterminate amount of time, and then, poof, he's someplace new.

It doesn't make sense. He doesn't feel like he's gathering any kind of useful information to

solve

this mystery.

Maybe it can't be solved. Maybe that's not what this is.

What that means, Steve has no idea.

Trying not to be discouraged by thinking too hard about the unexplainable mystery of time travel, Steve checks out Skull Rock first. In case history would be kind enough to repeat itself.

But it's just empty, nothing around at all. No traces that anybody has been here at all recently. So Steve drives by the trailer park, but that doesn't even exist yet.

It's just empty lots on the outskirts of town.

He finds a phone book and looks up Munson, and Wayne is in it, so he calls. Three times. Wayne isn't having

any

of it. Won't even give Steve the chance to try to explain that he wants to help Eddie, not hurt him. That they're friends. Wayne might as well have just said

fuck you

and went on about his day. So, Steve sits out front of the address from the phone book, and does some surveillance and sees no sign of Eddie, or Wayne, until Wayne comes out with a rifle hanging at his side. Okay, then. Time for Plan C.

He finds the office of the Hawkins Post and goes inside, and there is Nancy. And Jonathan. And Robin. Steve smiles, wide. He can't help it. Robin's in a dress and she looks just as uncomfortable in it as she did when they were going to Pennhurst.

"Can I help you?" Nancy asks, looking up at him, all no-nonsense like. It's familiar, and he likes it. He wants her to help him figure this whole thing out. Thinks she could, maybe, if she'd just let him tell her about it.

Maybe he will, later.

"I'm looking for a man named Eddie Munson," Steve says, awkwardly flashing her his badge, once he remembers he has one in his pocket.

Nancy looks at him for a second, thinking, then walks over to the wall, and points at a flyer that's hanging there, "This Eddie Munson?"

His heart sinks. Okay, so it's widely known that Eddie's wanted. That's not what Steve was hoping for. But there he is, number four on the list of ten.

"That's him," Steve confirms, trying to not sound so dejected, "he has ties to this town, so I was sent to check. Have you seen him around?"

"No," Nancy says, short and to the point.

"Okay, well, thanks," he says, turning to head for the door.

"Mr…" Robin says, finally speaking.

"Harrington. Steve," Steve says, "just call me Steve, though. I'm just Steve," he tells her, because telling her to call him dingus seems super weird, even for them. He smiles at the thought of doing it, though.

"Steve," Robin says, "I went to school with Eddie Munson. We were in the school band together. And I find it hard to believe that he'd do anything like they are accusing him of doing. Honest. I just. Needed you to know that, I guess."

Steve smiles at her, "Thank you. I'll take that into consideration."

Then he has an idea, "Do you have past issues of the paper I could look at? Maybe, from the last six months or so?"

"Sure, I could-" Robin starts, but Nancy interrupts.

"That's what the library is for, Mr. Harrington," Nancy says, not having any of this. He's not going to be invited to stay, they aren't gonna help. And that stings, a little.

And Robin kind of slumps, and gives him a grimace, like she's saying sorry. That's okay. He gets it. And he can probably do a little research in the library without it killing him.

He walks down the block and up the steps into the library, and asks the librarian behind the desk to see the newspapers from the last few months, and she waves him to a back room.

Oh shit. They are physical papers. He hadn't expected that. This is gonna take forever.

"Do you happen to know which ones, if any, have articles about Eddie Munson?" he asks, because maybe? It doesn't hurt to try and speed this along.

She looks at him, and then nods for him to sit down while she digs them up.

He reads the few articles that she brings him, but he doesn't learn much more than he already knew from Hopper's file. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but he had hoped to know...more.

All out of better ideas, Steve sits out on the bench on Main Street of Hawkins and waits. He sees Nancy walking down the sidewalk, and takes the opportunity to talk to her again. Jogs to catch up, and she turns to look at him.

"You're still here?" she asks, sounding a little annoyed. It's familiar, and he can't help but smile a little. He misses home. Misses all of his friends.

"I'm still here," he confirms.

"What can I do for you Mr. Harrington?" Nancy asks, looking at him, suspicious. Like she'd rather be dealing with anyone else besides him.

"Steve," he reminds her, "Mr. Harrington is my father."

She looks exasperated with him, "What can I do for you,

Steve?"

"Do you believe in weird things?" he asks.

"Weird things?" she questions, looking at him like he's crazy. Which he kind of feels like he is, these days.

"Unexplainable things. Things that make no sense," Steve explains further.

"Like UFOs?" she asks.

"Yeah, sure," Steve says, "and other things. Monsters. Time travel."

"No, Steve, I haven't seen any flying saucers over Hawkins lately. That's not exactly the kind of paper we're running," she says, slightly snarky, and he laughs.

It makes her smile in his direction. She must have thought he'd have no sense of humor, because she seems genuinely surprised by his reaction. He does look pretty buttoned up in this suit. It's way too stuffy, and just thinking about it makes him pull at his collar and tie.

"Well, glad to hear it," he answers, and maybe this isn't going to work. She doesn't know him from Adam. He can't just tell her he's traveling through time. That they are friends, were once more than that.

That he loves her a whole lot, even if it isn't the same way he loves Eddie these days.

She's never going to believe any of that. She's far too practical. She'll need to see to believe, or at least

research

to believe, and this isn't anything he'll ever be able to prove in either of those ways.

"Well, this street isn't going to watch itself," Steve says, and falls back, letting her go.

"Goodbye, Steve. Have a safe drive home," she says, and he's being dismissed from town. Yeah, right. He's not going anywhere until he finds Eddie.

The next day, Robin stops by the bench he's still sitting on, and plops down next to him.

"You should leave town. Eddie's not here," she says.

And he thinks she might be right. But if Eddie's not here, Steve doesn't even know where he'll look next. It's a big fucking world out there. That's for fucking sure. He's figured that out, big time, since he's started hopping through time all willy-nilly.

"Maybe not," he agrees.

"And if he is, he isn't," she says, looking at him dead in the eyes, and it's protective. And it makes him love her more than he already does. She doesn't know him, but she believes that Eddie is innocent, and she's not afraid to tell him that. Even if he's supposed to be an authority figure that thinks otherwise.

"I hear you," he says, turning to look at her. Studying her face. "Robin, can I tell you something weird?"

"I'd love to hear something weird," she says, leaning closer, digging into her bag for her notebook and pencil.

He laughs, "Off the record, sorry."

She slumps, just a little, but agrees, "Okay. Off the record. But that's way less fun."

"I know," he says, smiling at her, "do you believe in things that are unexplainable?"

"Like Roswell?"

"Sure," he laughs, "like Roswell."

"Maybe," she says, studying him like she's trying to figure him out. What his angle is, what he's asking her.

"What would you say if I told you I'm from the future?" he asks, meeting her eyes.

"I'd say there's a room waiting for you at Pennhurst. Padded and everything."

He laughs, smiling at her.

"Well, maybe I'll check-in there later," he agrees, "but putting that aside, what if it were true? What if, somehow, I've gotten unstuck in time and have dragged my friends along for the ride? But they don't know it. Only I know."

"Sounds like a great start to a science fiction novel," she says, evenly.

But then she looks at him, really looks at him, and he keeps eye contact with her. Letting her look at him,

into him,

hoping maybe she'll see something she knows there, something she trusts.

"Am I one of those friends?" she finally asks, and he blinks his eyes, trying to push back the tears that have suddenly threatened to fall.

"Yeah, Robin, you're my best friend," he says, softly. Not wanting to scare her away.

He shouldn't have worried about that, she just grins, wide.

"So, when are we really from, best friend?" she asks, and he's not sure she believes him, but she's at least entertaining the idea. And seems amused instead of terrified by this weird man filling her full of bullshit stories.

"1987," he answers.

Her eyes get a little wide, but she doesn't run away, so he considers that a win.

"And how did you end up traveling through time?" she asks, looking like she really wants the answer. He wishes he could give it to her, because he'd

really

like to know, too.

"I don't know. Not really. It wasn't on purpose," he assures her.

He takes a deep breath.

"In our world, there's something evil under this town-"

"I knew it!" she interrupts, and he laughs. There's not, not right now. Not yet. Well, he doesn't think so, anyway. He scratches his head. He isn't sure. Fuck, he doesn't understand how it works. He was the worst choice of one of them to get tossed into the wind. He can't explain this to anyone. Not even Robin.

Nancy would have had it all figured out, and Eddie snatched up and home, two universes into this mess, Steve's sure of it. And here he is, just bouncing around from hell to breakfast.

But he finishes his thought.

"-and we fought it. Us, and our friends. We won, but not right away. So, we didn't all make it. Eddie didn't make it. And I wished he did, regretted that we didn't save him, and then - bam! I find myself in the 1920s and Eddie is alive again. And I've just bounced around, all over the decades, finding him, and losing him, over and over again."

She nods, like she's following, but he's sure she's not. How could she be? It's crazy. It's a crazy thing to tell anyone, at any time. But it's true. It feels true. He's sure he's not dreaming. Not now.

"I think we should tell Nancy," Robin finally says, and Steve smiles.

"Well, I agree that she'd be one of the best chances to figure this out," he says, and he means that, "but she isn't going to believe any of this. Not without seeing it with her own eyes. She's too..." he says, looking for the right word.

"Pragmatic," Robin says, finishing his thought, and she frowns, because he knows she agrees, at least a little.

"Yes, that," Steve says, though he doesn't exactly know what that word means. But he trusts Robin's judgment of the situation. Even if she just learned about the situation, roughly two minutes ago.

"Well, we'll have to figure this out without her," Robin says, and Steve sags with relief.

"Why do you believe me?" he finally asks.

"Your eyes," she says. "I feel like I know you, looking in your eyes."

He reaches over and cups her cheek, and she immediately shakes it off, and it's so Robin it hurts.

"We're really best friends?" she asks, looking hopeful for some reason.

He nods.

"I'm your dingus," he says, and she laughs.

"I like that," she says.

He likes that, too.

Robin comes to his motel room, and they start running down everything he knows. It's not a lot at all. But he really,

really

feels better after telling Robin. Sharing the burden, at least having a little bit of hope that she'll be able to figure out what the fuck happened, and get him back home.

They sit on the bed, shoes off, crossed legged from each other. It feels normal, real, in a way that not much has recently.

"So, you just - poof!" she says, for about the sixth time, trying to wrap her head around it. She's repeated it several times already, and Steve's pretty sure this won't be the last.

"Yep. Poof," he confirms, again. "I felt something happening inside me, like a pulling, a tugging, and it was really weird. Then I was just somewhere,

sometime,

new."

"And then you found Eddie, and eventually he remembered who you were?" she asks, again.

"Yeah, and then that world snapped, popped, dissolved, however you want to describe it. And I was in a different time."

"And it took Eddie a lot of longer to figure it out, right?"

"Much longer," he confirms.

"Is it getting longer each time?" she asks, and he thinks.

"No. No way. The last one was just a day, again. An hour, maybe. Tops."

"And what was the last one?" she asks, scratching down notes in her notebook. In another language. For safety. She's so nerdy, but he loves her for it.

He smiles at her, wickedly.

"What?" she asks. "What was it?"

"The Beatles. On the roof," he says giddily, and she has no reaction. None.

Oh.

This is before The Beatles. Well, goddammit.  He was

so

looking forward to her reaction to that little tidbit, but there isn't any, because she doesn't know who they are yet. Nobody does. Nobody except Steve.

"What number is this?" she asks. "What universe number are you on now?"

He tries hard to remember the timeline, and counts in his head: horses, war, Real World, Beatles, here.

"Five, I think."

"This is weird," she says, "I don't even know how to go about figuring this kind of problem out."

He sighs, "I know. Me either."

She looks at him sadly, "What if you are unstuck for good, just bouncing around forever?"

"Thanks, Robin. That makes me feel so much better," he says, sarcastically.

She laughs, "Sorry. I'm sorry! I mean, I'm sure this will all resolve itself soon," she says, not very convincingly at all.

"Thanks for that vote of confidence," Steve says, dryly.

"Of course, that's what I'm here for," Robin says, giving him a smile that he knows so well.

"Do you really not know where Eddie is? I swear I'm not going to turn him in. I just need to find him," Steve says.

"I don't," she says, and he believes her, "I don't know if he's here or not. I haven't seen him in a very long time."

Steve nods, he'll just have to keep looking on his own.

And look he does, but he still hasn't had any luck in locating Eddie. But he does get to know this version of Robin, which is fun. Despite the circumstances.

"Will you come home with me for dinner? They've been hassling me to get a boyfriend," Robin asks, looking at him as they shuffle through their notes, one more time.

"Sure, one fake boyfriend coming right up," Steve teases.

Robin looks at him, "You know

why,

right? If we're best friends."

"It's because you like boobies!" he laughs, shouting at her as if she's not right beside him.

"Ew, don't say boobies!" she shouts back.

And Steve laughs, because they've definitely had this conversation before. It feels familiar and normal, in a long string of things that have only felt really fucking weird. He realizes he's comfortable, for the first time in a while. He'd gotten a little comfortable in The Real World house, because he'd had Robin, and he'd gotten so close to Eddie.

But if he just lets his mind clear itself of all the noise, of all the weird fucking universe bullshit,

this right here

feels pretty goddamn normal.

"Boobies,"

he whispers under his breath, and she tackles him back onto the motel bed.

He wraps his arms around her, and she lets him. He holds her, for just a second, and then she curls into his side. He misses her, the real Robin, but this one feels an awful lot like her. Maybe it is. He hasn't been sure. He knows

he's

real. And he knows that Eddie eventually comes around and is real, but everyone else has kind of felt like set dressing. Background actors, just painted in to fill in the universe.

He hasn't been sure they are

really

them.

This?

This feels like Robin, not just a Robin shaped character in his ongoing time travel saga.

"So, what are we having at this dinner?" he asks, resting his hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know, any special requests?" Robin asks.

And Steve thinks. He's had a lot of meals at the Buckley's house, and he tries to think of what he misses the most. They aren't as well off as Steve's family, but they have a real house that feels lived in and cozy. He misses that.

"Your mom's fried chicken is always damn good," Steve settles on.

Robin smiles, "It is, isn't it?"

"Definitely."

Steve sits beside Robin at the dinner table and gives his best rendition of

meet the parents.

Which is kind of weird, since he already knows them pretty well. But it's not hard to convince them he knows Robin, because he does. He knows her better than anyone, maybe. He just has to remember to not say anything that's too grounded in the future, or lets on that he has known them longer than the hour he's been at the house.

They seem to like him, but that's normal. They like him back home, too. They don't quite believe that Robin and him are just friends, but they still like him, anyway. Steve wasn't sure what Robin's home life was like, during that summer at Scoops Ahoy. He just kind of figured she was on her own, too. Like him.

But she's not. Not at all.

Robin's mom is overly involved, and while Robin is very annoyed by it, she's definitely loved. There's no question about that. Her mom clearly wants the best for her, even that doesn't match up with what Robin wants for herself, and Steve wishes his mom thought about him half that much. His mom isn't a bad mom, not really. She's just a little checked out. He understands that.

They had him late, after years of trying. And he thinks, maybe, his mom just wanted the idea of a kid more than she actually wanted one. She wanted what she couldn't have, and once she got it, she realized it wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

He knows it's not about him. It took a long while to come to that conclusion, but once he did, he felt freer. Lighter.

It helps that he's got lots of great adults in his corner. Mrs. Buckley, Claudia, Joyce, Hopper and even, in a slightly uncomfortable fashion, Wayne Munson.

He's gotten to know Wayne a little, since Eddie died.

Mainly at first to just learn more about Eddie. But in the process, he learned more about Wayne. And Wayne started letting him in. Started talking to him, more and more. Realizing Steve wasn't going away easily.

They watch sports together, sometimes. And Wayne has said that's something Eddie had no interest in. Steve wasn't at all surprised by that piece of information. He didn't know a lot about Eddie Munson, but he knew that.

He saw how Eddie acted about Lucas' basketball game, and Steve was there to hear Lucas complaining about it. He wishes he knew Eddie better back then, so he could have harassed him for how he was putting his feelings about organized sports above Lucas' feelings about a game that was so important to him.

But Steve didn't know him. He was Eddie "The Freak" Munson, and Steve had no interest in engaging with him at all, let alone picking a fight with him. He just figured Lucas was better off without Eddie in attendance.

He quickly figured out that was wrong, that he was wrong, and then Eddie was gone and a basketball game didn't matter anymore to any of them. Eddie was dead, Max was battered and broken, fighting to stay alive, and Steve knows none of them, not even Lucas, thought about that game again while their world fell apart and then slowly tried to stitch itself back together.
Steve does have a regret about that game, one he can't shake, and it replays in his head all the time.
Wayne didn't know about the basketball game, the championship one, and Steve hates that he told him so offhandedly once. He just assumed he knew. But the face Wayne had made when he heard, left lasting damage on Steve. A guilt that settled into his chest. He didn't want Wayne to have any bad feelings towards Eddie. Especially not new ones, after Eddie was gone and couldn't defend himself. And Steve was the reason Wayne heard about something negative that didn't fucking matter. Not anymore.

And, the worst part is, Steve thinks Eddie would take it back, if he knew. If he'd known what would happen next. If he knew how their lives would all change that night. If he'd known how his friends would fight for him, with him, with everything they had.

Steve thinks, if Eddie had shown up that night at the basketball game, had just fucking postponed Hellfire like a reasonable human being, that Lucas would have chosen them. Wouldn't have chosen to run around with Jason Carver and his lackeys. 
That, maybe, things would have ended differently.
But Eddie didn't know. He was just being Eddie, and raging against conformity and jocks and sports. Steve knows that. He does. Lucas was just swept up in the riptide. Steve doesn't think Eddie even realized how hurtful he was being. At least, Steve hopes not. Steve's done a lot of stupid, hurtful shit, too. And he didn't mean to do a lot of it. But he's had the chance to grow, and apologize and shit.

Eddie never got that chance.

Steve just thinks, if they could do it all over again, that Eddie would have been right there on the bleachers next to him. Maybe not enjoying himself, but still there. Supporting one of his little sheepies. Even if he hated every second of it.

"Steve?" Robin says, and he looks up. He was a million miles away.

"Sorry," he says with a smile, "I guess I was daydreaming."

Everyone at the table laughs, and he smiles.

Steve's back on the bench, and it's been a fucking week and he's pretty sure Eddie isn't in Hawkins at this point. But he finally catches a glimpse of Gareth, hair buzzed off, slinking into the general store across the street. About fucking time.

When Gareth comes out, arms full, Steve follows him. Hanging back, keeping his distance.

And just as Steve expected, Gareth eventually leads him to Eddie. It's meandering, and he's definitely blundering across town, to throw anyone off his tail. But Steve keeps an eye on his car. Hanging back, but not letting him ever truly get out of his sight. And finally Gareth comes to a stop, right at the boathouse at Reefer Rick's on Lover's Lake, and Steve smiles.

At least this is familiar.

Gareth looks both ways, still doesn't see Steve somehow, and slides inside the barely cracked open door. Steve follows, and is immediately shoved against the wall.

Okay, so maybe Gareth did see him after all.

But it's Eddie, not Gareth, that has him pinned to the wall. It's familiar, because they've done this before, nearly identically. Steve's hand goes to Eddie’s waist automatically, pulling him towards him, which is a really stupid thing to do when a man has a sharp object pressed to your neck. Steve darts his eyes towards Eddie, trying to see him this up close. It's hard.

But Steve can see that his hair is buzzed off, too. These must be their brilliant disguises. Shaved heads.

"I’m cool, man, I’m cool," Steve says, trying to catch Eddie's eyes, but Eddie isn't looking into his eyes. Just at his face, in a general sort of way.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie asks, pushing the blade against Steve's throat, harder. It's a knife this time, not a broken bottle. Steve is concerned that Eddie might draw blood if presses it any further in. Steve swallows,

carefully,

not wanting to help the process along.

"I’m here to help, Eddie. I’m just here to help you," Steve says, trying to make him believe him. He's not sure he's going to be able to this time. Not without Dustin and Robin here to smooth things over. He should have waited for her to come with him, but he just didn't have the time. Couldn't risk losing sight of Gareth. Not now, not after waiting so long.

"You look like a fed," Eddie says, suspicious.

"Yeah, he definitely looks like a fed," Gareth echoes, and Steve cuts him a look. Leave it to Gareth to never help make a situation easier. Little dickhead.

Gareth did die trying to get Eddie warm, though, once upon a time, in that foxhole. So, Steve softens, looking at him. He is a little dickhead, but he's incredibly loyal to Eddie, that's for damn sure. And he loves Eddie, Steve knows that. Has known it, since he showed up at Steve's doorstep, looking for answers after spring break. Answers Steve couldn't really give him. But he was persistent, until Steve didn't have a choice but to tell him the truth. He wasn't going to let it go, otherwise.

And now Steve's been saddled with him, and his motormouth, and his constant stream of questions.

"I’m not a fed, not really. I just look like one. It’s a long story. But I’m not here to hurt you, or Gareth, I swear. Let go of me, and I’ll help. I swear, I’ll help you. I’m on your side."

Eddie doesn't seem convinced by his plea, not at all.

"I swear on Dustin's mother," Steve tries, and it's weird enough that Eddie lets up.

"Who's Dustin?" Eddie asks.

"A friend. You'll like him. I promise. Let me help you. Please, Eddie.

Please.

I've been looking for you for so long," Steve says, and ain't that the goddamn truth.

He doesn't know how long he's been unstuck in time. Bouncing around, back and forth, going to the past, to the future, anywhere but home. At least he's in Hawkins right now, somewhere familiar. He's been looking for Eddie for a long, long time. Decades, if you want to think about it, that way.

Steve doesn't. It hurts his head to try and figure out any sort of logical timeline to this predicament. It doesn't make sense, and he thinks maybe it never will and he'll just have to be okay with that.

"I'm friends with Robin! From band!" Steve finally shouts, trying anything,

anything

to get through to Eddie. To make him believe him.

Eddie relaxes, just a little.

"Robin Buckley?" Eddie asks, confused.

"Yes.

Best friends,"

Steve repeats, stressing that fact, hoping it will help his case.

"Why have you been looking for me?" Eddie asks, still on guard. Nervous. But not as much as he was. It's progress. Even if only one little baby step in the right direction.

Steve doesn't know what to say. Because we were friends, once, for like a week and now I might love you? That's crazy. He can't say that. That would be a worse idea than just admitting to being a fed that's looking for him for murder. At least that would be believable.

"Because I think you're being accused of something you didn't do.

Again,"

Steve says instead, and hopes that's enough.

It is, Steve thinks, because Eddie's demeanor changes in an instant. He sags, right there on his feet.

"I didn't," Eddie says quietly, looking down, "I'd never have hurt her. Never."

"I know," Steve says. "I know that, Eddie. I do. I promise. Just tell me what happened," Steve says, really softly, hoping to not spook him out of talking.

Eddie looks at Gareth, and then back at Steve.

"I came home, and she was just dead," Eddie says, "I didn't even know she was going to be there. She wasn't supposed to be there."

"Your girlfriend?" Steve asks, can't help himself. He wants to know, needs to.

"No, no, she was my friend. My best friend. Since we were kids. She was leaving her husband, he was hurting her."

"I'm sorry. Jason Carver?" Steve asks, gently.

Eddie nods, "She was almost free, and then…and then," Eddie says, eyes filling with tears, "he…wouldn't allow that, and…"

Eddie trails off, and then wipes at his face, trying hard to compose himself.

Steve can't imagine. Finding Robin dead. He'd never recover.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and then starts talking again.

"But he has money, and connections, and I came home to her dead in my living room," Eddie says, and the tears finally spill over, and roll down his cheeks. Steve wants to brush them away with his thumbs, wants to hold Eddie, wants to tell him it's okay. Tell him that this will all go away, and soon. But he knows that's not the thing to do right now.

But Eddie is looking at him expectantly. "It had to be him, right?"

Steve doesn't know, has no idea, not really. Maybe Vecna exists in this universe, and man, he sure fucking hopes not. But he just nods. It doesn't matter, not really. This world will dissolve, and all this will just fade away. And somewhere, out there, Chrissy Cunningham will be alive again. Just like Eddie.

"I didn't hurt her. I didn't," Eddie says, again. And again.

Gareth takes a step closer to Eddie, and Steve automatically takes a step back, to let him. Gareth hugs Eddie, and Eddie leans into him, and Steve feels jealous. It's stupid, and irrational. But he does. He wants to be the one to hold Eddie, to comfort him, but that's not his place, not here.

Not back home either.

He didn't know him, not really, beyond those few days over spring break. This whole thing is crazy. Robin was right. His obsession with Eddie has gotten out of hand, and now he thinks he's traveling through time just to see him again.

None of this makes sense. It can't be happening.

But it

feels

like it's happening.

So, Steve doesn't know what to think. What to believe. Not anymore. Nothing is rational right now.

"I didn't hurt her," Eddie says again, and Gareth is telling him that they know that. Eddie Munson has been said to be a lot of things, but a monster he is not. Steve is absolutely certain he's soft on the inside. He's never heard otherwise. Not from Gareth. Not from Dustin. And especially not from Wayne.

Wayne's told him all kinds of stories about Eddie as a kid, and Steve has relished getting to know him, piece by piece. Crumb by crumb. Because he was sure that was all he was ever gonna get. Stories about a boy, a man, with a tender heart that had suffered by being dealt a hard hand in life, and then that hard life was cut way too short.

Steve feels like he needs to tell him that, too.

"I know you didn't. I know that's not in your nature," Steve says, reassuring him one more time, with the words that Wayne has said so many times about Eddie.

It's not in his nature.

"I ran. That's what I do. I run. And now I'm wanted for murder, and I didn't know where to go, so I came home. To Wayne. And I can't even be with him without getting him in trouble."

Steve nods. He understands that.

"I'm wanted for interstate flight, and I've never even been on a plane," Eddie says, spiraling a bit, rambling.

"I don't," Gareth starts, and then takes a second to finish his thought, "Eddie, I don't think that means just by air. That's just running. Crossing any state lines to not get arrested, I think. Fleeing."

How the fuck does Gareth know that? Steve has no idea if that's true or not, but it sounds true, so he just nods. Agreeing with Gareth's assessment of the situation. Eddie did flee.

Eddie seems to agree.

"Oh. Well, I did do that. I ran. Because I don't want to go to the electric chair. Not for this. Because I didn't do this," Eddie says, looking at Steve. "I didn't."

"I know you didn't. And you won't go to the electric chair. I promise," Steve says.

And he means that. Steve would do anything,

anything,

at this point to save Eddie. They'll come up with a plan to get him out of this town, or they'll just wait it out. Then they'll snap over to a new reality and have to deal with whatever tragedy has befallen them there.

Steve's getting tired. Really, really tired.

Steve has a plan. A stupid plan. He pulls up in front of Wayne Munson's house, blue and red lights flashing. Making a scene.

And he strides up the sidewalk, and when Wayne answers the door, he very publicly arrests him. Places him in handcuffs, and puts him in the back of his car.

They pull away from the curb, and Steve meets his eyes in the rearview mirror.

"I know you're confused, and pissed off. Understandable. But you're not under arrest. Not really-"

"Then why in the hell am I in handcuffs?" Wayne drawls.

Steve smiles, then tries to bite it back, "I'm sorry, Wayne. I am. But I'm taking you to Eddie, I just needed to pick you up in a way that wouldn't look suspicious."

"Arresting me isn't suspicious?"

"Less so than just waltzing up, and driving off with you, I think."

"And why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't. But you will, because you love him, and want to know he's okay."

"Ed," Wayne says, and Eddie falls apart. It breaks Steve's heart, but he's glad he risked it. Glad he went and brought Wayne in, despite the risk. Eddie needed it, if only for a few minutes.

Steve drops Wayne back off at his front door, and waves to a neighbor that is looking, intently.

"Did you…did you get that boy?"

"No, we just had a few more questions for Mr. Munson. He doesn't know where his nephew is, don't worry. We don't think he's here in Hawkins," Steve lies, and the lady visibly relaxes.

"I can't believe I lived next to a monster all those years," she says, and Steve needs to go before he loses his cool.

They work on a plan together, and they all decide the best idea is to get the fuck out of Hawkins as fast as they can. Steve agrees, because the FBI has the town on their radar for Eddie, and when Steve doesn't check in, doesn't turn up with or without him. Well. All hell is gonna break loose. Steve's sure of that.

He digs in his wallet, looking for a card for Hopper. Maybe he can make a call. Throw him off their scent, just for a while. Point him in the wrong direction.

And he does just that. Calls from his motel room, while Eddie and Gareth stand at the edge of the bed.

When he hangs up, he feels a little guilty. Once he figures it out, Hopper will be so fucking mad.

Robin is pacing nervously.

"Can I go with you?" she asks, looking at Steve.

"No, no, I want you to stay here. Where you'll be safe, okay?" Steve says, and Robin nods, reluctantly.

She wraps her arms around his neck, tugging him down to her level so she can whisper in his ear, "I'll see you in the next one."

He squeezes her back, and really, really hopes that's true.

"You tell me. You always tell me, okay? And I'll always believe you."

"Okay," he says, and holds her just a second longer before letting her go.

He watches her gather up all her stuff, and then she's gone. Just the three of them remain, and they need to leave.

"Let me get you out of here," Steve says to Eddie, reaching for his arm.

Gareth makes a noise of protest.

"You know you can come, too," Steve reminds him, rolling his eyes. Gareth was there while they were making the damn plan, so his reaction must have been kneejerk, "But we need to disappear. Out of this town. Before a real fed shows up once they realize I haven't gone in the direction I said I was going."

They both nod, and get into the back of his government issued car. He feels like a taxi cab driver, or a chauffeur.

"One of you could sit in the front," Steve says, hoping for Eddie, but willing to accept Gareth.

"We're good," Gareth says, and Steve nods.

He drives them out of town, and keeps going. They hunker down whenever he needs to stop for gas, and he brings them food to eat in the car. He listens to them talk to each other, mainly like he isn't even there. That's okay. He gets it. He's just some stranger that they've chosen to trust. He's not their friend. Not really.

They just drive as far as they can go, together.

For days.

Steve rents roadside motel rooms, and sneaks them in, after. And he watches as Eddie crawls in bed with Gareth, and tries not to feel jealous. Gareth is Eddie's version of Robin. And if Steve had been basically snatched up by a stranger, but with Robin in tow, he'd be right next to her, too. So he doesn't blame Eddie, not at all.

But he can help the fact that he wants to hold Eddie, to be the one to comfort him.

Instead, he keeps his distance. Just happy that he's in the same room, the same car, as Eddie. That's enough. It has to be. At least he knows he's safe for the time being.

Eddie is asleep, and Gareth comes over and sits next to Steve on his bed, and digs out his wallet. He pulls out a picture and hands it to Steve, it's of a baby in a very frilly dress.

"This is my girl," Gareth says, and it's so reminiscent of the foxhole, that Steve suddenly feels cold.

"She's beautiful," Steve says, and Gareth nods.

"I want to go home. But I had to help Eddie, I had to. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if he'd gone to the chair innocent, while I stayed home and did nothing," Gareth says, soft and low.

Steve pats him on the knee.

"But I want to go home. To my family, and I think maybe, now, I can't."

"You'll go home. I promise," Steve says, because there's no harm in lying right now. It won't matter in the big picture, but it

will

matter to Gareth right now.

"How?" Gareth asks, holding the picture with both of his hands, staring at it.

"I'll make sure you're cleared, don't worry," Steve promises.

"You think you can do that?" Gareth asks.

"Oh, yeah, definitely."

"She's gotten older, now. Over a year. Her birthday was last week. And I don't even know what she looks like, I've missed it," Gareth says. "My wife probably hates me."

"She doesn't. You did what you had to do. You made a hard decision, but the right one, and they'll be waiting for you when you get home. I just know it," Steve says because there's no reason not to. It won't matter long-term, probably. He can tell him everything will be okay. He can let him hope for the best.
One of them deserves to.

Eddie and Gareth argue over what to watch on the motel room television, and Steve rolls over away from them in his own bed, and smiles. If he listens to them argue, it's almost like he's at home. Not that he knew Gareth and Eddie at the same time, but it's just familiar. It sounds like arguments he'd hear with Dustin or Mike. It's just idle chatter, and Steve falls asleep listening to them banter with each other.

In the morning, the TV is still on, and it's a morning news story about Eddie. Shit. They've got to move, again. Gareth has his arm slung over Eddie's side, and Steve turns off the TV and shakes them both awake. Eddie doesn't need to hear the anchors talking about him like he's a murderer. He's doesn't need to relive what happened to Chrissy. Not again. He got to experience all that in Hawkins, and he doesn't need to do it again, here.

Steve decides to bring back food for breakfast from the diner across the highway, and they all eat it, quietly. Steve's really never seen Eddie or Gareth be this quiet. Not in all the time that he's known either of them. Both of them like to talk.

A lot.

He supposes this isn't really a fun time for either of them. Being wanted for crimes you didn't commit.

Well, Gareth committed his. He's definitely aiding and abetting Eddie. But for good reason, so Steve thinks it should be forgiven.

Mainly because he's pretty sure he's racking up some felonies himself right now, for the greater good. But still.

Steve sits outside of the motel room, two states away from the last, and smokes a cigarette. Eddie peeks his head out of the door, and then comes to sit next to him. Steve hands him the lit cigarette, and Eddie takes a long drag.

"Thanks," he finally says, trying to hand it back. "I needed that."

Steve nods for him to keep it.

"So," Eddie says, nudging his knee against Steve's, "I had this dream last night. You and me. And we knew each other before."

Steve smiles.

"Before, or after, depending on how you look at it," Steve says, not even trying to lie. Not if Eddie is even vaguely aware of the truth, finally.

Eddie laughs, "Is it…was it, real? What I saw."

"Yeah," Steve says, "it was probably real."

"What does that mean?" Eddie asks, running his hand over his non-existent hair. Steve misses his hair, it was such a part of him. And he sheared it all off, because someone wanted him to pay for a crime he didn't commit. The constant scapegoat.

Steve hates it.

But Steve doesn't know what it means, not really. Not without telling the truth. So he does. What else does he have to lose at this point?

"I'm unstuck in time. Bouncing all around, and somehow I've dragged you with me." Steve tells him, glancing over to try and gauge his reaction.

"Seriously?" Eddie asks.

"Seriously," Steve confirms.

"How? Why?" Eddie wants to know.

"How? I have no fucking clue. I didn't mean to do this, it just happened. Why? Because I wanted you back, I think. You died. In my real world. You died on my watch, and I wanted to fix that. I wished I could change things, and now, maybe I'm getting that chance? I'm not sure."

"Oh," Eddie says, softly.

"I want to go home, but I'm scared that if I do, I'll never see you again. That maybe this is all in my head. One big, long, fever dream. Or, it's real, and this is all I'll get."

Eddie nods.

"It feels real, though, It always feels so real," Steve says, wrapping his arms around his knees and hugging, comforting himself, just a little.

"Yeah, it does," Eddie says, and Steve rests his head on his arms, turning to look at him.

"You remember, now?" Steve asks him, softly. Hopeful.

"Kinda. Were we running from The Beatles?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, leaning into Eddie's side. The fact that he knows who The Beatles are is a dead giveaway that he's at least getting on the same page as Steve.

"Running

towards

The Beatles, not from them," Steve assures, sitting upright again, laughing at the idea, because that would have been much more interesting. Fleeing with Lennon and McCartney in hot pursuit, George right behind them in his green pants, and Ringo giving chase with his drumsticks raised as weapons. It's a hilarious mental image.

"It's kind of muddled. I keep getting flashes that don't line up with one place, or time. It's a little fuzzy, confusing," Eddie admits.

"Yeah, that happens," Steve reassures him. "It might clear up for you soon. Where else have you been?"

Steve wants to know, but Eddie seems unsure and unwilling to guess.

They sit there in the quiet for a minute, and then Eddie reaches down and takes Steve's hand into his own. Steve's heart thuds in his chest, but Steve squeezes back and never wants to let go.

"Thanks for coming to look for me, I definitely needed the help," Eddie says, looking over at him. Those big, brown eyes, boring right into Steve.

Robin was right. They are doe eyes.

"Always," Steve answers, and he wants to lean in, wants to kiss him. Almost does it, but the door behind them opens.

"Get in here before someone sees you, asshole," Gareth hisses at Eddie, and Eddie gets up and follows Gareth back into the motel room. Leaving Steve sitting there on the curb, unsure of where they need to go next to keep Eddie safe. Because he doesn't know this decade, this world, so he's flying a little blind.

Maybe he needs to get them on the road again. Maybe they need to stay put. He doesn't know. He thinks, maybe, he should try to develop a plan with Gareth. At least Gareth is familiar with this decade.

That night, Eddie crawls into bed with Steve, and rests his head on Steve's chest.

"This okay?" Eddie asks, in the quiet of the room. The television isn't on, isn't blaring, for once.

"Yes, of course," Steve answers, wrapping his arm around Eddie, pulling him closer.

"Well, you two fucking in the bed next to me is not okay with me, so…

don't,"

Gareth says, dryly.

Steve laughs. That wasn't on his list of things he'd like to do in his lifetime either, so he thinks he'll be able to restrain himself.

"What happens next?" Eddie asks, and Steve really, really doesn't know. He wishes he did.

A firefight, that's what happens next, apparently.

When they try to leave the next morning, they're surrounded. Steve is mad that Hopper has found him, found them, and apparently has called in the dogs without even giving him a chance to explain himself. Not that he thinks he'd be able to, not at all. But he would have appreciated the opportunity to at least

try.

Steve shoves Eddie and Gareth both into the backseat of the car, screaming at them to get down on the floor.

They do, and Steve swings open the driver's side door, and ducks behind it, gun in hand. He's wanted now, too. For harboring two fugitives, and yes, he supposes, for interstate flight. He doesn't want to have a shootout with Hopper. He really doesn't. But Eddie is laying on the floorboard of the car, Gareth on top of him, and Hopper is forcing his fucking hand.

He's going to protect him, he will. He promised them he would, so at least he'll go out trying to do just that.

"Hop! You've got this one wrong!" Steve screams, both hands gripping his service weapon. He's not good with guns. Nancy is good with guns. He's better with a blunt object, like his bat. He wishes he had his bat, instead. He'd feel safer, more secure.

Not that he'd be able to take on this team of heavily armed officers with his bat. He knows that. But at least he'd feel more like himself.

"Harrington! What in god's name do you think you're doing?" Hopper yells over a bullhorn, and Steve just stays crouched.

"The right thing!" Steve screams back, "Eddie Munson is innocent!"

Hopper isn't listening, and Steve's sure he doesn't believe him. Not at all. Steve knows that. They're surrounded. He knows they are. And he's not sure how he's going to get them all out of this, all alive. He needs to keep Eddie safe, keep Gareth safe, and Hopper is making that really fucking hard.

He doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know how to evade this trap they've set. He's not sure he can.

Hopper yells at him again, and Steve makes a decision.

Steve pops up and fires a shot towards the sound, and three more are returned in his direction. Okay, okay. He has an idea of where they are now. He doesn't think he can crawl in the car and get them away. He doesn't think that's possible. Not really. They're trapped. Sitting ducks.

And he's right.

Just as he's contemplating how bad of an idea it actually is, the tire in front of his feet is shot out, air leaking, going flat. Motherfucker.

They aren't getting away, there'll be no running. They're gonna die here, in a bullet-riddled car, like some sort of fucked up Bonnie and Clyde and Gareth. So, he's just gotta keep them at bay until the world shifts, pops, and finally fucking changes. Until they can fly away from here. Land somewhere new. A little interstate flight would be great right now.

Hopper is coming towards him, towards Eddie. Steve can see his feet moving in the dirt, and Steve abruptly stands, gun raised, and fires.

And he doesn't get to see if he hits his target, if he has hit Hopper, because the world has shattered all around him.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

i read the news today, oh boy
A Day in the Life, The Beatles

2001

Steve pops into a new reality, and finds himself on an airplane. Okay, this again. But he's in a first class seat, not a military plane. Thank god. He doesn't want to fuck around with any more war. He's had plenty of that, thanks.

He laughs to himself, he had wished for a little interstate flight, and apparently he's gotten it.

There's lots of murmuring going on around him, and the cabin is thick with a tension he doesn't quite understand. So, he tries to listen in, then finally just asks when he gets too curious to wait any longer for the trickle of information.

"I was asleep. What's going on?" Steve asks the person sitting next to him.

"We don't really know," the lady says, looking around the cabin, then back at him, "but we're getting redirected to Canada. The captain came on the intercom and said that the airspace over the U.S. is closed to

all

air traffic. Everything. So they can't get us home. Not right now."

That's weird.

"That's weird," he says out loud and she nods.

"What do you think caused that?" he asks, and she just shrugs. She doesn't know any more than he does, it seems. He's out of the loop, but so is she. That's a nice change of pace.

It better not be fucking Vecna. That's the only thing he's ever seen powerful enough to cause that kind of disturbance, and he's decidedly not in the mood for that. Not again. Not without everyone else to help.

They land without issue, and looking out the window, Steve can see planes all over the tarmac. Dozens of them. On their plane, everybody is standing in their seats, antsy to get off the aircraft, but that isn't happening. The crew informs them, with regret, that they can't disembark, not yet.

Everyone is talking over each other, getting louder and louder, wanting to know more, and Steve isn't sure the pilot

knows

more. He just promises to keep them updated when he has more information.

It doesn't do a whole lot to appease them, but Steve expected it might take ten minutes, or half an hour to sort this issue out, but no, they are held on the plane for hours, unable to get off. They have been told there was a terrorist attack in New York City, and planes were involved.

Steve doesn't really understand what that means. Can't fathom it. But information is scant, and he thinks he'll have to wait until later to actually hear anything in detail.

People pace up and down the aisles, stretching, working off their nervous energy, and after enough time has passed that they think they might never get off this plane again, they finally break out all the tiny bottles of liquor they can find. The flight attendants are emptying their carts, passing them out to anyone that wants them, by the handful.

It's hot, and stuffy, and is starting to stink of all the sweat of this many trapped people. Steve's stripped down to his undershirt, his dress shirt and suit jacket, tossed aside.

The crew is doing anything they can to keep them happy, and on the plane that they are confined to at the moment. The smokers are starting to freak out, and Steve thinks of Eddie. Eddie would probably be itching for a cigarette if he was here, too.

He's not. Steve's checked. He's walked up and down the aisles, several times, just looking at everybody. Hoping to find a familiar face in the crowd. If not Eddie, Robin. Nancy. Jonathan. Gareth. Anybody he knows.

But it's just him, all alone, this time. 
He checks all his pockets. He has his ticket. His wallet, and apparently he lives in New York in this universe. His business card reads: Harrington & Son Financial. 
There's a phone in his pocket. That's pretty wild. And he's watched several people around him flip theirs open, and try, repeatedly, to make calls. None of them seem to be going through, though.

He looks at the buttons, and it looks like a phone. His dad has a car phone for business, but maybe by now they are no longer just in the car? That's crazy. He bets Henderson loves this. It's like a better version of the walkies.

Steve looks at the tiny little screen, tries to flip through the menu, and finds the directory. It's not very intuitive to him, but he squints at the little buttons, and eventually follows the instructions well enough to find a number for Robin. He tries to call her. And like everyone else, his call doesn't go through.

At least he has a number for her. At least she's in his life, here, somewhere.

He looks at the date on his phone, and sees that it's 2001. And he's on a plane, and on a Space Odyssey, he supposes. This is the furthest into the future he's been so far, and he wonders how far he might go in the future if this keeps happening to him much longer.

Other passengers have broken out big bottles of liquor they bought at the duty-free shop in the airport before boarding. They are being passed around, drinks being made with the cans of pop, the juices. Someone hands Steve a plastic cup with what he assumes is a screwdriver, and he nods in thanks, as he takes a big gulp.

It's strong, more vodka than orange juice, he's pretty damn sure, despite the color. He drinks it, though, even if he's really more of a beer guy. He misses that time,

before.

Before everything. Sitting by his pool, drinking with his friends, trying to impress the girl he

really

liked.

Before he knew the world was soured beneath their feet, before he knew monsters were real. When all his time was spent partying, showing off for girls, like Nancy. Shotgunning a beer, poolside.

Before Barb was snatched and killed right from his backyard.
Before Eddie was killed right under their feet.Sometimes, back home, he would go and stand in the spot where Eddie died. Where they left him, just on the other side of the ground. That's how he connected with Wayne. Wayne had been trying to clean up the mess that was the trailer, split in half, and crumbling. Finally released by the government for him to take possession of, briefly, before being hauled away.
And he'd seen Steve out there, and finally came to ask just what in the hell he was doing, laying on the ground in the trailer park.

Steve couldn't answer. Not really. Not with any sort of truth, so he didn't even try. He'd just gotten up, and offered to help Wayne clean up. And Wayne shrugged, noncommittal to the idea, so Steve had just dove in. The living room was basically destroyed, but Eddie's room was still intact at the back of the trailer.

And that's how he got to know even more about Eddie Munson, after he was gone. He helped pack his room, piece by piece into boxes to be hauled to Wayne's new house. Eddie was gone, and Dustin had made sure Wayne didn't think he was coming back. But Wayne was taking all Eddie's stuff to his new home, anyway.

Steve liked that.

And Steve packed everything that he thought Eddie might not want Wayne to see. He'd want one of his friends to do that for him, if something happened to him. Robin would. He knows she would. Even if she cursed him to hell the entire time she was subjected to his filth. He smiles, imagining her picking up Playboys by the corner, two fingers holding them over the trash, like they were toxic. Or maybe she'd stuff them deep into her own bag, keeping them for her own eyes, the weirdest hand-me-downs in the world.

So, Steve had packed away condoms, and more than one pair of handcuffs. Not to mention a tube of K-Y that had been squeezed from the middle, like Eddie was a goddamn animal. Some weed, papers, and one little baggie of white powder that Steve was unsure of the contents. And skin mags. Of girls. Which kind of took the wind out of Steve's sails. But he realized his bedside table would look very similar, well, no handcuffs, but pictures of naked girls wouldn't be the whole truth for him.

Maybe it wouldn't have been for Eddie, either.

It didn't matter anyway. Eddie was gone, and he'd never be able to find out if they were actually flirting with each other, or if Eddie was just making fun of him.

And then he'd found the magazine of men, stuffed deep under his mattress, well-worn and handled. And Steve slid it into his backpack with the rest of the stuff that he was sure Eddie probably wouldn't want Wayne to decide to go through one day.

The flight crew comes back into the cabin, and pulls his attention back to the world at hand. He doesn't really want to go back to that world, though. He wants to go back to his own time, monsters or not. He wants to be with Robin, with Eddie, with Dustin. With all of his friends that he'd have never made, if it wasn't for the awful thing brewing beneath their feet.

It was a trade-off. And one he's pretty sure he'd make, again and again.

If he can save Eddie, at least. If he can do that, he'd deal with all the monsters in the world.

If this delay goes on much longer, the entire plane is gonna be shitfaced when they stumble off the plane and into the Canadian airport. Day has turned into night, and they're still stuck, waiting. They're processing the planes in the order that they landed, and Steve's plane is nearly smack-dab in the middle of the pack.

That's better than being last, he guesses.

They've brought sack lunches to the plane, and nicotine patches, which Steve is curious about. Nicotine he can absorb through his skin? He kind of wants to try one, even if he's pretty much a non-smoker at this point because of Robin. Even his social smoking has dwindled into nothingness, since no one else in his social circle these days smokes. He thinks if Eddie had lived, they'd have shared cigarettes, hidden away from Robin. Stolen moments, just the two of them. He wants that. And no nicotine patch is going to replace that, so he doesn't take one. Lets the passengers that really need them, use them.
They drop off bottles upon bottles of water, which are a brand Steve's never seen before. His mom always stocked Perrier in their fridge at home, but this isn't that. He puts it down, and heads back to the bathroom.
Steve feels in limbo. He can't look for Eddie, he can't do anything here, just stuck sitting on a plane on a runway. Repeating who he is, over and over again, as they are scrutinizing every passenger. Steve has taken out his driver's license in the bathroom more than once to try to memorize it. His date of birth is the same, just a different year. He was born ten years later, and that's easy enough to remember. But his address is harder.

Back in the bathroom, he looks at his business card in his wallet again, and tries to memorize enough to help him keep his story straight. This might have been easier before all the mixed drinks.

Back in his seat, he leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes. It's been a day, that's for sure, and he's not sure when it's gonna end.

When they finally let them off the plane, he can only bring his carry on. All the checked baggage is staying under the plane. That's okay, he guesses. He didn't pack his checked bag, so it's not like he's really missing anything. He's gotten used to showing up somewhere with only the clothes on his back, at this point. He'll roll with it. He has so far.

He's frisked, he's sent through a metal detector and then he's wanded down. His passport is checked and rechecked, before he's finally allowed to get on a school bus, where he just sits down and waits as friendly strangers make sure he has everything he needs.

Looking into the brown paper bag he was handed, Steve reaches in to retrieve the sandwich. He's hungry, and he didn't realize how much, until right now.

So, he eats and looks out the window. He doesn't know where he's going, but he'll figure it out when he gets there, he supposes.

They take them to a makeshift refugee center in a Knights of Columbus Hall. It's a very familiar scene, a lot like the one he volunteered at in Hawkins, at the school, after the

earthquake.

Only this time, Steve's on the other side. The one in need of help, instead of a helper.

He wishes Robin was here, but that's not unusual. He's wished for that a lot during this weird fucking thing that's been happening to him. He wonders how long he's been unstuck now, in real time. If he's missing, or if there's another version of him just going through the motions of life, totally unaware, back home.

Maybe time froze, and this is all happening in an instant, between one breath and the next.

Or if this is all just one very detailed dream, and he's going to wake up, still laying on the trunk of his car, under the stars. With Eddie still gone. Nothing changed, not really. He's not sure he'll be able to handle that, if that's the case. Not after getting to spend all this time with Eddie, in all these different ways, for it to be ripped away from him again, without any hope of getting him back.

He feels sick with worry over the idea that maybe this…this thing that is happening to him isn't a way to get Eddie back at all. That it's just a dream he's stuck in right now. A wish that his heart has made, that can't even happen, not really.

Eddie died.

Steve knows the world is weird, and way, way more complicated than he'd ever realized. He's known that from the second he picked up a baseball bat with nails driven through it by Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler. So, maybe. Maybe this is a thing that is really happening.

He sure fucking hopes so.

And he hopes he sees Eddie soon. Maybe he was on one of the other planes that were forced to land here. There were tons of them parked at this little airport. Maybe thirty or forty or fifty, if Steve had to hazard a guess.

It's crowded in the building, and they are passing out supplies to everyone. Blankets, clothes, toiletries, more food. Anything you might need, they probably have ready to go. Steve takes his pile with a smile and a thank you.

Lots of people are upset, but Steve's used to rolling with the weirdness at this point. He's got the upper hand, he supposes. Steve searches the crowd hoping to spot Eddie. Surely he's here somewhere. But he doesn't see him anywhere.

Steve's sitting on a little ledge, a concrete divider leading to a set of double doors, eating a piece of chicken. Somebody had brought over a bunch of food from not only Kentucky Fried Chicken, but a bunch of sandwiches from Subway, and a whole table full of pizzas. Not to mention all the homemade sandwiches. 
It's quite the buffet. Hundreds, if not thousands, of trapped passengers standing in line, being served up food by the locals who seem ready to help.
By the time Steve got here, got processed by the Red Cross, the place was full of supplies and food, ready to go. Steve takes another bite, trying not to make a mess on the floor below his feet, when Eddie walks up and hands him a can of Coke and a bag of chips. Steve grins up at him.

"Thank you," he says, and scoots over, making room if Eddie wants to sit down beside him.

For some reason, Eddie takes him up on his offer, and perches himself on the concrete divider as well. Folding his hands in his lap, like he's nervous. Or shy.

"You doing okay? Got everything you need?" Eddie asks, looking towards Steve, through his curtain of hair.

"Yes. Thank you," Steve says, holding the can up in thanks. "I'm Steve, by the way."

"Eddie," Eddie says back, and Eddie's worrying his hands in front of him, with an excess of nervous energy.

"There are lots of people here," Steve says, stilted, trying to think of something to say to make any sort of conversation so Eddie won't go, won't move onto the next stranded passenger.

"Yeah. You plane people have basically doubled our town's population in just a few hours," Eddie says, and Steve knows his eyes have gotten wide. "We're struggling to find places to put them all."

"Wow. That's a lot of people to try and house on the fly," Steve says. He didn't realize this town was that small.

Eddie nods.

The cots here were already full and claimed by the time Steve's plane was evacuated on the tarmac, and then bussed over. That's okay, Steve's learned to sleep anywhere. Sitting up, maybe even standing. He's not picky at this point.

"Yeah, this place is already full. They're trying to find other places to put you all, the school filled up faster than they'd anticipated," Eddie says, and Steve nods. "Where was your plane coming from?"

Steve tells him Europe. As far as Steve has heard, all these planes were en route to the United States from Europe. He's heard that the ones from Asia landed on the other side of Canada, in Vancouver. The ones that had enough fuel, and weren't beyond the point of no return, were just turned around to their departing airport, or somewhere close.

"Were you there for work?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods. He has no idea if that's true, but he's in a suit and had a briefcase with him on the plane, so that is his best guess. He supposes he should have dug through it, to see if he could figure out what he was doing, exactly. It just didn't matter.

Finding Eddie, that's what mattered. The rest has always just been window dressings.

"Yeah, I'm in the family business, I guess you could say," Steve offers.

"Same," Eddie says, "as my Uncle, that is. He got me a job when I moved up here to live with him."

"What do you do?" Steve asks, actually curious.

"Aircraft maintenance," Eddie says, with a grin.

"Well, today's your lucky day. I think there's about fifty new planes for you to service."

That sounds dirtier than Steve intended it to, so he laughs. 
Eddie grins, "Thirty-eight. But that's still a lot of servicing to be doing all at once." 
Steve laughs, really laughs, even on this rough, weird, sad day.

"Gander used to be a major layover hub for international flights. It's the first North American airport on the transatlantic route. That means it was a regular stop before the jet-engine was invented and made it obsolete. No need to stop. But, this is actually where The Beatles first set foot in North America."

Steve grins, wide, "Really? The Beatles?"

"Yep," Eddie confirms.

Steve wants to say,

"Hey, I saw The Beatles on the rooftop,"

but knows he can't without sounding crazy, so he just smiles to himself at the idea of it.

"Is that why you think we landed here? It was the first stop?"

"Yeah, for sure. We've got a long runway, and they had to have wanted those planes on the ground before anything else could happen, I'd wager. And we're less populated, in case, you know…" Eddie trails off, "more issues, I suppose."

"What did happen?" Steve asks, because he's only gotten vague answers.

Eddie seems to think for a minute, then says, "I have a spare room, if you want to come watch the news and see for yourself, then have a bed to sleep in tonight. And a landline to call home. I know the cell service is pretty spotty right now, if you want to check-in. With your wife, or parents, or…" Eddie says trailing off, and Steve nods, hard.

"No wife," Steve says, "but I'm sure my best friend is freaking out. If I could call her, that'd be great."

"Absolutely," Eddie says, and going home with Eddie sounds perfect, so he follows Eddie out of the Knights of Columbus hall.

They get into Eddie's pickup, and Steve looks at his watch. Then the clock on the dash. And back at his watch.

"Is that right?" Steve asks.

"Close enough, I figure," Eddie answers.

"My watch battery must be going bad," Steve says, and Eddie laughs.

"Your watch is just fine," Eddie says, then looks over at him and smiles, "you see, Newfoundland has its own time zone. We're an hour and a half ahead of the eastern time zone."

Steve looks at him like he's lying, "You're pulling my leg."

"Nope," Eddie assures, and gives him a smile, "check your watch. That's right, isn't it?"

And Steve looks, and sure enough, that is how far off it is, "Why a half-hour, though? That's a little weird."

"Well, as they say, the world will end at midnight; twelve-thirty in Newfoundland," Eddie says, and then looks embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. About the world ending."

Oh. Of course.

"It's fine, Eddie. Honest. That's funny."

"They use it to their advantage, let me tell you. NTV likes to brag that they are airing

world premieres

of tv shows because they get to go first. Not to mention the bragging the Newfies did that they got their hands on the latest Harry Potter book first during the midnight release."

"What's Harry Potter?" Steve asks, and Eddie gives him a double-take.

"They lock you up in that office of yours?"

Steve laughs, "Maybe."

"It's a book series for kids. A movie for it is coming out soon, and I didn't think there was a soul on earth that hadn't heard of Harry Potter."

Steve shrugs, because he can't very well tell the truth.
"Are you excited for this Harry Potter movie?" Steve asks.Eddie laughs, "No, all my energy is going towards preparing my body for the release of Fellowship of the Ring."That tickles something in Steve's brain."The Shire is burning, so Mordor it is," Steve says, repeating Eddie's own words back to him.Eddie laughs, really laughs, head tilted back, and it's a gorgeous sound to Steve's ears, "Return of the King. But yes. You like Lord of the Rings, too?""I've read them," Steve says, which isn't a lie. He actually read Eddie's well-worn and dog-eared copies after he'd helped Wayne clean out the trailer. Steve asked to borrow them, Wayne reluctantly said yes, and then helped him borrow them in the right order. They were okay, but he thinks he enjoyed reading Eddie's sloppy notes scrawled in the margins more than the actual books, though he's glad he got to read this series that Eddie loved. Wayne had put up a little bookshelf in his new house full of books that Eddie had loved, and Steve had slowly been making his way through them. Asking Wayne questions, but Wayne never really offered up much, as this little library he'd created was used by Steve over the last year."If you come back to Newfoundland, you could see Fellowship earlier than you would at home, during the midnight release," Eddie offers, and Steve wishes he could do exactly that."Count me in," Steve says, smiling back at him. There's no reason he can't pretend that will happen.
And Eddie smiles back as he drives them, and Steve quickly realizes that it's not that far to his house. But Steve is pretty sure the whole town isn't that far away from anything else in town. It seems small. Really small. Like Hawkins small, or smaller, maybe.

He likes Eddie. He always likes Eddie, that's a constant truth. It doesn't matter what circumstance he finds himself in, he likes Eddie. He wants to spend time with him, and get to know him better.

Sure, he'd rather be getting to know Eddie back home, but all these other versions? They'll do.

Eddie pulls in the driveway, and kills the motor.

"We don't have a computer, but I heard they're setting them up at the school. So, if you need to send an email for work or anything, I can swing you by there tomorrow," Eddie says, and Steve only understands every fifth word of that sentence.

He knows what a computer is, but what the fuck is an email?

Seriously, where's Henderson when you need him?

"I'm good, but thanks," he settles on, and Eddie nods, accepting that at face value, thank fuck.

Once they get inside, Steve stands in the living room, staring up at the ball caps and mugs that line the walls. It squeezes his heart in the best way.

Eddie laughs, "My uncle's stuff. He lives here, too. But we have an extra bedroom. Wayne works long hours, so it's just us tonight, but the room is yours if you want it."

"I want it. Thank you for offering, Eddie," Steve says softly. "I really appreciate it. Your whole town has been so nice."

"Eh, we're Canadian. I mean, I'm not. Not really, and neither is Wayne, but they've definitely adopted us as their own," Eddie says, opening the door to the room for him. "And we're all happy to do the same for you."

Steve definitely wants to be taken in by Eddie, to be cared about, so he follows behind as Eddie gives him the tour of the house. It's a nice place, and feels like a home that Eddie and Wayne would live in.

Eddie keeps talking as he walks, "The bathroom is down the hall. Towels are in the cabinet, and you can use anything you want. Shampoo. Shaving cream. Whatever. I probably have a new toothbrush somewhere…" Eddie trails off.

"I have one. They gave me one, at the shelter," Steve says, holding up a small bag, "but thank you. For everything."

Eddie nods, "And here's the phone. If you want to call home."

"Thank you," Steve says, and he picks up his pocket phone and looks for Robin's number again, and dials it on Eddie's phone.

It rings twice, and connects.

"Hello? Steve, is that you?" Robin asks, and Steve relaxes back in his chair.

"It's me. I'm okay," he tells her.

"Where are you? I've been trying to get a hold of you all day!" Robin shouts, clearly very worked up. "You never came home."

"I'm in…" Steve says, and he doesn't remember.

"Gander. Newfoundland," Eddie offers from the other room.

"Gander. Newfoundland," Steve repeats, "Canada. I'm in Canada. My plane landed here."

"Where's that?" Robin asks, and Steve's not exactly sure.

"In Canada, Robin."

"But

where

in Canada?" she asks, and Steve holds his head.

"I don't know where in Canada. You think I'm good at geography all of a sudden?" he asks Robin, because she should

really

know better than that.

And she laughs, so he does, too.

Eddie smirks from the other room, and then comes in and digs around in a drawer, then grabs a marker and then scoots the map he's just written on towards him.

"I'm to the northeast of Maine," he says, and that seems to be enough for her on that topic, but then she yells more questions at him.

Yes, he's fine. Yes, he's safe. Yes, he's heard the news. Yes, he has somewhere to stay. Yes, he's made a friend. His name is Eddie. No, she can't talk to him.

"Have you talked to your mom?" Robin asks, and it hadn't even crossed Steve's mind to call home to check-in after an emergency. He wouldn't expect anyone to answer if he did.

"No, why?"

"She is freaked out. Capital F, for real. Your dad isn't having any luck convincing her you're fine, so, maybe call her?"

"My mom?

My mom?

You're sure you know who you're talking about?"

"Steve."

"Okay, yeah," Steve says, and he can't imagine a version of his mom that would even know where he was at any given time, let alone frantic to get a hold of him. Weird.

Even if this world maybe won't last long enough to get a phone bill, Steve's still not gonna be rude. If his mom wants to talk to him, she can call him.

"Have her call me, okay? I'll give you this number."

And then Steve cuts the call as short as he can, as he's sure it costs a fortune to call home from Gander, Newfoundland, Canada.

He gives Robin Eddie's number, and hangs up.

"Thanks. Definitely let me pay for that call, she's chatty," Steve says, smiling at Eddie.

"Not necessary. I'm glad you were able to reach her," Eddie says.

"Me too," Steve admits. And he realizes it never even came up in any way that he wasn't her Steve. And that she wasn't his Robin. Whatever friendship they have here, must be enough like the one back home, that nothing seemed off to either of them. That's pretty fucking cool.

"Shower's yours, if you want it," Eddie offers, and Steve nods. He does.

"My mom might call. If she does, maybe just tell her I'm fine?"

Eddie nods, and Steve takes the piece of map Eddie ripped out and wrote on, and puts it with his things. He's not sure why. He can't take it with him, but he wants to, desperately. He can have it for now, at least.

After that, Steve does take Eddie up on the offer of using his shower, and once he's in there, he feels so tired. Can you be jet lagged if you didn't actually exist when you were in the other country? He has no fucking clue. He wonders if his body was there, but this version of his consciousness just wasn't.

It hurts his head to contemplate. He's got a throbbing headache, because it's too complicated. He doesn't know how any of this works, not at all. He doesn't understand the point of it. He doesn't seem to be making any progress towards anything. He just bounces, place to place, from time to time, and meets Eddie.

And then the world pops, and he's somewhere new.

Doing it all over again.

He wishes he knew why this was happening. Or at least,

how

to make the most of this. Should he be trying to change things in the past, to help manipulate the future, in 1986 Hawkins? He doesn't know how that could possibly matter. What could he do in WWII that would have any impact on Eddie Munson, third year senior in Hawkins, Indiana, forty years later?

Nothing, he's pretty sure. So he'll just keep using them as opportunities to spend a little more time with Eddie. If that's all these worlds are, all they'll ever be, it'll have been worth it.

Just to see him a few more times, in a few more ways.

When he comes out, Eddie is sitting at the counter laughing, on the phone.

Oh, no way.

No, no. no.

"Is that my mom?"

Steve mouths, waving his hands, and Eddie nods.

Shit. Poor, Eddie.

But he doesn't seem like he's having a bad time, not at all. Maybe Robin is still Robin, but his mom is a pod person. That could be true.

"Here's Steve," Eddie says, and passes the phone in Steve's direction.

Steve takes it and presses it to his ear, "Hi, mom."

And it is his mom, but not? He listens to her, and answers her questions, and tries to play this off as normal. It's not.

It's really not. He doesn't know this version of his mom, not at all. He's never met this overly concerned woman on the other end of the phone. He wonders if she's actually like this, or is just feeling differently today, after the intense day the entire country, hell, world maybe, experienced together.

"I'm okay, mom. Honest," he tells her, over and over. "I'm with my new friend Eddie and things are good, I swear."

Then she starts rattling off that his father is trying to get a private plane into Gander, to get him to at least Toronto or Vancouver.

"No, no, no. Mom. No. I'm fine here. Do not do that. I'm here, I'm good, and I'm not leaving until that plane takes off again. Don't."

She doesn't understand why he'd want to stay there, in a tiny town, in a stranger's house, and suddenly he does recognize her, at least a little bit.

"Mom. I'm good. I want to stay," he finally says, "and I am. Don't do anything. Promise you won't?"

The quiet is staggering, until she finally agrees to not send in the cavalry to rescue her only child from Newfoundland.

She does ask him to keep them updated on when he might be home, and he promises that he will.

"I love you," she says, and he squeezes his eyes shut, and wills himself not to cry. Not here, not in front of Eddie, and not over this. But he doesn't know the last time he heard that from her, and it pokes at something in his chest that he didn't know was even there. Not anymore.

"Love you too, mom," he answers, like it isn't splitting him in two, "thanks for checking up on me."

Steve hangs up the phone and just sits there a second, unsure and off-kilter.

"She wasn't hanging up until she heard your voice," Eddie says, now changed into his own pajamas.

"Sorry, I don't know what's gotten into her. That's very out of character for her, honestly," Steve admits, handing the phone back, and Eddie takes it.

"You're her kid, I'm sure she was worried," Eddie says, and Steve nods, even if he doesn't especially believe that.

He gets up and follows Eddie into the living room, and Steve tries to sit on the couch next to Eddie and watch the news. Seeing the state of New York City, he thinks he should have asked Robin if she was okay, not the other way around. But he didn't know. And they watch, and watch, until he can barely keep his eyes open. He keeps leaning, slumping, as he dozes, and if doesn't give up the ghost and go to bed, he'll probably end up laying against Eddie's arm. And this Eddie is a nice stranger who offered up his home, not the little gremlin he got to know from back home that Steve would have no qualms telling to hold still, because he needs a fucking nap.

"The news will still be there tomorrow," Eddie says, clicking off the TV, and Steve's grateful as he gets to his feet.

"Thanks again, Eddie."

"Of course," Eddie answers, and then he disappears down the hall.

He lays his head on the pillow, and falls asleep before he can think about it anymore.

When he comes out the guest bedroom the next morning, Eddie is nowhere to be found, but Wayne is sitting at the counter eating breakfast. He pushes the box of cereal towards Steve, and Steve smiles, supposing that was as much of an invitation from Wayne as he's ever gonna get.

"I'm Steve," Steve says, "you must be Wayne. Eddie mentioned you."

"All good things I'm sure," Wayne says dryly and Steve laughs, shaking some of the cereal into the empty bowl.

"All good things, yes," Steve confirms.

"He's still in bed," Wayne offers, "not even having company can rouse him before noon."

Steve smiles. He can sit with Wayne for a while. Looks forward to the opportunity, actually. Eddie said they both usually work nights, so Steve's pretty sure the late sleeping is warranted.

"Where are you from?" Wayne asks.

And isn't that the question of the day. 1987. Indiana. Hawkins. The past.

"New York," Steve settles on, because that's what his driver's license and business card says.

Wayne nods, but doesn't say anything else. Steve's gonna have to carry this conversation, which is pretty normal. He's used to dragging information out of Wayne, bit by bit.

"Are you from here?"

"No. Not originally," Wayne says, and Steve waits, hoping he'll elaborate. He doesn't.

"Are you from the States?"

"Yeah. Indiana."

And Steve is glad he didn't say he was from Hawkins, that might have been a weird, unexplainable hornet's nest to step in the middle of for no reason.

So, Steve just nods and picks up his spoon, eating his Frosted Mini Wheats next to Wayne in silence.
It's not uncomfortable. Just quiet. Wayne's always quiet, and Steve imagines he's even more that way since Eddie's been gone.Steve not only wants to reset the clock for himself, but for Wayne, too.Desperately.He will. He's got to.

After Eddie finally gets ready, Steve helps him with what the town has been calling

the plane people.

Steve tags along, like he isn't one of them, a plane person, but instead like he's a helper. That feels more comfortable, at least. He likes to help, it feels more natural.

They deliver pizzas, water, and board games. And tons and tons of clean towels they've collected from all over town. The local Walmart was pretty wiped out, but Steve offered to use his credit card to buy anything and everything Eddie thought they might need to pass out, even as Eddie complained about Steve spending his money. Saying he was the one that was supposed to be helped, not the other way around. But at the checkout they were just waved off. Told to just take what they needed. Steve still insisted, swiping his card through the reader.

Because it feels good to be doing something, even if it isn't something helpful to his own time-trippy nonsense. And it's not like he'll have to pay the credit card bill, anyway. It'll all dissolve. And if it doesn't, Steve Harrington of

Harrington & Son Financial

will just have to deal with it himself. Sucks to be him, Steve thinks, and smiles.

Steve doesn't understand what's happening, not really. If it's real. It feels real. For some reason, he thinks these places in time are real, and he's just crashing into them. He doesn't ever seem to change anything about them, not really, he's just there for a while, an observer.

Long enough to meet Eddie, fall more in love with Eddie, with whatever version of him he's been presented with, and then he pops up somewhere brand new. And starts the whole process over again. It's frustrating.

"How do you think I'll get back to the United States?" Steve asks as he makes box after box of supplies to pass out at the next shelter.

Eddie smiles at him, "I assume the planes will just take off again, once that's allowed, when the airspace over the United States reopens."

That makes sense.

"But the longer they sit, the more of a problem that's gonna cause," Eddie says, off-handedly.

"Yeah?" Steve asks.

"Oh, yeah. Planes like that? Of that size? They don't sit, you know?"

Steve doesn't know.

"They don't?"

"Almost never. Think about your experiences of being in an airport. You're waiting for your plane, right? So it flies in. Unloads, refuels, reloads, and off it goes again. That's how they're made to work."

"Can I drive there? If that doesn't happen? If the planes don't take off?" Steve asks, because he's really not sure how this all works. Not that he's planning to leave Eddie. He's just curious.

"You can. You'd have to take a ferry, though," Eddie says.

"Take a car on a boat?" Steve asks. He's been on the Staten Island Ferry with his parents on a vacation, once, years ago.

Eddie just nods, "Yeah. We're an island, here."

Oh, Steve didn't think of that, even though he's seen the map and definitely noticed they were surrounded by water. Duh. He definitely doesn't have a very good grasp of Canadian geography. Hell, he barely has a good grasp on US geography.
When the supplies are all divvied out and boxed up for the plane people, Steve helps Eddie load them into the back of the pickup truck. Eddie's standing in the bed, arranging them, as Steve hands them up to him, one by one.

"My friends said they'd help pass these out this evening," Eddie says, and Steve nods. He'd rather have Eddie all to himself, but he understands that not everything is about him.
Despite how it feels right this second, as he's yanked all over the planet through time, he is

not

the center of the universe.

Robin has made sure he knows that quite well. Has since they met, both in dorky sailor uniforms.

They drive through town, and pull up in front of a house, and Steve sees the garage door open, and those are surely Gareth's feet waiting for the door to go up. Steve smiles.

"There are my friends," Eddie says, and Steve nods, because yes, those are indeed his friends.

Eddie makes introductions, and Steve pretends he's never seen Gareth, Goodie or Jeff before in his life. The three of them hop in the back of the pickup with the boxes of supplies they have gathered up.

Eddie slides open the little window in the back glass of the pickup, and Gareth pokes his head in, "Hey, Eddie. Hey, plane person."

Eddie laughs, "This is Steve. He's from New York City."

"New York City,"

the three of them in the back crow in unison, using exaggerated accents, and Steve doesn't get it.

"Get back there and sit down, cowboy, we've got stops to make," Eddie laughs, pushing Gareth back through the glass by his face.

Gareth does as he's told, but Eddie leaves the window open so they can talk back and forth. It's a nice evening out. Warm, as the day heads towards a close. There's a threat of a hurricane in the next few days, but tonight, it's beautiful here in Gander.

It seems like every block has a house with a requested drop-off, and they take turns hopping out and carrying the boxes to the door. Even Steve takes his turn, despite the rest of them protesting. He can help. He wants to, it gives him something he

can

do.

Can

control.
When the pickup is empty, and all the care packages delivered, they pull up to drop off the others off back at home.Gareth leans in the door and says, "Same time tomorrow?"Eddie nods, "Yep. Food will have to keep coming, I suppose."And he's not wrong. They do the same thing, on day three, four and five. Gather, sort, load and pass out supplies by the truck full. And it's fun, despite the circumstances. Steve doesn't care if he ever leaves this island."Which house needed the diapers?" Jeff asks, holding up a box in the back glass.Eddie checks his notes and rattles off a name that Steve doesn't know, but the rest must, because they nod."And the pillow?" Goodie asks, and Eddie checks for that one as well. They've got a good system, and Steve's really just along for the ride. Watching, pitching in when he can.And after they've dropped everything off again, they are back in front of Gareth's house, making plans to do it all again the next day.Steve slides into Eddie's truck next to him one more time, and smiles in his direction.
"What?" Eddie asks, looking at him, shyly. Eddie Munson shouldn't be this timid, it's weird.

"Nothing. Just, despite all the circumstances, I'm having fun with you. That's all," Steve says, and Eddie blushes.

Eddie's cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, and Steve loves it. He reaches over and covers Eddie's hand with his own, for just a second. Enough that he's sent a message, he hopes, but not so long that it couldn't be written off as nothing, instead. An overly-friendly American, being way too touchy.

"It's Saturday night. Everybody's going to the Legion, if you wanna meet up with some of the other plane people and grab a drink. I think the guys might come, too," Eddie offers, and Steve will do anything Eddie wants to do.

Once they get to the Legion, there are people everywhere. Locals and plane people, alike. Eddie gets them each a beer, and they find a corner to stand in together and just watch everyone finally let loose and have fun.

"Busiest I've ever seen the place," Eddie laughs, and Steve smiles at him.
They move closer and closer, until Steve's sure something is about to happen between them. The spark is there, it just needs to catch fire.And something does happen, it's just not what he expected, or wanted."Hey, did you hear? We're leaving in two hours, we're supposed to get ready," one of the other passengers from their plane comes up and tells Steve, and Steve looks at Eddie. He doesn't want to go. Doesn't know what will happen if he just hops on a plane and flies away from Eddie.
"I'll take you back to the house to pack up," Eddie tells Steve, and places a hand on Steve's arm.

Steve nods, but he doesn't want that, not at all. But he's sure that he can't just stay. They're being very serious about security, now. Nothing is going to be allowed to deviate from the plan, he's damn sure of that. If that plane goes, he's gotta be on it.

When they get back to the house, Steve realizes it's now or never. And he reaches out, and touches Eddie's hand. Just testing the water. Seeing if...maybe. When Eddie squeezes back, Steve knows he didn't miss the mark. Not at all. Because Eddie leans towards him, signaling that he's about to kiss him.

Oh, hell yes.

Steve leans in to meet him in a kiss, and Steve is so happy he's been in this world for a couple days. He tangles his hand in Eddie's hair, all that pretty hair that he has again, no longer buzzed to the scalp, and presses his body against Eddie's. Letting Eddie feel exactly what he does to him. Eddie groans when they make contact, before quickly turning them both, pushing Steve up against the door. Grinding up against him, pressing as close as he can, as he kisses Steve over and over. Yeah, please, more of that.

Steve loosens up his body, spreading his legs, arching backwards. Letting Eddie rut against him, letting Eddie lead. This is what he has needed. Wanted.

He cups the back of Eddie's neck, stroking his skin with his thumb. Eddie's hand is wrapped around his side, squeezing a little, and Steve loves that they are doing this. Eddie grinds against him, and Steve grinds back, a give and take. A dance they're in together, moving fluidly, like they've done it a thousand times. Maybe they have.

They kiss until Steve can't breathe, and only then do they pull apart and just look at each other. Laughing. Smiling.

"Hi," Eddie laughs, cheeks flushed.

Steve grins, before leaning forward and nuzzling Eddie's neck, feeling his hair brush against face.

Eddie eventually pulls back, guides Steve to his open bedroom door, and Steve walks in, just happy to have been invited.

Steve sits on the edge of the bed, and he thinks this is kind of awkward. Like a one-night stand. That's what Eddie thinks this is, after all. Nothing permanent. Eddie thinks they live in different countries. He surely expects that Steve will leave, really fucking soon. He's supposed to be at the airport in an hour, to go back to a home that isn't even his to begin with. He's supposed to fly away.

And Steve probably will, but not on an airplane.

For now, he's going to make the most of every minute they have together, no matter the universe.

Eddie undresses, and then sprawls out on the bed on his back, slowly working his own cock as he's smiling at Steve, "Like what you see, Harrington?"

And Steve does, he really, really does. He wants, desperately.

But he's just been called Harrington. And while it's music to his ears, he knows this is probably about over, this world, and he won't need to make that plane after all. So, he crawls up the bed and lays right on top of Eddie. Still fully dressed, but he wants to hold onto him as long as he can. He's not gonna start something they can't finish, not again. But this? This he can do. He can be with Eddie, touch him, hold him close.

"I've been searching for you," Steve whispers in Eddie's ear, laying his cheek against Eddie's, "and I'll keep finding you for as long as I can."

Eddie nudges Steve backwards enough so he can look at Steve, and then glances around the room, "Is this your bedroom?" Eddie asks, and Steve knows this is his version of Eddie. The real Eddie that doesn't know where is, doesn't know he's in his own home. That's okay.

"No, it's yours," Steve says, "Do you remember what's happening?" Steve asks him.

"We're about to fuck?" Eddie says, grabbing a handful of Steve's jean clad ass, squeezing, and Steve laughs.

"Well, for sure. If you want to do that. But I mean, in the bigger sense," Steve questions, looking into Eddie's dark eyes in the dim light.

Eddie seems to stop and think, "Where are we?"

"Canada, in 2001," Steve says, "I don't know how to get us home."

"Me either," Eddie says, "I think I was just in…Vegas, maybe. Seeing Elvis?"

Steve thinks he's confused.

"No, it was The Beatles, not Elvis. And that was two worlds ago."

"Was it?" Eddie asks, his face is scrunched up in confusion.

Steve nods.

Eddie starts to say something else, but Steve feels it. Oh, for fuck's sake.

He presses his lips to Eddie's, and then he's gone. Again.

God fucking dammit.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

everybody's talking up a storm,
act like they don't notice it,
but here it is and here it comes,
here comes the moon,
the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Here Comes the Moon, George Harrison

1966
"Steve, are you okay? Are you even listening to me?" Robin asks, and Steve jerks his head towards her voice.Robin's sitting at the counter, Chrissy Cunningham across from her, painting Robin's nails a soft pink shade. And Steve really looks at Robin. He's surprised to see that she's in a dress again, with her hair perfectly styled. And she's wearing a face full of candy-colored makeup. Where's the mascara and dark eyeliner? She barely looks like herself with that frosted pink lipstick.She's too put together.She's usually a little messier than this, a little edgier, and he likes her that way. He wants Robin, not Barbie's poor replica of Robin. What is Chrissy doing to her? It looks so similar to how Nancy made her up before they went to Pennhurst.And it's as unsettling now, as it was then.It's all a little bit old-fashioned, especially the dresses they're both wearing, so he must be in the past again.
"Yeah, I'm listening," he lies, looking at her. Of course he wasn't listening, because he wasn't even here ten seconds ago.

"You weren't," she says, and he laughs.

"I wasn't," he admits, "sorry. What'd you say, again?" he asks her, giving her his full attention this time. Now that he's, you know, conscious and all.

"I said that Life will be here soon, and you really need to get going, so you can line up for the pictures with the rest of the boys," she tells him.

And he has no fucking idea what she's talking about, so he just keeps sitting there, looking at her.

"Steve! Now!" she shouts, pointing towards the front door, as Chrissy tries to stop her from flailing around and ruining her manicure. Steve walks to the door, and reaches for the knob.

"Keys!" she shouts, and he looks at the key rack by the door, and grabs the only set hanging there. "I don't know what's with you today. It's like your head is full of hot air."

"Well, love you, too, Rob," he says sarcastically, and she grins.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there with the girls in about an hour."
"If your nails ever dry, that is," Chrissy adds, and Robin makes a noise of annoyance as Steve closes the door behind him.
When he walks outside, and down the steps, there's a Corvette in the driveway. Washed, waxed, and fucking gleaming in the warm sunshine. It's beautiful. Yellow, and gorgeous, and Steve suddenly hopes,

all his.

He'll be her daddy now, he thinks, remembering The Todfather and smiling to himself.

He looks to his left, and Gareth is standing there in the next driveway, next to another Corvette, but his is bright red and a convertible. Steve waves, and Gareth waves back.

Looking further down the street, in the next driveway, is Eddie. And Steve sags with relief.

There he is.

Steve found him so fast, this time. That's a nice change of pace.

Eddie's hair is cut into a high and tight, and now that Steve really looks at him, Gareth's is really short, too, he realizes. A flat top, instead of his shaggy curls. Steve's too scared to touch his own hair, afraid of what he might find up there. Or not find, as it were.

He doesn't want a shaved head, or a mohawk, or anything besides his own hair.

Eddie's Corvette is black. And when Steve looks across the street, there is Jonathan, next to a green one and Jeff is next door to him, with a baby blue version. Another door down, Goodie's is all white. And all the way down the block, which Steve has to squint to see, is who he thinks is Tommy H. But he can't be a hundred percent sure. He's too far away, but the Corvette in his drive is definitely a maroon color, not all that different from Steve's BMW back home.

This is weird. Some

Stepford Wives

shit, for real. Why do they all have matching cars and live on the same street? That's just unsettling and unnatural.

A thought suddenly hits him, is Robin his wife? If so, that's more disturbing than all the matching cars. By a long shot.

But he doesn't have time to worry about that right now, because everybody else is getting in their cars, so he hurries to catch up, and

great,

it's a standard. He can drive a stick, but it's not his favorite thing in the world. Then he laughs to himself. Well, some sticks he's enjoying driving more than others these days.

As he backs out, he realizes he has no idea where he's going, and quickly just decides to follow Gareth when he sees him pulling out of his driveway next door. It'll be fine. He'll just follow everyone else. Stay in the middle of the pack, and not get lost.

Easy peasy.

But that's not how this works. Of course it's not, because as soon as they are out of the neighborhood, they immediately start drag racing. They're whipping around Steve like he's standing still, zipping around each other, weaving in and out and around other cars, passing them on both sides, hammers down.

And it's fucking dangerous. Steve feels like he's the only sane one right now. He grips the steering wheel hard, as he steadily presses down on the accelerator, just so he isn't totally left behind, lost. Eddie falls back, letting Steve catch up with him, and when Steve pulls up right beside him, Eddie flips him off, laughing, before zooming off again.

Steve is so confused.

But what else is new, he guesses.

It isn't the easiest thing he's ever done, but he keeps up enough that he's with them when they all pull onto a road with a gated, secure area up ahead. There are striped barricades next to the guard booth, and Steve doesn't have credentials, or if he does, he doesn't know where they are or what they look like. Fuck.

Maybe in his wallet?

But it doesn't matter. The lead car, Eddie, who has somehow caught back up and passed them all, doesn't even slow down while approaching the security gate, the arm just pops up, and they all flood through it. Gareth and Jeff break away, heading through the exit side, and that arm goes up, too. Like whoever is inside the booth, expected it. They probably did.

Gareth and Jeff squeeze ahead of Goodie, and he honks at them, throwing his arm out of the window, giving them both the bird.

And Steve just follows behind, until they eventually slow down and Eddie parks his car along an open stretch of blacktop, hopping out, starting to direct traffic. Waving cars into specific spots, then standing in front of them, motioning with his fingers to get them to inch forward, and then putting a palm up when he wants them to stop. Steve sees what Eddie's doing, staggering them in that way. Probably setting them up to look nice for the pictures Robin mentioned. Once they all get parked, everybody starts reaching into their trunks, pulling out garment bags.

Steve looks, and he has one in there, too.

Thank you, Robin,

he assumes.

He opens it up, and it's a flight suit. A NASA flight suit.

Oh.

He's an astronaut, apparently. All of them are. They take their suit jackets off, their dress shirts, their slacks, and step into their flight suits in their boxers and undershirts. Right there, along the side of the road. It's deserted, and clearly not open to the public, but still. They put their dress clothes back in the bag, and back into their cars. Steve copies what they're doing, following along. Trying to not look too out of place.

Everyone gets out a towel and starts wiping down their cars, buffing them, cleaning off the imaginary road grime from the few minutes they were driving, so Steve does the same.

After, Eddie is leaning against his car, dressed in his flight suit, wearing a big pair of aviator sunglasses, legs crossed and Steve smiles at him. Can't help it. Eddie looks cool, and fucking sexy, and apparently Steve has a thing for astronauts now.

Cool. That's cool.

He had already realized he felt

things

about flight suits, after seeing

Top Gun

with Robin and Nancy last summer. But that's totally different than seeing Eddie, right now, just leaning there like he's the coolest goddamn guy in the universe. Cocky and confident? It's working for him. A lot. All Steve wonders is if he can get him to wear it to bed.

Eddie lowers his glasses, and winks at him, and Steve feels it in his chest. Eddie's older, here. They must all be, he realizes, looking around. But Eddie looks good. He's grown into a man. Still thin, but he's definitely filled out from how he looked during his third senior year. All knees and elbows, sharp hip bones.

Steve wonders what he looks like, and wants to find a mirror, just to see.

It doesn't take long before a crowd descends on them. Reporters, photographers. Life magazine is here to cover them for a pictorial spread, just like Robin said they'd be, and they ask Steve questions he just doesn't know the answers to. He deflects as best he can, and the other guys pick up the slack. If they notice he's acting off, they definitely don't draw attention to it, and he's grateful.

He can't be an astronaut. That's crazy. He didn't want to jump out of a plane, so he

definitely

doesn't want to be launched into space.

An hour into this media circus, the wives show up, as promised, and the attention turns to them. And Steve prefers that.

They are all so beautiful. Put together, walking across the blacktop, in step, heels clacking, confident. Nancy is walking beside Robin, and Robin looks happy, and comfortable, even dressed the way she is.

He's seen her walk in heels, and it was

nothing

like she is moving today. This is way more graceful, and way less Bambi, than he'd expected. Watching them move as a unit, he sees that Chrissy Cunningham was meant for this, Steve is sure of it. She's gorgeous, and bubbly, and has the reporters hanging on her every word.

And then Steve watches as she wraps her arms around Eddie's neck, posing for a picture, but pretending she isn't. And Eddie is smiling down at her, like he's in love.

Oh.

Well, okay, Steve can handle this. He's pretty sure he can handle this. Not every world has to have Eddie loving him. That makes sense, he supposes. There are a lot of things that can change the course of a life. You can zig left instead of zagging right, and then you've found yourself living a whole different life. With a whole different person.

Steve doesn't even know which way the real Eddie swings. Dirty mag of men under his mattress, be damned. He might be mostly straight, and it's just here in this long-ass fever dream that Steve's conjured him up this way, open to being with him, or any man, so easily.

Steve tries to convince himself that's true, but he's pretty sure it's not. Eddie has come into himself in each world, and he's never been surprised to find himself entangled with Steve.

Unless.

Unless, this is all in his head. Unless there is no real Eddie, because the real Eddie is still under Hawkins, still dead.

Steve rubs his forehead, and moves to tug on his hair, but it's too short to do it. He hangs his head, defeated. He's stressing himself out, and he needs to switch gears. Think about something else.

He can't.

All Steve can think about is how Eddie could love Chrissy, because Steve could fall in love with someone else, a woman, and get married, too.

Maybe he did, here.

And as if he summoned her, Robin leans into his side, and nudges him, just a little. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, and this is kind of weird, but at least it's her. He can definitely live with that. He leans over and kisses her on the head.

"Smile. It's almost over," she says softly, and he nods, thank god for that. He can't pretend to know anything about space for a second longer.

Robin wasn't wrong, it was almost over, because the only thing they had left to do is line up their Corvettes in front of a building labeled the Manned Spacecraft Center, for a few more pictures for Life. Steve is perched on the hood of his car, Robin sitting awkwardly at his side. Next to them, Chrissy is between Eddie's legs, his chin hooked over her shoulder, arms around her waist. Smiling big.Then they're abruptly released to go back home.Steve's relieved.
They ride home together in his Corvette, and Steve's keeping an eye on Jonathan driving the car in front of them, Nancy in tow, so he doesn't get lost going home. That'd be hard to explain, not knowing where your own house is.

"You're quiet today," Robin says, "you usually love interview days."

He does?

"Just a little tired, I guess," he says, and that's a bad excuse, but he doesn't know what else to say. Unless he tells her the truth, and he will, he's sure of it, he can't keep anything from her long-term. He just needs to make sure she'll be receptive.

He can't just say it's hard to talk about being an astronaut when you've never been one before.

"Better take a nap, then," she says, a little sarcastically, "because you know the boys are gonna wanna drink all night to celebrate the latest Life payday."

"Not a bad plan," he admits, turning to smile at her.

They pull into the driveway, and he suddenly notices that their house has no front windows. That's odd. He looks around, and about half of them don't. Theirs doesn't. Gareth's does. Eddie's doesn't.

Across the street Jonathan's doesn't, but Goodie and Jeff's both do. This is so weird.

But they head inside the house, and Steve finds his way to their bedroom, trying not to look too lost.

Robin pulls out clothes from the dresser, and lays them on the bed, and just stands there as he undresses, which, weird, but not totally out of the ordinary. They are pretty codependent back home, and have no sense of privacy.

She takes his flight suit from him when he takes it off, and hangs it up, and does the same for the dress clothes he'd shoved into the garment bag.

He just stands there watching her. She's taking care of him, and not even complaining about it. It's strange, and he wants her to sass him. Wants to banter with her. He wants his Robin back, not whatever knock-off version of her that this is.

"Did you see Carol?" she asks, as if on demand, "The red lipstick? Really?"

Steve laughs. Okay, she's still Robin.

"What a floozy," he teases. He didn't notice Carol's lipstick at all, but Robin turns and looks at him, laughing. He wants to gossip about the neighbors with her. That feels more normal than anything has felt in a while.

"On the round robin party line, we all agreed on this horrible shade of pink," she says, pointing to her lips. "And you know I hated it. I hate all of it. But we

all

agreed. We went to the drugstore and bought this awful shade, in bulk. And then she went rogue. Which, I'd usually applaud. You know I don't like to conform, but it's gonna look weird. Nancy's definitely gonna kill her tonight."

Steve smiles, "Will we have popcorn while we watch?"

Robin grins, "I'll put some in my purse."

Steve thinks he'd like to see Nancy go toe-to-toe with Carol, now. Nancy never really did, back when he was still friends with Tommy and Carol, but the Nancy that emerged after all the Upside Down bullshit?

Oh, yeah, she'll make her feelings quite known.

Steve flops back on the bed, sprawling out, in just his plain, white boxers. He looks like an old man. He

feels

like an old man. All this bouncing around is aging him, he's sure of it.

Maybe he will take a little nap. He feels so tired. Like he's been awake for days. Maybe he has. He has no idea, but he thinks maybe all this switching is finally catching up with him.

"Steve," Robin says, and Steve startles awake at the sound of her voice.

She's standing in the doorway of the bedroom, the phone cord stretched as far as it'll go, the receiver tucked into her neck, "It's time to get up."

He nods, "Thanks, Rob."

She nods back, and puts the phone back to her ear as she disappears back into the rest of the house.

After his nap, he's honestly feeling a lot better. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, and pushes his toes into the shag carpet. He hears Robin on the phone in the living room, laughing, gossiping, and it makes him smile.

After he's gotten dressed in the clothes Robin has laid out for him, Steve walks down the hallway, and looks at the pictures that line the walls.

Robin and him on their wedding day, and they both look so happy. Eddie and Chrissy standing at either side.

There are tons of pictures of the four of them in various configurations, as well as everyone else that clearly lives on the street.

He has friends here. And a lot of them, it seems.

At the end of the hall, he steps out of the backdoor of their house, and down onto the patio. He's immediately hit with the loud shrieks of children playing, and Steve walks to the fence to take a closer look. In Gareth's yard next door there's got to be at least five or six kids running around.

He wonders who all the kids belong to. All Gareth's? Or maybe he just has the fun house that all the neighborhood kids naturally congregate towards, playing together. Carol's house was that house when he was a kid. The front lawn was always littered with discarded bicycles of every kid in a mile radius of the same age, as they gathered inside, or in the backyard. Full of snacks and Kool-Aid.

Nobody wanted to tip-toe around the Harrington house, not back then, not until they were teens, and his parents had been long absent.

He hadn't thought of that in a long time. They were best friends, once upon a time. Before monsters, before Barb, before Nancy Wheeler.

He watches the kids play, and notices that their yards are connected back here, with gates in the chain link fence between them that are currently standing wide open. And with the weeds that are growing around the bottom of the gates, he's pretty sure they haven't been closed in a long while.

There's a well-worn path in the grass, running between the three houses. His leads through Gareth's and straight to Eddie's. That seems fitting in some way, and is kind of a cool way to share space. He likes the idea that they are that close, that good of friends, that they not only work together, but live right together, too.

That they leave their houses open to one another.

There's a nice patio in his yard, and Gareth's has a ton of kid's shit. A swing set, a slide, a tree house, that are all currently getting a full workout by the little nuggets screaming their heads off. When he looks beyond them, he can see that Eddie's yard has a firepit, a nice grill and lots of chairs.

Clearly, the gathering spot for the adults.

One of the little boys spots Steve at the fence, and yells, "Uncle Steve! Come push me!"

Steve walks through the open gate, and does just that. He likes that he's someone's Uncle Steve.

Eventually, Gareth comes out of his back door, and starts wrangling kids towards the house, to big complaints and excessive whining. Apparently they are all his, which, wow. Gareth seems to be at the end of his rope, and Steve just smiles.

"You know how this keeps happening, right?" Steve teases, looking at the crazy amount of kids that are barely listening to Gareth's directions to get in the house, but it honestly looks pretty nice to Steve.

Six kids.

That was the dream, once upon a time.

"Hilarious," Gareth says dryly, picking up the smallest girl from the sandbox. She wails at the top of her lungs about it. Gareth's wife, nobody he recognizes from Hawkins, comes to the door, probably to see what the commotion is about.

Steve thinks she might be the same woman Gareth was with during prohibition, but that was too long ago, and he can't be sure, not now.

But he waves at her, and she waves back.

"Hi, Steve," she says, and he says hi back, but has no idea what her name is.

She's obviously pregnant

again,

and Steve is impressed that they're going for more, when clearly their house is already pretty chaotic.

Steve looks over into Eddie's yard, and Chrissy has just started getting set up for the afterparty. Robin said they were having dinner and cocktails at Eddie's house, for all seven of the astronauts and their families. Robin made sure he was up and going to be ready to go on time. She's clearly taking care of him, here in this place.

And she isn't even complaining about it. His Robin would have made him set an alarm and get his own ass out of bed. She's not about that coddling life, that's for damn sure.

But this is a different time, a different place, and he supposes the expectations are a little different.

It's kind of weird, having her as his wife.  He had a crush on her, way back when at Scoops Ahoy, but they've changed so much since then, that that is never even in his mind anymore. He loves her. She's his friend. His best friend. His platonic soulmate. But she isn't even attracted to men. Are they having sex? God, he hopes not. He can do a lot of things, but having sex with Robin isn't one of them. No way.

He'd rather hop on a rocket and hope he'll figure out how to fly it as he hurtles out of the atmosphere.

Not when he knows how much she'd hate it, and he hopes, desperately, that this version of her hasn't tamped that part of herself down to fly under the radar.

Does this version of Steve even know she's a lesbian? It hurts to think they might not trust each other that much here.

When the party starts, all the men gather around the grill, and try to wrestle the tongs away from Eddie. Everyone has an opinion on how to do it better than he's doing it, and Eddie really has to box everyone out to keep control of his own grill. Steve just stands back and watches, sipping on his beer, allowing himself to enjoy the free entertainment.

Goodie has a pair of contraband tongs, and every time Eddie's back is turned, Goodie keeps moving things around on the grill, driving Eddie to the brink of insanity. Nothing is where he left it, and Goodie is chuckling when Eddie tries to flip a burger, and has a hot dog rolling away from him instead.

When Robin turns up, she's changed out of her day dress and into a pair of overall shorts. She looks much more like his real Robin, now. A little funky, and definitely more herself. She puts down a bowl of pasta salad. It actually looks pretty great. Corkscrew pasta. Black olives. He's impressed. He didn't know she cooked at all.

"Looks good," he says, and she smiles at him.

Chrissy comes up and touches Robin on the back, and hands her a mixed drink with a slice of fresh pineapple in it. Robin smiles at her, and takes a sip as she wanders off to mingle with the other wives.

Carol comes into the yard, red lipstick and all, and she throws her arms around Steve's neck. He didn't expect it, but he closes his eyes, and he's a kid again.

"Hey, Harry," she says, and he hasn't heard that in years. Nobody calls him that now.

He squeezes her, and hopes Robin isn't shooting daggers through the back of his head.

"Nice lipstick," he says, and she cackles in his ear. She's a snarky bitch, and he suddenly misses her. He didn't think he did. He thought he was totally fine with severing that cord, that friendship, with both her and Tommy without a second thought.

They grew up together, though.

She pats him on the back and he lets her go.

Eventually, Robin does come up to stand beside him, and slides her hand into his, and he holds it, as they talk to their friends. They talk about space, about how they're sure they're getting to the moon first, kids, and just stuff. Life. What they're living, and the magazine that is preparing to publish yet another spread on them. Steve's gathered that this is normal, common, and makes them damn good money since they've got an exclusive on the astronauts and their wives.

Eddie yells that the burgers and dogs are ready, and they all line up to fill their plates. All the wives have brought salads and desserts, and Steve fills up his plate. They all find chairs, and eat and talk.

He's trying to eavesdrop into both conversations, the men and the women, just to learn what he can about these versions of these people.

"Still no luck?" Nancy asks Chrissy, and Chrissy shakes her head. "I really thought Dr. Wells would be able to help you."

Steve watches as Gareth's wife puts her arm over her stomach, clearly in response to this switch in conversation.

Oh.

They're talking about having babies.

"But at least we have fun trying," Chrissy says breezily, putting her glass in the air in a mock toast, "Don't we honey?"
And Eddie makes an affirmative noise that everybody laughs about, except Steve.
Robin hugs Chrissy from the side, "We'll hold down the childless front together."

"NASA hates it," Chrissy says.

"Well, fuck them," Robin answers, "neither one of us can help it if our pipes don't work right. We can only keep trying."

Steve doesn't want to try. He hopes this world dissolves before he's required to.

Hours later, Robin is sitting on his lap, and he's on his sixth beer. He's been chain smoking all night. They all smoke like chimneys, he's realized, except for Robin. She's given him a few dirty looks for it, but he's in the fucking 1960s. Smoking is the norm, and he's secretly always missed it a little.

Steve feels warm, and tilts his head back and looks up at the stars, the moon. He blows out a lungful of smoke. He's really supposed to want to go there? He doesn't. He wants to go home. To Hawkins. To 1987. To 1986, ideally. If he could go back to

before

and make changes.

If he could save Eddie.

He doesn't know if that's possible, though.

Everyone is sitting around talking, just the adults now, the husbands and wives, after all the kids had been wrangled out of Gareth's yard, taken home and have been surely tucked into their beds. Eddie has Chrissy cornered on the side of their house. He can't see their faces in the shadows, in the dark, just their legs, the line of Eddie's back, his ass. Steve looks away.

Eddie's not his. Not here. Not anywhere, really. He's chasing a ghost.

That's a saying, right? Giving up the ghost? Maybe he should do that.

So, Steve puts his hand on Robin's hip, and rubs. Thumb sliding under her shirttail, brushing her bare skin. She turns and looks at him, a question in her eyes. He's just not quite sure what she's asking him. But he closes his eyes. Her skin is soft under his fingers, and maybe he can figure out a way to love her, in that way. Or maybe he can pretend she's someone else. Nancy, maybe. Not Eddie.

No, that's awful. That's an awful thought to have. He can't do that. Not to her. He loves her.

Just, why couldn't he have been married to Nancy? That would have been easier to adjust to. He loves Robin, but he can't fuck her. But, he could have been with Nancy, and would have probably been happy enough, until this world ends. But that's not his luck. Not at all.

Robin lays back, so they are both sprawled in the lawn chair, her back flush to his chest. He wraps his arm around her waist, sliding his hand under the bib of her overalls, arm brushing under her boobies.

Weird. But, he likes boobies. He can learn to like hers. Probably. Maybe.

"You're being weird, and

very

handsy, just how drunk are you?" she hisses in his direction, her face right in his, and he just laughs, and leans forward and kisses her.

It's weird.

He doesn't like it, so he pulls back, and she's just looking at him, like she wants to say something. But he hears Chrissy squeal with delight, and he turns his head, and Eddie has her over his shoulder. Spinning, her skirt flying.

Steve looks back at Robin, but she's looking off in their direction, too.

The party has thinned out further, everyone getting home to their kids, that Steve assumes were put in bed and left without supervision hours ago. He remembers that from his childhood. Being left upstairs, all alone, while the adults partied somewhere else in town.

All that remains are the three couples from this side of the block, with the shared yards. Gareth has a sleeping little girl in his arms, her face in his neck as she's sprawled on his lap, long after the rest of the kids had already been put to bed, hours ago. She'd stumbled out, and Gareth had just picked her up, and held her to his chest as they continued to visit, and she'd fallen back asleep.

Gareth, who annoys Steve on a daily basis back home, has grown up. He's got a slew of kids, but seems really happy with that. Good for him.

Steve's drinking another beer, his eighth, kicked back, feet up on the little outdoor coffee table. He has a fresh cigarette dangling from his lip, and he's just lighting it up, taking a long drag.

"Okay, I'm going to bed," Eddie announces, catching Steve's eyes and Steve nods at him. Holding his beer up, saluting him, smoke curling around his face.

Eddie just stands there, hovering over Steve's chair, looking down at him, like he's expecting Steve to say something else. Steve doesn't really have anything to say, so he just puffs on his cigarette.

"Well, are you coming or not?" Eddie finally questions.

Steve looks at Chrissy, but she's talking to Robin, heads close to each other, neither paying any attention to their husbands.

But Eddie's looking at him, not Chrissy.

"Uh, me?" Steve finally says, looking around, like Eddie might mean someone else.

"No, the little green spaceman on your shoulder, yes you," Eddie snips, rolling his eyes, and Steve moves to stand. Oh, he's dizzy. Not at all sure what the fuck is happening. His brain feels sluggish, and slow. He's not following the plot at all right now.

He's kind of drunk.

He sways on his feet, just a little. Eddie takes the beer from Steve's hand, and puts it down on the table, and then takes the cigarette that's dangling from Steve's lip and puts it into his own mouth. Steve doesn't argue about either.

"See you for breakfast, dingus," Robin finally says, and Steve just waits to see where Eddie is going to lead him.

Steve tries to make his feet work, but it's not as easy as it looks, but eventually they get going. Eddie's hand on the small of his back, keeping him upright. And they cut through Gareth's yard, along the worn path, back to Steve's house. Eddie drops the half-smoked cigarette on the step, and grinds it out with the toe of his shoe. No smoking in Robin's house, that is

surely

the law of the land. It has to be.

Then Eddie pulls open the back door like he owns the place, holding it open for Steve, making a big show of it. It's silly, and funny, and feels like the Eddie he got to know, and misses terribly.

As soon as they're in the house, Eddie is in his arms, pressing his lips to Steve's.

Oh.

Oh.

Steve kisses him back, reaching up to tangle his hand in Eddie's hair, but realizing there's no hair there to do that. So he cups the back of Eddie's head, instead.

Are they faking marriages? Or they're swingers? Jesus, are they swingers? He hopes it's the former, not the latter. He doesn't want to get into any awkward foursome situations, not right now. He doesn't have the brainpower to navigate that.

But. Okay. Okay, this is better than him actually somehow ending up in a marriage to Robin. Lesbian Robin, who he loves, but doesn't want to stick his dick in.

Eddie, though. Oh, yeah. He wants that. He wants it all. They must have an arrangement. The four of them. That's good. Great.

And Gareth's the buffer. Looking like there's a little distance, but not really any at all. He'll owe that kid, big time.

Eddie runs his hands up Steve's back, and Steve leans against him, wobbling just a little. Eddie pulls back and laughs, "I think you're drunk."

And, yeah, Steve is definitely a little drunk.

He nods, and Eddie just takes his hand and leads him to bed. Steve strips down, fully naked, because he's suddenly so hot, and Eddie climbs on top of him, sliding down the bed, and biting him on the thigh.

It's playful, but it still kinda hurts, so Steve pushes at Eddie's shoulders, trying to get him to let go.

"We only get so many nights together, and you decided to use this one to get shitfaced," Eddie accuses, looking up at him with those big, brown eyes. He folds his arms on Steve's stomach, and rests his head there. Steve can tell he's not mad, he's smiling. Teasing him.

"Sorry," Steve says, "I got jealous."

Eddie barks out a laugh, "Jealous of what?"

"You and Chrissy. Together."

Eddie gives him the eyebrow, "You know what this situation is, sweetheart."

"I know," Steve says, but he doesn't, not really. "I just. The idea of you trying to have a baby with her…" Steve trails off.

Eddie laughs, crawling up the bed to lay face-to-face with Steve, "Well, it's been a while since I've taken sex-ed, but I'm pretty sure that's never gonna happen. Unless we decide to get out the turkey baster."

Steve lulls his head to look towards Eddie.

"I love her. I'm

in love

with you," Eddie says, and it sounds like something he's probably said a million times before. "I'd have married you if I could've. You know that."

"I know. I'm in love with you, too," Steve says, and he's glad to be able to say it. Even if it's here, in this wrong place, and this wrong time. To the wrong Eddie.

But he is in love with Eddie.

And Eddie is dead.

Steve starts crying, and Eddie laughs, and leans his forehead against his.

"Okay, that was one beer too many if you're gonna cry," Eddie says, and Steve nods, pushing his face into Eddie's neck. It's nice. It feels nice, and he's just gonna close his eyes for a minute. Then he'll rally. Then they can fuck. Can finish what they started, so many worlds ago.

Steve wakes up feeling like he has a mouthful of cotton. Eddie has a leg slung over his thighs, and it's nice, warm. Very comfortable. But he's really gotta piss. He untangles himself, and heads for the bathroom. He's brushing his teeth, with what he hopes is his own toothbrush, when Eddie stumbles in, rubbing his eyes.

"It's almost six," Eddie says, and Steve nods, but isn't sure what that means. Are they late? Early? Right on time? He has no goddamn idea.

"We got time?" Steve asks, and Eddie grins, nodding. They fall back in bed, and Eddie rolls on top of him pressing their bodies together. Grinding down against him, pushing, and it's fucking amazing.

That's all they do. Rut against each other, until they both come.

Then they shower, and get dressed, and Eddie kisses him once, twice more, before Robin comes in the back door, and Eddie exits, passing each other, giving the other a high-five as they switch houses.

An hour later, Steve is walking down his front steps, just as Eddie is doing the same, two houses down. Like they didn't wake up with each other. Tangled together, a mess of naked limbs. Like he didn't have to scrub Eddie's dried come out of his pubes this morning. Like he doesn't have a bite mark on his thigh this morning that Eddie left there last night.

This world has taken a turn, a really good turn, suddenly.

The doorbell rings, and Steve answers it. Robin's not home, gone with the other wives somewhere. Gareth is standing there, looking back at him, expectant.

"Well, at least you're alive," Gareth says dryly, pushing his way inside the house, like he owns the place. Same old Gareth.

"What do you mean?" Steve asks, closing the door behind him.

"You were supposed to meet us at the club twenty minutes ago," Gareth says, and Steve just stares at him blankly, because he has no idea what Gareth is talking about.

"Golf?" Gareth asks, looking at him, impatiently.

Steve barks out a laugh, can't help it, "You golf?

Eddie

golfs?"

Gareth looks at him like he's lost his goddamn mind, "Uh, yeah, we all golf. Every week. At. The. Club. Where you're

supposed

to be right now, asshole," Gareth grits out through clenched teeth, impatient.

Steve can golf. Steve

likes

to golf. And now he

desperately

wants to see Eddie golfing. This different universe bullshit suddenly has an upside.

"Are you okay? Did you hit your head this morning, or what? Christ on cracker," Gareth says, exasperated.

Steve just shakes his head, "I'm good! Just lost track of time, give me ten minutes," he says, and heads to the bedroom, and slides open the closet doors. Looking for anything that might pass as golfing attire. Robin didn't lay him out any golf clothes, she's

so

fired.

He hopes his clubs are in the garage, if not, he's gonna look even more suspicious telling Gareth he doesn't know where they are. But he gets dressed, finds them, and they're out the door.

He follows Gareth to his car, and Gareth just quirks an eyebrow, questioning him without actually saying anything. Steve realizes, belatedly, he was probably supposed to drive himself. In his own car. But Gareth opens the back hatch of the station wagon, and Steve puts his golf bag in the back.

Steve realizes that he should have met them there, but never showed up and Gareth was sent back to check on him.

Oh well. It's too late now. He climbs in the passenger seat of this station wagon, that is a far cry from the Corvettes.

"This car, man," Steve teases.

"Six kids. You try having six kids and see what you're driving around town, wise guy," Gareth mutters. "Di wanted a station wagon with the other dollar lease, so Di got a station wagon."

Di. Her name is Di.

Steve finally learned something he could comprehend in this world.

When they get to the course, the guys are just drinking in the clubhouse, waiting for him. They give him a ration of shit, but quickly forget all about it, and head out onto the green. Ready to get started.

Eddie's wearing a little sweater, and bold, windowpane print pants. White shoes with

fringe

on top. He looks

super

preppy, Steve thinks with fucking delight. But not really out of place, everyone is dressed more or less the same, other than Steve. Striped shirts with matching bucket hats. Cardigans. Shirts tucked into their slacks, looking pretty fucking cool.

Steve's the least prissy amongst the lot, right now at least, and he wishes every damn one of them that thought King Steve was so preppy, could see themselves now. Like they stepped out of an uppity golf catalog.

Steve's impressed, honestly. He's never seen any of them, besides Tommy, look anything like this. He's pretty sure his plain short-sleeve shirt, the safe bet from his closet, is not up to this standard of style.

"What are you wearing?" Eddie asks, and

seriously?

"I could ask you the same thing," Steve banters back, and Eddie looks down at himself.

"You picked this out! You said it looked good!" Eddie seethes, and Steve just laughs.

"You look great," Steve says with a grin, but Eddie doesn't seem to believe him.

They pile into their waiting golf carts, and Eddie hops behind the wheel of theirs.

"Hold on for lift-off," he says, and then presses down on the pedal, jerking them all as he hammers it. Gareth laughing on the back, holding on for dear life. There's not really a third seat, and Steve has no idea what Gareth's even clinging to back there.

Steve quickly realizes that this is just like the Corvettes, one big race, and Eddie is hell-fucking-bent on winning, no matter what.

They don't.

And Eddie says it's because they had Gareth on the back, an extra man, while the other carts were just two a piece.

Jonathan was in with Tommy H., and if

that

isn't a weird sight to see, Steve's not sure what would be. 
And Steve quickly realizes how competitive they all are. It's a little ridiculous. But he gets into it. He can compete, it's just been a while, and he hadn't realized he'd even missed it so much. He doesn't even know what his handicap is these days, it's been a long time since he's picked up a club, but he quickly realizes they aren't playing with them anyway. Just straight up, for cash.He's not sure that's gonna be fair, but this isn't his world, and he just goes along with it.They all stand in a circle, and Gareth flips a tee and it points directly at Eddie. So, Eddie's going first.Eddie selects a club from his bag, his driver, and then prances around. There's lots of primping, butt twisting, and moving his feet up and down like he's trying to get settled into a batter's box. At this rate, Steve is pretty sure Eddie's never gonna actually swing that golf club. Maybe this was all a joke.But then Eddie squares himself up, and his golf swing is gorgeous. A lovely amount of sway. Smooth, continuous rotation, unrestricted, with beautiful follow through. Steve's impressed.Steve's very impressed.Ball sailing straight down the fairway. Jesus. Steve thinks his dick might get hard just from watching this play out in front of him.He hopes he doesn't get a case of the yips just by having to follow Eddie to the tee. He's got a good swing, he knows he does, his dad made sure of it, but Eddie's might be better.He goes from his takeaway into his backswing, then just turns off his brain, and lets pure muscle memory take over.It works.His ball lands not far from Eddie's, and he grins. He's still good under pressure, still competitive, and there's no way he's giving up without a fight. Not to Eddie, not to anyone.Gareth tees up behind him, and once he's finished, the three of them drive down to finish up the hole. Then the other four will follow. There's nobody teeing off behind them, at least not yet, so they have time. Steve sits in the cart next to Eddie, waiting for the rest of them to play through the hole. Gareth's harassing Goodie as Goodie tries to get his ball in the hole, under par.Goodie misses an easy putt, has to settle for par, and if looks could kill, Gareth would be dead."Where were you this morning?" Eddie asks, looking his way."Just lost track of time," Steve answers, because that seems true. He's definitely lost track of all time at this point."Steve Harrington, late for a round of golf. I never thought I'd see the day," Eddie says, winking at him, and Steve grins back.Gareth crawls back on the back of their cart, and away they go. Off to hole two.Steve realizes that maybe they are all similar enough in skill that they can just play a straight game together. It doesn't look like any of them are scratch golfers, but good. Solid. And he's never just played a straight game before, it's no fun if it's not fair to everyone, but this might be. Stroke for stroke, like they're playing mini golf. Fewest strokes wins.He's so ready for this.

On hole sixteen, Eddie hovers over his shoulder as Steve figures his score, and Steve nudges him away. 
Eddie laughs, throwing his head back, enjoying himself. Probably because he's winning.

Eddie's winning. At a sport.

At golf.

Hell has officially frozen over.
Steve's pretty sure he can't catch up, short of some fucking miracles happening on the next two holes. Looking at the pars for the last holes, he'd need a double eagle and a birdie to tie. That doesn't seem likely, but he can dream. Second's not bad. It's not first. But it's not bad.Eddie's entertaining the group, as usual.
"I'm gonna sneak a club up to the moon, be the first one to play a sport up there, and hit a ball for miles and miles and miles," Eddie says, leaning against his club.

"How are you gonna sneak a club and golf balls into space?" Jeff asks. "NASA will shut that shit down so fast."

"I haven't gotten that far yet," Eddie admits. "Probably contraband.

Definitely

contraband."

"You won't get it anywhere," Goodie says dryly, "you'd just shank it into the lunar module and poke a hole, dooming us all."

"Us? You think you're going to be first on the moon?" Eddie crows back, and Goodie just ignores him.

"That's gonna be me and Steve-o, don't you know?" Eddie says, throwing his arm around Steve's shoulders, shaking him as he pulls him in tight.

The hell if it is. Steve isn't going to the goddamn moon.

But he does like that Eddie

wants

to go with him. Wants to do this great, big thing together.

So he plays along.

"Don't you think

I

should be the first one to play a sport on the moon?"

"Nope. You can watch," Eddie says with confidence.

And Steve smiles. This is fun, all of it.

When Robin comes home, she throws the latest copy of Life magazine on the counter. Steve picks it up and looks at the cover. All the wives have been airbrushed to have bold, red lips.

Steve laughs, and Robin shoves him.

"It's not funny!" she shouts, affronted, but it is fucking funny, and she knows it.

"You look sexy," he teases, and she gags.

He loves her. Loves that she's still Robin, and he's still Steve, even when everything is so goddamn weird.

"Well, Chrissy looks good," Steve concedes, and Robin looks at him.

"Of course she does," Robin finally says, and Steve just grins. "I look like Cesar Romero as The Joker."

Steve throws his head back and laughs, Robin slaps his arm and it just makes him laugh harder. He definitely watched tons of Batman reruns in syndication as a kid. And Robin doesn't look like The Joker, but the thought that she thinks so is still hilarious.

She hugs him from behind, pressing her face into his back. He puts his hands on her arms, and holds her there.

Honestly, if this is marriage, he's happy. It looks nothing like his parents' marriage. Yeah, he doesn't want to sleep with her, and now doesn't think they are, but this is fun. He loves her. And they have fun together. Things could be a

whole

lot worse.

"How was golf?" she asks, "Eddie hit a hole in one in the locker room or anything else of interest?"

He's stunned just for a second, and then he giggles, "I wish. Alas, no. My hole is as empty as it was when I left the house."

"Ew!" she shrieks.

"Excuse me? You, Ms. Ma'am, brought this up."

"And I have regrets," she says, sullen.

Steve tries to fit in with the other astronauts. He hardly ever sees Eddie outside of work, and he doesn't know the schedule. How often they get to spend the night together, what triggers it. So he just has to wait, and go with the flow.

The next weekend they go water skiing. Barefoot. Steve's impressed, but also scared that this is how they all act. They have no fear, apparently. Maybe that's a key component in being someone willing to be shot off the Earth, strapped to a tin can.

He gets that they were all military test pilots, daring to fly all kinds of experimental shit that often doomed them to untimely deaths. Somehow, they all just scraped by, by the skin of their teeth.

And now, they're willing to be strapped into experimental rockets, just for the chance to do something no other man has done before them.

Steve would rather stay with his two feet firmly on the ground. He's dealt with all the unpredictable, experimental shit he needs for a lifetime, back home. Thank you very much.

But he takes his turn, grabbing onto the tow handle. Eddie's driving the speedboat, and Gareth and him are doing math, back and forth, to determine the speed they need to go to keep the next skier upright. And once up and going, they see who can withstand it the longest, go the furthest. Steve's water skied before, but never at these speeds. Never barefoot. When it's Eddie's turn, he's in short little trunks that are fucking maddening. Wet, clinging to him, and they hide nothing. Not the outline of his soft cock, not his flat, little ass.

Steve looks away, has to, before he gives himself away.

They all survive the day unscathed, and end up at a bar, drinking in the middle of the afternoon, slightly sunburnt and tired from the sun exposure and exertion.

They work hard, but they party pretty fucking hard, too, Steve's quickly realized.

Steve's trying to fit into this world, but it's not easy. There's a steeper learning curve than usual. He's expected to understand space flight, and planes and he really,

really

doesn't. It's one thing to be thrown into a golf game, or up onto water skis. He can do that with ease. But the rest? Impossible. He's trying to just go with the flow, but it has to be obvious he's keeping himself out of a lot of the conversations they are all having. It's all they talk about, all the time. And he has nothing to add.

He doesn't know anything about high performance jets, and he's dreading the day he's expected to just hop in one, and fly off into the sky.

At the bar, Steve watches with slight horror as these guys, almost

all

of them, it seems, are totally down with cheating on their wives. It's three in the goddamn afternoon. But Steve has found out there's a faction of women around the area that are specifically looking for the astronauts at all times, almost like groupies, and he had no idea that was a thing.

He's had to brush off more than one, and it's awkward to say the least.

He politely excuses himself, and heads for the only other two besides himself, that aren't touching women that aren't their wives: Eddie and Gareth. They're playing darts in the corner, and Steve slides up next to them.

"Took you long enough. I started to think maybe you were finally gonna do something bad," Gareth says as he hands Steve some darts.

Eddie thumps Gareth between the shoulder blades, and Gareth gasps, likes he's been beaten, instead of the love tap Eddie gave him. Eddie rolls his eyes, but Gareth is letting him play with Eddie next, so Steve smiles at him. At least darts is something he knows, and those things have been few and far between, here.

At home, Steve sits at the kitchen bar, watching as Robin makes a sandwich for him.

Suddenly, he blurts out, "They all cheat. On their wives."

Robin raises an eyebrow, "And you just noticed that today?"

"No, I guess not," he says, a little defeated.

If he thinks about it, Eddie and him cheat, too. Just, with permission, he supposes.

"Does it make you mad?" Steve asks. "The cheating?"

"Not mad. It makes me sad for their wives, that they all know that, and feel like they can't do anything about it. It's just how it is. Wife of an astronaut."

"I cheat too," Steve says, more to himself than to her, but Robin pauses, knife halfway between the jar of mayo and the bread.
"You do?"
Steve nods.

"Why? I thought…" she trails off, like she's trying to wrap her head around this information. "Does Eddie know?"

"Well, he's there, so I assume so," Steve says, dryly.

"Dingus. Are you talking about cheating

with

Eddie and not

on

Eddie? If so, I'm gonna strangle you. You scared me," she says, swiping the mayo across the bread, finally.

He laughs, "Sorry. Just. I feel bad."

"You feel bad? For who? That we have a mutually beneficial sham marriage that works really fucking well for everyone involved?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" he trails off.

"You're being weird," she says, and slides the plate with the sandwich on it across the table towards him.

Steve should tell her he's from the future. He wants to tell her.

He doesn't, but he probably should. She told him to always tell her, and here he is, not telling her.

Steve is startled awake when Eddie bangs into the bedroom, shedding his clothes. Steve blinks, trying to orientate himself. When he went to bed, Robin was definitely in here beside him. Now she's gone, and Eddie is shimmying out of his pants next to the bed.

"Bonus night," Eddie says, like that's a reasonable explanation.

Steve pushes himself up to a sitting position, just trying to wake up, "Bonus night?"

"The other night was a bust, so. Bonus night. Do-over," Eddie says, standing over at the record player in the corner, pulling one from the sleeve, and putting the needle down.

Paint It, Black

starts playing, and Steve grins so hard his face hurts. He thinks Eddie probably liked this back home, too. It's not metal, but it still feels like the real Eddie is bleeding through.

Then he's crawling under the sheet with Steve, and immediately sliding down to situate himself between Steve's thighs. "I need you. I can't wait until next time."

Sure fingers are pushing into his boxers, and Steve groans, his head hitting the headboard as his body

definitely

gets on board with this.

He loves bonus night. Bonus night is his favorite night of all the nights.

When Eddie rolls him over onto his stomach, Steve's belly flips. He's been waiting for this to happen again, and Eddie has slid a slick finger inside him without warning and Steve melts into the sheets. Hell yes.

This isn't like in the Real World house, or Paris. It isn't new, or unsure. It might be new to Steve, but he can tell by the way Eddie is handling him, that this is far from new for him. For them. That this is their life, and Steve is more than happy to enjoy the benefits of that.

It's about damn time that he gets something

really good

out of this time travel bullshit.

So, Steve relaxes, just feeling Eddie's fingers pressing into him, stretching him, fucking him, bumping into his prostate over and over. It's overwhelming, and unlike any sex he's ever had before in his whole life.

His body just gives way under Eddie's hands, like the muscle memory is there, even if to his mind this is all brand new.

Steve tenses, he's gonna come. It snuck up on him suddenly, and he's desperate to stop it, so he wedges his hand between his body and the bed, and squeezes the base of his dick, hard. Trying to prevent the inevitable.

Eddie chuckles behind him, "You gonna come on my fingers? Has it really been that long?"

"You have no idea," Steve answers, willing his body to wait. To just fucking wait.

Eddie lets up. Fingers still inside him, still filling him, but not hammering into his prostate any longer, and the urge to come all over the sheets wanes, and Steve releases his dick, and just slides it against his hand, feeling good, humping the bed as Eddie starts to finger him again.

"You ready? Or you need another minute?" Eddie asks, and hell yes, he's ready. He's been ready.

"I'm ready," Steve answers, and he isn't prepared for how fast Eddie is covering his back, his thighs bumping Steve's, his dick sliding right along his asshole, gathering up whatever Eddie had used as lube to finger him open.

Steve feels the warm, blunt head of Eddie's dick pressing into him. He's missed this.

Eddie grips his hip, and slides all the way in, bottoming out, and Steve can hardly stand it. It's too much. It's everything he's ever hoped to feel again, and Eddie doesn't know he's having a crisis underneath him, doesn't know this is rocking Steve's whole fucking world.

Doesn't know this is still pretty new for Steve. So, Eddie gives him no time. No time to adjust, no time to just enjoy the sensation of being filled. No, Eddie just snaps his hips back, and then thrusts all the way back into Steve, hard, and Steve thinks he may die from it.

It doesn't hurt, but he's so far beyond overstimulated already, and they've just started.

"Missed you," Eddie says, running his hands up and down Steve's back, and tears leak out of Steve's eyes.

He's missed Eddie, too.

Steve loves this, loves getting to feel this version of Eddie inside him, but he's not Eddie. Not really. There are no chunky rings biting into his skin, pinching, no long hair tickling his back as Eddie leans forward to kiss his neck.

Steve's done a lot of fantasizing about what it might have been like to have Eddie Munson fucking him, and this isn't it. Not really. Not today, not in San Francisco, not in Paris. Steve wants to see ripped, black jeans, unbuttoned, belt and buckle hanging heavy and loose as Edddie can't even wait to get undressed before fucking into him.

He wants the hint of weed under the cigarette smoke smell on his skin.

"Steve," this Eddie says, and it's his voice, but it isn't him.

It's Eddie. But it isn't.

Not the one Steve's dreamed about, longed for, not really.

Steve tries to shake the feeling off, and just concentrate on everything else. The pleasure he's getting by being on Eddie's dick, the fullness, the slide. The drag.

Eddie's hand on his back, with only one ring, his wedding ring, touching Steve's skin. He wants heavy silver rings, not subdued gold.

"That's it," Eddie says, and Steve wants to come. Wants to finish with Eddie, but he can't. He's too far away, lost in his own head. He's chased away his own orgasm.

But Steve feels it when Eddie tenses, his dick hardening further as Eddie pushes in as deep as he can, before Eddie comes inside him. Steve has never felt anything like it before. Not even Paris felt like this. He's never finished in anyone, not like that, not ever, and it's

definitely

never happened to him before, but now he's got Eddie's come inside his body. His dick is still hard, still ready for something, for more, for Eddie, and he gets it when Eddie pulls out of him with a wet slide, and pushes Steve over onto his back.

Steve's expecting a hand, or maybe a mouth, but he watches, shocked stupid, as Eddie crawls onto his thighs.

Holy shit.

Eddie grinds down on him, bounces a little, and Steve's not even here anymore. He's off in space. He is an astronaut, after all. He wants inside Eddie, but he doesn't know if this is a one-way street, or what. So, he'll just take whatever Eddie's offering.

Eddie's cupping his own softened, spent dick, and Steve thinks he must be overstimulated. But he still wants more from him, and Steve will give him more. Will give him everything he can, always.

Eddie reaches for Steve's hand, and drags it to Steve's dick.

He wants to watch, Steve realizes.

Steve settles his other hand on Eddie's waist, palming his hip, his hand looking so large against Eddie's pale skin. Steve's staring at Eddie's body, more interested in that than getting himself off.

"Show me," Eddie says, and rubs some K-Y Jelly into Steve's fingers, a direct order.

It's squeezed from the middle of the tube.

This is Eddie, down deep. It must be.

And Steve isn't about to disappoint him, so he strokes himself, pushing his dick up into his fist, hooking his thumb over the head, and Eddie is watching every movement with intent.

That's it. He likes Eddie's eyes on him.

Steve is gonna come, even if he wishes this could last longer. He angles his dick towards Eddie, and comes on Eddie's hand, his dick, dripping onto his thighs.

Eddie comes again, a nearly dry orgasm, it looks like, but he cries out Steve's name, as he's squeezing Steve's thighs between his own. Still working his softening dick, palming it, rubbing in both of their come.

Steve's never seen anything hotter in his whole fucking life.

Eddie slides off his legs, and collapses onto Steve's whole body, chest to chest, and Steve wraps his arms around him, holding him tight. He doesn't ever want to let go.

This is his favorite other world, he's decided. Sure, he'd rather be home, his real home, but this is a close second right now.

He can learn to fly a spaceship, no problem, as long as they keep getting to do that again and again.

Steve finally gets into a groove. He pretends he knows what he's doing at work, and then Eddie and him fuck twice a week like they're starved for it. Maybe they are. It's a good life, they're all living. He has Eddie and Robin right with him everyday, and he couldn't ask for more than that.

It is working, he's figured it all out, until it comes crashing to a halt when they have a meeting at work to announce who is gonna pilot the next couple missions. And he's been chosen for one of them. Not the next one, but his name is in a slot, and it makes him break out in a cold sweat. He knows he's supposed to be celebrating, supposed to be happy, but Steve can't take a mission to fucking space. He doesn't know what he's doing. He has none of the qualifications, none of the knowledge, and he can't risk anyone else by winging it. This isn't like everything else.

He can pretend to be an FBI agent. He can pretend to be a soldier. But he can't pretend he's an astronaut. No fucking way.

He can't just blunder his way through space. That's some crazy, unhinge-y shit. Too dumbass, even for him. There's no room for error, one little mistake and - bam! He'll get people killed. His friends, maybe even Eddie. No fucking way.

He's pretty sure this world will dissolve before it matters, but he can't risk it. It's lasted a long time already, and he doesn't think he's stuck here, he hopes not, but he can't predict how long it will stay this way. That much he

does

know by now.

And honestly, Eddie can't do it either. He can't go into space, because he might suddenly remember where he's actually from, too, and be just as confused as Steve. That would be a fucking disaster.

Steve nearly had a stroke on the tarmac, when he watched Eddie take off in a jet, scared shitless he'd get up there and then not know how to land it. All he could imagine was him smashing to the earth, in an uncontrolled death spiral.

Steve had watched the plane quickly disappear into the sky, and had kept looking for it. Hand shielding his eyes, until he could hear the approach again, could see come back into the sky overhead, and he'd held his breath.

Eddie landed it beautifully, and winked at Steve as he walked by in his flight suit, helmet in hand.

This is too stressful. He's definitely ready to be out of this world now.

Steve's propped up in bed, reading this book, trying to learn something, anything, about the space program. It's outdated, only covering Project Mercury, and Steve knows they are winding down Gemini and are headed full speed towards the first manned Apollo flight.

But he understands very little of how any of this works, and he rubs his thumb across his eyebrow while he reads, stressed out. He couldn't have said

any

of these words. He doesn't even

know

these words.

He's startled from his crisis, when Eddie walks in, pulling his undershirt over his head. He didn't know it was an Eddie night. But he never knows what the fuck is going on around here. Eddie seems to call all of the shots, and that's fine, but it leaves Steve feeling more confused than he thinks he needs to be.

He feels like he has no opportunity to be proactive here in this world. He just has to accept everything as it happens, because he's so out of his element. He doesn't especially like it. He'd rather form a plan, but that seems out of the question.

Eddie crawls in bed beside him, tips his book back to see the cover of what he's reading, and immediately laughs, "That's the only thing you could find to read? A book you helped write, about your own job?"

Steve should laugh, knows he should, because Eddie is teasing. But he's too tired. Too overwhelmed. Just reading these words from him, from Eddie, from Gareth and the others, is daunting. He doesn't remember doing any of these things. He wasn't a test pilot. He hasn't been in orbit.

"I can't go," Steve finally says, closing the book over his chest.

"Can't go where?" Eddie asks, sliding his hand over Steve's bare stomach.

"To space," Steve says, "I can't go up in space."

"Well, you have. You can again. You will," Eddie says, "I'm not mad. I always assumed you'd get picked to go again before me. You're Steve Harrington. It was always inevitable."

Steve's heard whispers. Getting picked earlier isn't necessarily the prize Eddie is making it out to be. They're saving Eddie for the moon landing. Steve's sure of it.

"No, Eddie. No," he says, looking over at him, "you don't understand. I don't have any memory of how to do it. I can't fly a plane, I can't fly a spaceship. I can barely drive that Corvette in the driveway."

"What? Why?" Eddie asks, leaning up, searching Steve's face, no longer laughing, looking concerned.

"I can't explain it," Steve says, defeated.

"Well, try," Eddie insists.

Steve's too tired to fight him on this.

"This will sound crazy. But I'm not me. Well, I am me. Just not the me that's supposed to be here. I'm not

this

me," he says, tapping on the hardcover of the book, "This isn't my life. I'm from about twenty years in the future."

"Oh, are you now?" Eddie says, laughing again, resting his head on his hand, elbow propping him up, acting dismissively delighted by this new weirdness. "And who am I gonna be tonight, Steve?" Eddie asks, running his other hand down Steve's stomach, and cupping him through his boxers.

"A naughty nurse or-"

No. No, he's not playing, even if Eddie thinks he is.

"Stop it, no!" Steve snaps, as he bats Eddie's hand away, and Eddie's face falls, suddenly concerned by his abrupt outburst.

"What?

Steve?"

Eddie says, clearly trying to adjust to this change in Steve's mood.

"I am from the future, Eddie.

I am.

Believe it or not. I can tell you that the United States landed on the moon in 1969, by the way," Steve announces, dryly, "I hate to spoil the ending. But there you have it."

Steve remembers watching it on TV, even if he was

really

young. It's one of his first memories, he's pretty sure. The whole country was excited by this incredible feat that they'd pulled off, beating the Soviets.

"First?" Eddie asks, looking at Steve's face, smirking again a little.

Steve hates it. He's still being a fucking dickhead about this. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut.

"First?" Steve snaps, confused, but then realizes Eddie means to ask if they did it before the Russians did. "Yeah, we were first," Steve confirms.

"Glad to hear it," Eddie says, but clearly not believing him.

"But Apollo 1 catches fire during the launch. Everyone on board will die. We gotta keep everyone out of that one," Steve says, serious. He does remember that from history class. They lost three astronauts and thought maybe the chance of going to the moon was gone. At least before the end of the decade, like Kennedy had promised.
"What?" Eddie questions. "There is no Apollo 1."Steve stops, "What?""There is nothing coming down the pipe named that," Eddie argues, "you've lost your mind."Steve damn well knows he's heard Gareth calling the upcoming mission Apollo 1. Neither one of them are scheduled for that flight. But Gareth is slated to go up, with Jeff and Goodie."Gareth keeps calling it that," Steve snaps.Eddie sighs, dramatically, "Yeah, well, what Gareth wants to name things has never been very popular. The director isn't gonna allow it, so you're wrong," Eddie insists."No, you are. They're gonna die.""That's not funny, Steve."
"I'm not kidding," Steve says, closing his eyes. "I wish I were."

Eddie just rolls onto his back and lays there, pulling his hands to his own chest, folding them, clearly trying to wrap his head around what Steve's tried to tell him.

"When do you think you're from?" Eddie finally asks.

"I'm from 1987."

"1987," Eddie repeats, and he doesn't believe him, Steve can tell.

"The Challenger blew up last year. Right after it took off. We all watched it happen live on television," Steve says.

"What's the Challenger?" Eddie questions.

Steve sighs, yeah, of course he doesn't know. It hasn't happened yet. They haven't even landed on the moon, let alone started the shuttle program.

"It was a space shuttle," Steve says.

"A rocket?" Eddie asks.

"No. A shuttle. It can land, and be used again. I think."

"On the moon? That's impossible," Eddie says.

Steve doesn't think they land on the moon with them. He's pretty sure they don't.

"I don't think they are moon missions. It's for the space station they hope to build. Freedom? I think they're calling it Freedom. I don't know, I'm really not very interested in this back home. I've got bigger fish to fry."

And he does. Space travel wasn't on the top of his priority list, not when he had to fight monsters from the goddamn Upside Down.

"What's bigger than the race to the moon?" Eddie questions, more to himself than anything else, Steve thinks.

Eddie doesn't seem to believe any of this, but that's okay. Steve's pretty sure everything he's said sounds unbelievable. He doesn't really blame Eddie for being so skeptical. But he's definitely not trying to add the Upside Down bullshit into this. Eddie will really shut him down, if he does. Steve knows it.

So, he says nothing. Lets the silence sit between them.

"Are we together, then? In 1987?" Eddie finally asks.

"No," Steve says, quietly.

Eddie is silent for a few minutes. Clearly thinking something through, finally asking, "Is that why you didn't know I was talking to you? Outside? At that cookout at my house? I said I was going to bed, and you just sat there, like a drunken fool."

"Yeah, that was my first day here," Steve says, "I was trying to figure everything out. But believe me. I was pretty happy by the surprise. We'd be together, at home, if I had my way."

"Why aren't we then?" Eddie asks, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut.

He can't tell Eddie he's dead. He's already not believing a word he says, and that definitely won't help matters. Not at all.

"Because it's complicated," Steve finally says.

Eddie nods, then moves to sit up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"I think we need to have you looked at. By the doctors. Something's wrong with you," Eddie says, and Steve tries not to cry.

Eddie doesn't believe him.

Robin would believe him.

Steve is hiding in the bathroom while Eddie is making a phone call from the bedside table, and Steve really hopes he's not calling the government. That wouldn't be great. Not at all. He can't let that happen. He leans his forehead against the bathroom door, and begs to switch worlds, to get away from here, away from this Eddie, but nothing happens.

Eddie hangs up, and Steve listens through the door as Eddie paces the room. Ignoring him. Talking to himself in a low mumble. 
Minutes pass, and Steve starts to wonder if he can crawl out of the small bathroom window, up high. He stretches up and shimmies it open, and is just starting to pull himself up, when he hears shouting in the distance.He slides back to his feet.Robin."Where is he?" Steve hears her ask.Eddie must point, because she's tapping on the bathroom door, "It's me. Open up."He unlocks the bathroom door at the sound of her voice. Eddie must have called her, not NASA. Which, better. Much better.Steve opens the door just in time to see Eddie take Chrissy by the arm, leading her out of the bedroom, leaving Steve alone with Robin.
"What happened? What's going on?" she asks, leading him to the bed, making him get back under the covers, and sitting down next to him. Putting her hand on his forehead, like she's checking him for a fever, "Eddie said you're not making sense and acting crazy."

"Eddie's mad at me because I'm from the future," Steve says, sullenly.

She smiles, trying not to laugh, "Well, that probably isn't what he expected to hear tonight."

"Tell me about it," he says, sniffing.

"You're awfully pouty for a time traveler," she says, reaching out and flicking his bottom lip, "Get this any lower and you'll trip on it."

He laughs, can't help it.

She's teasing, but he doesn't get as frustrated with her for doing it as he did Eddie. She has a history of believing him, and he has no reason to doubt her here, either. But he's gotta ask.

"I know," Steve says, then he meets Robin's eyes. "Do you believe me?"

"Sure," she says, "why not? I'm married to a man that is trying to land on the moon. Which of those is more unbelievable, I don't know. The moon part, or the married to a man part."

He grins at her.

"And honestly? This makes sense. You've been

really

weird for weeks. You kissed me, acting like you wanted to kiss me. Way to freak me out, dingus."

"I thought that's what I was supposed to do. You're

my wife,"

he admits, "I didn't, like,

enjoy

it."

"Hey!" she snaps like she's offended, but she's laughing.

So, he laughs, too. Really laughs, and she crawls into his arms.

"You are dressed under there, right? Because I don't intend to consummate this marriage now, not after all these years of avoiding it."
"You literally just put me in bed, you know I'm dressed, Robin.""I don't know what kind of magic powers you have!" she says, way too loud.
He pulls her closer, and laughs into her hair, "Not naked."

"Good. Okay then. Tell me all about it," she says, and he does. He starts to tell her everything that's happened so far, and it's a lot to tell. It must sound so crazy to her, but she listens. She asks questions, and really seems to think about his answers.

She wants to help him, and he hugs her even tighter, because he needed that right now. Needed her.
He's still talking, when she pulls back, and holds a finger up right his face, shaking it at him, her eyes squeezed closed. Silencing him. Thinking.He pauses, snapping his mouth shut, just waiting for her to figure out whatever it is she's contemplating.Finally, she opens her eyes back up and speaks."Chrissy was painting my nails. For the Life photos," she says, firmly.And he blinks, surprised.She continues talking, "That's when you changed. Right? I'm right, right? I'm definitely right," she rambles talking to herself as much as she's talking to him, Steve's pretty damn sure.But yeah, she's right."How'd you know that?" he asks."Because you were there, right in front of me, and the next second, boom! Just like-"She snaps her fingers in his face."-that! You weren't. It's like your whole demeanor changed in a second.""Seriously?" Steve asks."I thought maybe you'd had a stroke.""Robin!"She rolls her eyes, "Clearly you didn't! Calm down.""I cannot believe you knew and didn't say anything. I thought we were friends.""I could say the same thing to you, buddy."He laughs."That day, you also groped me. You touched my boobs!" she suddenly shouts, accusatory, pointing her finger right in his face.He acts like he's gonna bite it, and she yanks it back from his mouth."I didn't want to touch your boobies, Jesus Christ, but you were sitting on my lap. I felt, like, obligated!" Steve argues back, trying to reason with her."Ew, don't say boobies!" she says, giving him look of disgust that he's well acquainted with. He loves it. Her.He smiles wide, because she's Robin. She's here. Even if she's not."Don't make it gross. I didn't enjoy it," he says."What's wrong with my boobs?" she asks, crossing her arms across her chest.He lulls his head, giving her the look, because he's not falling for this trap."Nothing. They're perfect. I want to touch them so bad," he says dryly, and then pantomimes like he's honking her tits.She bats his hands out of the space in front of her, laughing."You were so weird that day. I knew something was off. I didn't think it was time travel, obviously. But I knew something was up with you suddenly," she says, leaning forward, and gripping both of his shoulders."I should have told you sooner," he admits."Well, obviously, dingus."He smiles at her."Well. Tell me more," she demands.
"We saw The Beatles on the roof," he says, and she squeals. Finally. Fucking finally, he got to tell her that and have her fully appreciate it.

"No way! The Beatles?! What roof? Where? I'm so jealous that I can't remember seeing them. Tell me everything. Every last detail."

"George was wearing green pants, and you really liked them," he says, adding, "It was their last concert."

"Oh my god, what year? Like far into the future, I guess," she rambles.

"Well, actually…"

"Steve. No. Steve. Tell me. No. Don't," she says, then looks him in the eyes, "Tell me."

"1970. They break up in 1970," he says.

She flops onto his chest hard enough to make him breathe out a soft

omph,

"You bring the worst news."

"I could tell you it gets worse," he admits, rubbing his hand up and down her back.

"Do not," she warns, pulling back to look at him.

And he makes the motion to represent that he's zipping his lip.

"How did we end up married?" he asks, changing the subject, pressing his face into her hair. Just holding her.

Or, maybe she's holding him. He's not exactly sure which, not right now.

"Well, if you wanted to try for the new space program, being unmarried wasn't really an option. NASA wouldn't allow it. No happy marriage, no spaceflight. Those are the rules. You did the bachelor thing as long as you could, and then, well. We got married."

"Thanks, Rob."

"We made a deal. I'd marry you if you promised we didn't have to have sex or have kids, and if you promised not to die doing this crazy thing."

He laughs, "I'll try not to die."

"That's what you said then, too."

"Why didn't I just marry a different girl? I like girls, too."

"Yeah, but you love Eddie. And you weren't prepared to end it. Weren't interested in falling in love with anyone else, woman or man."

"How long have I been with Eddie?" he asks.

"Forever," she says.

"Yeah?" he asks, smiling.

"Oh, yeah. Forever. He's my husband-in-law," she says.

Steve laughs, loud and wild, "So, our only problem with making babies is that we don't have sex?" he questions, waving his hand around her middle.

"Ew, no. Don't wave at me like that," she says, batting his hand away. "And of course we don't have sex. It's a good cover story for the four of us. Everybody feels sorry for us, and then don't think anything of us all vacationing together. The sad couples that can't have any kids, just making do with each other's company."

"I like it," Steve says, and Robin giggles.

"It works, plus it's nobody's business, even if we just didn't want kids. It's just definitely frowned upon, with the program. You know? The whole family man image they want to push?"

How having a wife and kids makes you more qualified to fly in space, Steve isn't really sure, and says as much, and Robin laughs, leaning into his shoulder.

"Gareth must be their poster child," Steve says, and Robin snorts.

"Nah, he causes too much trouble. Scrutinizing every last thing they do down there. They're all very much over his hovering and backseat driving."

"Well, I think he probably has a good reason."

Robin nods, halfheartedly, "Still could use a condom, once or twice."

Steve laughs, hard.

And they must be loud enough to drag Eddie back into the room.

"What's wrong with you?" Eddie asks, looking at Steve, accusing.

"Just, traveling through time. You know, space wasn't enough for me. Too boring. Not far enough. I aim high."

Eddie frowns, and he clearly doesn't find any of this funny.

It's a little funny. Steve is sure of it.

"It's not funny! He's clearly lost his fucking mind, and you're just sitting here laughing about it! He needs committed somewhere, not you enabling him!" Eddie yells, and Robin is up off the bed, in his face, before he can finish.

"Go home," she says, hard, pointing towards the door.

"I am home," Eddie says, low, challenging.

"Not if you're gonna act this way, you're not. This is my house, and I'd like you to leave."

"Seriously, Buckley? You believe this?" Eddie asks, looking at her like she's part of the problem, not the solution he'd probably hoped for when he called her.

Robin crosses her arms across her chest, "It's Harrington. And yes, I love him, so I believe him."

"Oh, now you want to go by Harrington?"

"That's literally my last name," she snaps. "Because he's my husband."

"That's not fair, and you know it. You think I don't love him? You know I do. He's just full of bullshit right now. He's cracked, and you're enabling him."

Robin shoves him, just a little, "He's not full of bullshit. Go home, Eddie. Come back tomorrow, when you can behave better."

"Steve," Eddie says, looking around her.

"We're okay, Rob. You can go home. Don't waste your night with Chrissy."

And Robin just looks suspicious of the whole idea of leaving them alone.

Eventually she trusts that he's okay alone with Eddie, and takes Chrissy and they go back to the other house, and Eddie crawls back into bed, just looking at him like he's a stranger.

He kind of is, really.

So, they just sit there, leaning against the headboard for a long time, shoulder-to-shoulder, totally silent.

Steve finally reaches over and takes Eddie's hand into his own, and Eddie lets him. He's still Eddie, and Steve's still Steve, and this thing between them transcends worlds. Steve knows that by now.

"Inner ear infection. Balance issues," Eddie finally offers. "That'll keep you grounded without raising a shit ton of red flags."

Steve nods. He'll do anything Eddie tells him to do to keep from being launched into space.

"I'll get the doc to sign off on it, without looking into it too closely. That'll give you some time to snap out of whatever

this

is," Eddie says, waving his other hand in Steve's direction. A little dismissive. Still not believing him.

Steve sighs.

"Fine," Steve agrees. He's not going to fight about it.

Eddie doesn't believe him, not yet.

He will.

"You want me to crash on the couch?" Eddie asks, "So we can still give Robin and Chrissy their night?"

"No," Steve says, "not at all. Unless you want to," Steve offers.

"No," Eddie answers, "I don't. Can I just hold you?"

"Please,"

Steve stresses, and he can't think of anything he'd want more as he slides down the bed, and lets Eddie toss his arm over his body.
Steve's exhausted, and just gives into it. Lets sleep tug at him, even as he worries that he can't make Eddie believe him. But he knows he can't make Eddie do anything. Not even this.
Steve is just about to doze off when he hears Eddie speak, "I don't believe you. But I love you."

He squeezes Eddie's hand, acknowledging the comment, and Eddie squeezes back.

The next day, Steve looks at the pictures on the wall again. There are a bunch of Eddie and him together, posing next to a spacecraft.

"That's Gemini IV," Robin says, "Eddie and you were space twins. That's what they called the pairs of you that went up. You know, because of Gemini? The astrological Gemini?"

Steve looks over at her. She's pronounced Gemini two different ways, and he's confused, but he doesn't ask. It probably doesn't matter.

"You were gone for four days on that mission. The only reason I didn't go insane with worry is because Eddie was with you."

She points to a picture of an astronaut tethered, floating in space, "Eddie. I knew you must have been excited for him, but also worried sick. Everyone thought you were jealous it was him and not you that got to do the first spacewalk. But I knew. You were just scared he'd float away, and you wouldn't be able to save him."

Steve swallows. He can't even imagine how scared he'd be to see Eddie do that. Not being able to save Eddie is his biggest regret.

But it's a gorgeous picture, and there's a little gold plaque under it that says,

"You look beautiful, Eddie."

Steve runs his finger over it.

"Yeah, at first I thought maybe your goose was cooked with that one, but no. Anybody that took one look at what you were seeing? At that footage? At this picture you took of him? Yeah, they could tell that it was a

beautiful

sight to behold. It had nothing to do with your relationship with each other, and everything to do with your relationship with

space,"

she says, quietly.

But he was right, Eddie's beautiful out there, with the Earth looming large behind him, so big and blue. Steve can't fathom how beautiful that was in person.

"I knew if he didn't come home last year, from that spacewalk, that you wouldn't come home either. Wouldn't leave him up there, all alone. So, I prepared for that. Prepared for you to go with him."

He puts his arm around her, and pulls her in tight.

"But you always say it was the most love you've ever felt in your whole life, watching him out there. Floating. Gareth was on the ground, working CapCom, and Eddie ignored Gareth trying to get him back inside the capsule. Just for a bit. He didn't want to leave space. And you let him get by with it."

Steve smiles, he imagines Eddie wouldn't have wanted to stop doing something that unbelievable.

"Finally, you realized they were really getting nervous on the ground, he was running out of daylight, so you played middleman. You asked if they had any messages, like the previous requests hadn't been heard. Then relayed the order to get back inside to Eddie, like it was brand new information. And he listened to you," Robin says.

Steve hasn't had any desire to go to space, but right now, he kind of wishes he had that memory for himself. The two of them, together, so far from home. So far from anything but each other.

Out there, all alone, in the universe.

"The guy that built your capsule, this capsule," she says pointing to a spacecraft, "didn't live near here. So you and Eddie got to share an apartment near him for a few months leading up to the launch while he worked on it."

He turns to look at her, "I think those months were the happiest you've ever been. You got to live together, full-time, and nobody batted an eye about it. And you were getting ready to go back into space, together this time."

Steve swallows, hard.

"You guys hated that capsule, though. You barely fit. Gareth was

way

too involved in the design of it, and he designed it to fit him, not you two."

Steve laughs, "He's a little dickhead."

"He is, but you love him. He's helped make our lives possible. Running interference. Protecting Eddie. Protecting all of us. So, he may be a little pain in the ass, but he loves Eddie to a fault. Would do anything for him."

Steve smiles, "Remind me to thank him."

And Robin grins, "He named his capsule for Gemini III, the mission before yours, Unsinkable Molly Brown. NASA hated it. So, he said fine, he'd change it to The Titanic, and, you know what? The big wigs were suddenly very okay with Molly."

Steve laughs at that, "Why? Why was he married to that name?"

"Because his last capsule sank to the bottom of the ocean on splashdown. He nearly drowned. His suit took on water, and they were so focused on trying to save Liberty Bell 7 from sinking that they didn't realize Gareth was about to go under, too."

Steve imagines Eddie was beside himself.

Robin knows so much, he should have told her sooner, so he wouldn't have been so in the dark.

"What'd we name ours?" Steve suddenly asks, as soon as the thought occurs to him that he doesn't know. He wants to know what Eddie picked.

"Nothing. NASA banned naming them after that. You know how it is with the government, no fun is ever to be had," she says with a smile.

Steve doesn't know, not really, but that doesn't exactly surprise him. They seem like a very serious bunch.

"Eddie seems happy with Chrissy," Steve says, and Robin gives him a knowing look.

"He is, but not in that way. You know that, Steve. Presenting a happy marriage is important in keeping your standing for missions. So, there are marriages all around us, barely hanging on in private, but they put on their biggest smiles, and watch their husbands cheat, and fly off into space. While they stay at home with the kids."

That sounds awful for everyone.

"At least for Eddie and Chrissy, and for you and me, we aren't pretending to like each other. We're happy with the arrangement we have. So, yeah, Eddie gets to show off his happy, pretty wife, and actually mean it. They love each other. They just aren't in love. And Chrissy is good at it. She's helped charm Eddie to the top of the program. Unfortunately for you, you got stuck with me instead. So, you've had to get by on your own accomplishments alone."

He laughs, but he hugs her to his chest, "I wouldn't trade you for anyone else, Rob."

She hugs him back, and smiles, "I know. But I don't schmooze well. I'm too weird."

"I like that you're weird," he promises, because he really, really does. He loves her just as she is.

"Thanks. It's also a good cover story. Because nobody would pick

me

to be their trophy wife. Their beard. They think it

must

be true love."

Steve laughs, and squeezes her until she hits his arm to be let go.

"It is true love," he promises. He loves her so much, he can't even put it into words. She's his best friend. "Platonic with a capital P," he says.

She laughs, "I like that."

"It's yours, I'm just repeating it from you, from another time and place."

And she nods against his chest.

"I want to go home," he admits, "I'm homesick."

"Well, I'll miss you when you go, but I hope that happens for you soon."

"C'mon, Steve-o, suit up and hop in," Eddie says, holding his helmet under his arm, "go for a ride with me."Steve's standing on the tarmac, and Eddie is looking at him, a challenge in his eyes.And Steve can't. There's no way.Eddie's acting like last night never happened, like nothing has changed, and Steve's frustrated.Everything has changed."You know I can't," Steve says. Eddie's testing him, and he'll never pass. Can't."We're testing out your ears," Eddie says, "director's orders." And that's that. Even if Steve doesn't want to. Even if he's terrified. But he gets in his locker and puts on his flight suit, and walks out onto the tarmac. Eddie has to basically strap him in, adjusting his helmet, his mask, everything. He feels like a kid getting strapped into a car seat."Eddie, this is a bad idea," Steve says through the comm."You're fine, trust me," Eddie says, and Steve does trust him. But he's scared shitless.When Eddie lifts them off the tarmac, they're up and gone up into the sky at an incredible speed, and that speed stays fast, so fast.Gareth and Jeff are in another jet right at their side, and they fly over each other, under, and it's fucking terrifying watching them practice maneuvers, playing with each other. He feels sick. Lightheaded, like he might pass out.And then Eddie rolls them, quick and tight, and Steve thinks he might throw up into his mask as he catches sight of the ground below."Eddie, don't," he says, gripping his own thighs, scared to touch anything else in the cockpit.Eddie laughs into the mic, and Steve just closes his eyes. It's beautiful out there, but he can't look. Not anymore.When they finally touch back down, he climbs down the ladder on shaky legs."You act like you've never been up there before," Eddie says.Steve looks at him, "You know I haven't."And Eddie says nothing to that, so Steve walks away, feeling unsteady and pumped full of adrenaline.He's sitting on a bench, when Gareth sits down next to him, "Eddie said your ears are fucked up."Steve nods."Go see Di. Our kids take turns, making sure that one them always has an ear infection, so she'll be able to fix you right up, don't worry," Gareth says, patting his shoulder, before he's walking away.Steve wishes it were that simple.

Steve puts the dishes in the sink. Robin had started dinner for them, and Steve finished it before Eddie turned up. They'd eaten in near silence, and it's uncomfortable.

Now, Eddie is sitting next to him on the couch, tense as hell. His shoulders are drawn up, and his leg is jiggling up and down. He's nervous, or he's mad. Maybe both. Steve just sits quietly, letting Eddie work out whatever it is that's bothering him.

Finally, Eddie speaks.

"Tell me exactly what goes wrong. Tell me. If you can explain what happens, I can look into it. I can fix it," Eddie says, looking at Steve, asking for answers. For proof.

They've been over this.

But Steve doesn't know exactly what goes wrong. He was only a couple years old when it happened. He isn't an astronaut. Or a scientist. Or a historian. He's just a guy who barely graduated high school, because he was more worried about the hell beneath his feet than he was about his senior year U.S. History class.

He doesn't know how it fails, only that it does.

"Eddie, I don't know. You realize this year we're in right now, was the year I was born, right? I wasn't exactly involved in the Space Race. I couldn't even walk yet. Only crawl backwards, which is what I feel like I'm doing right now."

Eddie shuts his eyes aggressively. If that's something a person can do, he's definitely doing it right now. He's hiding his eye roll. Steve knows it. Because he thinks Steve's either lying or crazy.

Finally, Eddie looks at him again, and he looks sad. Disappointed.

"I think you've cracked. Under the pressure. It happens. Even to the best of us, sometimes. Maybe you need to retire."

Steve laughs, ruefully. He hasn't cracked. He's better under pressure than Eddie

"I Ran Away"

Munson has ever dreamed of being.

He opens his mouth to say just that. But there's no point. It's mean, and this Eddie isn't that Eddie. Isn't his Eddie. This one is a confident test pilot, one of the most elite pilots ever produced. He walked in space, trusting that the small tether would be enough to hold him. Would work as it was intended. He's definitely not a chicken. He's not scared of anything. Not now.

Except, maybe, of Steve telling him a truth he doesn't want to hear.

Eddie's aiming for the moon, at any cost. And it's gonna be a big cost. Even if he doesn't believe Steve. When he finally does, Steve's scared it'll be too late.

"Retiring sounds good. Sign me up. I don't know anything about space."

Eddie huffs out a breath, annoyed, "I wasn't being serious! You can't retire. You're one of the best. Maybe

the

best. You're going to the moon."

"I'm

not

going to the moon," Steve assures. Because he's not. Either this world will be long dissolved by then, or he'll have bowed out. He can't go to the goddamn moon. He wouldn't know how to get there, or get back. He's not looking for a suicide mission.

"Well, I am," Eddie says, firmly.

Steve nods, "You do that, Eddie. If you suddenly wake up, halfway there, and realize you're a twenty-year-old kid that had

three

senior years and still didn't graduate, well, don't come crying to me."

Eddie glares at him, "You're trying to tell me I flunked high school.

Repeatedly.

That I'm an idiot?"

"You're not an idiot," Steve assures, "but you're not an astronaut, either."

"You're wrong. About all this," Eddie says, shaking his head.

"I'm not, they're all going to be killed!" Steve finally snaps.

"They won't be," Eddie argues. "You're just scared, delusional, and trying to push that fear onto the rest of us."

"Fine. I'm delusional. I'm crazy. Great. Well, then I guess you can tell all those kids next door how crazy I was when their dad is dead. Because Gareth's gonna die. He's gonna burn up. Suffocating. Screaming for you to help him."

"Fuck you, Harrington. I don't even recognize you anymore," Eddie spits, standing up.

"Yeah, well, that goes both ways, dickhead," Steve mutters back. He's been called Harrington, and he gets his hopes up that this is finally over. But it wasn't a term of endearment. Not here. Not from this Eddie.

And Steve watches as Eddie storms out, going home, to his wife.

Weeks go by. 1966 slips into 1967, and Eddie refuses to speak to him unless they're at work and they have to act like everything is fine, normal. They've shoved Steve in an office while he's grounded, and he doesn't know how to direct astronauts. This might be a worse place for him to be than strapped to a rocket. They're looking to him to make decisions, big decisions, as a senior astronaut. They are looking to him for advice, for experience. But he doesn't have any advice to give, so he just sits in his shiny new office, for days on end, trying to look busy, without actually doing or saying anything.

It's exhausting, trying so hard to do nothing.

Eddie talks to him when he has to, and they interact within the larger group, but that's it. They still both go golfing, go bowling, and to the weekend parties. But these days, when the end of the night comes, Steve goes home with Robin, and Eddie follows Chrissy into their house, instead.

Steve wonders if they're fucking. Wonders if they've always been fucking. They look like it. More than Robin and him do, he thinks. He's jealous. So painfully jealous, that it's eating him up inside.

He guesses they've broken up, and it hurts. Even if this Eddie isn't his Eddie, it has still wounded him to lose him. It hurts that he's so close, but so fucking far away. He might as well be on the moon, instead of two doors down.

They're that far away from each other right now.

He sits on the couch and watches

Peyton Place

with Robin. She curls up against him, and he holds her close. At least she believes him. She might not understand everything he's said, but at least she believes him.

Steve leans his head against hers, and closes his eyes.

It's nice out, warm for the time of year, so Steve sits out back, by himself.

Wallowing, just a little.

He hears the sound of the screen door snapping shut next door, and looks over to see Gareth heading his way.

He has two bottles of beer hanging loose in his hand, and he offers one to Steve as he sits down.

"Thanks," Steve says, as he takes it, taking a long pull from the neck. It's nice. He'd never had a Heineken until he started running around with these astronauts. He likes it.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, before Gareth finally speaks.

"So, Eddie says you think it's unsafe, too?" Gareth asks.

"I do," Steve says, honestly.

"Well, the higher ups don't. They said if I didn't stop complaining, they'd scrub me from the mission. And if they do that, well, you damn well know I'm never getting another one. I'll be done."

"I know," Steve says. "You should still keep pushing back. You've got a lot of kids to think about."

Gareth laughs, "That I do. Did Eddie tell you I bought a couple boxes of lemons, and dumped them off in the director's office?"

Steve laughs, he hadn't heard that. But he likes it. It might not get Gareth anywhere, but at least he's sending a message.

"No, Eddie's not really talking to me right now," Steve says.

"Well, give him some time, he'll come around," Gareth promises.

"I'm not so sure. I think he's done with me," Steve admits, as much as it hurts.

Gareth laughs, "That's bullshit. He'll never be done with you. Impossible."

Steve wishes that were true. But Eddie feels done with him, at least right now.

"It's a lemon. I'm scared we aren't gonna make it back home," Gareth says.

Steve's scared they aren't gonna make it off the ground.

"And I've got a lot of reasons to want to make it back home," Gareth says, quiet, uncharacteristically serious for once.

"Then stay on the ground. Don't go."

"If I do that, they'll send someone else. They'll send Eddie."

Steve didn't think about that. And Eddie will go, willingly. He's not scared.

"Well, that's his choice," Steve finally says. He can only do so much to help Eddie if he won't help himself. He's ready to be done with this time and place. It's been hard. Maybe harder than the war, just because Eddie seems ready to fight against him, instead of with him, at every turn.

He shouldn't have ever told him. Steve should have known better. Just because he seems able to get Robin on board, doesn't mean Eddie is the same. Especially not this Eddie. He's too competitive. Too driven. Single-minded in his focus to put his boots on the moon.

Gareth laughs, "You definitely aren't going to let Eddie get on that piece of shit."

Steve just takes another sip of his beer.

"I don't think they'll send him, anyway. They're saving Eddie for the first moon landing," Steve says.

Gareth laughs, "No, I think that's yours."

"Well, I'm grounded. Ear problems," Steve says, not even trying to be convincing.

"Plan on having those ear infections for the rest of the decade?" Gareth asks, looking at him like he's full of shit.

He kinda is. His ears are fine. It's everything else that's fucked.

"Maybe I am," Steve says.

Gareth just stares at him, like he's trying to figure him out, trying to figure why he's stringing out an ear infection that should have cleared up in days, weeks, not months, and isn't having much luck.
"Plugs-out test is tomorrow. The comms aren't even working right. If we can't talk to them from right outside, still on the ground, how are we gonna do it from space?" Gareth asks, leaning back in his chair, relaxing. Then laughs, "Eddie's big plan is that he's gonna lay at my feet in the command module tomorrow like a dog, to try and suss out the comm problems from the inside."Steve smiles at that mental image."I just hope they'll finally see that some of the problems will have to be fixed before we launch," Gareth says."Well, here's to hoping," Steve says, reaching over and clinking his bottle against Gareth's.

"Are you sure you're okay here alone?" Robin asks for the fourth time. She's driving him nuts, hovering. He loves her, but she needs to go. Now.

He shakes her by the shoulders playfully, "I'm fine. Quit nagging me, woman."

She laughs with every shake, every word, and he smiles at her. He's fine. As fine as he can be, here, so out of sorts.

"Go with the girls. Don't forget to bring me home the good gossip! Please and thank you," he says.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll bring you a doggie bag, too. No way I'm cooking just for you," Robin says, grabbing her purse off the chair.

"Gee, thanks. I thought you loved me. What about all that 'til death do us part mumbo jumbo? What about our sacred

vows,

Robin? Do they mean nothing to you?" Steve asks, harassing her, and she just rolls her eyes.

"I don't recall cooking for your sorry ass being part of our vows, if they were, I must have been looking at the maid of honor."

Steve laughs, really fucking laughs, because he's having fun. For the first time in a while, actually.

"C'mere," he says, and she looks suspicious, but takes a step towards him.

He grabs her, hugging her tight as she fights him, "I love you. Thank you for everything."

"Everything?"

"Like,

everything,

everything. Thanks for marrying me in this universe to let me be with Eddie. Thanks for always believing I'm traveling through time in the others. Thanks for trusting me to be your best friend back home."

"Like I had an option, I'm sure," she snarks, and he grins.

"The Harrington Charm

is

a force to be reckoned with," he says, smug, and she gags.

"I'm leaving. Di's about to pop. Said she's miserable and staying home tonight. Check on her and the kids, yeah?"

Steve nods, he can definitely do that.

Later that afternoon, he knocks on the back door of the Joneses' house, and then opens it up, and hollers in, "Di? It's me!"

She answers that she's in the living room.

There's a tornado swirling through the house, kids screaming, running, climbing.

Steve knows his eyes must be wide, "Hey. Need some help?"

"Please,"

she says, and he whistles his loud pool deck whistle, fingers in his mouth, getting all the kids to look at him.

"Wanna go outside?"

They all scream in agreement, and Di looks at him with gratitude, "I'm gonna take a nap."

"You deserve it," he says, smiling, hand resting on the head of the oldest boy. Waiting for the little ones to put on shoes.

It's gotten pretty dark since the sun has gone down, which is far too fucking early in the winter, Steve thinks. But it's still warm enough, and he can still see the kids by the yard lights, so he lets them stay, lets them tire themselves out, so Di can sleep.

Steve is sitting on the back steps of Gareth's house, and he hears his own phone ringing next door. He ignores it. It'll keep. He misses Eddie, and if he can't fix this rift between them, then he's ready to go somewhere new. He's asked, prayed, begged. He doesn't know the secret code to get away.

So, he's still here.

He sighs.

The phone is ringing again, and again. Which isn't uncommon, the wives are on the phone with each other more often than not. Planning. Gossiping. But the wives are supposed to all be all out and about for dinner, together.

And then Gareth's phone is ringing, too.

Steve abruptly stands. Unsure what to do, but his heart has settled somewhere around his knees.

He doesn't have long to decide, because Chrissy and Robin come banging out of the back door of Robin and Steve's house, flushed, and clearly upset. And Steve knows. She doesn't even have to say it. The launch wasn't for a month. He thought they had more time.

But, no, just like Steve said, it did catch fire, and now Steve was at home when it happened. He was just wrong. It wasn't during the launch. It was during the dress rehearsal. The plugs-out test. He fucked up. He didn't remember right, or it happened slightly differently here. He doesn't know which, all he knows is that he was at home while they died. He should have been there. He should have been with Eddie. 
And then he can't breathe."Was he in there with them?" Steve asks, and Robin just stares at him, confused."Him, who? Eddie?" she asks.He nods."Why would he have been?" Robin asks, holding onto Steve's arm, like she's afraid she might need to keep him upright.She might not be wrong."Gareth, Gareth said, last night. Eddie wanted to lay at his feet. To work on the comms," Steve says, but it's hard to force out of his throat.And Chrissy covers her mouth with both hands, saying from behind them, "He didn't tell me that.""We don't know anything. Stick to the plan," Robin says, and Steve's sure she knows that she has to be the strong one here.Chrissy nods, so Steve does, too.And Robin goes in the backdoor of Gareth's house, and Chrissy rounds up the kids to take to her and Eddie's house. They don't need to bear witness to this, not yet. 
Nancy and Carol are at Jeff and Goodie's. With their widows.

They don't know that, not for sure. They never do until official word has been delivered, in person. This isn't something that happens over the phone. That's not the proper protocol. But they know. They all know. When they said

something's happened

today, they all knew who was in the hot seat.
But Steve doesn't know if Eddie died, on the floor of the module, trying to help get it ready to launch.
Eddie hasn't paid any attention to him in weeks that hasn't been necessary at work. Effectively freezing him out, a fucking frozen tundra now spread between them, like that'll somehow snap Steve out of what Eddie has perceived as a break in Steve's sanity. He's punishing him for something he has no control over, like he can change it. But that's not how this works.

He'll

never

tell Eddie again.

Steve goes in the back door, and sits down in his chair, perched on the edge. Waiting.
If he could just switch right now, he'd never have to know.The phone rings again, and he picks it up. It's not Eddie, it's Tommy. Steve rubs his eyebrow, and he can't make himself ask. Tommy spares him, by rattling off that Eddie's on the way to Gareth's, and adds that he's made contact with Jonathan. The three of them are the only ones close enough to make death notifications, so someone needs to get to those houses before they find out any other way. It's gotta be them, or their wives. Nobody else.Steve assures him that Robin is with Di, and that he'd seen Carol and Nancy walking towards Jeff and Goodie's houses."What happened?" Steve asks, but like he already knew, they're all gone. Likely suffocated in seconds after the fire hit the pure oxygen of the cabin, spreading fast, too fast.They hang up, and he should go. Should go tell Di. He's the reason they're all here in this universe, anyway. This is his fault, somehow. He knows it.First, though, he picks up the phone and calls Chrissy, "He's fine. He's on the way home."And he can hear, even over the phone, that she's trying not to cry. He's on the exact same page.After they hang up, he's just screwing up the courage to go, to do, when Eddie comes in the front door, all appearances forgotten. Their fight over. 
This is bigger than that.

As soon as he's inside, Eddie's crying, and Steve goes to him. Steve was right, and Eddie didn't believe him, and now his best friend is gone.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Steve says, pulling him close, and just repeats it. Over and over.

"I should have listened, I should have listened to you," Eddie says, "I should have listened to Gareth. He kept complaining about things. Kept saying it was unsafe. I just thought he was being crotchety."

"You didn't know. It's not your fault. And it's not permanent. Don't worry. I'll end up somewhere else, and they'll be fine again. I know it hurts right now, but this isn't the end. It's not. Not for any of us."

Eddie nods, hugging him tight.

"But, but what if. What if, when you go, this world remains? What if I stay here? What if Gareth is gone? And then you're gone, too?"

"That's not how it works," Steve says, like he knows that. He doesn't know shit. But he's not about to let Eddie worry about it. Not for a second.

"But-"

"You always remember. So, you're the same version of you, too. Place to place. Don't worry."

Eddie nods, but Steve knows he's gonna worry. Because now Steve is gonna worry, too. He now wonders if these worlds continue. He's never considered that to be a possibility before.

He decides, no. They don't. Can't. He feels them pop. Dissolve into nothingness, taking him with them when they go. They aren't real. They feel real, but they aren't. He knows that. Believes it.

When this ends, it ends.

He's sure of it.

Pretty sure of it.

"Can we go now?" Eddie asks, and Steve wishes he could say yes. Could stop this pain for Eddie. He wishes he had that much control. That much power.

"Soon," Steve lies, "we'll go soon."

Eddie doesn't have a chance to say anything else, because the doorbell is ringing, and they're both gonna have a lot of things to do for the next few days. Things that require a stoicism that Steve isn't sure Eddie can muster right now.

"I'm supposed to tell Di. An astronaut has to do it. That's how it works here," Eddie says, explaining it to Steve, finally on board with the idea that Steve doesn't already know that. He actually does know that it's regulation and tradition. He's heard enough stories about those they lost during all the test pilot years, heard the wives talk, and worry that their husbands might be next.

Steve looks out the front door, hoping to see chaplains, or anyone else filing onto the street. There isn't. Not yet. They'll have three houses to visit, once they do get here, though.

But for right now, it's just them.

Jonathan is at the door, waiting.

"You two take Goodie and Jeff's houses," Steve says, taking a deep breath, "I'll go talk to Di."

"Steve, that's not…" Eddie trails off, "I should do that."

"You can't," Steve says, "go on."

Eddie doesn't argue, and Steve walks over to the front door of the Joneses, and lets himself inside.

Robin has Di pulled to her chest, and she knows. Steve knows she does, but Steve still has to say it. He crouches down in front of her, putting his hands on both of her knees, "There was an accident during the plugs-out test. A fire. Gareth died, with Goodie and Jeff."

And she doesn't cry, she doesn't move a muscle.

"Di?" Steve asks, "Do you understand?"

Then she nods, and Steve looks right at her, "I'm so sorry."
"He knew," Diana says, "he knew. And nobody else believed him."Then, Diana looks right at Steve, "Just you."Steve doesn't want credit, not for this."I'm so sorry it happened this way," he says."Me too," she answers, soft and far away, "I didn't even know to be worried today. He was on the ground."Steve didn't know either.

Steve's ready for this world to go. It's too hard. He's holding Gareth's youngest, still dressed in black, and she wants her dad. But has settled for Uncle Steve, because she doesn't have the choice. Not anymore.

Eddie is holding Chrissy's hand, talking to the crowd that has gathered around him. It's a fucking personal tragedy, and Steve's already heard the whispering for what it means for the space program. If it's over. If the moon is gone.

It's not, he knows that. Nobody else does, though.

But it's crass to be worrying about that right now, and he hates it.

Eddie is broken inside, Steve knows he is, but he's holding himself up like the senior astronaut that he is. Ready and willing to push forward. But Steve can see the tension in his jaw, and how tight he is squeezing Chrissy's hand.

He's barely hanging on, and Steve can't watch the group charade any longer.

So, Steve takes the little girl out to the backyard, away from the adults that are talking about things above both of their comprehension.

And he just stands there. Not sure if she wants to play, or just be held. She doesn't kick her feet to be put down, so he just sits down, and she curls against his chest. Just like she had Gareth's, that first night, at that party at Eddie's.

He wonders if she'll even remember him, her dad.

Then he realizes it doesn't matter. This world will undoubtedly collapse, sooner or later.

He hopes for the former.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Eddie asks, gripping the edge of the kitchen countertop, looking down at it, not at Steve.

"Always," Steve answers.

"I'm…" Eddie trails off, and Steve waits. Gives him the time and space to decide what he is. But he doesn't, can't, and Steve leaves it at that.

"Wanna take a shower, wash this day off you?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods.

Steve isn't expecting Eddie to take his hand, pulling him along towards the bathroom behind him, but he follows, strips down, and holds Eddie under the warm spray as he cries. Finally letting everything out that he'd bottled up all day, all week.

Eddie presses his nose into Steve's neck, his voice barely above a whisper, "He asked for me to get him out of there. You were right."

And Steve's never wanted to be wrong so much in his whole entire life.

Steve jerks awake, eyes blinking in the dark, darting around to see what startled him. And beside him, Eddie is sitting up straight in bed. Breathing fast. Almost panting. Steve doesn't even have to ask, he knows.

The relief that washes over him is immediate.

"Hi, glad to see you've finally joined me," Steve says, rolling over onto his side, facing Eddie. "We're astronauts. It's the sixties. You didn't believe I was traveling through time."

Eddie nods, and nods again.

"Do you remember any of that?" Steve asks, and Eddie shakes his head.

That's okay, better. Steve's not about to go explaining it further. There's no need. He just pats the pillow beside him, and Eddie scoots down, laying back down on his side, getting them face to face.

"I'm sorry. Should we fly a rocket, just to see what happens?" Eddie asks, and he looks so light again, unburdened. The grief, gone. Steve reaches out and cups his cheek, wrapping his fingers around the back of Eddie's head.

"What happens is, we'll end up at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean," Steve teases, and Eddie laughs. "You can barely drive a car."

Eddie chuckles, giggles really, and puts both of his hands over Steve's and squeezes, then he lets go, and shimmies towards Steve, until he's tucked right against his body, and Steve wraps his arms around him, hugging him tight.

"You took your sweet ass time getting here, you know?" Steve asks, holding onto him, sure he'll be gone in a moment.

"I'm sorry, I was sightseeing," Eddie mumbles into his chest.

Steve laughs.

"That's okay, I'll always wait for you to catch up, you lollygagger," Steve says back, kissing Eddie's head. "Where'd you come from, anyway?"

"Was trying to get you out of a hole," Eddie says, and Steve chuckles. A hole. Okay.

"What kind of a hole?"

"In the ground," Eddie answers, as if that was the part that was in question.

Steve just smiles.

He keeps expecting the twist and pull, but the only pull he feels is sleep. Eddie's already dozed back off against his chest, and Steve just rubs his arm, his back, softly. Holding him.

Comforting him, even if Eddie doesn't remember he needs to be comforted.

This has lasted longer than he'd expected, so Steve hopes this world doesn't end until tomorrow. He wants to say goodbye to this version of Robin, he wants to tell her thank you.

It's the last thing he's thinking as he falls back to sleep, holding Eddie in his arms.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

it's been a long, long, long time,
how could I ever have lost you
when I loved you?

Long, Long, Long, The Beatles

1912

Steve wakes up in bed. He’s in the past, he’s sure of it, from the decor in this hotel room. It's very stuffy, and proper looking. Like something his mother would make a fancy, high-priced interior designer do, if she had been born a few decades earlier, and had even more money at her disposal. Grand for the sake of being grand, showy.

Definitely not his taste.

He's never switched to somewhere new while he was asleep before, and now he has that to worry about, he supposes. That he might not know he's going before he's suddenly snatched away during the night. Great. Just great.

He gets out of bed, and looks around. It's weird. This hotel. It has to be a hotel, it doesn't feel like a home, not at all. Too small. Fancy, but not lived in. He goes over to peer out of the small window, and whoa, okay. It's a deck, and beyond the deck, water.

So, he’s not in a hotel, he’s on a boat. That’s new. A ship, really. A cruise ship, maybe. His mom and dad have done that a couple times, and Steve's always stayed home. Being trapped on a boat, floating along on the ocean, did not sound like a relaxing vacation to him.

Steve searches through his shit, there's a whole walk-in closet full of fancy clothes that seem to be tailor-made just for him, so gets dressed in the clothes that he assumes are his, and heads out the door into the hallway.

He looks at the plaque above the door, so he can find it again, trying to memorize it.

B-52, B-52, B-52.

Tin roof, rusted.

He doesn't even know what that fucking means.

But he just walks away from his room, and finds himself in front of a huge staircase, and he goes up. Then down again, then out onto a deck, where he looks over the edge. This thing is huge, and he feels a little lost, but he can’t tell anything from this angle, other than it's really fucking big.

He walks a little further, and stops dead in his tracks when he catches a glimpse of a sign that has the name of this ship he's on.

And well, this is the goddamn, motherfucking Titanic.

Of course it is.

The same ship they just found a couple years ago at the bottom of the ocean, and he only thought the last place he wanted to go was space. Down the bottom of the ocean is

way

scarier, especially since he

knows

how this story ends.
He can't worry about that. Not right now. He's not sure what day this is, or what day it sinks, even. Only that it does, so he doesn't know what kind of timeframe he's working with here. He might need to find Eddie by tonight. He needs help to do that, and decides that he'll use his charm, and hopes that will work.He finds a group of older women lounging on chairs, all in big fancy dresses, and he turns on the charm. He's dressed well, the clothes in his closet fit perfectly and look good, if only too fancy, so he's aware of how he looks, honestly. He'll use it to his advantage, and he is charming them, he's pretty sure, as well as a few men, and some girls close to his own age.Anyone, everyone, that might be able to help him navigate this ship.
But it's not helping him find Eddie.

He'd probably have been interested in the girls, before Eddie. But, not now. Now Steve just wants to find Eddie, and get them off this future wreck before it sinks to the bottom of the ocean. He slumps into a chair, feeling sorry for himself, just for a minute.
He'll give himself a few minutes to wallow, but then he needs to think. Act.

Steve has searched every single room on this godforsaken ship, annoyingly knocked on the doors of strangers, and Eddie is nowhere to be found. But Steve knows he must be here. There's no way he isn't. Unless he's coming on the rescue boat? That's a possibility, Steve supposes.

As he sits, and thinks he sees a maid exiting one of the rooms, down the hallway.

"Hey, hi," Steve says, standing up to follow her, and the maid stops and looks at him, "are these

all

the rooms? All the passengers?"

"Yes, sir, all the first class rooms," she says, and starts to walk away.

Maybe it’s like an airplane, "Is there, like, coach? Coach rooms?"

She looks confused.

"Second class?" he tries, again.

"Yes, sir, but they aren’t allowed up here, don’t worry," she says, and he holds his tongue.

"Is there like a list of passengers I could look at? A room assignment sheet? Anything? I think I have a friend on the ship. So, like, tell me, how do I get to those passengers?" he asks, wanting directions.

She looks aghast, like he just asked how to murder them, one by one, "You don’t. You can’t intermingle, sir. There are strict laws. Immigration, sir. And they

carry diseases,"

she says, lowering her voice to a hiss.

Steve wants to laugh. Okay, this version of Eddie might give him lice, or whatever. It’s fine. He can deal with temporary lice. He won’t be happy about it, but he can definitely deal. He's dealt with all kinds of shit so far. Lice is nothing.

As long as he gets to be near Eddie, he'll take lice. Or mites. Fleas. Scabies. Tuberculosis. Whatever. Bring it on.

"How many classes are there?" he asks. He hopes it's not a bunch of them. The faster he can find Eddie, the better.

"Sir. Mr. Harrington. No," she tells him, firmly.  Shaking her head at him, disapproving of him even asking, let alone doing. "If you do have a friend down there, which I do

not

believe, then you'll see them at Pier 59 and no sooner."

"Third?" he asks, and she nods, reluctant, and clearly exasperated by his continued questions.

"Fourth?" he asks, and she shakes her head.

Okay, two other classes. He’s gotta find a way to get to them. Down. They must be lower, she said they can’t come up.
"How many passengers are on board?" he asks, suddenly curious."Just over twenty-two hundred, sir," she says.Well, shit. That's a lot of goddamn people. Eddie's gonna be a needle in a haystack.
"Please don’t go don’t down to steerage, Mr. Harrington, it’s not allowed and no good will come of it," she says, as one final plea. He nods, lying his ass off.

As soon as she's gone, he continues to snoop around, and out on the back deck, he finds a staircase for second-class. So, he goes right on down. Wasting no time.

There’s a fucking metal gate separating the halls. But it’s only waist high, so Steve just hops over it, and continues on his way. It’s very nice down here. Maybe not as nice as his room. But

totally

nice, still. The way that maid talked, he thought this was going to be a dungeon. But it’s pretty, and clean. He’d consider this nice, by anything he’s seen before. He runs his hand along the wooden staircase leading up to the dining room.

Everything looks great, but he doesn’t see Eddie anywhere, and that definitely sucks.

"Sir, sir, I think you’ve taken a wrong turn," a man in a suit says, and Steve keeps walking.

Ignoring him. Looking in every open door, but there’s no sign of Eddie. Maybe he’s lower, still. Or at the front of the ship. This ship is fucking massive. He didn't realize, he guesses. He knew it was big, but this is something else entirely.

He's going to have to try again tomorrow. That's crazy. That he couldn't look everywhere in one day. It might take days to look everywhere, and he's scared they might never find each other even if Eddie is on board.

Passing each other, like, well, ships in the night.

He goes back to his room, B-52, and lays on his bed. He's just about to doze off, when the door leading to the little deck swings open.

He looks over and sees Robin. Well, fuck. He's thrilled to see her, of course he is, but now he has to keep Robin from drowning

and

find Eddie. Adding to his stress.

She walks in and sits down next to him. He wonders if she's his wife, here, too.

"Where have you been, dingus? I've been looking for you all day long. You were just gone when I got up this morning."

"Sorry, I was looking around the boat," he says, flopping back down again. "It's fucking huge, by the way."

She does the same thing, settling down next to him, and looking over in his direction.

"Well, yeah. Kind of the point. Did you find what you were looking for?" she asks, looking into his eyes.

"No," he admits.

"Can I help you find it?" she asks.

"Maybe. I'm gonna sneak down to third class tomorrow, wanna come?" he asks, and she nods, enthusiastically.

"Of course I wanna come! What are we gonna do down there?" she asks, her eyes locked on his.

"Look for a boy I like," he says, and she grins, wide.

"Oooh, that's why I like you, being all bold, saying that out loud. My best friend is brave," she crows, like she wasn't the brave one back home, telling him. Sure, she was just a little bit drugged with truth serum. But still. He gives her full credit for it.

He leans over and whispers in her ear, "And you like girls. Now we're best friends."

She looks at him like he's an idiot, because of course they are best friends, of course he already knows that, but she laughs, and gives him a small nod. He smiles.

"How'd you meet this boy from third class?" she asks.

"It's a long story," he answers. And boy, is it ever.

"Well, I've got time," she says back, and he grins at her.
He realizes he's kind of hungry, probably because he hasn't eaten anything all day."Have you eaten? I'm hungry," he tells her, and she hasn't, so they climb out of his bed, and head to the dining room, to grab something to eat before they actually go to bed. Steve wants to try to get to sleep early, so he can get up in the morning to look for Eddie some more. He has to be here, somewhere. If he's not, Steve will be shocked. He hasn't learned much, but he has learned that these worlds lead to Eddie, without fail.
But, looking at the menu, this isn't a grab and go situation. Ten courses. He doesn't want to sit through ten courses of fancy food. That's not even something his mother would make him do back home, and she was very serious about her fancy events.

"Maybe we could go to the a la carte restaurant? See if they have room for us?" Robin questions, "If you just want something lighter."

Steve didn't realize there was another option. That sounds great to him. And faster, hopefully.

They get seated at a little table for two, and are handed menus, and Steve looks at his and it's in French. Fuck.

"It's in French," Steve hisses over the table at Robin.

And she arches an eyebrow at him, "Yes, and?"

Oh, shit. He should be able to speak French, he guesses. He doesn't. Definitely not.

Well, he recognizes the cheeses at the bottom. Fromage. He could get some cheddar, some gorgonzola, that he knows, and he really likes Port Salut. But he's not sure he should make an entire meal out of it. He could always just point something out on the menu at random and hope for the best.

He's about to tell her to order for him, when he spots them:

Porterhouse steak

and

filet.

So, big steak or little steak. Those are the two options he's choosing between. He's honestly not very hungry, so he orders the filet and the Port Salut cheese, and Robin looks at him funny.

"Cheese course with your steak? Why not just order your dessert now, too?" She's teasing him, but he realizes he's probably done something wrong.

"I like cheese. Sue me," he says, playing it off like he knew better, but just didn't care to do better.

"Okay…" she trails off, looking at him like he's being weird. Which, he for sure is, but there's not much he can do about that.

The next morning, after an early breakfast in the regular dining room, they sneak down to third class, avoiding the maids and stewards pretty easily. And third class is a little plainer, but is still nice. Clean. And other than its goddamn maze of corridors, it’s completely normal. He’s been in the Upside Down. He knows nasty. This is just a completely average, normal place.

They acted like it was going to be a dungeon filled with vermin. Their view is

severely

warped. If he could send them into the Upside Down for just ten minutes, they'd all be singing a much different tune.

Steve looks in rooms, and asks around, but it's hard to describe someone that you haven't seen in this world. He has no idea what kind of haircut Eddie has, or what he's wearing.

Eddie Munson. Big brown eyes,

he tells them,

about my height.

He gets lots of shakes of heads, and he's pretty sure half of them don't speak English anyway, and have no idea what he's even asking them. They just want him to go away, which is understandable, he supposes.

"Are you sure he's on the ship?" Robin asks, skeptical of this whole endeavor.

"Yes," Steve says, "well, no. But he should be. I think."

"Steve,"

she whines, "you don't even know if he's here. This is a bad idea. We're never gonna find him."

Steve is barely listening to her, when he looks into the third class dining room, he finally finds who he's looking for, right there at a table. Sitting next to Gareth. Hot damn.

Steve looks at the table Eddie is sitting at, and it has a tablecloth and everything. Steve doesn't know why everybody up top acted like this was some sort of place that was beneath him. It's not. It's definitely not.

"That's him,"

he whispers to Robin.

"Which one?" she whispers back, eyes looking at the right table at least.

"The taller one, with the darker hair," he clarifies, and she nods. Then she's following Steve right up to their table, and he knows she's not about to sit down somewhere else and watch from afar. Oh no, not Robin. She wants a front row seat to him embarrassing himself, no question about that.

But Eddie is here, in the dining room, and besides Gareth, he's pretty much off in a corner all by himself.

So, Steve walks right up to him, "Mind if we join you?"

Eddie looks him up and down, suspicious.

"Okay," he finally says.

Steve smiles.

Eddie hands him the menu and it sounds good to him, definitely better than the fancy options he'd been presented with in first class. He at least recognizes most of these dishes.

"You both seem to be a little lost," Eddie finally says, clearly confused by their presence.

"More than a little, I'd say," Gareth says under his breath, and Steve ignores him.

"Not really, I think this is exactly where I'm supposed to be," Steve says, and he looks at the both of them. Eddie and Gareth. It's good to see them together again, alive and well, after the way the last world ended. He'd prefer not to go through that again.

Before long, Steve's eating his rice soup and fresh baked bread, while looking at Eddie across the table. The soup is really good, and the company, even better. Even if Eddie and Gareth are both suspicious of their presence, not only at their table, but in this area in general.

"Why are you down here, you clearly belong-" and Eddie points upwards.

Steve doesn't have an answer, at least not a good one that isn't super creepy, "I just wanted to see the whole ship, I guess. It's pretty impressive."

Eddie nods, and seems to accept this as an okay answer.

"What do you think of it so far?" Steve asks, just wanting to hear Eddie talk.

"It's okay," Eddie says, not giving him much to work with.

He wishes Robin would step in, would run her mouth a little, but she doesn't, and Steve is stuck trying to pry any information he can out of Eddie. It's not easy. He'd rather not talk to him, pretty obviously.

When Eddie and Gareth get up to leave the dining room, Steve stands too, even if he wasn't exactly finished with his meal. He'd rather go with Eddie than eat. Steve gives Robin the eyes that tell her to stay back, to keep Gareth occupied, and then Steve sort of crowds and corrals Eddie towards the staircase, like he's herding cattle, so they can head upwards.

"I'm not supposed to go up there," Eddie says, dragging his feet, falling behind Steve.

"But do you want to?" Steve asks.

"Not really," Eddie admits, and Steve takes a step back. Just realizing he's being weird. This Eddie doesn't know him, and he's trying to drag him upstairs. To where? His bedroom? Way to be fucking creepy.

"I'm sorry, I'm being weird," Steve says.

Eddie finally laughs at that, "A little."

Eddie is smiling a real smile for the first time, and it hits Steve square in the chest. He still has a chance to win him over, he's sure of it, right now.

"Okay, well…" Steve trails off, and Robin is waiting for him. "Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Maybe," Eddie says, and Steve knows he's being dismissed. That Eddie doesn't think he'll see him around the ship, and probably won't even think of him again once he's out of his sight.

Steve takes one more long look at him, and then climbs the stairs, following Robin. As soon as they are out of third class, Robin hits him on the arm.

"You were being so weird!" she hisses, and he can't deny it.

He just shrugs.

"Why him? Like, why? How? How'd you even know who he was or that he existed?" she rambles as they keep walking, heading upwards, back towards first class.

"Long story. Long, long, long…" he mutters under his breath.

"Not good enough, spill," she says.

"I knew him in a different life, okay?" he says, "And I love him, even if he doesn't know who the fuck I even am right now."

Robin stops and gapes at him, "Steve.

Steve.

Then you have to go back. You have to tell him."

Steve can't just tell him. That'd be weird. But he does want to go back. Maybe later today, or tomorrow. If they have tomorrow. He has no idea what the timetable is here.

"Steve, explain."

"Okay," he says, because he isn't going to lie to her, especially not if she wants to know. He trusts her more than anyone else on earth.

"Good. I'll get tea."

Steve doesn't really want tea, but he nods anyway, and goes out and settles on the wicker couch on the private deck.

And he tells her everything. Well, mostly everything. He decides to leave out the part about the ship sinking, because she'll just freak out and cause a commotion. He needs more time to figure out how to either stop that, or, like, get out of here, first.

That evening, Steve goes back down all by himself. He changed into the plainest suit he could find in his closet, trying to blend in, and now he's sitting in the hallway, watching people avoid him. They all give him a wide berth as they walk by. Even the staff, which is good. He must not look too out of place.

He's still sitting there when he catches sight of Gareth, but no Eddie.

Gareth sees him and approaches, "What are you doing back down here?"

"Looking for Eddie," Steve answers. He figures honesty is the best option here.

"Okay, well. Maybe leave him alone," Gareth says, hovering over Steve.

"Why?" Steve asks. Why does he need to leave him alone?

"Why should you not stalk a man? Hmm, let me think…" Gareth trails off, sarcastically.

Steve pulls his knees up to his chest, "I'm not stalking him," he says, sullenly.

"Sure you're not," Gareth says, "like, you're a rich boy. I get that. And you'll get away with being…whatever you are. Eddie won't. So, go away. Find someone up there," Gareth says, pointing upwards, "someone with your same privilege to be a…

fairy,"

he whispers.

Steve wants to get up and throttle him. He doesn't. It sounds harsh, shitty, but Steve doesn't think it is. Not really. He wants to give Gareth the benefit of the doubt, here. Steve thinks he deserves it. Gareth's never done anything, in any other universe, or the real world back home, to give Steve reason to think he'd be uncool with Eddie being into men.

And Steve knows he doesn't always say everything perfectly, either. So he shouldn't expect that of Gareth, not now, not ever.

"You got a problem with that, that's on you," Steve settles on.

"I don't have a problem, other than the fact that you're trying to

create

a problem here.

Leave. Him. Alone.

He's got enough on his plate without some rich kid seeing a chance for a dalliance as he travels with his

girlfriend."

"She is

not

my girlfriend," Steve snaps, "and you don't even know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Don't I? I've been friends with him since we were kids. He's different. And if he wants to survive it, he's gotta keep his head down. I know that. He knows that. Why don't

you

know that?" Gareth asks.

"Because where I'm from we're all well aware that sometimes men love other men, even if it isn't, like, totally cool yet," Steve says sullenly, crossing his arms across his chest. He, like, totally understands Hawkins would not

be cool

with whatever he is. He knows that. But he also knows Robin, and that others like her exist. And that they are just people.

"Oh, and where is that, exactly?"

1987, motherfucker,

Steve thinks, but doesn't say. He can't have that discussion with an already belligerent Gareth. It won't end well.

"Hey, what's going on?" Eddie asks, jerking both of their heads in his direction.

"Steve was just leaving," Gareth says, pointing towards the stairwell. Ordering him away, and upwards.

"He doesn't have to go," Eddie answers, and Gareth looks so betrayed by this single comment that he throws up his hands, seemingly washing his hands of the both of them.

They both watch him go, and Eddie sits down next to him in the hallway.

"What are you doing down here, Steve?" Eddie asks, careful not to sit close enough to touch him. But he's curious, Steve can tell. Eddie will forever be curious, it seems.

Steve can't explain.

"Why don't you take me to your favorite spot on the ship?" Steve asks, changing the subject, just wanting to stay with him a little longer. But wanting it to be on Eddie's terms, instead. He can go with the flow, and let Eddie, hopefully, get comfortable with him being around.

Steve just wonders how many days he has before they sink. He doesn't know how many days the ship was at sea before it went down. He tries to remember. He's sure that was part of the news coverage when they found it.

But he doesn't know, so he can't predict how much time they have here, before.

"My favorite spot?" Eddie asks, snapping Steve back to the present. Back to Eddie.

"Yeah, where are you spending your time on the ship?" Steve asks. "Is there somewhere you like the most?"

Eddie nods and takes him to a room. There are benches and tables, and a piano in the corner. It's cool down here, and they are low enough in the ship that Steve listens to the machinery work in the distance. Humming, and groaning, all around them.

Eddie sits down on the piano bench, and Steve sits next to him.

"Can you play the piano?" Steve asks, because as far as he knows, Eddie back home only plays the guitar.

"A little," Eddie says, "you?"

"A little," Steve agrees. He doesn't want to think about his childhood piano lessons. He hated every minute of them, and hasn't used any skill he might have picked up, since.

Eddie grins at him, and then starts playing

Chopsticks.

Steve laughs, he didn't know that the tune all children learned to play has been around since before the freaking, goddamn, Titanic.

But Steve joins in, and before long, they've drawn a small crowd. People watching, listening to them play this song together, easily.

So, they must look odd here, but Steve doesn't care. He's just glad he's found him, glad they're able to do this together, and just have a little fun. All he ever wanted was more time with Eddie, and now that he's gotten that wish, he'll take it any way he can get it, in any place.

Even on a soon to be sinking ocean liner.

When they get up and leave the piano, Eddie bows, with a big shit-eating grin, and it wedges right between Steve's ribs. That's Eddie. That's the Eddie he knows, and misses, here right in front of him, for a brief glimmer.

And then he's gone. He's Eddie, but he's not the same. Can't be.

"Are you moving to America?" Steve asks, catching Eddie's eyes.

Eddie nods, "Yeah, back home, to help my uncle."

Steve smiles, that is something else that never changes, universe to universe. Eddie's love for his Uncle Wayne. It makes Steve happy. He's gotten to know Wayne a little, as hard of an endeavor as that seems to be, but he clearly misses Eddie a lot.

"That's good, where does he live?" Steve asks, because he's curious.

"Indiana, somewhere in the middle," Eddie says, with a small smile.

"How will you get there, after we dock in New York?" Steve questions, because he doesn't really know how travel works in this day and age. There aren't exactly commercial airliners to hop on, he's pretty sure.

"Train, I guess," Eddie says.

Steve hadn't thought about a train. That makes sense, for this time. Trains just really aren't part of his everyday thoughts for transportation. Trains are just the annoyance you have to wait for, as they slowly crawl by, blocking a road in town, that you undoubtedly need to be

just

on the other side of, naturally.

"And Gareth is going with you?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, he's been corresponding with a girl. And he wants to marry her. We'll see," Eddie says, with a laugh.

"From Omaha?" Steve asks, can't help himself.

"Did he tell you that?" Eddie questions.

"Yeah, he mentioned it once," Steve says, not adding that it was in 1944 during the second world war. "Di? Diana?"

Eddie nods, and Steve feels positively giddy. He's doing it! He's learning something that sticks. Granted, it's nothing he can fucking use to save Eddie, or the world, but it still feels like a big fucking win. Which he needed, desperately.

"He thinks it's gonna work out this time, so we worked until we could afford to get us both tickets back home. It was hard, nearly impossible. But we made it."

Steve feels ashamed. He's sure it wasn't hard for him to get a ticket at all. He assumes Robin and him are just traveling the world without a care in the world.

Eddie takes him to the third class deck, and they sit together and talk. Eddie's warmed up to him, Steve thinks. And he isn't sure why, but he's happy it's happened, and so fast. There's no reason for this Eddie to want to spend this much time with him. Not when he just approached him out of the blue, like he did.

Robin hasn't shown back up down here, and Gareth went off to do his own thing, not about to condone this.

But Eddie stayed.

Maybe he just likes him back, Steve thinks and hopes, desperately, that that's true. He wants to be liked, and he

really

wants to be liked by Eddie.

They sit on the poop deck, which, of course, makes Steve laugh. It's chilly out here in the night air, and then Steve realizes of course it would be cold. They're gonna hit a fucking iceberg. It's not like they are in a tropical climate.

He shivers, and Eddie stands up, and Steve regrets it. He isn't ready to let go of him. Not yet.

But he doesn't have to. Instead of parting ways, Eddie quietly leads him to his room in the bow. It's modest, but clean, just oddly curved, and nothing like what Steve has up above. The bed is very narrow.

And Gareth is asleep in the bunk above Eddie's.

Steve stands there, uncomfortable, but Eddie takes his hand, and pulls him to the bed, and they try to curl up together, and it's just too small for that. Way too small, and Steve laughs, rolling onto his back, and Eddie crawls on top of him, to lay all over him.

"He won't care," Eddie says, and Steve knows Gareth cares

a lot

right now. But he gets what Eddie means. That Gareth doesn't care that Eddie likes men, he just is just scared that Eddie is going to get

caught

with a man. A rich man, an intruder, in his eyes. There's a difference.

Eddie tucks his face into Steve's neck, and it's comfortable. Steve really can't believe he's here. Under Eddie. He didn't predict this was how the day would end when it started. Couldn't have hoped for it, honestly. They don't even know each other here. They barely know each other back home. Eddie has no reason to trust him, to want him this close, but Steve's not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

If Eddie wants to cuddle with him, by god, Steve's gonna love every second of it.

Eddie's bed is just too small, and by morning they are more than aware of that fact. Steve has a crick in his neck, and Eddie is complaining that he may never feel his arm again, it's so asleep.

So, this time when Steve tries to pull him upwards, towards his first class room, Eddie goes willingly.

Steve's pretty sure they could both use a bath, and Steve's bedroom has a private bathroom connected to it, with a small tub and shower, so they can crowd into that together. Steve undresses Eddie, a question in his eyes, making sure it is okay. That Eddie is okay with this. 
He seems to be, so Steve smiles, asking, "Shower or bath?"Eddie picks a shower, so Steve lets him step in first, and then Steve just crowds up against his body. They both laugh, and run their hands over each other, but never straying below the belt. It's very chaste, but Steve doesn't mind. He just wants to touch Eddie in any way he's allowed.
Eddie is brushing his fingertips along Steve's chest, his shoulder, his arm.

And Steve just holds onto him, looking him over. Eddie still has his tattoos. They seem to be in a slightly different style, but basically the same. He didn't have them in the last world, and Steve brushes his fingers against them here, mapping them. Making sure he's really here, and that he's Eddie. He hadn't gotten this good of a look at the ones on his chest in the Upside Down. Eddie had been torn up by then, flayed and bleeding out, and Steve had just tried to run damage control. Pressing his hands, his fingers, into the worse of the wounds. It hadn't helped, hadn't made a difference.

Eddie was already gone.

But now he's here, and Steve's here, and this is a whole new world. Another chance to spend some time getting to know him.

Eddie turns in his arms, and Steve presses his lips to the back of Eddie's slick shoulder, and Eddie shivers under him at the touch. So he does it again, and again, big hand splayed against Eddie's stomach as he kisses his back. His shoulder, and his neck.

Eddie rests his hand over Steve's, lacing their fingers together, and Steve rests his forehead on the back of Eddie's shoulder.

"I'm glad you're here," Steve whispers, and Eddie doesn't answer, doesn't need to.

When they get out of the cramped shower, they dry off, and then Steve helps Eddie up into his bed, and curls around him.

"I'm cold," Eddie says, and Steve turns on the little electric heater in the room. It takes a minute for him to figure out how it works, but he finally does, and the room starts to warm up, little by little. It helps, but Eddie's still so cold-blooded, so Steve requests a bed warmer from the steward.

He undresses again, and crawls back in bed.

The warmer is great, a more noticeable improvement, and Eddie melts into the sheets, finally getting comfortable.

This is nice. So, nice. To be in a soft bed, together. Even if they are doomed if they don't get off this ship. Their time is already limited, Steve knows that, and if it doesn't end sooner, it'll end with them trying to escape the frigid water they are coasting through.

"Why me? Why did you seek me out in particular?" Eddie asks, tucking his head into Steve's neck.

"I thought you were pretty," Steve says, and it's not a lie, it's just not the whole truth either.

Eddie just laughs, and lets it go, and Steve's grateful. He's not sure how he could even begin to explain this kind of time fuckery, here. He couldn't even explain it to Eddie in the last universe, so much further into the future when traveling to the moon was possible.

Robin is standing before them, looking at Steve like he's lost his mind.
"C'mon. Go get us some food," Steve tells Robin, "please."

"I can't go get you food. What am I going to do, shove it in my purse?" she asks, rolling her eyes, putting her hands on her hips. And it's like looking in a mirror. That's all him, and his heart squeezes in his chest, with delight. Love. So much love.

"Sure," Steve says, laughing, "no, just order me a plate and then pick it up and carry it to us."

"Steve, be real. You want me to steal a plate from the restaurant?"

"Not steal. Borrow. Like, for room service."

"Room service, I get that you're spoiled and rich, but nobody is gonna cater to you like that."

"Except you, right?" he asks, batting his eyes at her, like it has a hope of working.

"Steve."

"What are you gonna do, tackle you? Throw you overboard? We'll take the plate back tomorrow. No harm, no foul. Do it. For me. Do you want us to starve?"

"Yes, please let me look like I'm completely daft in public. I love that idea."

"Look at how skinny Eddie already is, he needs to eat," Steve says, holding up Eddie's arm and shaking it.

"Hey!" Eddie complains, but he's smiling.

Robin just stares at them, seemingly unmoved, "They'll throw me in the ship's hoosegow!"
Steve laughs, throwing his head back, entertained, "You think this ship has a prison? And that you'll go to it, for borrowing a plate?""Maybe!" she shouts back, but he can tell he's wearing her down."Robin. For me. Steve. Your best friend."She just glares at him, then snatches her purse off the table, "Fine. You'll owe me."
And an hour later, Robin comes back with a Porterhouse steak, some kind of potatoes, and a big wedge of Port Salut cheese. Steve thanks her profusely, and ushers Eddie out on the little private deck, and they sit at the table in the wicker chairs and share the meal together, passing the silverware back and forth.

Once they've finished, Steve sits down on the wicker couch, and pats for Eddie to join him.

Eddie looks around, like they'll be caught at any moment.

"It's private. Just for Robin and me. It's fine," he assures, and Eddie eventually eases down beside him, Steve making room, and wrapping his arm around Eddie's shoulders.

Eddie tucks his feet up under him, leaning heavily against Steve's side.

"I still don't get why you've taken an interest in me. I'm nobody," Eddie says, quiet, as they listen to the waves hitting the side of the ship, below, as they move through the water.

"You're not nobody, trust me," Steve says, pressing his lips to the side of Eddie's head, holding him close.

Back in his room, Steve stands in front of Eddie. There are two beds in his room, and Eddie can sleep in the other one, if he wants.

"Wherever you prefer," Steve offers, and Eddie crawls in next to him, and it's exactly what Steve hoped would happen.

In the morning, Eddie stretches out beside him, and Steve scoots closer to him. He doesn't really know what he's doing, but he runs his palm down Eddie's chest, down lower, fingers brushing through his wiry pubic hair. He looks at Eddie's face, asking permission, and Eddie nods.

Steve wraps his fist around Eddie’s dick, and gives it a firm stroke, but realizes some lube would sure be nice. He spits in his palm, and that’ll do for a short amount of time, but not much beyond that.

He fists Eddie's dick, and Eddie's hips come off the bed, clearly against his will. Steve smiles, that's good. He wants to make Eddie feel good. He deserves as much goodness as any of these lives can give him.

The slip starts to go quickly as it dries up, and Steve knows how bad that can hurt, so he stops his hand, and changes direction. He lowers his body down the bed, pushing himself down Eddie's body, and comes face to face with his dick. He doesn't think too long about it, just slides Eddie’s dick into his mouth, right against his tongue. He’s never done this before, not even in the last world when they were together so long, but he’s goddamn willing to try.

"Steve," Eddie says, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

He likes the feel of Eddie in his mouth, the weight of his cock, and he especially likes the smell. The heady warmth. It's musky, and perfect, manly in a way he hadn't expected, and it's turning him on so fucking much. He always like to eat out girls, was known for it, and it was point of pride. Now, he thinks it's gonna translate to men, totally.

Eddie moans, and Steve keeps going. He's not sure if he's any good at this, but Eddie seems happy, so that's good enough for him.

"Steve, I'm," Eddie says, and Steve understands. He's not sure he's ready to go all in for that, so he pulls off and strokes him again, and hopes it won't get too dry. It's uncomfortable, Steve can tell, and he gets up and looks for something, anything that might be slick.

Robin's left a small tube of cold cream on his desk, and he shrugs. Sure, why not give it a try.

He squeezes some on his fingers, and wraps them back around Eddie. It's just enough, and Eddie is coming in his fist, as Steve strokes him through it.

He gets up and washes his hands in the basin.

When he crawls back in bed, Eddie reaches for Steve's underwear. Steve lays back, and lets Eddie slide his underwear down his legs.

"Oh," Eddie says, and Steve looks down automatically.

"You don't have to-"

"No, I want," Eddie says, wrapping his hand around Steve, "you're just big."

"Not that big," Steve counters, but Eddie shakes his head, ignoring him. Eddie crawls over him, straddling his legs, sitting on his thighs, and it's restrictive and goddamn sexy. Steve can't tear his eyes away. Eddie's naked body, his spent cock, sitting above him.

Steve's dick is laying on his belly, hard and wanting anything Eddie is willing to give him. Eddie scoots up, scoots closer, and Steve holds his breath. He's not sure what Eddie's doing, not really, but Eddie just settles on his dick, and grinds. Then he grabs the tube of cream, and slicks up Steve's dick.

It's enough. It's not lube slick, but it'll do as Eddie slides against him, over and over again. His cock is trapped between Eddie's body and his own belly, and Steve groans. His dick slides against Eddie's taint, bumping his asshole, his balls with every movement.

Steve wonders what it would be like to be inside Eddie. He knows enough to know that's not gonna happen here, today, in this time and place. So he just enjoys the friction Eddie's providing, and more than that, the view.

He's never seen anything like it.

Steve's been ridden by a few girls, but never like this. He grips Eddie's hips, and helps him move, helps him keep a nice pace and it doesn't take long before he feels it building, tugging, and then he's coming all over Eddie and himself.

This is familiar, so similar to the last world. He's figuring out that either he's got a thing for Eddie riding him, or Eddie's got a thing for riding. Steve wonders which one it is. Both, maybe.

He melts into the bed, enjoying the afterglow, and Eddie laughs.

"Now we definitely need another shower," Eddie says, and Steve looks at him, and can see his come on Eddie's thighs, glistening in the early morning light.

He nods, agreeing, and though he'd like nothing more than to curl back up and fall asleep, he follows Eddie into the small bathroom, once again.

After their shower, the three of them are sitting around looking at each other, unsure of what comes next.
"You stay here with Robin for a little bit," Steve insists. "I need to run an errand."

Both of them kind of balk at the situation, but he swears he'll be right back, which is probably a lie. He has no idea where he's going, or if he'll be able to make a difference.

But he has to try, and he charms his way onto the bridge, acting like he wants a tour. Well, it's probably less charm, and more his money talking for him, but he gets to stand there and look at the…captain? Someone official, anyway. He's wearing a hat, so…

"You know," Steve says, as casual as possible, "I've heard there are icebergs in these waters."

The official laughs, and Steve feels crestfallen.

"I'm aware of that, and we've diverted south. Don't fret, she's not gonna hit an iceberg," he says, and Steve wants to shout that she absolutely will without intervention. "The weather's so clear, anything big enough to sink her, we'll be able to see long before we reach it."

"Okay, well, shouldn't we slow down, so we don't accidently, and this isn't so crazy, hit one? In case they don't see it. Like, under the water."

"You're a nervous sort, huh?" he says, and the guy pats him on the shoulder, dismissing him.

Well, fuck.

Steve stands under the lookout tower and wonders how in the fuck he's supposed to get up there. He wonders how the fuck

they

get up there. There's no ladder that he can see. He tries to think of how you'd get up to the crow's nest at home, on the football field, and realizes it's probably an internal ladder. But where's the entrance? He has no fucking clue if it's even remotely accessible for him.

He decides he'll look, but first he needs to check in with Robin and Eddie. Make sure they haven't killed each other yet.

They haven't, but they are going stir crazy, so they decide to bounce around the entire ship, all day long, not caring when they are chastised. Eventually, Robin goes back to her room to go to bed, and Steve and Eddie keep exploring together.

Steve has decided to just push the iceberg to the back of his mind. He can't control it. He tried to issue a warning without the risk of being tried for being a witch…a warlock? His Eddie, back home, would definitely know. Would have a thousand names for it, from his books, his campaigns.

So, he's just gonna have fun with this Eddie, because everything else seems futile.

Then they hear a commotion and enter the third class well deck, to find ice all over the deck. Others are kicking it around, having fun, playing with the ice, and Steve's stomach drops. They've already hit ice, so this is it. He couldn't remember what day it sank on, he didn't pay close enough attention to history, but this has to be it, now.

"Let's go up, right now," Steve says, grabbing Eddie's hand and tugging.

"Why?" Eddie asks, but he follows.

"We've hit an iceberg," Steve says, not sure if he should say more, but decides Eddie deserves to know, "this

will

sink us."

Eddie laughs, "I thought this ship is supposed to be unsinkable?"

"It's not. Nothing is," Steve says, and pulls Eddie along behind him. He doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know where to go, or the best method for getting them off the ship. Robin would know. He needs to find Robin. And Gareth.

"Where would Gareth be? We need to go get him right now," Steve says, and Eddie shrugs.

"I don't know, I haven't seen him all day," Eddie says, and Steve hates that they can't spend a ton of time looking for him, because they gotta go up. Soon. They could split up and cover more ground, but Steve isn't willing. There's no guarantee he'd be able to find Eddie again.

He tugs Eddie along behind him, as they run, and everyone around them keeps staring at them like they're crazy. They aren't. Steve knows they aren't. 
"Why are you so worked up? Just calm down a minute," Eddie says, trying to stop Steve from dragging him down the long, long hallway of Scotland Road, as they head towards the stairs that will lead down to Eddie's cabin. Steve pulls Eddie down with him, and Eddie's cabin is empty. No Gareth. Goddammit.Back out in the hallway, Steve looks both ways, eyes darting, trying to make a decision."Steve, just stop. Talk to me. Tell me what you're so upset about?"
Steve fucking swore he wouldn't tell him. Not ever again. But you know what? This fucking ship is sinking. If this version of Eddie wants to go down with it, Steve can't stop him.

"You want the weird truth, or a semi-plausible lie?" Steve asks.

Eddie looks at him funny, but finally decides, "The weird truth. Always."

"Okay, this is gonna sound crazy, alright? You understand that?" Steve asks. Giving him a choice.

"I understand that," Eddie confirms.

"Well, I'm from the future. You are too. We both are. And we're somehow, bouncing around all over the fucking place. The future, the past, in no pattern that I can figure out."

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, a twinkle in his eye, amused, but totally not believing him at all.

Again.

Goddammit. Steve knew better.

"It is," Steve says, and he's not even going to try to convince him, not really. Been there, done that, it didn't work. "But that's why I came looking for you. Because I know you, Eddie. The real you."

He doesn't, not really, but he wishes he had had the chance to get to know him.

"Well, tell me how far into the future you've come from?" Eddie asks, humoring him

"Um, 1987?"

"Oh, okay, sure," Eddie says, "and I'm Thomas Edison."

"Well, you're not, but okay," Steve says snarkily, and Eddie smirks at him.

"Tell me what happens when we dock in America then, future man," Eddie says.

"Well, about that…"

"What?"

"This ship definitely isn't docking. It's gonna sink. It hits an iceberg. From that ice on the deck, I'd say we've probably already hit it."

"Be serious," Eddie says, "that's not funny."

"I know. It's not. But it's true. We need to make a plan. Right now," he stresses. Because he knows this is true. He's learned that from all his bouncing around. These things are gonna happen, whether he likes it or not.

He knows.

And he

really

knows, when as if on cue, the water comes rushing in, hitting their feet, and is suddenly ankle deep.
Steve lulls his head, looking at Eddie, like, well, will you look at that? I told you fucking so.
Eddie looks down at his wet pant legs, and then back up at Steve, "Fair enough, I believe you."

"You do?" Steve asks, and then doesn't wait for an answer. They don't have time, he's just gonna accept that Eddie's on board now. "Good. That's good. But this is really it, we gotta go up," Steve says, still pulling Eddie along behind him.

"Gareth…" Eddie says, trailing off.

"He's probably already up there. If not, the water will surely clue him in to move his ass upwards," Steve says. And he hopes that Gareth will be smart enough to head up top, too.

He finds Robin in her first class stateroom, laying on her bed, reading a book, and he grabs her by the hand, yanking her upright, "C'mon. Right now."

"Hey, dingus, stop tugging on me."

"No, c'mon," he argues, still pulling her.

She finally relents, putting on her shoes. He digs in her closest, and finds her heaviest coat.

"Put that on," he instructs.

"Why?" she asks, but taking it from his hands.

"We're about to sink, and when you need to get on a lifeboat, you'll need to stay warm."

"A lifeboat?! That seems a little dire, Steve," she says.

"It is, but the other option is dying. And there's already water leaking into third class," Steve says, holding up his pants, showing her the soaked bottoms of his trousers. "So, come the fuck on," he says, winding his arm around and around in the air, trying to get her to hurry up. She does, and he guides her from her room to his. Eddie is sitting on the bed.

Steve digs in his closet and pulls out his coat, and tosses it to Eddie, "And you put that on."

"What will you wear?" Eddie asks, holding onto the heavy wool.

"I'll be fine. You're a lot more cold-blooded than I am," Steve tells him.

Eddie reluctantly puts it on, and they head to the boat deck. And it's full. But there's not the kind of chaos Steve had expected. Not really. No panic. Some of the women are having to be coaxed onto the lifeboats, not wanting to be lowered into the water. Not realizing the magnitude of the situation.

There's all kinds of passengers, clearly. Third class is finally intermingled with first class, and Steve sees that they are starting to lower lifeboats, not full, just as he knew they wouldn't be. He wonders if he can argue with them, save more lives, or if what happened will always happen. Maybe he can't change fate.

And that fear settles in his gut. Maybe he'll never be able to save Eddie, because it's already happened. The moment gone, already etched into the stone of time.

Doesn't matter.

He has to try.

Steve grabs Robin by the hand. Pulls her, hard, towards the starboard side of the ship. And Eddie hangs back, while Steve drags her to the edge. Puts a lifejacket on her, tying the straps around her chest, as tight as he can. It's bulky, and hard, unlike any life jacket he's ever seen before. But it'll help her odds, if she ends up in the water. They could still pick her up, if they find her in time.

He hopes she doesn't end up in the water.

She's shaking her head the whole time he's tying the straps.

"Steve, no. No. I don't want to go without you," she says, clinging to his arms.

"You have to, now get on this lifeboat, right now," he tells her.

"You come with me!" she shouts at him, holding his hand, squeezing so tight.

"Mr. Harrington, yes, follow her," the officer says.

All the available women and children in the current vicinity have boarded, except for Robin, and they are allowing first class men to fill the open spots.

Steve reaches a hand back for Eddie, to beckon him, and the officer steps between them.

Steve looks back at Robin, "Get on the boat. I'll get on another one with Eddie. Do it, Robin. Now."

"Steve…"

"Another ship is coming. Stay on the lifeboat. You'll get picked up. I promise. I'll meet you there."

She relents, finally, and he watches as she's jerkily lowered into the ocean, the ropes tilting the boat, as it goes down. She's scared, her eyes glued to his, until she eventually disappears into the darkness, and out of his sight.

Steve has the one additional lifejacket the steward gave him, and he slips it over Eddie's head, to Eddie's protests, but Steve forces both of the parts under his heavy coat, tying them to Eddie's body.

"Stop fighting me, this is happening," Steve says, cinching it down.

And Eddie nods.

"Okay, new plan," Steve says once he's finished, and grabs Eddie's hand, and runs.

Steve figures it out, suddenly, that there's nowhere to go. If they can't get on a lifeboat, there's nowhere to run to. He looks around, and there are men standing around smoking cigars. That's…not what he expected. He's panicked on the inside, terribly. He assumes that comes with the knowledge of what is going to come.

Maybe these others don't believe it will actually sink.

Maybe they are just made of stronger stock than Steve is, maybe Steve's soft, being from the future.

But with no way off the ship, Steve sits down on a wooden deck chair, and maneuvers Eddie until he's sitting between his legs. He's not gonna waste time rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, as the saying goes. He never thought he'd live it, but here he is, so he is gonna sit with Eddie for a while. He's not sure if the chair will hold them both, but it does, even if it surely looks odd, inappropriate, in this time. But Steve doesn't give a fuck. What are they gonna do, kill him for being queer? He's already on a sinking ship.

He presses his hands into the deep, wool pockets of his coat that Eddie's wearing, covering Eddie's hands that are already in there.

"We really gonna sink?" Eddie asks, leaning back, resting his head against Steve's shoulder.

"We are."

"You should get on a lifeboat. Go," Eddie says.

"Not without you," Steve says, promises. And he won't go anywhere, not without Eddie.

This is a slow motion sinking, and Steve hadn't expected that. He thought it'd be different, but he's just sitting, holding a wrapped up Eddie, waiting for something to happen to change the plan. If there even is a plan, at this point.

The boat starts to groan and shift, and Steve's sure this it, the beginning of the end. It's happening, and soon.

He gets Eddie up off the chair, and holds him by both of his shoulders, just looking at him. Wishing he had something to say, something worth the breath it'd take to say it.

"Eddie!"

They both turn their heads, and Gareth is among the crowd, waving his arms over his head. He's made it this far, and they make their way towards him.

The end of the ship is slowly lurching upwards into the air, tilting, sending the whole ship further off balance, and Steve yanks on Eddie, pulling him towards the end closest to the water. Gareth following.

She's gonna snap in half, Steve knows it. That's how they found her, on the ocean floor. He knows this. Henderson wouldn't shut the fuck up about it when it was found, because it was big fucking news. He never thought he'd be so grateful as he is right now, that Dustin told him a million things about the found wreckage.

"Shouldn't we stay higher?" Eddie screams, and Steve pauses. Maybe they should. The crowd is fighting to get higher, suddenly panicking in a way they hadn't been before, but that seems like a good way to fall to your death.

"No, the ship is gonna break in half," he tells Eddie, and Eddie looks skeptical, still. "It was all over the TV on the news that the Titanic was found broken into two pieces at the bottom of the ocean."

Eddie seems to concede, even if doesn't look all that convinced.

"What?!" Gareth screeches, "The news?! TV? What's that even mean?"

Steve definitely doesn't have time for this, but he grasps Gareth by the shoulders, "Hi. I'm Steve. I'm from the future. We all are, you just don't remember. So, please listen to me for once."

Gareth opens his mouth to argue, no doubt, but Eddie clamps his hand over Gareth's mouth, shutting him up, "It's true. I think. Go with it, Gare. I am."

And Gareth finally nods, and that makes Eddie release him. Steve's sure Gareth would follow Eddie to hell and back, so he's giving him the benefit of the doubt, even if this must sounds crazy as shit.

"Okay. Down?" Steve suggests looking at the both of them, and they just stare back, and he realizes he's gonna have to make all the decisions.

"Down," Steve commits to, because he wants them to be closer to the water level when it happens, the ship breaking apart.

It might not be a good plan, but it's the only one he's got right now.

They are gonna enter the water, that's inevitable, and he thinks doing it without falling first, may be better. May give them a better chance to resurface, to swim for it.

Maybe. But everybody seems to be fighting to go the other way, and maybe he's the one that's wrong. Maybe he doesn't understand the math, or the, like, physics of it. He needs Henderson to explain this to him, because maybe he is a child.

And the way the crowd has grown wild and restless, terrified of what is clearly now happening,

finally,

makes Steve apprehensive. But Steve can't even ask Eddie, because they get separated in the shoving crowd, hands ripped apart, and Steve spins, looking for him.

For Gareth.

And they're gone, and he's alone.

No, no, no. He can't lose him. Not right now. They don't have time to be looking for each other. They need to be looking for the best way off of this ship.

On instinct, Steve clings to the railing, not allowing himself to be shoved around, and presses his fingers into his mouth, and whistles. It's loud. So loud. Several people turn to see what the noise is all about, looking to see if it's coming from someone in charge, an official, but none of them are Eddie. Steve's whistle is something he'd practiced and learned to do for swim meets. He could do it from the pool deck, especially during relays, and his teammates could hear him. Even underwater, sometimes. It's super-duper loud. Ear-piercingly loud.

He's getting dirty looks for adding to the confusion, to the mayhem currently happening all around him, but he doesn't fucking care. This ship is sinking and he needs to find Eddie again, right fucking now.

Steve hopes Eddie can hear him. He might not know it's Steve, though. He'd have no reason to know that, Steve realizes, and he slumps. A little.

But Eddie's head pops through the crowd, and he's sliding towards Steve, downwards, and Steve reaches out to grab him, pulling him towards him, towards the railing.

"I heard your whistle," Eddie says as he grasps Steve by the forearms.

Steve laughs, "I didn't know if you'd know it was me."

"I went to high school with you, Harrington. Of course, I fucking know that annoying sound," Eddie says, and Steve stops. Freezes.

"You remember high school?" Steve asks, but Eddie doesn't have the chance to answer. The ship buckles a little, bobbing suddenly, then evens out, then really tilts upwards. It's finally broken in half, Steve's pretty sure, and he's about to say so when Eddie is thrown, jostled too hard, and he stumbles, going overboard. It's not a far fall, not from where they are, and Steve doesn't hesitate, not for a second, before he follows him into the water. He hits it with some force, and he suddenly can't breathe, it's that shockingly cold.

He kicks to the surface, and once he's reached it, he feels like his lungs have seized, unable to function, and he gasps for air. For life. Fighting the cold, fighting the water, fighting to stay on the surface.

Fighting to find Eddie.

The cold has taken his breath away and he gasps, trying to fill his lungs again. To get his body under control so he can help Eddie. Find him.

He forces himself to kick his legs. To swim. They might not drown, they might freeze to death instead. He hadn't considered that, not really. Just how goddamn cold the water was going to actually be, as the ship went down.

It hit an iceberg. Of course it was cold. He just never thought about how cold, not really.

"Eddie!" he screams, and there are already too many people in the water, and the ship hasn't even fully sunk yet. He can't see him, doesn't even know if he surfaced after falling in. Doesn't know if he's still here. Still, well…

But Steve still calls for Eddie, over and over, and then finally shoves his frozen hand into his mouth. It's salty against his tongue, and stiff from the freezing water, but he's able to push some air through his fingers and whistle. Not as strong as before, not as loud, but he makes the familiar sound and waits.

Over the dull roar of people and the noise of the ship going down, somehow, Eddie yells back in the darkness. It's faint, but Steve hears him, even over the chaos surrounding them. Steve swims towards the sound, and it hurts. Everything hurts. His limbs don't want to work, they feel heavier than they have in his entire life. But Steve follows Eddie's voice the best he can. He has to. He doesn't have any other choice.

Swim, or die.

Swim, or Eddie dies.

He swims.

When he finds Eddie, Eddie's barely floating on the surface, his nose is bleeding, broken, and Steve's not sure what's happened. Eddie is also being weighed down by the heavy wool coat, and it is threatening to drown him. It's not helping him now, that's for sure, so that's a more pressing problem to deal with right this second, and Steve yanks, and tugs and finally wrangles it off of Eddie's shoulders, and down his arms while treading water. It's exhausting, but he gets it off, and shoves it away into the ocean. Then he grabs a hold of Eddie, keeping him pulled close to his chest.

Arm wrapped as tight as he can around Eddie's middle, holding onto him. Panting, worn out already.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, teeth chattering right in Eddie's ear.

"Nose is broken," Eddie says, laying his head back against Steve's shoulder, lulling there, sagging. "I'm cold," he adds, and Steve jostles him, trying to keep him alert. Eddie doesn't have to swim, Steve will do that part, but he does have to stay awake.

"Hey, stay awake. I know you're cold," Steve says, and there are additional lifejackets floating around in the water, and Steve gets one, and makes Eddie hold onto it. He doesn't think he has the energy to wrestle one onto himself, not now, and he doesn't think it'll matter anyway. They won't survive this. They can't. There's no goddamn way.

It's just too fucking cold.

"I was on a beach," Eddie stutters out, his teeth chattering, "and this is where you are?"

Steve laughs, wet and grief-stricken.

"I've got you, it's okay," Steve says, but he knows that's not true. He can't even feel his hands now, nor his feet that he's somehow still kicking, keeping him afloat behind Eddie. It's just gotta be muscle memory, because he doesn't feel in control of it.

He's scared.

This isn't going to end well, not for either of them, not if they don't get out of here, right now.

He's terrified, maybe more than he's been since this whole fucked up thing started.

It’s freezing, the water. He’s holding Eddie to him, forcing him to stay above it. But Eddie can’t handle this kind of cold, no one can, and Steve understands that. He understands, fully, that neither one of them is going to last long out here in the water.

But he doesn’t want Eddie to die in his arms.

Not again.

He hopes the next place is drier. He wants Eddie to be dry, and warm. He thinks he's crying, but he can't feel his face to be sure.

"Harrington, I can’t," Eddie says, and his teeth are chattering, ice forming in his wet hair.

Steve knows,

he knows.

But he kicks harder, trying desperately to keep them both up above the surface for as long as he can. He's a swimmer, he can do this to try and save Eddie from drowning. Because he doesn’t want Eddie to drown.

He doesn't want him to freeze to death either.

And those seem to be the two options they have.

But Eddie is fading, fast, he can tell.

"I know, it’s okay. I’ll see you in the next one," Steve promises, pressing his lips to Eddie's freezing cold temple as Eddie nods against his shoulder, and the world

finally

fucking snaps.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

it's been a hard day's night,
and I've been working like a dog

A Hard Day's Night, The Beatles

1935

Steve doubles over, sure he's gonna throw up. He's sick, dizzy, and he doesn't remember why for a few seconds until he recalibrates and sees that he's suddenly been dumped into a general store, like, an old fashioned one. Like one you might find on the set of

Little House on the Prairie.

He looks around, as if he thinks that Nellie Oleson might pop up out of thin air, to give him a tongue-lashing, at any moment.

Time travel, right.

He remembers, now.

Eddie.

He still has his hands on his knees, trying to get his bearings before he stands back up, but he can see that outside looks dull, and gray. Dirty. Almost like the world is in black and white, instead of full Technicolor.

He's Dorothy, before Oz.

It's dry and barren for as far as his eye can see. There are literal tumbleweeds blowing by, like he's stuck in one of the old John Wayne westerns that all the old men in Hawkins liked to rent, over and over, never willing to venture out and watch anything new.

At least he's dry, he'll give this place that.

He finally rights himself, just as Robin comes to stand beside him, and he sags with relief at the sight of her.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here," she says, then she puts her hand on his shoulder when he doesn't answer, "Steve? Are you okay, can you breathe?" Robin asks, as he's still trying to adjust to the uncomfortableness of time travel.

And isn't that a thought.

He's traveling through time. Not that he'd recommend it to anyone, ever, actually. It's a bit of a bitch, but it

has

brought him to Eddie again, so he can't be all that mad. Not really. Even if he feels split and tugged apart, right down to the atoms.

Even if he keeps suffering in new and annoying ways.

"Yeah, I'm good," he finally says. And he will be, he thinks, he just had a rough transfer this time for some reason. He feels like there's an elephant sitting on his chest. He wonders if this is doing actual damage to his body that he just hasn't realized yet.

Robin doesn't particularly look like she believes him, but she doesn't press further, and he appreciates it. He's off-balance enough, he might just tell her right here, upfront, without any preamble.

"Eddie out hunting again?" she asks, and Steve just nods. He guesses that could be true. Even if hunting doesn't seem like something Eddie would like to do, at all. But maybe here, in this place, this time, Eddie doesn't have much of a choice.

At least he knows Eddie, that's one less thing to worry about.

Robin must decide he's okay, because she turns the corner, he follows, and they walk around the small store together, looking at everything. Finally, Steve picks up a newspaper. It's 1935, and he scans the headlines, and abruptly realizes he's certainly in the fucking Dust Bowl. That's why it's so dark and dry outside.

Robin picks up a package of cornmeal, turning it over in her hands, "I don't especially want to make mush again, but I'm running out of ideas," Robin says, and Steve looks at her.

Then really looks around the store, and assumes he's here to buy supplies, they both are, but he just has no idea what he actually needs. He checks his pockets, and tries to figure out how much money he has. It's not much, and he's not exactly sure what he's supposed to do, besides make contact with Eddie. That's obviously at the top of the list.

He stands in front of the dry goods. He hadn't expected to wind up in a grocery store.

"What should I get today?" he asks her, and she takes the change from his pocket and sifts through it, counting. He can see her wheels turning, and it's a comfort, familiar, to have her helping him. Even in this unusual place and time.

He's glad she's here, and more than thrilled that they seem to already be friends. Like they were on the Titanic, or when they saw The Beatles on the roof.  It's so much easier when she's already with him, and he doesn't have to spend any time trying to win her over.

He's relieved when she starts picking out a few things. He has no idea how much things cost right now, this long ago, so it'll just be easier if she does it for him. She gathers him up a few items, and it's not much, but it'll have to do.

It's not like this will be permanent.

It seems like a

lot

of eggs, and he isn't sure what to do with them all. But he doesn't question her choices.

"Do you have other errands, or do you want to walk home together?" Robin asks, after they've paid and gotten their small bundles.

Steve nods. Thank god. He doesn't even know where he lives in this universe. He definitely needs Robin to lead him there by the hand.

They head out of the store, and take a few steps down the road, when Robin looks over at him.

"Cover your mouth," she says, reaching for his neck and pulling up what he tries to look down his face to see, thinking it's probably a bandana. "This duster looks like it's gonna be a bad one."

"Yeah," he says, agreeing, but he looks at her, and she's not covering her own mouth with anything.

"How's Eddie doing?" Robin asks, and Steve doesn't know.

"Fine," he settles on.

"Actually, fine? Or, you don't want to talk about it today, fine?" Robin probes, and it makes him nervous.

"Maybe the latter," he says, because he knows that'll get her to let whatever this is go.

She nods, and does, and they continue to walk. His feet hurt. These shoes aren't comfortable at all. He misses his Nikes.

He feels like he can't breathe out here, and he wheezes a little as they walk. He's certain he's not getting enough oxygen. It must be the heavy dust in the air, wreaking havoc on his lungs. He's just not used to it, he supposes, and Robin is.

It looks black on the horizon, that midnight is coming in the middle of the day, and yeah, even to his untrained eye, that looks bad. Really fucking bad.

Steve keeps walking with Robin, out of town, and into the country, just staring into the wall of darkness building out there on the horizon. When he overshoots his own house, apparently.

"Hey, dingus. You missed your stop."

He laughs like he was just preoccupied, and watches as she keeps walking, trying to see where she goes, how far, but she just disappears into the dusty landscape.

He goes inside the small house and looks around. The house isn't much, but it's neat enough. Cozy. Quilts piled up on the couch, situated in front of the wood stove. The walls are covered in yellowed newspapers, glued there somehow, and he doesn't understand the purpose. In the small kitchen, there's some mismatched chairs around the table.

Steve scours the house, and it's pretty obvious that two different men live here, by the clothes and shoes in the wardrobe, and Steve assumes it's him and Eddie. And that's new. That he's already with Eddie, that he's supposed to be familiar with their life together. He's never had that happen before in all the worlds he's crashed into. Well, the astronaut one, he supposes, kind of, he guesses. They were married to other women there, though. Not living in the same house full-time. But everywhere else, they've always had to cross paths in other ways. He's had to work to find him.

And today, he supposes Eddie will just come home.

Back in the kitchen, Steve looks at the groceries he bought, and he lays them all out on the table, taking inventory. He doesn't really know what he's doing. Is he supposed to cook? He thinks maybe he is.

On the table, there's a recipe sitting out for biscuits and gravy. A bowl sitting upside down on the table, and spoon resting on top of it, like Steve had been preparing to make them before he left. Well, he figures he can try out those, while waiting on Eddie.

He hopes Eddie is okay. Robin asking about him has made Steve nervous.

He picks up the bowl, and there's a thin layer of dust already settled onto the bottom. Oh. He gets why it was upside down, now.

The oven is sitting there, but it's not like any oven he's ever used before. It has four doors. He's never seen an oven have more than two. His mom has double ovens in her kitchen, a bragging point she likes to show off to guests, despite hardly ever being home to cook anything in them. But she has them, and that's all that matters to her, honestly.

He opens all the doors, and he's only

slightly

convinced that the biggest one is the main oven. Getting the gas going is another matter. He's not sure how it works, before he realizes there's a pilot light. That's great. He understands a pilot light, at least, and he won't have to try and light anything scary. Giving himself a lesser chance of blowing the place up, so he guesses that's a win.

He turns the handles on the front, and the range comes to life, but he needs to figure out how to turn on the heat. He finally realizes there's a dial, a knob, that says oven on it, so that's probably what he needs. Duh.

He turns it on, he thinks, anyway, and sets it to the temperature that the recipe tells him too. This is harder. Harder than some of the other things he's done so far, just because it's so far out of his element.

He's bought no butter, but the recipe doesn't call for it. Not the biscuits, not the gravy. The instructions for both are scrawled out on a sheet of paper in Robin's handwriting, he's sure of it. She must be helping them survive.

Steve thinks he'll just tackle the biscuits today, and worry about trying to figure out gravy, later. He should have paid better attention in Home Ec, besides just trying to flirt with all the girls that helped limp him through the class, more than willing to do his share of the work themselves, for just a little of his attention.

He doesn't know how to do this, any of it, or where anything is even stored in this kitchen. He finally finds a tin looking measuring cup, and guesses he'll have to hope for the best, and pray that this recipe is forgiving.

Once he has the biscuits in the oven, he checks out the rest of the house again, and there's only one bedroom, and it seems like they're both sleeping in it. There are things on each nightstand, and he can pretty easily guess which one is which, even here, all these years in the past.

The sheets are dirty, where dust has settled all over everything. It's crazy. They clearly can't keep it out, despite their best efforts. Steve finds a spare set of sheets in the hope chest at the foot of the bed, threadbare and worn, but he remakes the bed with them. And it looks better, at least.

He burns the biscuits, just a little, and they remind him of misshapen hockey pucks. They certainly don't look like any biscuits he's ever had anywhere else in his lifetime.

He's not a homemaker.

He's bad at this.

He's so

fucking

bad at this.

Eddie turns up with a couple of jackrabbits.

"Got a few of the little Hoover hogs," Eddie says, putting them directly on the wooden kitchen table. It's a little gross and unsanitary, Steve thinks, but he'll deal with it.

Eddie looks terrible. Dirty, and tired. Gaunt. He coughs and coughs, sounding awful. Like he has the worst case of bronchitis that Steve's ever heard.

Steve gets him some water from a pitcher in the small, odd-looking fridge, and makes him sit down and drink it.

"You okay?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods.

"Do you think they're safe to eat or should we try and sell them back, for the bounty?" Eddie asks.

Eddie looks weak, and exhausted.

Steve doesn't know if they're safe to eat or not. But this world won't last, and he thinks Eddie will feel better eating them than not eating them, at this point.

"They'll be fine. We'll cook them until we're sure," Steve says.

Eddie just nods.

Steve doesn't know how to clean a rabbit, though, but it doesn't matter. Eddie gets up to do it while Steve works on splitting the now-cooled biscuits. There's no butter in the fridge, but he finds a jar of what looks and smells like jam, so he slathers that on them.

Eddie stands there and eats the slightly blackened biscuits while they wait for the rabbit to cook. He doesn't complain, doesn't mention it at all, just eats them, one after another.

"Did the iceman not come?" Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head. He doesn't really know what that means.

"Must be running late," Eddie says, peering into the fridge, "hopefully nothing goes bad. We can't afford that."

Steve agrees.

He isn't sure what he is to Eddie, here, in this place and time. Two men living together is probably a little odd, but Robin didn't mention it, so whatever it is, must be plausible enough. Or these worlds of his, just aren't exactly right. Maybe they're just built around his own mind and memories, and therefore faulty in ways.

Maybe it's all just wishful thinking.

But he doesn't think that's totally true. He doesn't know anything this detailed about history. He couldn't have dreamed some of this stuff up, no way in hell.

After they've eaten, and cleaned up the mess, Steve isn't sure what happens next. But Eddie looks exhausted.
"You want to take a bath before bed?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks down at himself.

"Do I need another one? I just took one two days ago," Eddie says, and Steve pauses. He hadn't considered that bathing wasn't a daily thing in this time. Especially during a drought. He wasn't thinking about that.

"No, no. You're fine, I just thought you might want to warm up. You look cold," Steve says, which isn't totally true, but remembering Eddie in the freezing water, the boat sinking behind them, isn't something he's easily worked out of his head. Not this time.

"You don't mind boiling the water?" Eddie asks, and Steve stills for a second. He didn't pay attention, but he guesses hot water heaters aren't standard in houses, not yet.

"I don't mind," he says, and he doesn't. He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, but he'll figure it out. He'd do anything for Eddie.

He goes in and looks at the clawfoot tub a little more closely. It doesn't have running water, and no drains. So he's gonna have to do this all by hand. Okay. Well, fine. That's fine. He'll figure it out.

There's no faucet in the kitchen sink, either. He hadn't realized. There had been a pitcher of water in the icebox. But there's no running water to this house at all. No electricity. He goes outside, and he's suddenly grateful his English teacher made them watch

The Miracle Worker

in class, so he knows how to use the water pump.

He pumps the water, boiling part of it, and it's a big fucking job. No wonder Eddie looked at him like he was crazy for suggesting doing this again so soon. But it doesn't take all that long once he's in the swing of it, to have a tub of warm water ready, and Eddie is settling down into it.

He tries not to stare. Doesn't know if it's okay that he wants to. He focuses on Eddie's middle, instead. His ribs that are showing, all the scars that litter his body. This life has clearly been hard on him, rough and unkind.

Steve pours a bit of warmed water over Eddie's head, and the water in the tub turns dark brown, immediately.

Steve has a stock pot of warm water at his side, and he gets the bar of soap and lathers it up, washing Eddie's hair, like he's a child. Rinsing it, with some of the clean water.

"What'd I do to get the full treatment tonight?" Eddie asks, teasing him. Looking over at him. Eddie looks tired, beyond exhausted, but he's smiling.

Steve doesn't know what he usually does, so as far as he knows, he might be doing something totally weird right now. At least Eddie seems amused by it, and not freaked out.

"Just looked like you needed a little pampering, that's all," Steve says, kindly.

Eddie smiles, and holds out his hands for the soap, and lathers his hands up and scrubs at his own face, and when he's finished, Steve carefully rinses it off so it doesn't get in his eyes.

And when Eddie looks back at him, he looks better. More like himself.

Steve continues to wash his hair, his back and shoulders, until the water cools. When it finally does, Eddie stands, and Steve rinses him as best as he can using a pitcher of clean water.

"I haven't been this clean in years," Eddie says, drying off and sliding into some plain, white boxer shorts. They look funny on him. Old fashioned, and too large on his slender frame.

Steve debates if he wants to go through all the trouble to bathe himself, and decides, yes, he will. And dips out the dirty water, to start again.

When he finally heads to bed, hair wet and clean himself, Eddie is sitting up, reading by the light of an oil lamp.

"And clean sheets?" Eddie questions, "Are you trying to seduce me?"

Steve laughs, not sure if it's a joke or not. He bathed Eddie like he was a child, and while they clearly share a bed, they haven't touched, not in any sexual way.

He doesn't know how to respond. Not really. Sure, he's into that if Eddie also is. But if they're just friends here, or brotherly, or whatever, he doesn't want to be the one to make it suddenly weird.

Eddie clearly has enough on his plate without Steve complicating his life.

"Are you gonna read to me?" Steve asks instead, getting comfortable in bed.

"If you want," Eddie says, and Steve nods.

Eddie starts to read, and it's a little bit rough. And that startles Steve. Eddie read, he knows he did, he saw his stash of books in his room, after. He was crafting campaigns for the kids, writing and reading to do it. But today, here, he isn't as confident. It's stilted, and unsure. But he still does it. And Steve listens.

He wonders if this version of Eddie didn't get to attend high school at all, instead of the six years he spent at Hawkins High.

Almost six years. And he still died before he graduated, Steve remembers with sudden heartache. Eddie is right next to him, living, breathing, but some part of him is still mourning the real Eddie, the one he lost just as he'd found him.

Steve closes his eyes and listens to Eddie stumbling over the words, but getting them out with time.

He wonders what the real Eddie sounded like, while reading. Steve's positive he was animated. He'd have to have been, to run Hellfire and have all those other kids so enamored with him.

Eddie starts slowing down, and Steve is sure it's just exhaustion catching up to him.

Eddie eventually stops reading, and rolls closer, resting his face on Steve's bare shoulder, book forgotten in his lap. This somehow feels more intimate than if they were fucking. Steve leans his head towards Eddie, and takes his hand, just so they can touch a little bit more.

It seems innocent, but it's not. Steve can feel it, humming beneath the surface. Whether or not it's something they actually act upon, here and now, they

are

in love.

Steve's sure of it.

Sure of it in a way he hasn't really been in other times. This is quiet, and sure. This thing between them.

"I love you," Steve says, because he wants him to know, and Eddie just squeezes his hand harder.

It's enough.

They stay that way for a long time, until Eddie starts coughing, and Steve urges him to scoot down and roll on his side. He does, and Steve curls up behind him, holding him. He’s not sure if that’s something they do in this world, but Eddie doesn’t argue, and puts his hand over Steve's arm, keeping him there.

Steve kisses the back of his shoulder, and Eddie relaxes into his arms, finally falling asleep.

The next morning, Steve is frying eggs in the leftover bacon grease when the front door opens, and Gareth comes in, clearly dressed for work, in the same type of clothes Eddie was wearing yesterday. Drab colored clothes, for a drab colored world. Steve stares at Gareth for a long moment. It's clearly him, but he looks different here, older, even though he certainly isn't that much older. Can't be. His hair is cut too short, and all his baby fat has melted off his cheeks. Steve realizes it's probably from the hunger that is getting to them all, and it makes him sad looking at this subdued, too thin, man.

Eddie's subdued, too. The fire just isn't there, long ago snuffed out, he supposes.

Because Eddie is suffering. Starving. He's so thin, so hungry, that Steve hurts just looking at him. He gathered from talking to Robin as they walked home, that a lot of the neighbors have packed up and left already, heading west. Just trying to escape this dire situation, looking for work, outside of this decimated stretch of farmland.

Food seems to be a little sparse, but Steve will make sure Eddie gets the majority of it. He needs it more. Steve knows this is temporary. Knows he won't actually starve to death here, but Eddie doesn't know that, not yet.

So, Steve can go a little hungry.

He can eat peanut butter sandwiches every damn day, while Eddie gets the rest of it. There's bacon, eggs, and milk. He'll keep him fed the best way he can figure out. He'll make Robin help him, if he needs to.

"Hey," Steve says, nudging out a chair from under the table with his foot. Inviting him to sit down. Gareth does.

Eddie comes into the kitchen, and picks up the metal pot on the stove, and it's empty. Coffee. He should have figured out how to make coffee. He wasn't thinking. But Eddie says nothing, and starts making it himself.

Steve watches out of the corner of his eye, learning, so he'll know how to do it tomorrow. If he's still here, tomorrow. That's never a given.

Steve is making two plates when Eddie finally sits down adjacent to Gareth, a cup of coffee for all three of them. Steve takes the two plates and slides them in front of both of them. Adds a biscuit from last night. It's not a lot of food, but it doesn't look terrible.

"I ate at home," Gareth says, pushing the plate back towards Steve.

"Eat again, then," Steve says, smiling, pushing it back again.

"This is your breakfast," Gareth says, looking up at Steve, like he knows what Steve is doing.

"I already ate biscuits with peanut butter," Steve lies. He hasn't, but he totally can after they're gone. He won't even mind. Gareth looks a lot hungrier than Steve is, that's for damn sure.

"Are you sure?" Gareth asks, eyeing the plate.

"Yes, eat," Steve says, going back to the cast iron pan, to wipe it out. It's heavy in his hand, a lot heavier than the pans his mom has back home. Not that he uses them all that often, but he can make himself a grilled cheese, if needed.

He wonders if he can do that here, if there's cheese. He'll look.

"Thanks, Steve."

Steve just nods, and he watches Gareth eat like he hasn't eaten in a long while. It hurts to see any of them like this. He feels responsible for all of these people. Somehow he's dragged them into these situations that aren't always very pleasant. He just wanted to see Eddie, and somehow by wanting that, he's forced them all into worlds that are sometimes hard and unkind.

Gareth died outside of a foxhole, just trying to help Eddie stay warm. Gareth died, trapped in a fire, trying to make history. Gareth may have died, trapped on a sinking ship. Steve doesn't know. But right now, he looks well on his way to starving to death. Steve hopes Gareth doesn't remember any of those other things, and prays Eddie doesn't either.

When the door swings open again, there are Jeff and Goodie, clearly ready to get to work. He's glad Eddie has them all, here. His friends. His band of brothers.

They've all been through a war together. They can surely do this, too.

And Steve gets into the swing of things in this place. Steve's learned that Eddie will eat whatever Steve puts in front of him, with no complaints.

He lets the iceman in, watches as he replaces the block of ice in the fridge, and pays him. He tries to learn how this world works, just so he can stay ahead of Eddie's needs. He can't change the world. He knows that by now. But maybe he can change

Eddie's

world, even if in the smallest ways.

So, he bakes a cake that requires hardly any ingredients, but still tastes pretty great. He wraps it up tightly, and packs it up in pieces of wax paper for Eddie's lunch pail, trying to keep the dust out of it, so Eddie can take it tomorrow for a snack. To share with the other guys.

Everything tastes like dirt to Steve. He thinks it's in his teeth, the grit of it, never quite going away. It's awful, all over the house, and he can try to sweep it out all day long and never make any progress. It's frustrating.

So, he does what he can control, and that's not the wind, or dust. Those things are beyond him.

What he can do is make Eddie peanut butter sandwiches, as many as he'll eat. He bakes the bread himself, and it's no Wonder Bread, that's for damn sure, but for only having three ingredients, it's really pretty good. Steve has milk, so he wonders if could make butter. They made it in Home Ec when he was in middle school as an experiment. Shaking a mason jar with heavy cream and some salt. And then they had something that resembled butter.

He'll have to look at the store and see if heavy cream is even available in this place and time.

There are also three ingredient peanut butter cookies, and he's pulling them out of the oven when the front door opens, again. He's figured out that his house is Grand Central Station, there's always someone coming or going, he's quickly realized over the past few days. He expects it to be Robin, since it's a little early for Eddie to be home for dinner, but it's not.

Instead, it's a woman, shutting the door behind herself, a baby on her hip and a little girl holding her other hand.

Steve worries for a brief second that this is wife, or Eddie's wife. He doesn't want to deal with

any

of that. Not again. 
Then, she turns and looks at him. Oh. She's Gareth's wife. Di. Of course she is, he lived right next door to her. She just looks so different here. No longer the put together wife of an astronaut, with not a single hair out of place, even with all those kids. Here, she looks worn out, frazzled, older than her years, and he feels sorry for her. Like he feels sorry for all of them.
"Hi, Steve. Do you have any evaporated milk I could borrow until tomorrow? Just until Gareth gets paid," she asks, looking at him as she puts down a loud, clattering, bag full of glass bottles on the kitchen table.

"Of course you can, if we have any, help yourself," he says, pointing towards the icebox, and she goes to the pantry instead. Okay, he guesses he doesn't know where evaporated milk is kept. But she must find what she needs, and he watches as she moves around his kitchen. She hands him the baby, and he takes him. Or maybe her? Steve's not absolutely sure.

But he watches as she's boiling the empty glass baby bottles on the stove, and then filling them with a mixture she's made out of some of the thicker milk she got from the can, water, and some clear syrup she got out of her purse.

When she's finished, she looks his way, "Can I store these here?" she asks, as she's putting the extra bottles she's made in his fridge. The baby lets out a coo, and Diana turns and smiles at them both. Then, she reaches over and takes the baby from Steve's arms.

"Thank you, it's been hard recently," she admits, sitting down at the table to feed the baby. The little girl has climbed up on one of the other chairs, and Steve hands her a cookie, now cool enough to touch. She squeals with delight, and takes a big bite, and he smiles. Then he gets out the bread, and the peanut butter that is still sitting out, and makes and cuts a peanut butter sandwich into fourths, sliding it to the little girl and another whole one to Diana.

"You don't have to do that," she says, looking up at him.

"I've got plenty," he says, and smiles, and he is pretty sure he does. He is able to bake several loaves of bread out of one recipe, and he's got a lot of jars of peanut butter in the pantry. They must have stocked up when times were slightly better.

"Thanks, Steve. I don't know if we'd have made it this long without you and Eddie," she says, taking a bite of the sandwich. "Next year will be better, I'm sure of it."

He sits down, and eats his own sandwich, talking to her, hoping he sounds normal. Like he knows her, like she isn't basically a complete stranger that just happened to wander into his kitchen.

He wonders who she is, in the real world. Robin has told him that when you're dreaming your brain can't make up new people, only insert faces you've seen before, somewhere else. So, he wonders where he's seen Diana before. It's not Hawkins, he doesn't think. But it must be from

somewhere

and now here she is, sucked into this fiasco, traveling from universe to universe.

At least Robin and Gareth would come along willingly, Steve's pretty sure, for the chance to save Eddie. This is just a poor stranger dragged into it by his damaged psyche.

The little girl eats her whole sandwich, so he offers her another, and she eats that, too.

Times are rough, indeed.

Then she climbs off her chair, and starts to run off, and her mother hollers after her, "Stay inside, Ruthie!"

Diana looks back at Steve, and lowers her voice.

"Gareth doesn't even eat breakfast, wanting us to eat first," she says. "I don't know how it's going to work, when winter hits. He can't work like they do, not while not eating."

"I've been feeding him breakfast. Don't worry. We'll make it work. We always do," he promises, assuming that's true. They probably won't be here come winter, at least he hopes not.

"Thank you," she says, "we weren't exactly making ends meet, before, you know," she says, nodding at the baby. "Don't get me wrong. I'm happy. We're happy. I wouldn't change anything. But it wasn't the best timing on our part. These things happen, though."

Steve just nods, like he understands. He wants to say,

use a condom.

Before they have six kids again, this time ones they can't feed. But he realizes, he doesn't even know if condoms exist yet. He hasn't seen any around their nightstand, so if they are having sex with each other, it's probably not with condoms.

He doesn't think they are. Surely they would have after fresh baths, if that were the case.

"At least you and Eddie don't have to worry about that when you're feeling fly," she teases, and he laughs.

"That's true," he agrees. Okay, so they probably are having sex, and Di not only knows that, but doesn't seem to care. Interesting, that that hasn't changed.

He really likes her, he thinks.

"So, now, we're just…not," she says.

"Can't you-" he starts, and then stops himself. What he was about to suggest, probably isn't polite to say to a lady, not in this place and time. Hell, it's not exactly polite back home either, but he's not exactly known for his tact.

"Can't we what?" she asks, looking at him, curious.

He looks back at her, feeling stupid. He can't say this to her, a stranger, from thirty years before he was born.

"Steve, what?" she asks again, smiling.

"I'm sorry, my mouth was just getting out ahead of me," he says, sure he's blushing, "I was gonna suggest, you know,

oral."

She looks confused.

"Like a blowjob," he finally says, wanting to curl up and die.

She still looks confused. Is that not a term yet? Jesus Christ. He's fucking embarrassed.

"Are you talking about…that's illegal."

He sort of just looks at himself, like, well, my whole existence is illegal then, and she follows, and laughs.

"Just try it.

Both ways,"

he stresses, he isn't advocating for this to be one-sided for her.

Robin comes in the door, thank fucking god. He needs saving from himself, desperately.

"What are we talking about?" Robin asks, and Di, she doesn't miss a beat.

"Steve wants me to perform sodomy."

"I did not say that! I didn't say sodomy!" he screeches, putting his head in his hands. He's humiliated. He didn't even know he could feel embarrassed like this. He thought he had no shame, but he's learning all kinds of new things about himself.

Robin just cackles, and that's just like her. Traitor.

"My diaphragm just didn't work that time. It's not perfect," she says, and Steve had no idea diaphragms existed back then. He's so confused. They had diaphragms, but not the word blowjob? What did they call it,

fellatio?

Oh, yeah, probably so.

"I just thought they could,

you know.

Instead," Steve says, looking at Robin for help.

Robin just keeps laughing.

"Fellatio and cunnilingus. And now, I'm never saying that again. Let's talk about something else before I die of embarrassment," Steve finally says.

Both women just laugh and laugh, and at least he hasn't offended them. Just embarrassed himself, horribly.

"I didn't know you

could

get embarrassed," Robin says, teasing him, and swats at her arm.

He wants to tell them he's from a more open-minded time. Well, at least, sort of. A little bit. More than this, anyway.

"Steve," Diana finally says, "you didn't invent that. We all do it. We just don't talk about it around the kitchen table."

Oh. Okay.

"Sorry," he says, sheepishly.

She winks at him, and that's that. The conversation moves on to something else, thank fuck.

Later, Steve gets up and starts working on dinner for Eddie, and he's sure Gareth, too.

"Oh, look, Uncle Steve's about to use up another sack of flour!" Diana says, voice excited, and Ruthie claps her hands. Steve isn't really sure why that's exciting news, but okay.

"Look at the little doggies!" Ruthie says, approaching his side, running her fingers over the dark fabric sack. And sure enough, there are little Scottie dogs and delicate flowers on the fabric of the bag. He hadn't noticed.

"It'll be a cute dress, won't it?" Diana asks her, and Ruthie nods, very excited.

Oh.

Oh.

She's gonna make clothes out of his used flour sack? Well, that's resourceful. Steve looks at the dress Ruthie has on today, and it's floral, but yeah, that could have once been a flour sack, he supposes. He'd have never noticed if Di hadn't said anything.

Eddie and Gareth show up for dinner later, and Steve feeds them both as many sandwiches as they want to eat. He didn't have any sliced cheese, no individually wrapped Kraft singles, obviously, since he assumes they don't even exist yet, but he had a box of old-fashioned looking Velveeta in the pantry, which shocked him. He never would have guessed it would have been around back then. But he tries to slice it thinly, as best he can without making a mushy mess, and then decides that might actually be the way to go, and just tries to spread it on the thick slices of homemade bread. It works, okay. Somewhat.

But he grills them in the cast iron pan on the stove, and they aren't as good as ones made with Kraft singles, Steve thinks, but they are gooey and melty.

"Cheese dreams made with two slices of bread

and

Velveeta. Are we the Vanderbilts?" Eddie asks, teasing him, clearly, as he bites into the sandwich Steve had put on his plate.

"Shut it," Steve says, and everybody laughs, including Eddie.

He watches Gareth kiss his kids, both girls, Steve has learned, just playing with them on his lunch break, and it makes him feel a sort of sadness. He misses the kids back in Hawkins.

They aren't his kids. He knows that. But they feel like they are, a lot of the time. But they're growing up, fast. He misses his little nuggets. Misses Henderson's sassy, smart-assed mouth.

He likes taking care of them, and now he likes taking care of Eddie.

And Eddie needs a lot of care, especially since he's working outdoors, long, hard hours. Steve's tried to switch with him, has tried to get Eddie to let him take on the manual labor for a while. But Eddie's having none of it. Steve's not sure why, but Eddie doesn't have enough strength left at the end of the day to argue, so Steve makes sure they don't.

He lets Eddie work, and he makes sure he takes care of him when he comes home.

Steve holds Eddie in bed, and nothing ever happens. It could almost be platonic, if Steve couldn't feel the thrum of something more beneath the surface, passing between them.

Maybe Eddie's just too tired, too sick, to expend any extra energy on sex. And that's okay. This is nice, too. This different sort of intimacy they definitely share.

Not that he wouldn't slide down the bed and suck his dick if he thought that'd be a welcomed act.

He laughs at the mental image, and Eddie turns to grin at him, sleepy, but amused.

"What's so funny?" Eddie asks.

Steve doesn't know what to say, so he hooks his chin over Eddie's shoulder, and starts telling him a story he makes up on the fly. Eddie listens, laughing with him, until he falls asleep.

This goes on for days. Robin shows up, and they make soup with whatever scraps they have that might go bad soon. A bunch of potatoes with the peels on, a few limp carrots, some onions, some leftover ham and a whole bunch of beans they soaked overnight. They add some rice, and it's a weird version of vegetable soup, but doesn't taste bad. Not at all.

Eddie will eat it. Eddie will eat anything, he's quickly learned.

They ladle it into big quart jars, and will split them between them, and then send a couple home with Gareth.

Those kids need to eat.

They go back to the general store, and Robin stands by as Steve digs through the stack of flour sacks. Looking at all the prints, trying to choose one that Ruthie might like the best. Small flowers, or plaid. Then he sees it. Ducks. And he knows that's the one.

"Didn't expect you to be digging through the flour like a housewife," the owner says, but it doesn't seem to be anything other than an observation.

"For Ruthie," Steve says.

"Ah, of course," he replies. "The Jones girl. I don't see Mrs. Jones and her girls as often anymore."

Steve nods, and hands over the few other items he'd picked out, and counts out the coins to pay for it all. He supposes the shopkeeper doesn't see Di as often, because she's struggling to stretch their money. He knows she is, and he's doing everything he can to ease the burden. Sending home bread, and the soup. Feeding Gareth. He doesn't know what else he can do, wishes he did. Wishes he had more answers.

Eddie sits at the table and eats soup and Ritz crackers. Steve was shocked to see them in the general store, a brand he is familiar with, and in pretty abundant supply. He bought a few tins, and made plates of peanut butter crackers, for a change from sandwiches, and Eddie loves them. Is that not a thing yet? Steve has no idea.

But he'll make as many peanut butter crackers as Eddie wants to eat.

The next time, he spreads a little Velveeta on them, and makes cheese and crackers, too. Eddie loves those, just as much. Maybe more, because it's different. Cheese isn't as cheap to buy, but it's doable.

Steve reads the box and sees a recipe for mock apple pie. Using the Ritz crackers as a substitute. That seems wild, but if they put it on the goddamn box, maybe it's worth trying.

He does, and it's fucking weird how much it turns out like real apple pie, like, Steve isn't sure he could totally tell them apart if he didn't know, and Eddie eats it like it's real pie, happily.

"My mom used to make mock pecan pie, with oats," Eddie offers off-hand as he eats, and Steve makes note to ask Robin, or Di, if they know a recipe for that, too.

Steve is putting away the clean dishes, turning everything upside down, and he'll never take running water for granted, again. Everything is so inconvenient here, and he's really not into the outhouse lifestyle.

Eddie startles him by wrapping his arms around Steve's waist, just hugging him from behind. Steve lowers his arms, folding them on top of Eddie's.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Eddie says, pressing his face into Steve's back.

Steve turns in his arms, cupping Eddie's face gently, "I feel the same way about you, Eddie. I hope you know that."

Eddie nods, but makes no move to kiss him, even if the moment feels primed and ready for it. So, Steve just hugs him and stands there doing it, for a very long time. Just holding each other close, in the quiet of the house. The wind is not blowing as hard outside, for the first time since Steve turned up here.

"Next year will be better," Eddie says, and Steve squeezes him back.

That's the same thing Diana said. Steve doesn't understand how either of them can think that, not now, after what they've clearly been suffering through for quite some time.

"It will be," Steve assures, because he wants Eddie to believe that, even if Steve knows that next year certainly won't come, and nothing is going to change.

Hope is free, and even as worn down as Eddie clearly is, there isn't a chance in hell that Steve's gonna take away any hope that he might have left.

There's a recipe book, and Steve reads it, cover to cover. Half the recipes call for oleo, and he doesn't really know what the hell oleo is, so he looks for something he does recognize, and ends up making homemade tortillas from scratch. They don't turn out half bad. He cuts them into triangles and fries them on the stove and serves them to Eddie with melted Velveeta. He doesn't have Rotel, or ground sausage, to really make the dip, but it'll do.

"This is really good," Eddie tells him, "all these new things you've tried lately are great, Steve. Thank you."

He didn't mean to be trying new things, he just doesn't have any memories of what he's supposed to be making and is flying by the seat of his pants, now. Trying to make things he knows how to make, and he knows how to melt Velveeta to make dip to eat while watching the Hoosiers. It is what it is.

Eddie and Gareth are in and out, both looking bone tired at the end of the day. Steve isn't sure why he's stuck in the house like he's incapable of helping them, like he's a housewife, but he is capable. Not that he minds taking care of Eddie, he doesn't mind at all, but he thinks he could also help him by taking some of this load off his shoulders.

So, finally, one day, he just gets dressed and follows Eddie out the door.

"Where do you think you're going? Steve, no," Eddie says, turning him back around, pushing him towards the house, "we've been over this. You stay indoors."

If they've been over this, Steve has no idea why. He doesn't know what the problem is. He isn't so delicate that he can't do whatever it is that Eddie is doing all day. Farming, hunting, manual labor. Whatever it is, Steve can do it, too. If they'd show him how, he knows he could, he's a fast learner.

He's strong. He could work. Keep up with the rest of them, try to farm in what seems to be a hopeless situation. 
"I can help you. Let me!""Look at it!" Eddie says, raising his voice louder than Steve's ever heard it in this universe, waving his hands around at the dust storm on the horizon.There's always a goddamn dust storm on the horizon if they aren't already in the middle of one. That's just how it is.
So, Steve doesn't understand why he's been benched.

But he isn't going to fight with Eddie, so he heads back into the house. He can make sure there's dinner ready, and supper after that. He's a housewife. A househusband? He doesn't hate it, not at all, but he feels bad that Eddie is being worn to the bone. He could do both. Work outside all day, and then feed Eddie when they both get home. He could do it. He knows he could. Not indefinitely, but absolutely, short-term. And that's all he's here for, so he could do it if Eddie'd just let him.

Determined to keep busy, to be productive, Steve washes all the bedding by hand, and hangs them around the house to dry. He assumes he could take them outside, but figures with all the dust blowing around, it would only make them dirtier than they started out.

He hauls in water, and does other chores around the house, inside and out, and when he comes in to fix dinner for Eddie, he realizes he can't breathe. He sits at the table, struggling to catch his breath.

This feels like he did when he had childhood asthma, kinda. He outgrew that, though, and it didn't stop him from playing sports, including swimming. But it feels kind of like that right now, and it feels awful. Like he's drowning on dry land.

He hangs his head, and breathes, trying to get past this. Whatever it is. He's overdone it today, maybe Eddie was right, and he wouldn't be of any help.

He feels useless.

When Eddie walks in the door, he drops his hat, "Hey, no, no, it's okay. Steve. You're okay, here, let's get you a breathing treatment."

Steve just nods. He doesn't know what that means, but it sounds fucking fantastic to him. He needs some help breathing right now.

And Eddie gets out some contraption with a bulb on the end, working on it, putting a couple drops of something into it. And it honestly looks more like a bong than anything else. But Eddie makes him hold it to his face, as he squeezes the bulb, and soon enough, he feels like he can breathe again.

"Thanks," he says, and Eddie rubs Steve's thigh with his free hand, like he's trying to soothe him.

Eddie smiles, "I don't know how anyone thinks that's a nervous condition. If they've ever seen you try to breathe, they'd know it's not."

Steve doesn't understand what that means, not really. Did they think people with asthma were faking it back then? If so, that's kinda weird.

But, okay, he can't work outside because he can't breathe out there. That makes a lot more sense than the idea that Eddie just thinks he's somehow too weak to do it.

Once Steve is pretty sure he can breathe again without it, Eddie puts the thing away, and sits down at the table with him, and picks up a sandwich from the plate in front of him. There's a thin layer of dust already on it, and Steve watches as he eats it anyway, as if he doesn't notice.

When he thinks he really needs to get something in Eddie besides peanut butter and Velveeta, he makes the things Robin tells him to make. Casseroles. Lots of casseroles and soups, made with whatever they have on hand. It's different, living like this. Wasting nothing.

Robin and him walk to the store together, two or three times a week, and they've started pooling their money. Buying the staples, and dividing them between their two houses. Half for him and Eddie, half for Robin and her mom. Sending any surplus home with Gareth and Di.

They gathered and pickled some tumbleweeds last week, getting prepared for winter, and Steve hopes he's long gone by then, long before they all resort to eating brined weeds.

They make carrot marmalade, which tastes way better than it sounds, surprisingly. And it's not bad at all on some of the freshly baked bread. Steve switches between making it, and peanut butter bread. Eddie likes them both, and peanut butter is shockingly easy to get a hold of, even now. So, Steve makes peanut butter pancakes, peanut butter bread, and once, and

only

once, on Robin's suggestion, baked peanut butter stuffed onions.

Eddie ate them without complaint, but just eating a spoonful of peanut butter and a raw onion like an apple would have been a better idea. And Steve's seen Eddie do it. Eat an onion, like it was a great snack. Like he was the fucking Grinch or something.

Peanut butter onion debacle aside, Steve can sort of cook now, and he is shocked that either him or Robin have the ability.

They go together and buy potatoes, beans, more peanut butter, popcorn, milk, some bacon, cornmeal and lots and lots of eggs. Steve's getting sick of eggs, but the alternatives aren't that spectacular either, so at least eggs are familiar. He fries them, hard boils them, scrambles them with a little bit of the Velveeta. He fries the bacon, and saves all the grease. Something he remembers his grandma doing.

But it sure has gone a long way to making other less-than-appetizing options easier to choke down. He's just trying to put some weight on Eddie. He's thin, and Steve is scared if they are stuck here much longer, Eddie won't survive the winter.

He has filled out, just a little. More interested in eating now that there is a little more variety and excitement to see what Steve has made. But popcorn soaked in milk just isn't going to cut it to keep any weight on him.

So, peanut butter overload it is, just for the density of calories alone.

Steve and Robin have made loaves upon loaves of bread, and have traded them for other things with everyone else in the area. One lady was making homemade laundry soap, and they were able to trade for some of that, and he got all of Eddie's clothes mended and patched. Eddie kept saying he'd do it himself, and Steve doesn't doubt that he could, he saw his vest, back in the real world. Wore it. And he knows it was made by Eddie, by hand.

But Eddie doesn't have the time. Not working the hours he's been working, from sun up, to long after sundown.

And after all the trading, Steve is asked if he'd be willing to sell loaves of bread. He is, just to bring in any extra money. He's not making much on them, because nobody around has much to spare. But there are a couple richer people in town that hear that he's the Harrington boy, and put in orders that he charges nearly double what he charges the neighbors.

One woman, in a nice dress, store bought and not homemade, he's certain, is wearing a gas mask.

"Where'd you get that mask?" he asks, and she tells him she special ordered it at the general store. He nods, and takes the money for the bread.

After collecting, he walks to the store and asks. He'd seen them in the newspapers in the store before, but never on anyone in town. When he hears the price, he knows that it's far out of his reach right now, so he just buys a couple pieces of candy. One for Eddie, and one for Ruthie for the next time she comes over.

Ruthie isn't going to school, Steve's realized. So, he sits with her at the table, and teaches her what he knows. He isn't really teacher material, he's pretty sure, but he knows his ABC's and basic math.

And he can teach her to read, maybe.

He's pretty sure her mom can read, she's just spread too thin. So, Steve just decides to take the reins, and the little girl sits on his lap, and learns.

The general store has a new little section of books to borrow, like a mini library, and even if they looked at him a little funny when he came dragging up a copy of

Little House in the Big Woods,

he borrowed it, and read it to her, page after page, day after day.

His second grade teacher read them all of the Little House books during story time in school, and it was at least something he recognized.

One night, she is reading simple words out of a book he found for a beginner reader, showing off her new skills for her daddy and Eddie, and before they leave, Gareth wraps his arms around Steve's neck from behind, hugging him. Steve reaches up and squeezes his forearm.

Gareth's another one of his kids, now. Just like Dustin, or Max. Lucas. He's older, sure, but he's needed something since Eddie's been gone, since he

died,

and Steve might not have been so willing to give it to him back then, but he is, now.

If he ever gets home, even if it's without Eddie, he'll make more of an effort to be friends, real friends, with Gareth. And not just for Eddie, now. For himself, too.

Gareth presses his lips to the side of Steve's head, quick and dirty, and then he's gone.

It's awful today. The air quality is non-existent, and Steve thinks this might be worse than The Battle of the Bulge. The snow was more bearable than this god-awful drought. He didn't think anything could get worse, not really, but another dust storm rolls in, huge and black, and the wind is blowing so hard, that it seems like there's a constant tornado rolling through the plains. It's blowing dirt to the side of the house, piling up in what looks like brown snow drifts, coming in all the cracks. Leaking down through the roof, leaving ant hills of dust on every surface.

Steve hangs wet sheets in the doorway, trying to filter out the dust.

He doesn't want to have another asthma attack, if he can help it. And he really wants Eddie to be able to get out of the dust, at least at home, for a while. His lungs need the reprieve.

Eddie is late, and Steve's worried.

When Eddie finally stumbles in, well after dark, Steve ushers him to a chair and takes a damp cloth, and wipes Eddie's dirty face. It doesn't help, not that much anyway, it just spreads the filth around. But at least Steve feels like he's doing something to help him.

"Cough," Steve says, and Eddie does, into a different rag, one as clean as they’ve got, as Steve pounds on his back, trying to help him clear his lungs.

"Here, eat," Steve says, pushing the cornbread across the table. He sprinkles some sugar on it, and soaks it in some milk. It's mush. But a lot of things are, these days. At least cornbread is higher in calories than popcorn, especially after he baked it in the leftover bacon grease. And it really doesn't taste bad.

Eddie eats, quiet and tired. Steve can tell he's worn down, almost as far as he can go. This is like being in the water, treading desperately, with the Titanic sinking behind them.

It's just a different sort of drowning.

Steve gets up and stands next to him, stroking Eddie's hair, softly, "I'm sorry things are this bad right now. It won't be like this forever, I promise."

And that breaks the levee. Eddie hangs his head, and leans his face into Steve's thigh, and cries.

Steve just keeps stroking his hair, letting him cry. He definitely deserves it, this is fucking shitty and hard. It's a

hard life,

they're currently living.

He'll fix it, somehow. He has to. Eddie needs him to.

In bed, Steve brings a wet washcloth, and lays it over Eddie's mouth. Having him breathe through the damp fabric for a few minutes, at least. Filtering out the dust. It's bad, it's been bad. Every morning when they wake up there are outlines on their pillow where their heads have laid. Everything else is covered in a layer of dust. Sometimes it's fine, others it's nearly an inch thick. It just matters how bad the wind is blowing outside.

"Is that any better?" Steve asks, hovering over him, and Eddie nods, and reaches for Steve's hand, and squeezes. Steve leans over and kisses him on the forehead, and then curls up next to him, resting his head on Eddie's chest. There's a rattle, and it doesn't sound particularly great.

Steve's worried. He's really fucking worried. Something

has

to give, and soon.

The next day, Steve is walking further into town than he's ever been, towards the small business district that's survived the economic depression, and that's where he sees the Harrington sign over one of the few doors still open for business. He stops, pauses. He's sure his father is inside. Well, a version of his father, anyway.

He wonders what kind of relationship they have here. Is it decent, or non-existent? His name must be good, it helped him sell the bread, after all. And even if their relationship is even slightly decent, he has to wonder if he could borrow some money to buy masks. For both Eddie and Gareth, before they wind up dead from all the dust in their lungs.

They can be ordered, he asked, but they're just too expensive for him to swing right now if they still want to eat.

But, maybe if he had a little help. He's not above begging. Not for Eddie.

Walking up the sidewalk, he touches the door handle, and pushes it open. He takes off his hat, and smoothes back his hair. There's a woman sitting at the front desk, and she looks up, and seems shocked to see him.

That's probably not good. Maybe he should just turn around and leave right now?

"Steve?" she asks, standing up behind her desk.

He nods, "Hi. Yeah, it's Steve."

She comes around the desk, stands right in front of him and smiles, "It's been a while."

Steve nods, because she'd know better than he would.

"Is my dad here?" he asks.

"No, not today, he's not," she says, like she feels regretful about that.

"Oh. Okay," Steve says, "thanks, anyway," he says, turning to leave.

"Can I help you with something?" she asks, "Take a message?"

"No, that's okay. I was just trying to find a mask. For my friend."

She nods, "Here. Your father left me some petty cash, in case of an emergency."

"Oh, you don't-"

"Of course I do," she says, and she digs in her bottom desk drawer, pulling out a small box. It's fancy, and she turns the little key on the front, opening it before she counts out several bills, and holds them out for him to take.

"You won't get in trouble?" he asks.

"He won't even notice," she assures.

He still hesitates, just for a second, and then takes the bills into his hand, and holds on tight. It's way more money than he's seen at one time since he ended up here. And it's enough, he thinks. It's maybe a life-changing amount of money to them, and his father left it with his secretary as petty cash that he won't even miss, while the rest of the town suffers.

Sounds about right.

"Thank you," he says, and he means it. This will help. He knows it.

"Come back, Steve. Anytime. Your father is gone often, but I'm always here."

He nods, getting her message, loud and clear.

And he walks right back to the general store and orders two masks, handing over most of the cash, and using the rest to buy some luxuries for the first time. He buys an expensive, small tomato, and some sad looking lettuce. A jar of mayo.

He's gonna make Eddie a BLT tonight, because he thinks he'll love it.

And he saw a card for mayonnaise cake in the pile of Robin's recipes, and he buys a tin of cocoa powder. He's gonna make sure Eddie eats damn good tonight.

He's fading on him. Steve can feel it.

Eddie eats his sandwiches, two of them, heaped tall and had a big slice of cake with a glass of milk. But he still looks exhausted, and sick. Pale, and worn to the bone. There's no amount of cake or bacon or mayo that can fix this, not now.

Steve's worried he's just too late. That Eddie is too sick.

And the next morning, when Eddie can't get out of bed to go to work, Steve knows that's true. He brings him soup, and sits with him all day. Ruthie crawls in bed between them, ready for her storytime, her lessons, even as Di tries to get her to leave them alone, to let Eddie rest. But Eddie's having none of it. Eddie holds her close, and Steve reads to them both, as Eddie dozes in and out.

Gareth comes in, filthy, his blue eyes the only thing truly visible on his face, and pulls a chair up close to Eddie's side of the bed. Ruthie keeps reading, and Steve waits a few minutes before getting up and motioning for Gareth to take his place.

He does, pulling her onto his lap so he can scoot in close to Eddie on the bed, while Steve goes to find them all something for supper.

When he comes back, Eddie is asleep against Gareth's chest and there are telltale tracks down Gareth's dirty cheeks that Steve doesn't mention.

They are family, they all are, Steve knows that damn good and well, and he's terrified they're about to lose Eddie if this gets much worse.

Gareth lingers at the front door as Diana and Robin bundle up the girls to face the wind and dust.

"Steve," Gareth says, and Steve doesn't want to do this. Can't.

Has to.

"I know," Steve says.

"What are we going to do?" Gareth asks, and Steve wishes he had a good answer.

Save him. They'll save him, somehow. Not just here, but back home. That's gotta be the point of this whole goddamn experience. If it's not, Steve's gonna be super pissed.

"I'll go fetch the doctor in the morning," Steve says.

"We can't afford that," Gareth says, covering his face.

"We'll figure it out," Steve assures, then says, "Gareth. Look at me."

Gareth does.

"We will save him. Both of us. You and me. If it's the last thing we do."

Gareth nods, and Diana slides her arm into his, telling him silently that it's time to go.

Steve steps outside, and he knows he can't stay out here long. Because of the dust, and because Eddie needs him, but he takes a few minutes, and gets on the side of the house that's best protecting him from the wind and dust, when Robin comes and stands next to him as he cries.

"Steve, talk to me," she says.

"Everything is wrong, this is all wrong," he says, falling apart and trying to pull it back together. It's impossible.

"It'll be okay," she tells him.

"It won't. He's dying," Steve says, and Robin puts her hand in his, squeezing.

"He's not dying, we won't let him," Robin assures.

"I'm…wrong," he tells her, the understatement of the goddamn century.

"You're wrong?" she questions.

He nods, then tells her everything, and she just keeps squeezing his hand, harder and harder.

He cries, and talks, and cries some more. Worn out. Exhausted. From this life. From the time travel. From the uncertainty of it all.

When he finally takes a break, she looks at him, "You should have told me sooner. I would have helped you more, if I'd known you were so lost."

He knows she would have.

"I'm so fucking lost," he admits, and cries harder.

Then he promises, "You helped a lot," and takes a deep shuddering breath. But it's too shallow. He's gonna have an asthma attack. Goddamnit.

"Here, inside," she says, noticing it at the same time he does, sitting him down at the table, preparing the breathing treatment for him.

Eddie might not be well enough, but Robin is, and she knows what to do, too. He should have realized that.

"Thank you," he says into the mask.

"Don't talk, breathe," she instructs, and he does just that.

In bed that night, after everyone else has gone, Steve can breathe, but Eddie is coughing again, so Steve pulls him towards him, holding him close. After he was too sick to go to work today, Steve knew it was bad. He's been trying to comfort him the best he can, but he’s pretty sure Eddie is getting dust pneumonia, if he doesn’t have it already. He knows people are dying of it, all over the area, and he can’t let it happen to Eddie. But he doesn’t know what to do to prevent it.

He wishes he already had the mask for Eddie to wear, to protect himself, like the richest people were already doing. It’s smart. After his dad's secretary gave him the petty cash from her desk drawer, he'd gone back to the general store and ordered two of them. But they aren't in, not yet. Nothing arrives fast these days. It just takes time, and Steve isn't sure Eddie has the luxury of time, not now. And a mask can't help if it isn't here. He found a way to buy them, not above begging to try and save Eddie, but he just hasn't gotten his hands on one yet.

If they were here, he’d make Eddie wear it. Everyday. Gareth, too. Both of them.

It might be too late, the damage already done. Steve doesn't know.

Maybe he can make one in the meantime. Not as good as a real one, but he understands the basic concept. He knew to wear a bandana over his face when they went down into the tunnels, and even the kids knew to do that, and they were so young. There could be something he can do to at least reduce the risk for Eddie. To help lessen the damage.

He should have been doing it all this time, he scolds himself. He took for granted that the world would disappear, and it wouldn't matter, not really. But Eddie is suffering, and that wasn't part of the deal.

He should have protected him better, taken better care. That's his job. Here, back home. And he's done a piss-poor job lately, he's pretty sure.

Maybe he can make a filter out of newspaper, just like they are putting on the walls to keep the fine particles of dust out of the house.

Every single day Eddie goes outside, goes to work, he's getting sicker.

And today is bad. Really, really bad. The worst he's seen him.

Eddie coughs again, and again, and Steve thinks Eddie has a fever tonight. He gets a cool washcloth, puts it on his face, and then gathers Eddie up, pulling him closer to his chest. He’ll stop this. He will. Eddie’s not going anywhere, not like this. Steve will make him a mask, and it’ll be fine.

Everything will be fine, it has to be.

Eddie coughs up blood into the wet rag, and Steve just clings to him. As if by holding onto him tight enough will change things, will force this bad day to pass. That he can just will it to go away.

He really hopes he didn't give Eddie rabbit fever, by letting him eat those jackrabbits. He wishes he hadn't done it, wishes he'd have just made more biscuits or bread or another casserole. He'd have even eaten those peanut butter onions again. Anything.

He'd do

anything

to help him.

That's what he's learned as he's been ripped and tugged and pulled all across time. That he'll do anything to save him, even if he can't. Even if it's futile. He'll still try. He'll fight in a war. He'll tread freezing water.

He'll look Vecna square in the eye, and fight back harder. Win.

Anything.

Everything.

Maybe it has

always

been futile. Maybe he's being taught a lesson. An awful, cruel lesson in knowing when to let go. To show him how clingy he's always been, even when it's only been in vain.

Maybe he should give up.

He can't. Won't.

Steve holds on tighter.

Eddie coughs some more, pulling Steve out of his head, as Steve pets his hair, holding him to his chest. Whispering soothing words to him, telling him how much he loves him. How brave he is, how brave he's always been. That he's not a runner. That he stood up and fought back, when it mattered most.

When he dove into that lake.

When he took on that hoard of bats, all alone.

He tells him that he's a fighter. That he'll fight this. That they both will.

They don't give up, neither of them, it's not how they do things. And they'll do this together.

But Eddie still coughs until he's too weak to cough any more. He's delirious with fever, and fatigue. Sweating, shivering, even as Steve holds on tight, trying to keep him warm. Maybe making him too hot. He doesn't know whether to hold on tighter, or just let go.

Then Eddie finally speaks:

"Harrington, is it time to go?"

And it breaks Steve's heart. But he answers him.

"Yes, honey, it's time to go," Steve says, and as if on command, the world pops.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

you may say I'm a dreamer,
but I'm not the only one

Imagine, John Lennon

2020

Steve finds himself standing on an empty street. Like,

end of the world,

empty, and it's eerie. Like, zombie apocalypse, eerie. But it's clean, not unkempt in any way. It's like all the people have suddenly vanished. It's just a quiet loneliness. The hair on the back of his neck immediately stands up at the realization. He doesn't like it. He feels all alone, abandoned. 
He spins in a slow circle, looking around. Taking in the street, the signs, the buildings.
This is the future. He can tell.

But he's somehow all alone.

He doesn't know if he should run, or sit down on the curb and cry.

Looking at this world, and the solitude it's surrounding him with, he's now certain that he vastly prefers winding up in the past as opposed to the future. He doesn't like seeing things that haven't happened yet. It makes him uncomfortable in a way he can't describe. He feels pulled tight. Like his body

definitely

doesn't want to be here, knows it shouldn't be. He doesn't want to know what's coming next over the next decades, it's too much of a burden for him to carry.

He's got enough to worry about, without knowing these things.

He looks around again, hoping to see someone, anyone. But he doesn't. And why is everything so empty? No city should look like this, and Steve's hackles are raised, immediately. He looks left, right, for the threat. For a demogorgon, or a pack of demodogs. The bats. Anything.

Because something is here. Something bad. Something very, very bad.

And if he wasn't sure it was the future before, he jumps a little, startled by an unexpected noise coming from his jeans. His pocket is suddenly ringing. Like an annoyingly shrill alarm clock, insistent and buzzing against his thigh.

Steve digs into his pocket and pulls out the offending item, looking at the black rectangle in his hand. It lights up and says

Robin,

right there on the little screen.

Oh, thank God.

Robin.

There's a little circle with a green phone receiver in it, and a red one with a phone in the hung up position.

He might be an idiot, but those seem like very obvious instructions.

It's a phone, clearly.

He taps the green button and nothing happens. So, he taps it harder. And harder.

And then the ringing stops.

Fuck, goddammit.

Then it starts again.

He tries to push the button, even harder this time, and still nothing happens. And it starts over again, and again, and Robin is being very fucking persistent.

Okay, maybe it wasn't as easy as he thought, but still, he's sure this

must

be a phone. It says Robin calling. He just doesn't know how to actually answer the fucking thing.

A phone. In his pocket. Wild. His dad has one in his car, a huge bag of a thing, tethered and immobile. But this is in Steve's hand, his pocket, not attached to anything at all.

The next time it starts ringing again, he accidently swipes his finger against the screen while trying to push it, and it stops ringing.

"Dingus, where are you? Why weren't you answering?" Steve hears.

It's connected. He's connected the call. To Robin. He wants to celebrate, but he doesn't have time before she's paging him again, yelling.

"Hello? Steve? Dingus, are you there?" Robin is shouting, he can hear without the phone even being held up to his ear.

He moves the phone up to his face, "Hello? Robin? I'm here!" he shouts back.

Where he is,

when,

he has no idea. But he's here, that's for damn sure.

He quickly realizes he’s wearing a mask of some kind, and his instinct is to pull it off so he can talk to her better, but he must have it on for a reason. He learned that in the last world, thanks. So, he leaves it right where it is.

"Jesus, I'm not deaf, no need to scream. Where are you?" Robin asks.

He has no idea. He looks around. A city street.

"Um, the street," he says.

"Well, hurry up and come home. You guys shouldn't be out there this long."

You guys?

He's all alone. It's just him, and he doesn’t know where home is, so this is going to be interesting. This isn’t Hawkins. It’s a bigger city, for sure, but it looks like a goddamn ghost town.

He isn't sure how he's going to find Robin here, and he starts to panic, just a little. 
Steve could just ask her. He's sure that he could, and she'd help him.
He's about to tell her he can't come home, because he doesn't know the goddamn way, when he's saved.

"You ready, big boy?" Eddie asks, popping out of the store down the block, holding grocery bags and he’s wearing a mask with the Metallica logo across his mouth. Steve smiles.

Oh, thank god.

Eddie is here.

"Yep," Steve answers, all faux-cool, like he wasn't about to have a meltdown, and follows him. He’ll go wherever Eddie leads him. That's how this whole thing works.

"Eddie's here. We're coming," Steve tells Robin, and watches as the call disconnects, the little elapsed time of the call flashing on the tiny screen.

Eddie's scurrying along the sidewalk, and Steve has to hustle to keep up with him. And Eddie's talking, talking, talking.

He seems just like Eddie, more than any other version he's met, he thinks.

And Steve smiles.

They pass in front of a record store, and it's locked up tight, but Eddie presses close to the glass, not touching it though, "When they open up again, that's mine," Eddie says, pointing. "And so is that, and that…and that," Eddie rambles, pointing all over the place.

Steve can't see any of the albums that he's referring to, just that they are records, so he just nods. That seems like the safest bet. And why are they all on vinyl? Did cassettes not stay popular?

"And I'm gonna get

that

one just to annoy Robin," Eddie says, with devilish glee, cackling at his own devious scheming.

And Steve laughs, like he gets the joke, as Eddie keeps moving, keeps talking. All but bouncing down the sidewalk.

He's Eddie. He's so fucking Eddie. He's Eddie on a lunchroom table, yapping. He's Eddie, begging for attention, even if it's negative attention, and talking a mile a minute when he realizes he's getting it.

Steve wishes he could see his mouth, wants to see all of this. All of Eddie. He has the hair, the scurrying walk. He even has a bandana hanging from his back pocket.

He's Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Steve doesn't have to do any of the heavy lifting, he just nods in the right places as they make their way the few blocks back to an apartment building, not too far from the store Eddie had been in, and Steve is fairly certain they’re in Chicago.

They climb the stairs, Eddie still talking. Something about a body count, and it doesn't make any sense, but Steve just listens.

"Do you know how many albums Metallica has put out since 1986?" Eddie asks, and Steve doesn't have a fucking clue.

"Sixteen?" Steve guesses.

Eddie throws back his head and laughs, "Never change, Harrington."

And Steve stops. Waits, but Eddie makes no move to indicate that he's coming to, or anything, so Harrington is just Harrington, here. Not some sort of cosmic, world-altering dog whistle. Good to know.
"And all of them are just right in my pocket, ready to stream for a few dollars a month. Isn't that crazy?""I think you might be crazy," Steve answers, teasing."Well, of course. But honestly. Entire discographies in my phone.""Then why were you looking at records?" Steve asks.
But he doesn't get the answer, because Eddie pauses in front of one of the doors, sliding a key in the lock, and then they both walk through the front door. Robin starts stripping Steve, immediately pulling his shirt over his head.

"Hey! Buy me dinner first, lady!" Steve shouts, reaching for the tail of his t-shirt, as he tries to keep it down where it belongs.

"Stop it, dingus! Arms up! You know the drill by now!" she hollers, and he lets go, stops fighting her, and lets her grab his shirt and pull. Because he really,

really

doesn't know the drill. Not at all. "You act like I want to see you naked."

Eddie laughs as he undresses himself, and Steve wonders why he's been treated like a child, and Eddie's not. He could remove his own shirt if he'd just been asked to.

It's very fucking odd, but he lets her do it. And she strips him, until he’s just in his underwear, and all his clothes are in a trash bag headed for the laundry, he suspects. Or maybe the dumpster. Who the fuck knows? Not Steve.

What the fuck is going on here? This is crazy.

Robin holds out the bag, and Eddie drops his Metallica mask into it, and

there's

his face. Steve's just staring at Eddie.

Jesus Christ.
Eddie's growing a Hulk Hogan mustache. Like, it's a bit scraggly, but Steve can't stop staring at his mouth."What? Something on my face?" Eddie asks, moving to wipe his mouth."Don't touch your face, dummy!" Robin snaps, batting his hand away, and Eddie holds them both up, like he's appeasing her."Hulk Hogan's mustache, apparently," Steve says, taking a jab at him.Eddie laughs, "Stop saying that! You know it's not a Hulk Hogan 'stache. It's a James Hetfield," Eddie says.Steve wants to retort, but Robin nudges him.
"Move it. Take a shower. I’ll wipe down the groceries," she says, taking the canvas tote bags Eddie carried in, and Steve’s so fucking confused. 
Eddie swipes at his jaw, and at first, Steve thinks this is an idle threat that he's gonna slit Steve's throat, but then he realizes Eddie's pointing at what hair is growing along his jaw, that he's trying to connect up to his sideburns. Maybe? It's awful."Hetfield," Eddie whispers.And Steve just shakes his head as he blunders towards the open bathroom door. Luckily this place is so small, he has no problem seeing

exactly

where the bathroom is located without letting on that he's never been here before.
He's even more confused when Eddie steps right into the shower with him, but he’s not gonna argue about that. No way.

"I'm still hoping Sonic Temple is rescheduled for dates we can go," Eddie says, "it was hard enough to schedule a weekend in Columbus the first time. But I need to see Metallica in the year 2020. Like, it's a must."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, but he doesn't get very invested in this conversation, because that's not gonna happen. They aren't gonna be here.

"Like, old James Hetfield. Still rocking. At fifty-six. Fifty-six! Did you know he was twenty-two in 1986?"

Steve isn't even sure who James Hetfield is, but they've sure spent a lot of time talking about him today.

"Wild," he says, but there's no heart behind it.

"Twenty-two. And put out Master of Puppets! Imagine that kind of talent. I wish."

That perks up Steve's ears. That? That he knows. That he's spent countless hours listening to, as if somehow could bring him closer to Eddie.

"That's my favorite Metallica song," Steve says, at least having something to add.

"No, it's not!" Eddie laughs, cackling, like Steve's the one being goofy, but he doesn't elaborate further. Okay, maybe it's not. But as far as he knows, it damn well is, at least back home.
And Steve just stares at him, watches him move around the shower, totally comfortable. Eddie hasn't reached for him, or let on that this a sexual thing, so Steve tries to act like he’s in a locker room, and keeps his eyes and hands to himself, and just showers as he was instructed. Washing his hair, and then Eddie holds out the bottle of conditioner, squeezing a dollop into his hand. Okay, so it may not be sexual right now, but it is intimate. They clearly know each other, and well.Steve can't resist looking him over, because he's happy to see that Eddie's tattoos are all accounted for, including one on the nape of neck that Steve's never seen before. His hair must have covered it, before, but now his hair is piled up on his head, being conditioned. But it looks a little newer. Blacker, darker. Like, maybe he's gotten it far more recently than the others.When Steve takes a closer look, it's a small, black letter S wearing a tiny, little crown.
Oh.
Steve swallows, he doesn't even know what to do with this new information. It has to mean what he thinks it means. It has to. He wants it to.And he kinda wants to lick it.Fuck it.He leans down and runs his tongue against Eddie's neck, where the ink is branded into his skin.Eddie jumps, startled, but then laughs, "Just let me wash first. You'll get the rona.""Sorry," Steve laughs, and lets the spray from the shower head bounce off his tongue, washing out his mouth, as Eddie watches, entertained.
While the conditioner sits, Steve washes his body with a mesh ball that Eddie had handed him after squeezing a glob of blue gel onto it.

Steve massages it, lathering it up, and washes his body. It feels nice, and very sudsy. He likes this

way

better than a bar of soap and a washcloth.

The smell is crazy strong, like they're bathing in cologne. Not even a bar of Irish Spring soap had this kind of scent power.

Then Eddie takes it from him, squeezes some more on, and starts using it on his own body.

Little gross, but okay.

Eddie pauses in front of him, and touches the back of his hand to Steve's forehead, "You feel okay, right?" Eddie asks. Suddenly serious.

"Yeah, why?"

"You're quiet," Eddie says, looking into his eyes, "not very playful. Licking, aside."

"It's just, you know, the world," Steve says, which isn't untrue. He's beyond sick and tired of the worlds he's found himself in, honestly, and this one is just another in the long line of worlds that have exhausted him.

He's tired.

"I know," Eddie says, "it won't last that long. A couple weeks, and we'll be good as gold."

Steve nods. That's probably true. Eddie doesn't know

why

that's true for Steve, but it'll be true nonetheless.

"Then, back to business as usual," Eddie declares, and Steve knows that part probably won't be true.

Instead of dwelling on that fact, he pushes it out of his head and rinses off, then Eddie does the same. Eddie hands him a towel, and he wraps it around his waist, tight.

Steve looks in the mirror, and he's growing a mustache. Not as scraggly. Do they have a bet? This feels like a bet.

He rubs his fingers over the hair that's growing there.

"Stop preening, Harrington, we're all very impressed," Eddie says, yanking on his arm, tugging him away from the mirror.

When they come out of the bathroom, Robin is still wiping down all the groceries with little rags she's pulling out of a yellow can. He picks it up and reads it, Lysol. He knows what Lysol is, just not this version. She's trying to disinfect the packaging of their food for some reason. That can't be good. Not at all.

What is happening here?

He doesn't ask, and just follows Eddie towards a bedroom on the other side of the apartment.

Steve sits on the bed, in his towel.

"Well, at least sit on your own side, if you gotta get the bed wet," Eddie says, tossing a shirt at Steve that hits him square in the head, covering him up, so he can't see.

Steve laughs, "Now, why would I do a dumb thing like that?" he asks, as he plucks the shirt off of his head, watching as Eddie dresses. 
"Because you love me," Eddie says, easily."I do," Steve says, catching Eddie's eyes in the mirror, "I do love you."And Eddie smiles so wide that it makes Steve's heart flip-flop in his chest, squeezing with affection, and then Eddie winks and Steve opens his towel, a blatant invitation."Thought you'd never ask, Harrington," Eddie says, and his eyes look bigger than usual.Steve just laughs, happy as he sprawls out, wet, on Eddie's side of the bed as Eddie approaches, getting undressed again, then covering Steve's body with his own."We don't have time for whatever dirty thing you two are thinking about doing!" Robin yells from the other room, and Eddie groans, burying his face in Steve's neck. "Rain check? Tonight?""Tonight," Steve promises as Eddie crawls off him.

After they've gotten dressed, they watch TV in front of a huge, thin television that is crystal clear. Like, insanely clear. Steve stands right in front of it, and studies the picture. It's wild. He's never seen anything like it in his life. How something that large, is that thin, and looks that good. 
This? This is what was so important, though? He's gonna kill Robin later.
He has learned that it's a virus of some kind, and it's spreading fast. He's figured out they are indeed in Chicago, and they are on some kind of lockdown. Trying to prevent this from getting worse.

Okay, well, he can handle that. He can be trapped in an apartment with Robin and Eddie for a while. That's not much of a hardship. Not at all. Might be fun.

They are both kind of ignoring him, though. They have those phones in their hands, scrolling. Reading, watching videos. Not looking at each other. Not looking at Steve. Not looking at anything but the little screen in front of them.

Every so often, one of them will turn their screen towards him, showing him something. He doesn't understand what is happening.

"They seem to think this is going to get worse before it gets better," Robin says.

"Where'd you see that?" Eddie asks, leaning over Steve, to try and look at Robin's phone.

"Reddit," Robin answers, turning it so he can see.

"Fauci says 100,000 deaths in the US is likely," Eddie says, and Robin leans over to look at Eddie's phone.

"Shit," Robin says.

"And John Prine is really sick," Eddie said.

"Corona?" Robin asks.

Eddie is reading the article, declaring, "Yeah. Looks like it."

"Damn," Robin says, as she's poking around on her phone again, and suddenly the room is filled with the sounds of

Angel From Montgomery.

She did that. From her phone, somehow. Music, on demand. Eddie wasn't lying. She didn't even have to move her ass off of the couch. That's fucking crazy. It's all crazy, this future he's found himself in.

It's freaking him out a little. This is kind of scarier than finding out he's supposed to be an astronaut, or that he's aboard the goddamn Titanic.

He takes his own phone out of his pocket and looks at it, but doesn't understand how it works, or what he should be looking at on it, so he gives up. He wants to investigate, but knows that will give him away, so he puts it down on the coffee table, and just sits there, head turning back and forth as Eddie and Robin chatter to each other across him, like he's not even there.

"Do you feel okay, you're acting weird?" Eddie asks.

"I'm fine," Steve says, turning to look at him, trying to act normal.

"Wanna get DoorDash?" Eddie asks.

"You

just

went and got groceries, Munson," Robin says, and Eddie scoffs.

"Those could be

tomorrow's

groceries," he argues. "Today we could have takeout."
"No! I don't want someone breathing all over my food," Robin argues, and Steve just watches this volley between them. Eddie arguing, persuading, and Robin countering, like they've navigated each other's quirks for years. Steve likes it. Even if it means they're arguing.
"Fine, but if we all get Corona it's on you, Munson," she agrees, and then they are both back on their phones, fingers moving.

They are arguing over food that he assumes will be delivered.

"What do you vote for, Steve?" Robin asks.

He doesn't know. He has no idea what the options are, the choices.

He plays it safe.

"Pizza Hut?"

They both groan, "We aren't ordering Pizza Hut in Chicago, dingus."

Steve just laughs, because he doesn't know what else to do, and they eventually come to a decision, the two of them.

And then Robin pokes at her phone, and John Lennon's voice is in the room, singing

Imagine

and Eddie and Robin are cackling, yapping back and forth, talking about people and things he doesn't understand.
Robin eventually makes Eddie go stand by the exterior doors downstairs to wait for the food, because she doesn't want a germy stranger coming right up to their door, and she says she's taking a shower before the food gets here.

Once he's alone, he pulls the phone out of his pocket and decides to try again. He's watched Robin over her shoulder, and he thinks he's figured out how to use the little search thingy on his phone. He struggles to actually replicate what he's seen her do with ease, but after a few problems he is finally able to type in

George Harrison

and finds and pokes enter on the little digital keyboard. He doesn't know why George Harrison was his first thought, but when a drop-down list of suggestions pop up, he knows

exactly

why.

George Harrison death.

That's what's suggested for him on the little screen, and he realizes that he wanted to check out the truth of that flash of a non-existent memory he had on the rooftop.

And he pushes it with his finger, and an overwhelming page pops up, text in didn't sizes and fonts, and he isn't sure where to focus his eyes. He eventually decides to read it, left to right, just like he would a newspaper.

Discovering quickly, that yes, George Harrison did die of cancer. Just like that flash of memory told Steve he did. But maybe it's a coincidence. Lots of people die of cancer. It's not like he saw that he died in a hot air balloon accident, or of a shark attack. It might be nothing beyond a good guess.

If he's gonna believe it, he needs more proof. So, he returns to the little place he typed in George's name, and when he clicks on it again, another drop-down menu pops down, and it says other people also searched for, and has suggested Linda McCartney.

Perfect.

He clicks her name, and yes, she died of cancer, too.

So, that flash of information he had

was

real. But he doesn't remember ever being in a year, a world, where he learned that information, and that is fucking with his head. Big time.

He wonders, worries, what else he's forgotten. How long he's been drifting, bouncing around. Can he only remember the last handful? Is he permanently unstuck in time? How?

Why?

He feels sick, and sits down on the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to breathe through this internal crisis he's currently experiencing.

"What? What's wrong? Are you sick?" Robin suddenly asks, making him jump.

"No, just tired," he says, and her eyes go wide. He realizes he's fucked up, right away. Goddamnit.

"Fatigue is a symptom, Steve!" she snaps, and then she's shoving something in his ear and he's resigned to allowing whatever the fuck she's about to do to him.

It beeps, and she looks at the little gun, "No fever. Not yet, anyway," she declares.

"I'm not sick," he says, again.

"You look sick," she argues.

He huffs out a breath, annoyed, and snaps at her, "Yeah, well, you'd look sick, too, if you were bouncing around, traveling through time."

She raises one eyebrow in his direction, "Explain."

"Can't," he says, flopping his head back against the cushion of the couch, closing his eyes.

"Try," she counters, and he turns, rolling his neck towards her, opening his eyes to meet hers.

"I'm from the 80s. We're still best friends, back then. No, I don't want to talk about it," he says.

"Tough titty, I do," she snarks, and he laughs, smiling at her.

She reaches for him, grasping him around the shoulders, and pulling him towards her. It's a comfort, and he closes his eyes as his head hits her shoulder.

"It's complicated, and annoying. Wonderful. It's been so hard. But Eddie's here. So, yeah. Totally worth it," he says, and he really doesn't want to explain this all over again. He's too tired.

He's getting so goddamn tired.

"Is Eddie traveling through time, too? Am I?" she asks.

"No. Well, maybe? I don't know how it works. I show up somewhere new, and there you both are. Were you there before? Did we all arrive together? I don't know. They are full worlds that you seem to be living in when I'm dropped in the middle of them, you know? It seems well-oiled, until I come along, and throw a wrench in the status quo because I don't know what the fuck is happening around me. Eddie eventually remembers. You don't."

She's quiet, more quiet than he expected her to be at least, but she seems to be thinking, really, really hard. So he lets her.

Then it's like something suddenly clicks in her brain and she bounces in her seat, excited. 
"Eddie! One day he showed up like he was a stranger. I mean, he's weird-""Hey!" Steve interrupts.
But Robin keeps talking. "You know he's weird. But he was

really

weird. And he was trying to hide it, and we all know Eddie doesn't hide his weird, and he couldn't quite pull it off, so I knew something was off with him. I thought he must have hit his head. But I didn't think of

time travel,

but now you're acting nearly the same way he did."

Steve doesn't think that's how this works. Not at all. He turns up first in a new world, not Eddie.

"No, I don't think that's possible. Eddie never knows before I do," Steve says.

"Are you sure? How can you be sure?" she asks, and he doesn't have an answer for that, because no. He can't be sure. He can't be sure about anything that has happened recently.

"Pretty sure. But it's possible. Anything is possible. How long ago did that happen?"

"A while," she says, "a couple months, maybe?"

That seems highly unlikely.

"Where do we live, where're you from? Here? In Chicago?" Robin asks.

"No. Hawkins. Indiana?" Steve asks, and Robin shakes her head. It's clearly not ringing a bell for her.

But she taps on her phone, "Let's Google it."

She taps a few times on the glass of her phone, then summarizes what she's read, "Okay. Wow. Hawkins existed. But it looks like in 1986 it basically fell into what I can only describe as a Hellmouth. Like Sunnydale did, on Buffy."

"Who's Buffy?" Steve asks.

"A fictional vampire slayer," Robin answers. "Doesn't matter. Hawkins is gone in this reality. A hole in the ground. Major earthquake," she says, handing him her phone. "Here's the wiki."

He doesn't know what that means, but he takes it from her and reads.

What are the odds that Hawkins would crater into itself without Vecna? Slim to none, Steve thinks. Are these all worlds where the standoff with Vecna just goes a little bit different? Alternate timelines? Is that a thing?

So, maybe these worlds are in some way connected. It's not the future, not his future, anyway. Just

a

future. A possibility. In his world, Hawkins was still standing in 1987, just a little worse for wear in places.

He wonders why he's been in the past, then. He never stays there long enough to meet back up with the timeline he's originally from, so how is that helping anything? Maybe it's not an exact science, wishes. Maybe it's not a science at all.

This is impossible, and he rubs at his forehead.

He hopes he's not gonna make his reality worse, somehow, just by bouncing around through time. Can he save Eddie, but the cost will be greater for everyone else? Will the end result somehow be

worse

than Eddie being dead? It's too much to consider. Too hard. He never asked for that kind of responsibility.

He never asked for any of this.

Except he did.

He just didn't mean to, because he didn't know wishes had any power at all. The thing is, he's not sure he'd have chosen any differently if he did know. Because he has a chance, now. An opportunity to change things. Will he make them better? Hopefully.

But now he's scared he might make them worse.

"What do we do?" Robin asks, looking at Steve like he has answers. He doesn't, not really.

"Wait for me to switch worlds?"

"And tell Eddie?"

Steve sighs. That hasn't always gone particularly well.

"Let's wait on that, see if he gives me any clue that he already knows. I'm too tired to try and convince him right now. He's way more stubborn about this than you are, historically."

"Why? Is he a jerk about it? Do I need to beat him up?" she asks, rolling her fists in the air comically, like an old-timey fight, and Steve laughs at her.

"Not necessary. But he has been a stubborn ass about it in some other worlds," he says. "Shocker. Eddie has opinions he isn't shy about sharing."

"But I haven't, right? I've been cool. Totally cool," she rambles, like she's assuring herself of this fact.

"Totally cool," he confirms, and then really looks at her, "and thanks for that, Rob. Thanks for trusting me, even if it hasn't always seemed like I was making a lot of sense. It's helped me out a lot. Several times. Trust me."

"Of course I trust you, dingus," she says.

She curls onto his side, and she holds out her phone in front of the both of them, "Let me catch you up on the world."

Steve nods, "And catch me up on Eddie, from here."
"Will do, ding-a-roo."

That night, Eddie crawls in bed next to Steve, and Steve stretches his arm out, offering up his side if Eddie wants to take it. He does, and curls into Steve's chest.
Steve's nervous. If this is Eddie, the real Eddie, he could…they could. Together. For real. And that feels bigger than he might be ready for, despite it being the only thing he's wanted. He's chickening out. He won't mention the rain check. If Eddie does, they'll go from there, he supposes.
"I'll have to go back to work soon, or none of us will make rent," Eddie says.

"You can't," Steve says. He doesn't know much about this place, but he knows that much.

"We don't have much of a choice," Eddie says, "I mean, we've got a little bit saved up, but it won't last forever," Eddie says, and Steve nods, "none of us are essential, or we'd still be working. I never wished I was still a cashier, but, if that means we won't end up homeless, well…"

"We'll be fine," Steve says, because that's true. They won't be here forever. They never are, so they can survive this, for a little while.

"Maybe I'll go back to dealing," Eddie says, and Steve grins. Can't help it. The idea that this Eddie is the same in some ways delights him more than he can say. "Borrow a vintage lunchbox from Wayne, the whole works."

Steve laughs, can picture it, clear as day.

Eddie crawls out of bed, and kneels down, pulling an envelope out from under the mattress, flipping it open and peeking inside.

"You're such a packrat," Steve accuses, but smiling at him at the same time.

"Very funny," Eddie answers, pulling out a few bills. "You know it's

you

that's got our money shoved under our mattress, like you think this is Y2K," Eddie says, with a laugh, handing Steve the bills he'd counted out.

"What's Y2K?" Steve asks, before he realizes that's probably something he should know, and shouldn't have asked.

"I know you were just a kid, but c'mon, Harrington," Eddie says, and then announces to the room, "Hey Siri, explain Y2K to Steve."

And a voice fills the air, and Steve whips around, looking for it, as it tells him exactly what Y2K was. He listens, then laughs, just a little. He

definitely

wasn’t a kid in 2000. That's crazy. He was born in 1966. Eddie was born in 1965. He knows that. He’s looked at his headstone enough to have it memorized.
He hands the bills back to Eddie, and Eddie moves to put them back under the mattress.
"I wasn't. A kid, that is. I was born in 1966," Steve says, because, why not? What's going to happen if he just tells the truth?

Eddie freezes, hand still shoved under their mattress. He looks stunned, knocked totally off-kilter.

"Eddie?" Steve says, reaching for his shoulder, and Eddie looks up at him.

"Steve?"
Oh, shit.Oh, shit.Oh, shit.

He knows.

Steve can see it in his eyes.

But it's so fucking odd. So unlikely. As far as Steve knows, Eddie’s never been ahead of him in a universe before. Eddie catches up, not Steve. Eddie figures it out after him, that's how this works. At least that's how he

thinks

it has always worked. Steve shows up, gets his bearings, finds Eddie, and then Eddie eventually remembers.

Rinse, repeat.

But, maybe he's wrong and slow on the uptake. There'd be nothing unusual about that, he supposes.

"When did you get here?" Eddie asks, coming around the bed, squeezing both of Steve's arms in his hands.

"Earlier," Steve says, "on the street. While you were getting groceries."

"I knew you were being odd!" Eddie says, "But you're always odd, so…"

"Hey!" Steve accuses, but he's laughing. "When did

you

get here?"

"Weeks, months. And now we have a worldwide pandemic. So, that's fun."

"Oh, tell me about it, I've had my fair share of shit sandwiches."

And Steve realizes Robin was right. This Eddie already knew he was in another time, from another place. He just got here first, somehow.

Eddie grins, "Well, I'll be damned. Here we both are."

"You seem like you belong here," Steve says.

"What do you mean?" Eddie asks.

"You know things about history, and how to use your phone."

"I like to learn things, Harrington," Eddie says, "I'm curious. Maybe

too

curious, according to some people, and Wikipedia is basically magic. As soon as I learned how my phone worked, I looked up everything I could think of. Topic after topic. Did you know Hawkins is in a hole here?"

"Like from Buffy," Steve says.

"Yes! Buffy. Seven seasons. 144 episodes. Split between The WB and UPN," Eddie says, and none of that means shit to Steve. "Was a movie first. Had a spin-off, five seasons, and comic books."

"You've seen it? Buffy?"

"Only clips on YouTube," Eddie answers, and Steve is confused. It sounded like he was really into this thing. He was able to learn all that, and

retain

it, just from his phone. That seems impossible. Steve wishes he had that ability.
"And you remembered it had 144 episodes? Why?""It was a gross. The number stuck," Eddie answers with a shoulder shrug, like that's normal. That's not normal.
But it doesn't matter, so Steve just nods, "What else do I need to know?"

"Oh shit, lots of things," Eddie says, flopping down beside him.

"Have you seen Henderson?"

"Only on Zoom," Eddie says, "he's got a kid. The kid is a dad, isn't that fucking crazy to think about?"

"Yeah, definitely," Steve says, and he feels like he's been left out. "How's Gareth?"

"Good, I talked to him this morning," Eddie says, then pauses, "Do you know Gareth now? The real you?"

Steve nods, "Yeah, a little. I mean, everywhere I've been, I've gotten to know him. But I knew him a little in Hawkins, you know, after."

Eddie nods.

"You know you died?"

"Not something you forget, Harrington," Eddie says.

"Let's compare notes," Steve says suddenly, because this might be really fucking helpful. If they can talk this through together, and develop some sort of plan of action. To get home, even, maybe.

Eddie nods, and flops on the bed, shaking it, but Steve props himself up on his elbow, looking at Eddie.

"How are you alive?" Steve asks, and Eddie just shrugs.

"No clue, I was dead, so dead, very, very dead, and then I was yanked into a whole new world. Bam!"

Steve starts to say something else to him, to apologize, maybe, since he's pretty sure that's his fault, but he feels the familiar pull.

Goddamnit.

He’ll never get used to it, as he snaps out of existence.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

and had you gone,
you knew in time,
we'd meet again,
for i had told you,
you were meant to be near me

Got To Get You Into My Life, The Beatles

1999

Steve is standing, looking up at a clock on the wall. It’s almost midnight. Everyone around him is standing around, looking at the same damn clock, and he wonders what they’re all waiting on.

Something important, he assumes.

He scans the room, and Robin has on a pair of glasses that have numbers on them. Steve squints, and he thinks that they say 2000. Well, okay, maybe it’s New Year’s Eve? In the future? The past? He's very fuzzy this time. It's unusual how blurry his memory is, right now. He'd gotten better at remembering right up front, he'd thought. So this kind of sucks, to feel like he's regressing.

He feels a little nauseous. His head hurts. And the fact that they've just turned up the music in the place, isn't helping. Maybe all this bouncing around is finally having an effect on him, on his body, all this moving through time. He feels gross and thinks he could easily throw up if he'd just let himself do it.

He doesn't know where he was last. Houston? Maybe Texas. NASA. Astronauts.

He leans against the table in front of him, putting the plastic cup down on it as he breathes in sharply, in through his nose, out through his mouth. He feels rough.

"You look a little green around the gills, Harrington. Too much to drink, or just worried about all that money in the bank?" Eddie asks, and Steve turns and tries to smile at him. He has no idea what Eddie’s talking about, but he's glad to hear his voice, see his face.

"Worried? Why?" Steve asks.

"World's gonna end, man, when that clock strikes twelve," Eddie says, and Steve doesn't think Eddie actually believes that, not for a second. He's just running his mouth. As per usual. Steve has kind of missed it. This seems like Eddie, the

real

Eddie, and that's not always been the case.
Robin is bouncing up and down, cup in the air, screaming to Prince, "They say two-thousand zero zero party over, oops, out of time!"
Steve laughs, both at Robin and Eddie. They're both being ridiculous in different ways, "It's not. And even if it does, I probably have money under the mattress."

"Just like in Chicago,"

Eddie mutters under his breath, and it's suddenly not funny anymore.

Steve pauses. Chicago.

That's tickling something in his brain, hard. Deep within the recesses.

Y2K.

He doesn't know what that is, but he knows that much.

He jerks his hand out, like it's not under his control, and inadvertently pulls at Eddie's hair.

"Jesus H. Christ, Harrington, ow!" Eddie shouts, fighting him, as Steve yanks Eddie's hair up off his neck.

There's nothing there. No tattoo. Oh. He's not sure why he thought there would be, but he really did.

He's disappointed.

Steve lets him go, "I'm sorry. I saw a bug."

"Well, goddamn, let it bite me next time. It's like you tried to scalp me," Eddie snaps, then narrows his eyes, covering the back of his neck with his hand, "Or like you were looking for something."

He was. Looking for something. And now Eddie looks suspicious in a…suspicious way. It's suspicious. All of it.

"James. Hetfield,"

Eddie says, slow, deliberate, eyes narrowed.

And Steve's body nearly buckles. There's pressure on his brain, so painful, that he feels like it's being yanked into two separate pieces. Houston and Chicago. Is this a migraine? Being brained with that plate didn't hurt this bad, didn't feel this disorienting.

"Steve," Eddie says, clearly worried, touching his shoulder, "let me get Robin."

"No, stay," Steve says, and it's passing. Somehow. It's like things are stitching back together, like he can feel the threads pulling, even if he can't see the work being done. It's lost on him, like everything else has been.

Eddie rubs the back of his neck, soft and gentle, "I'm sorry. I didn't. I didn't mean. Didn't know," he's rambling, and it feels soothing, in a way. 
Steve's still doubled over, but he looks up at Eddie, eyes pleading, asking, "Are you...with me?"
Because he's confused in a way he hasn't been, not really. He's hurting, and he needs Eddie to be on the same page, to ground him.

"I’m with you," Eddie says, giving him a soft smile, "Took you long enough to catch up. I was getting worried, Harrington. Seems to be taking you longer and longer."

It hasn't felt longer to Steve. It has felt shorter.

"You wait on me?" Steve asks, because that's backwards.

"Well, yeah, 'course I do," Eddie says. "Until I'm violently ripped away again by you, I think."

"Me? I'm not controlling this!" Steve yells, accusatory, jerking upright.

"You aren't?" Eddie asks, furrowing his brow. "No, you are. I'm pretty sure. It feels like you're directing traffic, but are

really

bad at it."

Steve straightens up, annoyed.

"No way, man, I'm just along for the ride. Just like you."

"Huh," Eddie says, like he's stumped. "You sure?"

"Of course I'm not sure!" Steve shouts, because he's never sure about anything. Not here.

"Were you looking for a tattoo?" Eddie asks, eyes downcast, looking embarrassed.

"Yes! Why? How?" Steve asks.

"I don't know, it was a few worlds ago-"

"No! It was the last one! I just came from there."

"Maybe you did. I didn't. Different places, different times, I think. Sometimes they collide, when you demand it."

"I don't demand shit. If I could demand things, I'd demand to go home," Steve says, because that's ridiculous. As if he has any sort of control over what's happening to him, to them both. Fucking absurd.

"I don't know. I don't. I just feel that way. You're the master of puppets."
"I am not," Steve snaps, offended. Then puts his hands on his hips, "Why is the tattoo gone?"
"Do you carry anything new with you?" Eddie asks, looking down at himself, "Because I don't."

That's true. Steve doesn't either.

"Why get it then?" Why would he suffer through the pain of a tattoo he couldn't even keep?

"Why do you think? I'm sorry if it's weird. If you didn't like it, or whatever, if it made you uncomfortable."

"I fucking licked it, Eddie, and then showed you my dick, I think we both know I liked it," Steve snaps, bitchy.

Eddie just grins, wide and amused, "I got it because we were together. Because it made that version of you happy."

"And because you knew it wouldn't stick," Steve says, petulant, for no reason. He's just in a bad mood. He's done with all of this. If he's in charge like Eddie thinks, well, then he's going straight the fuck home. Eddie can come with, or not.

"Sure, but like, if it had, I wouldn't have been mad. Why does it feel like we're fighting?" Eddie asks, looking sad, with those fucking doe eyes or whatever the fuck Robin called them looking at him, all pitiful. 
Steve deflates.
"I'm sorry. We're not fighting," Steve assures, "I'm just frustrated and tired. I'm sorry."

He looks around the room.

"What’s going on here right now?" Steve asks. If he wants to know, that seems like the best idea.

"Y2K. All the banks and computers are supposed to mess up, and send us back to 1900 or some shit."

Steve groans. He definitely doesn’t want to go back to 1900.

Eddie laughs, clearly knowing exactly what he’s thinking, "Yeah. Me either. Let’s go back to the future."

"With Marty McFly?" Steve asks.

"Sure, sounds good. You can marry your mom or something," Eddie answers, and Steve reaches down and takes his hand. 
"Gross, no," Steve says, but he laughs.
And the countdown starts and ends.

Eddie leans over and kisses him, just as the clock strikes twelve.

The kiss is world changing for Steve, but honestly, for everyone else, the world stays exactly the same, as far as Steve can tell. And then they pop out of existence together, still holding hands.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

and when at last, I find you,
your song will fill the air,
sing it loud so I can hear you

I Will, The Beatles

2015

And when he comes back to himself, he’s still holding Eddie’s hand. Standing on some steps, surrounded by tons of other people. Couples. And not only couples, queer couples, he realizes.

They are both looking around, trying to take in everything around them. It's crowded and a lot to see.

Steve tries to listen in, to hear what’s going on, what’s significant here. He doesn’t know until they get inside the courthouse, and are applying for a legal marriage license, together.

Fuck yes. He’ll do that.

They wait their turn. It's been a big line at every turn. To get in. To get the license. To actually get married. But Steve's happy to wait. He'll wait forever for Eddie.

It's just them in the little room with the Judge, along with the two workers that are standing in as witnesses. Steve wishes Robin was here. Gareth. Dustin. Anybody they know and love. Not that any of them would remember it, but still. He'd like there to be witnesses that this actually happened.

The ceremony is done and over in just a few minutes. No frills. That's fine by Steve. At least they got married, here, in this world. And they have rings. Plain gold bands that Steve can't stop looking at. Fucking wild.

He loves them, loves Eddie. Loves that this is something he's gotten to experience, even if it's not real. This is a good one. They haven't all been so great, so kind.

"Take me home, Harrington," Eddie says, fisting his hand in Steve's shirt, pulling him into his chest, kissing him.

Steve kisses him back, cupping the back of his head, holding him close for as long as he can.

When Eddie pulls back and smiles, Steve is more than ready to go home with Eddie.

Of course, Steve isn't sure where home is, but they leave the foyer of the courthouse, not letting go of each other. Hands gripped tightly together as they're bounding down the long set of front steps, and Eddie still has a hold of his hand when they hit the sidewalk below. Steve looks at him, not sure what happens next. He's flying blind, here. But for once, he doesn't really mind. He doesn't feel lost.

Eddie stops.

Steve stops.

They both just look at each other, waiting.

"Lead the way," Steve says, hoping it comes off as charming, instead of like he doesn't know how to get home.

"Waiting on you," Eddie counters, and it's odd. This stalemate they're standing in, just married and clearly in love. Surely they could be somewhere better than the street corner, like a bed.

Steve tugs on Eddie's hand, and pressing their fingers tighter together, his new ring clinking against one of Eddie's.

"We got married," Eddie says. "Me and you. Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington."

"Yeah, those are our names," Steve answers, smiling. But they did it. They really did it. They got fucking married. Legally. At least in this universe.

Eddie yanks on his hand, pulling Steve to his chest again. Steve likes it, and wraps his other arm around Eddie's waist, pressing his hand into the small of Eddie's back. Holding Eddie to him. Always wanting to hold him close.

For as long as any of these worlds can last.

They stand on the sidewalk, unmoving. Grasping at each other, touching, never losing contact as they clutch at one another.

"The war is over," Eddie says, and Steve nods, holding his hand tighter. Rubbing his thumb against Eddie’s wedding band. They got married. "We got married."

Steve wishes this one could stick, could last.

It doesn't. Of course it doesn't, they never do. Steve knows these are moving faster, now. They aren't lasting months. They aren't lasting days.

They are only lasting hours. Minutes.

He's just getting small glimpses of what could have been, or what could be, not long, drawn out full lives. It's only a taste, and a taste isn't enough.

When they pull apart, Steve raises his hand and hails a passing cab, following Eddie inside.

"Where to?" the cabbie asks, and Steve and Eddie both just look at each other.

"Do you not know?" Steve asks, looking at him.

"How would I know? I just got here, Harrington," Eddie says.

"No,

I

just got here," Steve counters, and the cabbie is just waiting, meter running.

Steve doesn't know what that means, they can't

both

of have just popped in at the same fucking time, but he squeezes Eddie's hand tighter, just for a second, and then they're gone.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

alright, boys,
this is it,
over the hill

Bring on the Lucie (Freda Peeple), John Lennon

1970

Steve's sitting on the ground, in the woods. No, a jungle? Eddie's clutching at his hand, as it rests on his thigh. His hand is dirty, and so is Eddie's. They're wearing matching pants. Are they in the military? Is that what's happening here? He thought he was just seeing…a horse race? He can't remember. His head hurts and he has to resist the urge to reach up and squeeze it between his hands. 
But that would require letting go of Eddie's hand, and he can't do that. He's scared to. Is sure it's important to stay tethered for some reason.
Gareth is nattering on, whining, bitching, pacing around over their heads and it's not making Steve's head feel any better, that's for damn sure. He needs to sit down so Steve can get his bearings.
Remember where he came from. It wasn't the horse races. That was a long, long time ago, Steve's pretty sure.
"Harrington?" Eddie questions, and Steve's heart jumps. Does he know? He looks over at Eddie, and he's smiling, "You here?"

"I'm here," Steve says, testing the water, staying hunkered down in the jungle. "Are you here?"

"I'm here," Eddie confirms, and that's a fucking relief.

He takes in his surroundings. It's stifling hot, unbearably uncomfortable. His feet are wet in his boots and it's the worst sensation.

"I feel like we've done this before," Steve says.

"Yeah, but it was cold," Eddie says.

"But it was cold," Steve agrees.

Snow on the ground. So much snow.

Steve starts to say something else, but then it's like his hand isn't his own, and Eddie is moving in the exact same way, in tandem, jerking their hands out at the same time, each snagging Gareth by a pant leg, dropping him to the ground, hard. It knocks the wind out of Gareth, but before there is time for Gareth to bitch about it, a bullet is whizzing by, lodging into the tree that had just been behind Gareth's head.

Gareth freezes, the complaints that were just there, dying on his tongue. Still sucking in air, trying to regain his composure.

"How'd you know to do that?" Gareth finally asks, rolling over and slithering on his belly towards them, towards safety. He squeezes in between them, making them let go of each other's hands.

"Lucky guess," Eddie says, and Steve knows better. He knows they've done this, almost exactly, before. He can't draw up the memory, not clearly, but it happened.

Just, different. 
Mortar fire.An explosion.Death, destruction.Eddie, inconsolable.

World War II,

his brain supplies. And yeah, he thinks that's right. They were in World War II together, he's pretty damn sure of it. All three of them. It's a bit fuzzy, though. Just skirting the edge of his memory, flickering in and out, feeling more like Deja vu than anything else.

"Eddie, did we…" he trails off, not sure of what to ask, but looking down at his hands. He should have a ring.
He shakes his head. He doesn't wear any rings. He's so confused.
"Harrington? Steve? Look at me. Are you still with me?" Eddie asks, snapping his fingers in Steve's face, and Steve bats his hand away and nods. Looking around Gareth, trying to see Eddie's face. He’s still with him. This is weird. He feels like he's lost again. "Steve. Focus. Is this a you world or a me world? Or did we arrive together? Like last time?"
"What the hell does that mean?" Gareth asks, looking between the two of them, confused. "We all got here together. Guys?"Steve ignores Gareth. Because, what? Huh?Now he's confused.
Steve doesn't know what Eddie's talking about. Eddie has worlds?

Has Eddie been doing the exact same thing he has been all this time, and Steve only remembering half of the places they've wound up, all across the universe? If so, that's…

whoa.

Maybe Eddie knows all about the other half, and fuck, wouldn’t that be something?

Maybe that's why he has to wait on him? He had to wait so long in Houston. Maybe Eddie was just someplace else, in another place and time, and not just trapped inside his mind, not knowing, like Steve had kind of assumed. Steve kind of thought of it as he was waiting for Eddie to wake up. But maybe he was waiting for him to arrive.

When they’re back,

if

they’re back, he’ll have to ask him. Compare notes. If he can remember to, he's concerned that he might not remember any of this if he gets back home. Right now, it seems to be fluttering in and out of his mind, like ghosts of memories. Like he's thrown them in a giant pot and stirred and stirred.

Before he's able to explore that idea further, they are in a gunfight. The first bullet, a harbinger of what was to come. Steve hates it, but they fight back, even if Steve doesn't want to. He had enough of that the last time they found themselves in the middle of a war. Once his mind was focused on, you know, not dying, the blanks have slowly filled in, and he feels more stable about where is, where he was, and now he's just ready to switch. To go anywhere else. He doesn't want to do the war thing, not again. He had enough of that last time.

He just wants peace.

Give peace a chance,

he thinks, laughing to himself, and then as if he is actually able to control it, he's gone.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

there's nowhere you can be,
that isn't where you're meant to be

All You Need Is Love, The Beatles

1969

When he re-orientates himself, it's dark, and he's a little unsure of where he is and why. He's in a field, but also in that field are

thousands

of other people, and there's a stage way off in the distance. It's dimly lit, and he's not exactly sure what band is playing. The sound is too muddled back here.

Is this? Is this

Woodstock?

No fucking way.

He looks at the sea of hippies and flower children. So many shirtless people sitting in the grass, nearly as far as he can see. How in the fuck is he gonna find Eddie in this fucking crowd? In the dark at that. Goddamnit.

If Gareth hadn't made them let go of each other's hands, maybe they wouldn't be separated again. Fuck.

This is a nightmare. He's never truly had to find Eddie in a crowd before, not like this, at least. When The Beatles were on the roof, maybe, but it was definitely not the same as this is. At least Robin is next to him, he's realized.

"They're up next," Robin says, and Steve's first thought is

huh?

Robin hands him the binoculars she has looped around her neck, and he leans close to her to get a look.

"You could take them off me first, dingus," she says, but doesn't make any effort to get away from him.

But he realizes who she means, pretty fucking quickly, because there he is. Front and fucking center of main stage. Like a goddamn rockstar. Eddie in bell bottoms. And that’s something he didn’t know he wanted, but now it’s all he can think about.

Eddie would hate it, therefore, Steve loves it. Desperately.

"Holy shit," Steve says, and Robin laughs, worming out of the binoculars so he can take total control over them.

"You are such a slut for him," she says and it strikes Steve as the funniest thing he's ever heard.

He laughs, and looks at her, "I am. I'm a slut for him."

"You'd let him…

you know,"

she says, like it's scandalous. It probably is, even in this movement of free love.

But, yeah. He's been there, done that, and hopes to do it again. Yes.

"Any time, any place," he confirms, and she squeals, squeezing his arm, clinging to him.

It comforts him. He always misses her when she doesn't end up right next to him. She's beautiful, with a flower crown perched on her head, like she's straight out of central casting for a Woodstock film, more than the dirty, half-clothed masses all around them.

"What?" she asks, and he just can't put it into words.

"You're beautiful," he tells her.

"Gross, what drugs have you gotten into without sharing with me?" she asks, sarcastic.

He laughs, shaking his head, and then they watch the set as best as they can. It's hard. Hard to see, hard to hear. They can hear the talking, the patter between songs maybe a little better than the actual lyrics of the music.

They're so far away.

When they get tired of standing, they sit, and Robin sits between his legs, using him as a backrest. He doesn't mind, not at all.

At the end, Eddie thanks the crowd, and then says into the mic, loud and as clear as anything has been all night, "Harrington? If you're here, come find me. I'll be waiting, sweetheart."

Robin shrieks in a way that tells him they don't actually know this version of Eddie Munson, at least she doesn't think so, but Steve knows better. Knows to go find him.

"Is that you? Are

you

Harrington? When did you meet Eddie Munson?" she rattles off, as quick as her mouth can move.

"Long story. I'll tell you later. I promise. But first," he says, grabbing Robin's hand, just so he doesn't lose her, and tries to push through the crowd, but he's struggling to make much headway. Robin has her other hand on his hip, staying as close to him as possible. He finally gets them around to the side, out of the crowd in front of the stage, and he worries Eddie is already gone. It took too long to fight their way through the crowd. But Steve sees that the band is at the side of the stage, still talking to people.

Eddie's scanning the crowd, looking for him, but not seeing him.

Then, Eddie comes down the stairs, and he's too far away. Eddie's never gonna see him. Never gonna know that Steve's here. But Steve pushes his fingers into his mouth, and whistles. Loud and hard.

And Eddie's head snaps towards the sound. Like he recognizes it. Maybe he does. He must. He called for Steve, by name. By his

last

name. Finally, their eyes meet, and Eddie smiles, pushing towards him.

Fighting to get to each other.

Eddie looks as excited to see Steve, as Steve always is to see Eddie. It's because Eddie knows. Steve can tell. Maybe this

is

all in his head, and he’s finally focused on Eddie knowing. Or maybe he has some sort of control over it and he didn’t realize. Next time he feels the earth move under his feet, he’ll try to focus all his energy on going home, and see what happens.

Robin drops his hand, just as Eddie flings himself into Steve's arms, his guitar slung across his back.

"Harrington, there you are. I was looking for you," Eddie says, squeezing him around the neck, hard.

Steve pulls back just enough to look at him, "I could say the same thing."

Eddie laughs, and Steve leans forward and kisses him.

When they pull apart, Eddie looks in his eyes, "Follow me."

And Steve does. There's nothing else he'd rather do other than follow Eddie. Anywhere he'll take him.

Home would be nice. But if that's not an option, anywhere else will do just fine.

Eddie pulls him up, and onto a trailer, and there's a blanket that Eddie grabs and spreads out on the wood floor, motioning for Steve to join him. Steve does.

"Hi," Steve says, pushing his face close to Eddie's.

"Hi," Eddie answers. "I think I've figured it out."

"Is that so?" Steve questions. But he sure as fuck hopes that Eddie has figured it out, that would be fucking great. He needs some help. He hasn't been able to crack the mystery of it all on his own.

"We're destined," Eddie says, and Steve smiles. Okay, that's not the kind of figured out he was hoping for, but it'll do. It's nice to feel destined for something great, and Eddie, well, he's pretty fucking great.

"Well, then I'm happy to be destined for you," Steve says, and Eddie smiles at him.

"And this has been fun," Eddie says, and Steve raises an eyebrow. Fun?

Fun?

This has been

fun?

In what fucking universe?

Steve knows there were good moments, and they have had some fun, but overall? Goddamn shitshow.

Eddie just keeps talking, "But I think I'm ready to go back now," Eddie says softly. "Back home."

"But, you're-"

"Dead, yeah. I know," Eddie says. "I think…maybe I won't be? That maybe,

maybe,

we can reset it."

Steve hasn't felt that, not at all. It can't be that easy. That's not Steve's luck.

"Why do you think so?" Steve asks.

"I've been back there, and I was alive.

After.

After that spring break. I tried to find you, but I wasn't there long enough. I was in and out, but I was definitely there. Your car was there, but you weren't. And I knew. It was scrambled, and fuzzy. But I knew I had to find you. I knew that I was somewhere I shouldn't be. And I've been looking for you ever since."

Steve hasn't been home, not at all, not since he left. And he's jealous that Eddie has been, just a little. He doesn't know that they can just go home, just because they're ready. He doesn't think that's how this works. If so, he'd have been home a long time ago.

Maybe if they pull a Dorothy? Steve doesn't have any ruby slippers, but he can think:

there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like hom-

"Hey, look at that!" Eddie says, interrupting Steve's silent chanting.

And there it is.

The fucking shooting star.

He has no idea if it's the same one or not, but Steve squeezes his eyes shut and wishes as hard as he fucking can:

I wish we were back home, before Vecna. I wish we could try again. I wish we could win this time. I wish Eddie would live.

"Please tell me you made a wish on that," Steve says, opening his eyes.

"I did," Eddie assures, then demanding, "Kiss me while we wait," and Steve is more than happy to do just that. He presses his lips to Eddie's, presses their whole bodies together, and Eddie fists his hand in Steve's shirt.

Eddie breaks from his mouth, and looks into his eyes, "You saved me."

Steve doesn't think that's true, doesn't know how it could

possibly

be true, but he presses his mouth back to Eddie's neck.

"You found me, you always found me, and I always found you," Eddie says, rambling, just a little, and Steve doesn't mind. Not at all. He loves it. Loves Eddie.

Every single version of Eddie he's ever encountered.

He

loves

him. All of him.

He starts to say so, when he feels the familiar twist in his gut. But it's stronger this time, more drawn out, and he buckles under it, panting. Breathing into Eddie's neck.

It's taking longer. Usually he's gone before he has time to even blink.

But this time it feels like his head is splitting in two, a migraine from hell, like everything in his head is snapping and firing, and desperately trying to make connections that he's not sure are there.

Steve pulls back, and Eddie seems fine, still looking up at the sky, like it might come back.

Then he looks into Steve's eyes, "Steve?"

"Eddie…go home," Steve grinds out, struggling through the waves of motion happening inside his body, squeezing Eddie's arms in his hands, urging him.

And then he's gone.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

get back, get back
get back to where you once belonged

Get Back, The Beatles

1986

Steve pops into existence and everything is suddenly right. This one is the right one. He just doesn't know how he knows that. But he feels right, his body feels right. He's himself,

for sure,

this time. The energy around him feels right. He feels grounded, tethered, in a way he hasn't since he slipped into another world.

He feels settled in this body, that is only his own.

He looks down at his hands, like they are brand new, like he's never seen them before. But they are his. His watch. His slightly scarred knuckles.

Robin is talking, and stops to look at him, mid-sentence.

"Dingus! Earth to Steve," Robin says, and he looks at her. "What are you doing? Why are you looking at your hands like that? Are you high?"

He walks over and picks her up off the ground, pulling her to his chest. Tighter than he's ever hugged her before.

"Ew, no, stop!" she says, squirming. Trying to get out of his arms, but he refuses to let her go. Not ever again, maybe.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he says, and he hasn't. Not the real her. His best friend. His favorite Partner in Crime, with a capital P.

"That's not true. You're seeing me now, and have seen me the past billion days, right here, in this hell hole of a video store."

He looks around, Family Video. Okay. And she knows him, she

really

knows him. That’s not nothing. That’s everything. And if they're in Family Video, it must be 1986. Or 1985, maybe. Definitely not 1987, though. They quit before then. Moved on.

Steve looks at Robin, serious.

"Before or after Vecna?" he asks, his eyes trained onto hers.

"What's a Vecna?" Robin asks, and Steve sags with relief. Okay. Okay, good, he can work with this if it's before Vecna. "Steve! What's a Vecna?!"

"Later, do you know Eddie Munson?" Steve asks, looking at her, hoping she does. Hoping this isn't some universe Eddie never existed at all.

She scrunches up her face at his question, "From my class? From band?"

Well, he was in Steve’s class first, and the one before that, but that’s not important. Not at all.

"Yes, you know him from band!" Steve shouts, snapping his fingers and pointing at her. She looks at him, focusing on the end of his finger, then back to his face.

"Thanks for the refresher on Eddie Munson, dingus. Why are you being so weird? Are you still jealous because you think Eddie is somehow stealing Dustin away from you? Because, seriously, Steve? Childish. We've been over this. Let them play their game."

"It's not that," he says.

"Then is he selling you weed? Is that what's the matter with you today? Rumor is that he laces it with horse tranq, you know? Do you

want

to be on ketamine? Because I don't know if I can handle you being drugged again. Especially not if I'm not drugged, too. And I'm not taking

anything

from Eddie Munson."

"Rob-" he tries.

She plows ahead, "I mean, he's nice. For a third-year-senior drug dealer. So, if you're not getting his horse tranq weed, just leave him alone. He's a loudmouth, but relatively harmless."

Steve just smiles at her rambling. He's pretty sure Eddie doesn't deal horse tranq laced weed. At least, Steve's never heard that rumor before today. Must be from the gossip mill after he graduated.

"No, I know. He's fine. Great. No problem here. But this

is

1986, right?" Steve asks.

"Uh, yeah. Has been all year," she snarks. "I mean, it’s only February. But still. All year."

He's barely listening to her, because all he can think is

February.

He can work with it being February. That's only a month before spring break, but a month is better than nothing at all, that's for goddamn sure.

"Okay, I gotta go!" he shouts, and runs towards the door.

"Dingus! Wait! Where are you going? You’re not leaving me here for the rest of our shift by myself!" she yells, but he’s not slowing down. He has places to be, and hopefully Eddie to see.

He slides behind the wheel of his car, his own car, and leans forward and kisses the steering wheel. He's grateful to be back in something familiar, all his own. Something with power steering and a cassette deck.

Robin is standing in the open door of the video store, and throws up her hands, like she's beyond exasperated with him.

He'll make it up to her.

But first, he's gotta find Eddie.

Steve checks the trailer first, and he's not there. Nobody is, but it's standing, looking perfect and in one piece. Steve assumes Wayne is at work by now. So, he peeks in Eddie's bedroom window, just to be sure. It's cracked open already, so what's a little extra shove upwards?

He's just leaning his head inside, when he hears, "Just what the hell are you doing?"

Steve hits his head, yanking it back out of the open bedroom window.

Max.

Max.

Standing there, all in one piece. No blindness. No broken bones. No long road of physical therapy just to walk again. Not yet. And maybe he can prevent that, too. She's been lonely this year, without El. He knows it, and Lucas has been busy with the basketball team.

He pulls her to his chest, and squeezes her.

"This is assault of a minor, I know a good lawyer," she says, so goddamn dryly, but hugs him back. Fingers digging into his back. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"Sorry," he says, "video store, you know?"

She nods, "Seriously, though. Why are you creeping around the Munson's trailer?"

"Looking for Eddie. You seen him today?"

"I didn't know you knew Eddie Munson," Max says, skeptical, not answering his question.

Yeah, this probably looks really fucking suspicious, but he plows ahead, "We went to high school together. I just needed to talk to him about something."

Max puts her hands on her hips, "And I have

no idea

what that might be."

She doesn't, actually, but he lets her think that she knows something, saying with a smile, "Busted."

She smiles, "Haven't seen him. He keeps odd hours, let me tell you."

And Steve grins, just picturing Eddie, coming and going, always busy. Never sitting still.

"Well, thanks. I'll just check back later, I guess?" he says.

"Well, since you're here…can you give me a ride to the arcade?"

He smiles at her, "Absolutely."

"Can I drive?"

"Absolutely not."

After dropping Max off, and waving at a mad Robin as she watches him drive away, again, Steve swings by Gareth's house. It doesn't look or sound like they're having band practice, but Gareth sees him turning around in his driveway and is just standing there looking at him, confused.

"Hey! Have you seen Eddie today?" Steve shouts from the car, and Gareth is still just standing there like he doesn't know him.

Which, come to think of it, he doesn't. Not really. He only knows the version of Steve from school, not the guy he got to know…after.

Shit. He's gonna fuck this whole thing up, getting all the timelines and who knows what, and how well they know each other, all fucked up. For sure. It's just a given.

He tries again.

"Hey, man. Gareth. I'm Steve. Harrington."

"I know who you are," Gareth says, straight-faced.

"Okay, sure. Of course. Well, I'm looking for Eddie, have you seen him?" Steve tries again, offering a tense smile.

"Eddie…Munson?" Gareth draws out, like they might be talking about some other Eddie.

"Yeah, Eddie Munson. Have you seen him today? Know where I could find him?" Steve asks, and he realizes even if Gareth has seen him, that he's probably not gonna help Steve Harrington find him.

He better try something else.

"I owe him some money," Steve adds, lying, "for…the stuff. That he sells," Steve says, lamely.

Gareth laughs, so that must be believable enough.

"Try his office," Gareth finally says, and Steve wasn't aware he had an office, "it's business hours right now."

His face must give that away, because Gareth rolls his eyes, clarifying, "Try the picnic table in the woods. Behind the school. He likes to conduct

business

there."

"Thanks," Steve yells back at him and drives to the school, pulling in near the track, and throws his car into park. His perfect car, with its perfect power steering.

He runs into the woods out by the school. He’s nervous. Scared Eddie won’t be here, scared that he will be, but won’t have any memory of any of this. That this is his own fever dream to live with and bear the heartache of, and he’s not sure he’ll survive that.

Eddie is sitting at the picnic table, head slightly bowed, his fingers worrying his rings on his hand.

And then he hears Steve, and looks up.

Steve shouldn’t have worried, Eddie's face gives everything away the second they make eye contact.

"Harrington, I was wondering when you'd show up," Eddie says, still fiddling with his hands, like he can't hold still. Can't relax. Like he's really nervous about something. Steve wants to take them into his own hands, hold them both, to try and soothe him. Calm him.

He's spent months, years, maybe, with him now. And yet, he's missed this version of him. The real Eddie. The one he knows so little about, but has been longing to know better.

"You remember?" Steve asks, breathing heavy, hard, hands on his hips. Like he's not sure if he can trust that they're on the same page.

"I don't

not

remember," Eddie says, "It's a little fuzzy."

Fuzzy isn’t a bad way to describe it. Steve knows things, remembers, but he couldn’t describe it all in vivid detail. No way. There have been too many places, too many times, for that to be possible. It's jumbled. He has to really concentrate on a place to pick out the details, if not, it's all swirled together.

Because it feels like a dream. A realistic goddamn dream. But a dream, in a hazy way. Like it might slip away from him the moment he stops thinking about it.

"Are you grounded here? Do you feel…right?" Steve asks. "You're not gonna slip away?"

"That's a good way to describe it. Yeah. I feel right. Grounded. Finally."

Now that he probably doesn't have to worry about Eddie disappearing, they can try to work through this.

"Can I sit?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. "Where were you last? When? Do you know?" Steve asks.

"I don't know," Eddie says, trying to think back. "Woodstock?"

"Woodstock?" Steve questions, like that's unfamiliar to him, like they weren't just there. He was gonna say the Dust Bowl. But Woodstock sounds familiar. Vaguely.

"I think so. Maybe. Probably. I think I

played

Woodstock," Eddie says, smiling at Steve, just a little bit. "And then you told me to go home. Now, here I am."

And an image flashes through Steve's mind, he hears

Harrington

rattling around in his brain, sees the back of the trailer, the shooting star in the night sky, and grins wide, pointing at Eddie with delight, "You played Woodstock!"

And it's like something in Eddie snaps into place. A light, a fire, as he laughs, tossing himself off the bench, rolling on the cold ground, "I played Woodstock!"

Steve watches him and smiles. He's so dramatic. Steve loves him. He shouldn't, couldn't possibly know him well enough to be

in love,

but he is. No question. He loves him. He fell in love with every version he came across, and has no doubt that he'll love this Eddie, the real Eddie, all the same. More, maybe.

"Did you go to the future?" Eddie asks, looking up at him from the ground.

Steve offers him a hand, "Yes. Definitely."
They need to compare notes, and see if they were in the same places at the same time or not. If they were really together. Steve’s not sure how this all works. It's not exactly something he can look up in the encyclopedia. Where would he even check? Under T for Time Travel?
"Let's start from the beginning: Do you remember fighting Vecna, before?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods, as he gets up off the ground, brushing himself off.

"Good, good," Steve’s glad. He’ll have help getting everyone else ready. He’ll start with getting El here,

now.

That’s the most important thing, he’s sure of it. He’ll call Joyce. He’ll make it happen. He’ll get the ball rolling on getting Hopper out of that Russian prison.

"Well, good's subjective. I got eaten by bats the last time we faced-off."

"Like Nicolas Cage and John Travolta," Steve says, and then doesn't know why. "Why'd I say that? What's that a reference to?"

"A blind date," Eddie laughs, "a movie. You don't remember?" Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head, "What year?"

Eddie shakes his head back, "Late 90s. We'll go. When it comes out again."

Steve nods, because absolutely. Yes. Whatever. If Eddie's still here in the late 90s, Steve would do anything at all that he wants.

He will do

anything

to keep him safe, this time around.

"You were eaten by bats. You won't be this time," Steve promises. He doesn't know how they'll change things, but they will. Steve will let himself get eaten by bats before he lets it happen to Eddie again. That much he does know.

He doesn't know everything, but he knows they have a month. Just over one month to formulate a plan, so they’re ready for Vecna this time. If he shows up. Maybe they’ve altered the course of history. Maybe it won’t happen at all this time. Either way, he’s getting them all ready. So Eddie doesn’t end up dying on the ground of the Upside Down. He’s keeping Eddie out of it entirely, if possible. It probably won’t be. But he’ll try. He’ll do anything to keep him safe, alive.

He pulls Eddie into his chest, holding on tight.

"This okay?" Steve asks, because he wants to hold him as long as he's allowed.

Eddie nods, and Steve hugs him close, telling him, "I'm glad we're both home."

He needs to make a list of all the things they know, and can maybe change, with this information they have. He needs to figure out how to use it all so they can get as far ahead of the curve as possible.

"Do you think…do you think we’ll be able to save Chrissy, too?" Eddie asks, looking at him, like he has all the answers. Steve has none of the answers, he just has more questions.

But he's gonna be optimistic, here.

"I hope so. I think we have a chance, a real shot. We just need to make a plan. A good plan. We have a month," Steve says, and he gets a notebook out of Eddie's backpack, to start building a plan together with everything they know. "We can do it in a month, right?"

Eddie shrugs, like he isn't so sure. But Steve is. He's sure there's a way to change what happened.

"There has to be a reason we got unstuck in time. A big reason," Steve says.

"Saving me isn't enough?" Eddie teases, those big eyes meeting his own, like he's daring Steve to say otherwise.

Steve smiles at him, "For me? Absolutely. But that has to be a side quest, don't you think? Surely, there's a reason for this reset beyond the fact that I was hot for you, so now you get to live again?"

"You're hot for me, Harrington?" Eddie asks, batting his eyes at Steve.

"Eddie. Stop it. Plan now, flirt later," Steve demands, and Eddie straightens up, and at least pretends to be taking Steve seriously.

They sit together at the picnic table and Steve makes notes of all the places he remembers them being. Some of them are easier to pull to the front of his mind than others. He wonders if it was due to how long he was in a place, or how traumatic it was. But some of them are definitely

way

more vivid than others.

Their ages always stayed roughly the same, as far as they could tell. They were never really old, or children, anyway. Just young adults. He pauses, thinks. They were probably the oldest in the astronaut timeline. Maybe in their late thirties or early forties? He isn't exactly sure.

"Do you remember being astronauts?" Steve asks. That one is really vivid for some reason.

Eddie shakes his head, "Not really. Only the end. I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Steve reaches over and squeezes his hand, "That's okay. What I was saying was pretty unbelievable."

He has his list, and he's trying to sort them into the right order, but Eddie keeps disagreeing with him about the places they were. Eddie keeps interjecting, and arguing that his order is wrong. And it's making Steve pretty sure they weren't in the same places at the same time since they aren't lining up very well.

He tries to remember these places Eddie is telling him about, wondering if he popped into those places, but it's just not something he can pull up in his mind.

So, he makes a second column, and has Eddie put his places in order, too.

And, yeah, they weren't in the same places at the same time. Not at all. And the more they talk, the more Steve thinks they covered way more ground than he'd realized. Eddie was at Black Tuesday, and something similar from next year that he's calling Black Monday. Both times, trying to find Steve on Wall Street.

He says he also survived a Black Friday in retail hell, but Steve doesn't know what that means.

But the image of Eddie and him in New York, on Wall Street, tickles something deep within his brain.

Steve

vaguely

remembers that, now that Eddie's said so. But just the tail end, when he must have popped into that time and place. So he's pretty sure that's why it always took Eddie so long to remember. He was just off somewhere else, trying to get another version of Steve to remember at the same time.

There were Steve worlds, and there were Eddie worlds.

That's his working theory, at least. He needs someone smarter than him to make sense of it.

But he thinks that maybe they were effectively yanking on each other hard enough to eventually pull the other across time and space. Right back to them. And then it'd shatter.

Holy shit.

He hadn't considered that, not really, but it makes a few things Eddie said over time make more sense.

He pauses, "Were you in a future where George Harrison died of cancer?"

Eddie nods, "Yeah. Robin was inconsolable."

"And Linda McCartney died, too?" Steve adds.

"Yeah, both of them, within just a couple years, I think," Eddie says, "Why? Why is that something you're thinking about?"

"Because when I was in 1969, seeing The Beatles on the rooftop, that popped in my head. And then I thought,

no, that's not right.

But. But I'd probably already been in that time, with you. Right? That makes sense. It was bleeding in, and I just didn't realize it."

"As much sense as any of this has made, I guess," Eddie says, looking back down at the list.

"Is that one of your worlds? That you arrived first?"

Eddie nods, "Yeah. I think so. That detail wasn't that significant to me, though. So I didn't commit it to memory or anything."

That's the new marker. Who got there first. Steve's absolutely sure that's the most important factor in making sense of what the other remembers.

Steve knows it wasn't chronological. He knows it took place over about a hundred years. Neither of them have any memory of going anywhere earlier than 1900.

Wait.

"When was the Eiffel Tower built?" Steve asks. 
"Don't know. But we were there," Eddie says, and Eddie scratches it in his notes. "You should Google it."Steve laughs, "If only. Make a note: Buy stock in Google."Eddie writes more notes in the margins, then looks up, "The more we talk about it, the clearer it's getting. For you, too?"
Steve nods. Yes, for him, too. It's not as hard to summon the memories, at least not of one place at a time. He still doesn't know anything about the Eddie worlds, not really, but he is remembering his own well enough at the moment.

Then he continues running down what he knows. Every time they popped up somewhere new, nobody else ever knew anything was weird, or off. Only them, and eventually, the other person. Only after they were yanked into that universe abruptly, he thinks.

He doesn't know how that happened, and figures he never will, but at least he gets why Eddie didn't remember as easily as he did. He just wasn't in the same place all the time.

He was having the same struggle, somewhere else.

"I told Robin, a few times. She believed me," Steve says, "and that helped. I was going pretty fucking crazy. Especially early on, as I adjusted."

"I told Gareth," Eddie says, "he always eventually came around after being a little dickhead about it."

"Gareth was a thorn in my fucking side," Steve laughs, "he kept trying to die on me."

"Robin kept dying on me!" Eddie yells back, and Steve thinks maybe he got lucky. He doesn't think he would have been able to be any use to anyone if he had kept losing Robin. No way.

"I wasn't going to tell you that," Eddie says, and Steve loves him for it. It hadn't crossed his mind to not say that about Gareth, but Eddie is different than he is, Steve supposes.

This is so weird, but Steve's finally glad to have someone to talk about it with, who

really

understands. Who was there, along for the ride.

"Do you remember the Titanic?" Steve asks.

"Only the cold fucking water," Eddie says, and Steve grimaces.

"Dust Bowl?"

"Just the dying part," Eddie says, "I was suffocating. My lungs," Eddie adds, pressing his palm to his chest.

"I know," Steve says, reaching out to cover Eddie's hand with his own.

"We were partners, cop partners," Eddie says, "looking for the Zodiac killer."

Steve doesn't remember that

at all.

"Really? I don't remember that," Steve says, "how did it end?"

"You fell in a hole."

Steve laughs, because, oh yeah, he remembers that now.
"I fell in a hole," Steve confirms. He had no context for why, but he can definitely remember the hole, and Eddie peering down at him from above.

"One time, we were some sort of Woodward and Bernstein duo," Eddie says. "Hot on the trail."
Steve chuckles to himself, "Did we have our own Deep Throat?""Harrington," Eddie says, but he's smiling, "But yeah, we did.""No way," Steve says, disbelieving.
Eddie nods.

"We saw The Beatles," Steve says in awe.

"We saw Elvis!" Eddie counters, and then Eddie just laughs and laughs.

It's crazy. All of it. But Steve thinks, somehow, it really happened.

At least it feels like it did, even with the hazy, dream-like quality it's threatening to take over any time they stop talking about a place.

When they've exhausted their memories, and themselves, they finally leave the woods. And it's hard to let Eddie out of his sight, but Steve takes Eddie home to Wayne’s, and watches intently as Eddie gets in the door of the trailer. Waits to make sure he's safely inside. And then Steve heads to get Robin from work. He has some explaining to do.

He hopes, like she has in all the other universes, that she believes him.

She does.

"What do you mean you've been time traveling? Without me?!" Robin asks, voice going a little high and weird.

"You act like I called a travel agent to book this and left you at home on purpose," Steve says, kind of exasperated at her reaction, "I didn't

choose

to do this, Robin. I wouldn't go anywhere without you on purpose! It just happened to me! I'm a victim here!"

"How?!" she yells.

"Uh, I wished upon a star, I think?" Steve says, and that sounds so stupid, even to his own ears. What is this, Pinocchio? Since when does wishing on stars

actually

have the power to shift worlds?

"Like in Pinocchio?" she asks.

"Okay, we've spent way too much time together," Steve says, laughing, "that's what I was just thinking."

"Well, technically it was Geppetto that made the wish," Robin says, and Steve groans.

"No, no, no. This is gonna go the same way as the Frankenstein's monster fight all over again," Steve whines.

Robin laughs, and looks at him, "Well, I was right then, too, dingus. But honestly? Uh, I think you've lost your mind. To be straight with you. What little bit of it you had left. You wished Eddie was a real boy and this happens? You slip around time?"

"Oh, suddenly you don't believe weird things can happen in Hawkins?" Steve asks, putting his hands on his hips. The nerve of her, honestly.

"I know they can.

I know.

But that sounds…unbelievable. Really unbelievable. Really, really unbelievable."

"I know. I know it does," he says, "but it's true. I swear it. But hey, you got to see The Beatles live on the rooftop!"

"Shut up, no way! And I can't even remember it? That's just not fair."

Steve shrugs, "You were also on the Titanic with us."

"Did I drown? I bet I drowned," Robin says, sullenly.

"You didn't drown," he assures, "I made you get in a lifeboat."

"Did

you

drown?" she asks, looking at him, definitely suspicious.

"No," he answers, because he didn't. Not that he knows of, anyway. He probably froze to death first.

"Steve,"

she says, not believing him.

"We were in the water-"

"You and Eddie?" she interrupts.

"Yeah, I tried to keep him afloat. The water was so fucking cold, though. But we didn't drown. We would have, but

poof,

I was gone, again. Somewhere else. The Dust Bowl, I think. You were there, too, by the way. You made me eat an onion stuffed with peanut butter. I'll never forgive you for that as long as I live, just so you know."

"I did not! I don't even like that!" she screeches at him.

"How do you know? Have you tried it? Because I have," he snips, being snarky.

She rolls her eyes.

"Where else did you go?" she asks, trying to skip right past this whole onion debacle. He knows her game far too well.

"The timeline is a little fuzzy. Eddie and I have tried to make a list, but we weren't always in the same place, and I'm not totally sure I remember the exact order of the places I ended up. But World War II, a horse race in the 20's. Woodstock. Most often in the past, but sometimes in the future, too. Some bad things happen, Robin."

"Do you, do you think we can change them? In the future?" she asks.

"Maybe," he answers, "maybe we can try? But we have to start with Vecna, first. See if we can change that. That's the pressing one. If we don't change that, we lose Eddie all over again and then all of this was for nothing. This

can't

be for nothing," he pleads with her. It can't be. It was too hard for it to just play out the same way all over again.

Too cruel. He won't survive it. Not a second time, not with advance warning of the outcome.

"Okay, we'll change that first," she says assuredly, like she's positive they can do this.

He hopes she's right. He hopes they

can

do this.

"Either way, you should see George Harrison live, sooner rather than later."

"Steve! What happens to George Harrison?!" she screams, holding her forehead in her hands, stressed to the gills.

So, he tells her everything he knows as he gets out the notebook, where they've started the timeline out of all the places Steve went, and all the places Eddie went, as best they can, but it doesn't really tell them anything. Not that they can figure out, anyway.

Robin says she'll study it. See if anything seems to connect these places, or these times. And he lets her, because if anyone can crack any code that might exist, it'll be her.

And beyond that, they'll need to tell Nancy. That seems like the next best move, if they want a chance in hell to change the course of history.

Steve goes home and takes a long, hot shower. In his own bathroom, with his own stuff, from his own decade. His own hairspray. That's fucking nice, a luxury of epic proportions. He's missed that.

He's just getting dressed in his own underwear and shorts, when the doorbell rings, and Eddie is on the step. Steve opens the door to let him in, happy to see him. But he's always happy to see him. He's definitely learned that during this adventure.

"Hi," Steve says, and Eddie echoes it.

"Can I, maybe, stay? Wayne’s at work all night," Eddie explains, and Steve nods, and takes his hand, and leads him up the staircase. Eddie Munson is in his house. Headed towards his bedroom.

Fucking

finally.

Steve won’t rush things, won’t scare him off, but he’s been waiting for this day for months. Dreaming about what it would have been like to touch him, the real him, in all the ways he’s longed for.

He never thought it'd happen. He thought he'd show right back up where he left, after Eddie was already gone. He thought he'd only have the memory of all those versions of him as the consolation that he'd never have the real version.

So, this? This is a huge improvement, to be sure. A win he hadn't anticipated getting.

Steve pushes open the door to his bedroom, and watches Eddie look around, taking it all in for the first time. Because he's never been in here before.

"Lotta plaid," Eddie says, and Steve laughs.

"That’s true," Steve says with a smile.

Eddie perches himself on the edge of the bed, like he’s scared to make himself comfortable.

Steve just goes to the other side of the bed, and pulls back the sheets and comforter, and slides under them. Melting in the familiar, comfortable bed. He pats his side, and Eddie kicks off his shoes, and situates himself beside Steve. But still fully dressed and over the covers.

That's okay. Steve gets it.

They can go slow. Get to know each other.

"Did I fuck you once?" Eddie suddenly asks, not meeting Steve's eyes, like he's embarrassed to ask.

Or not slow at all.

Steve laughs. More than once, but he knows exactly which time Eddie is thinking of, because that's when Eddie came into himself in that world, "Yeah. I know when you're thinking of, so yeah, partially. We unfortunately didn’t get to finish."

"I thought that was maybe a fever dream," Eddie admits.

"Nope. Just a dream come true," Steve says, working the charm.

Eddie laughs like he's disbelieving of that idea.

"So, I guess the Harrington Charm is real," Eddie says and grins, and Steve looks at him.

"Were we not? Doing that? In your versions?"

He just kind of shrugs, non-committal, finally saying, "A little. But more often than not we mainly danced around it," Eddie says, "because, like, I didn't know. For sure. Even in worlds where it felt like we were almost certainly a couple, I didn't want to force anything on you."

Steve suddenly feels like maybe he was being shitty, and a little bit pushy in his worlds, "Oh. Well, I think maybe I did that. Sorry."

Eddie laughs, and reaches over to cup Steve’s cheek, leaning in to kiss him. Steve kisses him back. The real him. For the very first time. He never wants to let him go, but he does when Eddie pulls back from his mouth.

"You didn't," Eddie says, when they pull apart. "You were just braver than me. And I think you had more information than I had. I had no idea you were into me, during the first

several

worlds I ended up in. Then I slowly started to think it was probably just a trick of my mind, and not real."

"No. Definitely real," Steve states.

"But I wasn't brave enough to believe it, so…"

Steve laughs, "I don’t know about that. You were pretty brave in my universes."

"Oh, I doubt that," Eddie teases. "You made it happen for us. One time, you just…" Eddie trails off, and smiles, blushing, "and that was a good night. Unexpected. But great."

Steve grins, wondering what in the fuck he did that's making Eddie blush. Goddamn.

"In the future," Steve starts, "there was a pandemic. Were you there before me?"

"In Chicago," Eddie confirms, "yeah."

"Huh," Steve muses, stitching together and confirming what he thought was maybe true. That it was an Eddie world, not a Steve world. "Were we not

together

together there? We were sharing a bed."

Eddie laughs, "I didn't, want to, like, take advantage of you. So, I deflected a lot. But we were."

"Eddie Munson," Steve says, exasperated, "we could have been together and you just said

nah?"

"Well, don't put it like that," Eddie says, and Steve just grins at him.

"You're a coward," Steve teases.

"Guilty as charged," Eddie answers, "but you expected me to believe that Steve Harrington, ladies man of Hawkins High, wanted me to make a move on him? Seriously?"
"I married you!" Steve stresses, throwing his hands up, exasperated."Well, I married you, too!" Eddie laughs, swatting at his flailing hands.And he did. They did. Sure, they both thought that the other was rooted in that world first, and went along with getting married. But still.
"Well, when you put it like that," Steve concedes. "But yes, I would've wanted you to put a move on me."

"Noted. You did seduce me a time or two, I wasn't totally immune to your wiles. I'm just a man."

Steve laughs, "I seduced you, huh? Like this?"

Steve asks as he crawls out from under the covers, and pushes Eddie back against the mattress, and looks into his eyes.

"Too fast?"

"We’ve traveled around the universe, fought in world wars, so no. Not too fast. I think we might have taken the long way around to get here," Eddie says softly.

Steve smiles. They definitely did.

He reaches for the button on Eddie’s jeans, "This good? If not, say

nah,"

Steve teases.

Eddie smiles and nods, slinging his arm across his eyes. Steve knows that feeling all too well. He gets Eddie's jeans undone and slides his hand inside Eddie’s boxers. God, this is what he’s wanted.

He wraps his fist around that warm, hard, silky heat. And he can't believe he's finally touching Eddie. His Eddie. The real Eddie.

Steve wants more, way more. He wants everything.

"Can I suck your dick?" Steve asks, and Eddie makes a noise that sounds like a yes. Steve laughs, "Is that a yes?"

Eddie nods, and Steve grabs his jeans, "Lift," and Eddie does.

"Have you ever done this before?" Eddie asks, and Steve has. With Eddie. Eddie just doesn’t remember, apparently.

"I sucked your dick on the Titanic," Steve says, teasing Eddie. But it is true. He did that. How fucking weird is that?

Eddie laughs his ass off, "That’s the weirdest sentence I've ever heard, and I play a lot of DnD."

"Tell me about it. What do you remember about being on the Titanic? Just the water?" Steve asks, and Eddie lifts his arm and looks at Steve.

"Yeah, the freezing cold water, at the end," Eddie says. "Did you…did you jump in? After me?"

Steve nods, "It was so cold."

"Not as cold as Bastogne," Eddie says, and Steve smiles. It was

way

worse than Bastogne, but he knows why Eddie feels differently.

He doesn't want to think about that right now, and he's sure Eddie doesn't want to either.

So, Steve wraps his hand around Eddie’s dick, and gives it a good stroke. Eddie groans, and Steve lowers his head and slides his tongue down Eddie's hard length.

"Jesus H. Christ, Harrington," Eddie says, and Steve tries to smile, but it’s hard to, with a mouthful of dick.

He might not be great at this, not yet, but he knows what he likes in a blow job and just tries to replicate it. Eddie seems satisfied with this method, so Steve keeps it up. Less up and down, more tongue, just making sure he's catching the underside edge of the head of Eddie's dick with every stroke.

"Goddamn you’re good at that, for something you only did once, a hundred years ago," Eddie says.

Steve has to pull off to laugh, "Stop it. And it was only, like, seventy-five years ago."

But he never wants Eddie to stop teasing him, never stop running that mouth, never stop challenging him.

"I slept through history class, all three times," Eddie says and Steve thinks they're gonna be in rough shape if he's the one that's supposed to know things about history.

Steve gets back to work, and Eddie threads his fingers through Steve's hair, and Steve really likes that.

And then Eddie clamps his hand down on Steve's bare shoulder, and he can

feel

Eddie's rings digging into his skin, and he moans around Eddie's dick. It feels so right and so good. His fingers digging into Steve's back, his dick sliding against Steve's tongue, that Steve starts pressing his hips into the bed, rocking against the mattress, so fucking horny for this man under him.

He's waited so long for the real deal, and it's all been worth it. Every terrible night, every sudden loss of him, has been worth it. He feels the tears burn his eyes, and tells himself it's just from the dick bumping his throat, but he knows it's not.

He knows it's just from being with Eddie, the real Eddie, after all that searching.

"Oh shit, I'm gonna come," Eddie says, and Steve squeezes his thigh, hoping Eddie understands that he's good with that. That he wants him to.

Eddie bucks his hips, but definitely tries not to, and comes against Steve's tongue. Steve feels relief, it's immediate. That they're both here, doing this, together.

Eddie is real.

Eddie's come on his tongue is real.

He swallows.

He looks up to meet Eddie's eyes, and he seems speechless.

"Uh, you've done that once?" Eddie asks, looking at him with a little bit of awe in his eyes, it seems.

"Well, twice now," Steve says with a smirk. He's glad he's okay at it. Maybe he was too stupid to be nervous.

He just really, really wanted it. Wanted Eddie, in any way he could get him.

Steve sits back on his haunches, and his dick is hard, trapped at a weird angle against his belly under his underwear and shorts, but he ignores it and he wipes at his eyes with the back of his hands.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asks, sitting up as best he can.

Steve nods, he's more than okay.

"I'm just glad you're here. I've been looking for you," Steve whispers.

"You always found me," Eddie says back, scooting, maneuvering, sitting in front of Steve so he can wrap his arms around Steve's whole body, squeezing him tight.

Steve scoots forward, crawling up Eddie's body, squeezing Eddie's sides between his thighs, wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck. Holding onto him, as tight as he can. It's hard, but Eddie works his hand between them, sliding up the leg of Steve's shorts and into his underwear, fisting Steve's dick without putting any extra space between them. It can't be comfortable on his hand, his wrist, but Steve appreciates that he's unwilling to let him go, even a few inches, to make it easier on himself.

Steve works his hips in gentle thrusts, pushing into Eddie's hand as he clings to him.

And when he comes, making a mess of himself and his underwear, he doesn't care, because he lets it all go, and cries. And he's pretty sure Eddie's crying right along with him but he doesn't pull back from the crushing hug to look.

Steve wakes up in the middle of the night and Eddie is hard against his ass. Steve presses back into it. He wants this, wants to finish what they started…eight years in the future? Time is weird, for fuck’s sake.

Eddie tightens his grip on Steve's hip, and Steve grinds back against him. He wants this. He really, really wants this.

They just push against each other, back and forth, until Steve's breathing rapidly and he's really fucking hard.

He takes Eddie's hand, and puts it over his dick, just to get some friction, to feel him. Even if it's through his second clean pair of underwear tonight.

"Damn, Harrington," Eddie says, with a laugh.

"What?" Steve asks, breathing into Eddie's ear. Just grinding down against him.

"Nothing, you just feel good, is all."

"You feel good too, so good," Steve tells him.

"We've done this before, right?" Eddie whispers, asking again, and Steve nods, and presses back against him, keeping the rhythm they've built going.

It's a nice give and take, and Steve is enjoying it for exactly what it is. But he does want more.

Finally, Steve reaches for his nightstand, to dig around and see what he’s got. He wants some of that good lube from the future. That was the fucking shit. Something to look forward to, that’s for sure. Maybe he can invent it, and make a lot of money. That’s an idea.

"I’ve got K-Y or Vaseline, pick your poison," Steve says, throwing them on the bed with a handful of condoms. He knows what Eddie feels like in him, bare, and he wants that again, but this isn't the 1960s or 1940s. Not anymore.

"Don’t use Vaseline with condoms, Harrington," Eddie says, and picks up the K-Y and a condom.

"Really?" Steve asks, shoving down his underwear, getting naked.

"Really. Bad idea," Eddie answers, picking up a condom and the K-Y.

"Well, I wish we had some of that fancy lube from the future," Steve says, and Eddie laughs.

"Yeah, you really liked the strawberry lube," Eddie asks, and Steve turns to look at him, that isn't something he encountered.

"Uh, for real? Strawberry? I don’t remember that," Steve says.

Eddie laughs, "Oh, you liked it. You used it to seduce me. I'll never smell fake strawberries the same again."

"Well, now I’m mad that’s not one of the universes I got to live," Steve says, indigent. But he got some pretty good experiences of his own that Eddie doesn't remember, so he supposes that's fair.

Eddie smiles, and Steve rolls over onto his stomach, resting his head on his arms. Eddie pets his back. It’s nice. Everything about being with Eddie here, in their real world, is nice.

Now, he just can’t lose him next month. He’s got to stop it. He shakes that thought off. He doesn’t want to think of Vecna right now. He wants to be right here, with Eddie pressing his fingers into him, one, two, then three. Stretching him, slicking him up. It’s good, it’s so good. The pressure, the burn.

He pushes back on Eddie's hand, wanting more. He is always gonna want more when it comes to Eddie. That is something he definitely remembers.

"Goddamn, Harrington," Eddie says, breathy, and it makes Steve smile. That he can bring Eddie Munson, with the quick wit and acid tongue, to his knees by just being horny for him, is really something.

And Steve's really, really horny for him. It's gonna be a problem, Steve's pretty sure. They've got a war to plan for, history to change, and all Steve wants to do is get fucked.

"I'm ready, c'mon," Steve says, and Eddie must agree, because he pulls his fingers out and Steve sags.

Eddie finally puts the condom on, and settles over his back, but Steve wants to see him.

"Can I roll over first?" Steve asks.

"Please," Eddie says, and Steve does. Eddie leans down to kiss him. When they pull apart, Eddie looks in Steve’s eyes, "You ready?"

"Yes," Steve says. He’s so ready.

He knows they have done this before, in other lives, but this still feels like the first time as Eddie pushes into him. Steve arches his ass up off the bed. It’s better somehow, with Eddie being fully this Eddie. He was always this Eddie, but this one isn’t lagging to catch up on the information. This one knows.

This one is right with him.

"You okay?"

"Goddamn yes," Steve says, clinging to Eddie’s shoulders, "just fuck me. I need you to fuck me," he begs, and Eddie nods.

"Okay, okay," Eddie says, "I can do that."

Steve reaches up and cups the back of Eddie’s head, dragging him down, kissing him.

"I love you. You know that, right? I’d follow you to hell. Basically did, a time or two," Steve says, and Eddie nods, thrusting into him gently, like he’s scared he’s going to break him. He’s not. He’s really not.

Steve isn’t nervous. Maybe he should be, but he isn’t. He’s just so happy they’re here, in his room, having sex, in the right goddamn year.

Eddie smiles, and that’s good enough. He doesn’t need to say it, or feel it, back. Steve knows he’s probably a few steps ahead in this thing. He’s had a lot more time to wrap his head around it.

Eddie picks up the pace, and then starts thrusting harder, and Steve sighs with relief that this is finally happening.

This is what he's wanted, what he's waited for. He's been waiting for Eddie before he even knew it, he realizes. He loves him.

He has to save him.

Eddie hooks his arms under Steve's knees, pulling him up, and Steve goes willingly. The change of angle is good, fucking great, and he just goes limp in Eddie's hands. Lets Eddie fuck him any way he wants. He doesn't need to offer a counter-point, not now, not today. Today he's just gonna take whatever he's offered, and love every minute of it.

"This good?" Eddie asks.

"So good," Steve confirms.

Steve's usually more active in bed, more assertive, but not today. Today he wants Eddie to take control. He's been in control for what feels like months, years, decades, trying to find Eddie in every corner of the earth.

He's found him, now. And he just wants Eddie to keep him tethered to this world, the real world, where maybe they can actually fall in love for real.

He loves Eddie. Knows he does. He just hopes that someday, that maybe, somehow, Eddie will love him back. For now, this is good enough. Better than. This is what he's been missing, what he's always been missing, he's pretty fucking sure.

Eddie pushes into him, again, and again, and Steve takes it, just along for the ride. He holds onto Eddie's shoulders as Eddie thrusts into him, panting slightly into Steve's ear. It's a good sound, it's really working for Steve, and he can feel his dick leaking, and smearing precum on his belly.

He moans, arching his head backwards when Eddie worms a hand between them, wrapping his fist around Steve's dick.

"This good?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods, over and over. It's so good. A little overwhelming, maybe, but really fucking good. He definitely doesn't want him to stop what he's doing. No fucking way.

It doesn't last as long as Steve had hoped, but that's okay. They'll have more time in the future, he fucking hopes. Eddie's pace falters, just a little, and then he shoves as far into Steve as he can, coming.

Steve grasps at his back, holds on tight, pressing them as close together as he can manage. Eddie eventually takes his hand off Steve's dick, and reaches down and grips the base of the condom, and slowly pulls out. Steve lays back, fisting his own dick lazily, just watching Eddie tie off the condom.

"Stop it, that's mine," Eddie says when he looks back in Steve's direction, and bats Steve's hand away, laughing.

Steve lets him, and tucks his hands behind his head, ready and willing for anything Eddie has planned.

Eddie crawls down the bed, and wraps his fist around Steve's cock, looking up at him, grinning, before he slides his tongue all the way down.

It's good, so good, and Steve thinks Eddie has had more practice than he has, but that's okay. He'll learn from him, until they've got this thing figured out.

"Eddie," Steve whines, pressing upwards, just a little, and Eddie slides his free hand underneath him, squeezing his ass.

That's all it takes. Steve comes, and Eddie swallows, and it's fucking hot.

Eddie crawls up his body, collapsing next to him, and Steve wants to just burrow down. Stay together in this bubble forever.

But they can't do that. He knows it.

Tonight they'll cling to each other, tomorrow, well, they'll get to work.

"We need to stock up. Weapons, supplies," Steve says, holding Eddie to his bare chest, rubbing his hand up and down Eddie's arm.

"Yeah, we need to gather up people, and supplies. And money for said supplies," Eddie says, and Steve's pretty sure he's just talking out loud.

"Well, there's some money under the mattress," Steve says, "that'll get us started."

And Eddie tenses in his arms, and then laughs, tucking his chin into Steve's armpit, laughing, "I forgot about the mattress money. I just had a flash of it," Eddie explains.

Steve smiles, "Yeah, yeah."

"What do we need to do differently? What didn't we think of last time?" Eddie asks, craning his neck to look up at Steve.

"El," Steve says, "Eleven is the key. I think with her, we've got a chance. A real chance, even if we change nothing else-"

Eddie makes a sound of protest.

"-not that I'm suggesting that. We'll make improvements. We'll do better. But having her here would be a damn good start."

At least they have the opportunity to change the ending of their story, and that's not nothing.

In the morning, Steve rolls over and throws his arm over Eddie's side. They need to get up, get moving. As much as he wants to stay exactly where he is, they've definitely got work to do, and not an endless amount of time to do it. And they need to start with Robin, just to loop her in further, using the information that both of them have, not just what Steve remembered. They have to develop a plan. Which is new. This is usually a fly by the seat of their pants situation. But this time they have some warning, and know what's gonna happen. It's kind of weird.
Robin sits next to Steve, "I tried to make sense of the places you've been," she tells him, "but I just don't see a pattern. Sorry.""Damn, I was hoping there might be something there," he says.And Robin is worrying her fingers, looking more nerved up than usual."What?" he asks."What if you're wrong? What if you dreamed this all up?" she asks. 
"I didn't," he assures her. He knows he didn't, that's for damn sure. If he did, Eddie dreamed it too, and that's too weird, even for Hawkins. This happened, and he knows what's going to happen next.

"We didn't," Eddie confirms, and Robin slowly nods, like she's accepting this information for what it is. The truth.

He's not surprised. She believes him. It's what she does.

"Well, okay, but we better get Nancy on board then," Robin says, and Steve smiles. And that's the best idea yet. They could definitely use Nancy.

"I'm not sure…" Nancy trails off, and Eddie is the one that jumps in.

"You've got guns,

plural,

in your bedroom right now. But you didn't, not in 1983. When the Upside Down was created. They were just shoes. In their shoe boxes. Which sucked for us when we needed them."

Nancy opens her mouth, and then closes it.

Eddie Munson wouldn't know that about her, wouldn't know anything about the Upside Down. And Steve knows that Eddie's got her convinced. It was good work, and he smiles at Eddie as Nancy leans over a notebook and starts making a battle plan.

After Nancy, they go to Dustin and it spreads from there. They call Joyce Byers, and tell her Hopper is alive in a Russian prison, and that El needs to come home to Hawkins.

Now.

If not, the world is gonna end in about a month.

She believes them. She always does, because she's got the best intuition of any of them, Steve knows that by now.

But Steve was nervous to make that call, terrified actually, because it all kind of hinges on this working out for them. But he shouldn't have worried so much.

Joyce believes them.

She's worried. She doesn't want her kids involved in this, she left town

specifically

to avoid it. But Steve tells her everything that happened. That will happen. He's completely honest, leaving nothing out of how bad it's gonna get. How, Will is gonna be connected to this monster, El too, and killing it preemptively is the best way to help them both.

And then, she doesn't hesitate to get in gear to help. She says she's sending Jonathan, Will and El back to Hawkins and that she will get with Murray Bauman to try and find Hopper so they can all get back here before it starts. It's all happening so fast.

Steve follows Eddie to Gareth's garage. They're supposed to be having band practice, but Eddie intends to co-opt it for this instead.

Eddie talks, and they listen. Sort of. Kinda.

Maybe.

They are kind of a wall of silence. Jeff is listening, discussing, but the other two have shut Steve so far out it's comical. He doesn't know what to do, what to say, to get them to listen. Gareth and Goodie just seem mad at Eddie, mad at the world, mad that Steve Harrington is trying to encroach onto their turf.

The garage.

Eddie, himself.

He's unwanted, and unwelcome, that much is abundantly clear. Maybe Eddie should have done this by himself, but Steve knows more about the Upside Down. Has been involved in it longer. They thought his knowledge would be helpful.

Maybe they should have sent Dustin with Eddie. At least they know Dustin. They should have thought of that, considered it.

They've made a mistake here. Got too cocky because things were going smoothly with everyone else already deep in the loop, and more willing to believe in the unbelievable.

"Eddie, this all sounds crazy," Jeff says, and Eddie's nodding, because it is crazy. That was never in doubt.

"I know, just trust me," Eddie says.

"Like, if you keep telling people this, they're gonna throw you in Pennhurst," Jeff says.

Eddie throws his hands in the air, and spins around, frustrated.

"You

have

to trust me!" he screams, and they all kind of look at each other.

"I do trust you, I don't trust him," Gareth says, pointing at Steve.

It hurts more than Steve would like to admit.

"I'll go," Steve says, "just. Listen to him. He's telling the truth, and unless you're prepared to lose him in a month, you'll listen to everything he says right now. You'll believe him."

Gareth doesn't respond, won't even look at him, but Jeff nods. Goodie just stares, unfazed.

And Steve goes home, hoping Eddie can talk some sense into them. They don't have to help if they don't want to, but they do need to know what's going on.

Nancy is sitting on the step when he gets there.

"Hey," he says, stepping out of his car, gripping the top of the door frame.

"I have more questions," she says, no nonsense.

"Well, I might have more answers," he quips, smiling.

She rolls her eyes, grinning at him, and he lets her in the front door.

They spend a couple hours combing through his memories. She makes him dig into everything he remembers. Day to day, minute to minute, of the first Vecna attack. She's making connections, a timeline, taking notes, all while believing him.

She's definitely still trying to make sense of the information they have, of how they got it, sorting out what's important, what isn't, but she

definitely

believes him.

He needed that today.
The way she rolled with it, makes Steve wonder if maybe he should have told her the whole story back when Eddie was wanted by the FBI, in the fifties. Maybe she would have been more open to it than he'd realized.It doesn't matter. That's over now. At least, he assumes so.Then he's scared that this isn't over. That he'll pop out of home again, and wind up somewhere else. He can't think about that. Can't worry about it. He just tells himself that it's not gonna happen.It can't. It won't.

Later, Steve is sitting by himself at his kitchen counter, looking over his copy of their notes, one more time. He wants to look at it all again before they involve everyone else.

He just about jumps out of his skin when he hears the doorbell ring. It's Grand Central Station around here today.

When he looks out of the peephole, there's Gareth on the step. He hadn't expected that, that's for damn sure. He opens the door, and holds it open in invitation, "C'mon in."

Gareth does, but he doesn't beat around the bush. He never does. Only Goodie is more straightforward, and honestly Steve's happier to see Gareth. He'll get further. At least he hopes so.

"You're being weird, and I was voted to be the one to come and tell you to knock it off," Gareth says, arms crossed over his chest.

If it's supposed to be threatening, it's not.

Steve laughs, "What do you mean?"

"We aren't your friends," Gareth says, and it stings. And it must show all over his face, because Gareth rushes to add, "You're fine. It's good, whatever Eddie wants, we'll roll with. But we don't know you, okay? And you came in hot, talking all crazy. So, you need to back off."

Steve takes a step back automatically, he didn't realize he'd been so pushy with them. They just tried to talk to them. Maybe he has been weird. He hasn't meant to. He never should have gone to his house that first day back looking for Eddie. It was weird, and Gareth clearly thinks so, too.

Steve's just forgotten what's normal, and what's not. Because he's gotten attached. Especially to Gareth. That's all.

All his other friends were his friends in 1986. Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, none of that has changed much. Time reset, sure, and he's lost a little ground. But fundamentally, it's the same. He can approach Nancy or Jonathan for help, for anything weird, and they wouldn't be looking at him like this. Not like Gareth is.
Because they know. Because Steve picked up a bat filled with nails, and helped them when they needed it. And they'll always return that favor.Gareth, though.Steve is realizing that he's lost every ounce of trust Gareth ever had in him, and it feels shitty.
The clock reset, and not every thing about that is positive.

"I'm sorry," Steve says, "I'm sorry, Gareth. I know this will sound weird. But I'm just happy you're okay. I got pretty attached to you."

Gareth looks skeptical.

"So, if I act too familiar with you, that's why. Just ignore it. If you can. I'm not doing it on purpose. I'm not trying to make you guys uncomfortable. But I'm having a hard time separating out my feelings for people that no longer remember what we've been through together."

"What have we been through together?" Gareth asks.

"A lot.

A lot, a lot.

You're a good friend to Eddie. You protected him every chance you got. And for that, well, you're good in my books."

Gareth is just staring at him, and it's awkward and uncomfortable.

"You don't have to, you know, be good with

me,

though. This is my own shit."

"You're trying to say we're

friends

now?" Gareth asks, sounding like he doesn't believe that could possibly be true.

"Yeah. Yeah, we are. We were."

"I'm sorry but that seems very unlikely. I can't picture a day I'd ever be friends with you," Gareth says, and it stings.

"Understood. Got it," Steve says, turning back to the papers spread across the counter. Anything to ignore the embarrassment that's bubbling under his skin. They are friends. Gareth just doesn't remember it. "But. Eddie died. And you approached me. I didn't approach you."
It's pointless to needle him on this. This Gareth didn't lose his best friend in a way he could never fathom, with no answers, and no closure, with only Steve Harrington to pester the truth out of. And Steve's happy for him. For them both. That Eddie's still here.But he's frustrated, too. He put in the time, even if he didn't want to, and now he's got nothing to show for it.
Gareth doesn't go. Steve wishes he would. But he leans over Steve's shoulder instead, and finally asks, "You really think you were in all these places?"

"Yes," Steve says.

"And I was, too?"

"Uh, well," Steve starts, unsure of how to explain this thing he doesn't even understand himself. "You were there. I don't think it was actually you though. You never remembered. Nobody ever did besides Eddie. Me and Eddie, that's it. Not even Robin ever figured out what had happened. And you don't remember now?"

Gareth shakes his head.

"So, yeah. You. But probably not

you

you."

Gareth climbs up on the bar stool, "Tell me about the Upside Down."

So, Steve does. He starts from the beginning. He answers questions, he describes Eddie's death at the hands of the bats.

Gareth listens. He really does.

And at the end, Steve directs him towards Dustin and Mike and Lucas, "They won't remember Vecna, or Eddie's death. But they can tell you all about what's under this town. Ask them. They can confirm everything I've told you, everything before Vecna, anyway."
Steve just hopes he actually does it.

The living room is packed.

"We need to lean into our strong suits, here," Nancy says, notepad in hand.

Steve looks around, "Well, Nance, you're good with guns. I'm better with a blunt instrument."

"Lucas is great with a slingshot," Dustin offers, and they all turn to look at Lucas.

"I'm not shooting rocks at a monster again. I'm not twelve anymore," Lucas says, a little dryly.

"No, not rocks," Nancy says, "but we could make something. Something more damaging than rocks."

And everybody murmurs and nods in agreement, even Lucas. 
El will obviously be relying on her powers once she gets here. And they'll need them. They are their best chance to win."When do we tell Chrissy?" Eddie asks, and Nancy shakes her head."We don't," she says, "Not at first. I think she needs to be the bait."Eddie is immediately on his feet, "No, no, no. We're not doing that."Nancy grabs him by both shoulders, "We are. We have to make sure Vecna's in our Upside Down. The Hawkins version. And not somewhere…further off. If we go down there, and the timeline has shifted, if he's not there yet. Well…""We're fucked," Eddie finished."Royally," Nancy confirms."Shit," Eddie says, flopping back down onto the couch. Steve squeezes his knee. She'll be the bait, but they'll be ready and step in before Vecna can kill her.It's a tightrope they'll have to walk. Steve knows that, even if he's apprehensive, just like Eddie. If this goes wrong, he'll never be able to forgive himself. And Eddie might not forgive him either. But it's their best shot.They have to take it.

El, Will, Jonathan and Argyle all show up.And they continue plotting and planning, until they think they're ready. Hope they are. They're running out of time. A month goes by so fast.It's been a fucking blur of strategy. Of trying to cover all the bases, until they've run out of time. It has to be now, if they're planning to go on the offensive, and not the defensive for once with their experiences with the Upside Down.For once, they've got an upper hand. Advance knowledge. They were able to plan this one out, to the best of their ability. If the timeline is the same as last time, Chrissy Cunningham will seek out Eddie after school tomorrow.Joyce and Hopper aren't back, but they're on the way. This has to be now, with or without them.So, they've gathered together one last time, to lock down the firm time table. They do a dress rehearsal, leaving nothing to chance. It's the final, step-by-step plan of their attack.And hopefully it's a good one.It's the only one they've got.At the end of the meeting, Steve sits them all down, every last one of them and gives them their marching orders."We have one more night. It might be our last, so I want you to do something for me. For yourselves. Go out and have fun. Whatever that means to you. Play DnD. Play basketball. Anything. Everything. Leave it all on the table.""Thanks, coach," Eddie says dryly, but he smiles at Steve, so Steve smiles back."We're gonna try to change the world tomorrow. But tonight is yours. Think of what you want to do the most. And go do that.""I want a blow job," Gareth says, and Steve rolls his eyes as everyone laughs. It cuts the tension perfectly. Sucks the wind out of the heavy shit Steve was starting to lean into. He needed that. They all did."Well, I'm not helping with that. But if you can get someone to do that for you, great, have at it," Steve says, dryly. He's not so sure Gareth's gonna be able to pull that off in one night, but let him try, if wants to. Whatever makes him happy.Then they all stand around awkwardly looking at each other.Finally the kids and other teens scatter, and then it's just him and Eddie.Steve's exhausted. They kept looking at him to make decisions, to tell them that this plan was gonna work, but he's scared to be the one to have the final say on what they should do. It's too much responsibility.He just wants to turn off his brain for the night, but he'll let Eddie dictate their plans. If Eddie wants to hit The Hideout. Wants to play music with his friends, Steve will be right there with him."What do you want to do?" Steve asks."Go home," Eddie says, "I just want to go home. Will you come with me?"Steve nods, "Of course I will. Your uncle won't mind?" Steve asks. He doesn't want to make things weird for Eddie."He won't mind," Eddie assures.Steve nods. Anything Eddie wants is fine by him. He just wants to crash.So, Steve drives them to the trailer park."Do you remember the first time we fought Vecna?" Steve asks, the seven miles to the trailer park feeling like a hundred. Eddie nods."In the RV?" Steve asks.Eddie smiles, "Of course.""That was the moment. I mean, there were lots of moments. But you leering at me, that did…something," Steve laughs."Big Boy," Eddie teases.And Steve laughs with him."I'd heard the rumors, but I didn't think they'd actually be true."Steve just smiles. He's not unaware. He definitely leaned into it, and made some deliberate jeans choices on more than one occasion.Eddie goes quiet."What is it?" Steve asks."I want to tell Wayne everything," Eddie adds, looking nervous, pulling at a hangnail with his teeth."Okay, we'll tell Wayne," Steve agrees. He isn't sure this is the best idea, but he trusts Eddie's judgment. If Wayne needs to know, Wayne needs to know.

And they do just that. They sit down with Wayne, to loop him in on the entire situation. They've debated back and forth on what they'd tell him, if anything at all.

They've decided to go with the entire, crazy truth. Slowly. Carefully.
And Wayne is already stuck on one thing:
"Okay, wait a second. You're running around with Steve Harrington now?" Wayne asks, "Where's Gareth? Or Jeff and the Goodwin boy?"

"Goodie," Eddie supplies.

"Goodie," Wayne repeats.

Of the

Hawkins Goodwins,

Steve thinks, and smiles.

"They're still around," Eddie says, "but right now we have bigger problems."

"Is Steve who you've been sneaking around with these past few weeks?" Wayne asks, looking between them.

"Yes, Uncle Wayne. I've been with Steve. I can explain, if you'll just let me. We're friends now."

"Friends?" Uncle Wayne asks, a little dryly, and with a bit of a raised eyebrow.

"Wayne. Stop it," Eddie says, but he smiles, and Steve is sure his ears are red. He doesn't get all that embarrassed about sex, about anything, really, but it's different sitting down with someone he's seeing and having their parent, or at least their parental figure, knowing

exactly

what you've been doing with,

to,

their kid.

"Okay, okay. Go ahead. Lay it on me," Wayne urges.

"So, this thing happened. Will happen. Well, we hope it won't happen," Eddie rambles, and Wayne just looks at him.

"Kid, you're not making much sense," Wayne finally says, with a wry grin.

"Because it doesn't make sense. Not really," Eddie admits, "but I just need you to know that I'm doing something dangerous tomorrow. Something I have to do. Because if I don't,

if we don't,"

he says, motioning between him and Steve, "bad things will happen. To me. To my friends. To this town."

Wayne just stares at them, unmoving.

"I know this is not believable. But trust me, okay? Please, trust me," Eddie pleads.

Wayne studies them for a little longer, clearly looking between both of them, looking for any sort of answers he might be able to find.

"Do you need help?" Wayne finally asks, and Eddie sags with relief at Steve's side.

Steve nods, because yeah, they need all the help they can get.

"You believe me?" Eddie asks.

"Eddie, I've always believed you. I don't know why you think I'd have suddenly lost interest in what you have to say," Wayne says, slowly, and a little quiet. But Steve trusts that he's on Eddie's side of what they're about to hit him with. "And you changed, overnight. About a month ago. And I was worried. You've seemed so serious. If there's a reason for that, of course I want to hear it."

"Okay," Steve says, "this is going to sound like a lie. It's not," Steve promises, "but there's a world under Hawkins. Like an evil version. And we have to stop the guy,

the thing,

that's down there. Vecna. Henry Creel."

"Henry Creel?" Wayne asks, clearly a little confused, but seeming like he knows the name.

"You know him?"

"I mean, sure. He was Victor's boy, right?"
Oh, yeah. They got the Victor Creel story from Wayne in the first place. Steve hadn't remembered that.
And Eddie is looking at Steve for confirmation, "Uh, I think so. I'd have to ask Nancy. But yeah. That sounds right."

Wayne shakes his head, "Sorry. That sounded like a question, but it wasn't. Yes, Henry Creel is Victor's boy, and he was a little younger than me. Closer to Al's age. Victor was a real monster. A boogeyman. We all knew what he did."

Steve just stares. He'd never considered that. He guesses he hadn't tried to assign an age to Vecna, but if he had it wouldn't have been around Wayne's age. It would have been more like a thousand. He

looked

a thousand, at least.

"I guess you boys are too young, but back when I was a kid, everybody knew the name Victor Creel," Wayne says, adding, "He lost his mind. Killed his whole family. Kids and wife. Took their eyes. Cut ‘em right out."

"He didn't," Steve says. "Well, maybe he did. But it was the son, he was the one behind it all. Henry. He had powers. Developed powers. From the Mind Flayer, I think? He killed his mom and sister and his dad took the fall."

Wayne nods, and Steve thinks, somehow, he's believing this. He doesn't know why. Maybe he's just been around this godforsaken town long enough to understand that things aren't exactly normal here. And haven't been for a very long time.

"And he's underneath the town?" Wayne asks.

"Yeah. He turned into a monster, and yeah, later he ended up underneath the town in another version of it. From what I understand, Henry Creel was a subject in the lab, just like El. He was the first. One. But he was evil. And when that all came to a head, she fought him. And won. Banishing him. And then, later, she accidentally made the Upside Down. And then he attached himself to it. Filling it with his monsters. I suppose he did that because he had ties to Hawkins? And a rotten version of his childhood home was just sitting there waiting for him, and that was too tempting to resist? I don't know. We call it the Upside Down, because it's literally upside down, and it's stuck…frozen, really. It was made in November 1983. And then, I think he was able to use it. To send his monsters through into our world. It's a hive mind."
"You step on a vine, you're stepping on a bat, you're stepping on Vecna," Eddie repeats Steve's own words back to him, and it makes Steve smile, just a little."Exactly," Steve confirms.
"Boys…"

"I know," Steve says, "it sounds like bullshit. It's not. I've fought, we've both fought, things with our bare hands that you couldn't imagine. Bats with the wingspan of, like, a buzzard."

"I died," Eddie says, very quietly, "I died down there, Uncle Wayne. And somehow, Steve was able to reset it. To give me another chance. To live."

"Ed," Wayne says, softly.

"I know," Eddie says, and he wipes his eyes, "it sounds insane. It is insane. Time travel? Monsters? Other dimensions? I know. It sounds straight out of one of my DnD campaigns. But it's true. All of it. And tomorrow is the start of it. At least it was last time. So, it's happening now. Or soon. The fight is here,

again,

whether we like it or not."

"You boys can't do this alone," Wayne says.

"We aren't," Steve promises, "we do have a lot of kids with experience, that all know about the Upside Down. But we have adults, too. Joyce Byers, and Chief Hopper. Murray. But they may not make it back in time. It's gonna be close, I think."

"Isn't Chief Hopper dead?" Wayne asks.

"Not really," Steve says, "this was the reason the mall burned down. Same monster, kinda. One of his minions, at least. I really don't understand the finer details," Steve admits. Because he doesn't. It's all bad, he doesn't much care about the origin story.

That's much more in Dustin or Eddie's wheelhouse. Nancy's. They're gonna want to know the why, the lore, and Steve just wants to know how to kill it. 
"And Hopper got kidnapped to Russia.""Kidnapped. To Russia," Wayne says, with a flat tone. Not giving away a thing about how he feels about that statement."Yep," Steve confirms. "There were Russians under the mall. We found them when we worked at Scoops Ahoy that summer."
Wayne rubs at his face, and he looks like Eddie for a minute.

"But what does Joyce Byers have to do with this?" Wayne asks.

"Her son? That went missing? Will? He ended up in the Upside Down. All the weird shit in this town is definitely connected to the Upside Down, and the government knows about it. Tried to cover it up. Will's disappearance was one of those things. One of the first things. That's the same night El accidentally made the Upside Down. Years earlier, she'd fought Henry Creel. Vecna. One. Whatever you want to call him. And she banished him...somewhere deeper. And when she created the Upside Down, she inadvertently pulled Vecna and his monsters into that version of Hawkins. Or allowed them in. I don't know. But she created it, ran away, and ended up here, in our Hawkins. The real Hawkins. After she escaped from the evil lab, that, like, did experiments on her and shit."

Wayne looks confused. Very confused.

"It's a lot of exposition, I know," Eddie says. "Hopper's daughter."

"That died?" Wayne asks.

"No," Steve says, "the one he adopted recently."

Wayne nods, following.

"She was experimented on as a kid. She has powers. Superpowers. And she's our best bet. To win, tomorrow. Last time, before I got sent back through time, she wasn't here. She was in California. Living with the Byers. But we knew, this time. We got her here. We made sure. So she can fight him again. And maybe we can win," Steve says, with a slightly hopeful tone. He really, really hopes they can win this time.

Wayne sits there, quietly, hands folded in his lap.

"I had a dream the other night," Wayne says, slowly, deliberately, like he's choosing his words very carefully, "I was hanging up missing posters of Eddie-"

"In the school?" Steve asks, interrupting Wayne.

Wayne nods.

"That happened. After the first battle with Vecna. We lost, the world cracked open from all the gates, including the one in your living room, so we had a shelter at the school, after Vecna, Henry Creel, split open the town. People died. Houses disappeared into the ground. The library was ripped into pieces."

"And I died. Trying to stop it. We failed," Eddie says.

Wayne is quiet, but he is clearly coming around on this. Steve can just tell.

"Okay," Wayne finally says, "tell me the plan."

And they do. In great, and explicit, detail.

After, Eddie says, "We're gonna go to bed, it's probably gonna be a long day tomorrow."

Wayne nods, and stands. He pulls Eddie to his chest and hugs him tight.

"I'll be wherever you need me to be," Wayne says, and Steve squeezes his shoulder on the way by. "Just keep me in the loop."

"I will," Eddie promises, and Steve hopes that they can keep their word. Historically, things have gone to shit once they've gotten in the middle of it, so he hopes this time, with their little bit of advance warning and insider knowledge, they can do better.

He wishes Nancy and El both had memories of the last time. He thinks that would have been far more helpful than him and Eddie being the two that remembered. Steve isn't meant to lead, he doesn't think. He's happy to follow orders, to play his part. He doesn't really want to be the one making the plan. That's too stressful.

But, that's what they've got to work with, so he's doing it.

Eddie is tossing and turning in bed, unable to get comfortable. Steve knows the feeling. He's feeling it, too.

"What if it doesn't work? What if she doesn't come to me this time?" Eddie asks, looking over at Steve.

"I think she will," Steve assures him, because he does think she will. Nancy has cross-checked her diary, and some things are still happening on the original timeline. Sure, they've blown it all to hell for anything that any of them were involved in, but for the regular things in Hawkins? Everything seems to be moving exactly towards the same conclusion.

"I don't want Uncle Wayne in the fray," Eddie admits. "We shouldn't have told him."

"We had to," Steve says, "he had to know this time. He deserved to know where you'd gone."

"Because he didn't last time," Eddie whispers.

"Because he didn't last time," Steve confirms, "and he was searching for you. He wasn't just going to let it go. He had to find you."

Eddie nods, and Steve can tell he's trying not to cry. He doesn't know what that's like, to have a parent, a guardian, ready to move heaven or hell to find you. He's been through a lot these past few years, and his parents have never shown up, not once. He didn't expect them to, not really.

They aren't here. It's not like they're sitting at home not caring. It's just…off their radar. He would have to be the one to call them, to ask for their help. Their attention. And he's never wanted to do that.

Maybe he should call them this time. But he doesn't know how to without throwing up a bunch of red flags. They won't understand this. Not like Wayne, or Hopper or Joyce. They won't get on board. It's not in their nature. He knows that, all too well. They aren't about to believe in the impossible.

Steve's torn from his thoughts, as Eddie tucks himself into Steve's side, "If we get to the end, and the same thing has to happen again, to me, you need to let it. You need to let me go."

Steve is shaking his head before Eddie's ever finished talking. No way is that happening. He could never let him walk into certain death again. He knows he can't do it. No way in hell.

"I can't do that," Steve says, squeezing his shoulder, pulling him closer.

"You might have to," Eddie answers, laying his head on Steve's chest.

It won't happen that way, not again, because that's not part of the plan. Not this time. They aren't crazy. They know what worked, what didn't work, and they aren't about to repeat their worst mistakes. They've agreed. All of them. Together.

Eddie and Dustin being bait isn't an option. It'd been scratched from any plan they've dreamed up, early. Nobody was vying for that to be part of the plan. No one.

So, it can't happen again. Unless…

"Well, I'll stay with you. If we fuck it up so bad that we end up in the exact same position, all over again. I'll stay. And we'll fight together."

Eddie squeezes his waist, and Steve knows he's gonna worry about this. He's gonna worry until tomorrow night comes and goes. Either they'll be able to thwart Vecna before Chrissy dies, or they'll be doomed to follow the same damn plot as before. He doesn't want that. Doesn't want to go through it all again. He's not sure he'll be able to survive it a second time.

Steve leans down and kisses Eddie's forehead, "We're gonna stop it. I know we are."

Eddie nods against him, but he doesn't relax into sleep. Neither of them do.

"Want me to blow you, so maybe you'll sleep, after?" Steve asks, and Eddie laughs, which was what he'd intended. "Gareth seemed to think that was what was needed tonight."

Eddie laughs, "Don't mention Gareth and blowjobs in the same sentence, please."

Steve smiles, pressing his face close to Eddie's.

"I'm not…you know, right now, but, yeah. Let's try that," Eddie says, and Steve grins. He hadn't actually assumed Eddie was going to want to go along with this tonight.

But Steve scoots down the bed, and slides his hand into Eddie's boxers. He's not hard, and Steve's not at all surprised. The stress of everything hasn't exactly made either of them particularly horny recently.

"I might not," Eddie says, looking embarrassed, "and if I don't. It's not you."

"I know," Steve says, and he does know that.

He still helps Eddie out of his boxers, and kisses his thighs, rubbing the slight stubble from his cheek against Eddie's skin. Because he knows Eddie likes that. Likes to feel the roughness of his face brushing against him.

Steve feels like a cat, marking Eddie as his own, but that's okay. It's true. He does want to mark Eddie as his, to keep him all to himself, for a very, very long time.

He gently cradles Eddie's balls, and slides his mouth over Eddie's dick. He's never had a dick in his mouth that wasn't hard. Not that he's had a lot of dicks in his mouth at all. But still. This is new.

Eddie seems to enjoy it, and after a little bit, he does start to harden against Steve's tongue. Growing, right there in Steve's mouth, as Steve works him over. It's awesome. He feels like he has a superpower, making Eddie hard.

Steve knows, in general, that's not much of a superpower. A slight breeze can still get Steve hard, even at twenty. Nineteen? He's not actually sure how old he is now, not anymore.

Either way, he feels like he's doing something, really doing something, for Eddie.

Eddie touches Steve's cheek, his face, and he's smiling down at Steve.

Steve pulls off and grins back, "Hi."

"Hi," Eddie says, and he pulls on Steve's shoulders, trying to pull him up his body.

Steve follows directions, and covers Eddie's body with his own. He has to wiggle his hand between them to push down his shorts, catching them under his ass, as he presses their dicks together.

"That's good," Eddie says, "you feel good."

"You feel good, too," Steve tells him.

"Will you fuck me? If I'm gonna die, I want that to happen first."

"You're not gonna die," Steve says automatically, but he nods, and doesn't ask him if he's sure, because he knows he is. Steve knew how sure he himself was, so he's certain Eddie is probably feeling the same way. Wanting that closeness, wanting everything.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve says, running his finger tips up Eddie's ribs.

Eddie laughs, ticklish, and Steve smiles at him. He really hopes this isn't the last time they'll be like this together. Hopes they win, and can just live their lives. Their real lives, not any of the ones they were thrown into.

Eddie digs around on his nightstand, and comes up with an expired box of condoms. Steve laughs, but takes them from him. They'll probably work well enough for what they plan to do, it's not like pregnancy is a pressing concern.

"These are expired, Eddie," Steve says.

"I know," Eddie laughs, "I didn't really have a lot of chances to use them. Before."

"I might have some in my bag," Steve says, and he hops up to go dig around. He does come up with some, and he waves them in Eddie's direction.

"Look at you, a real boy scout," Eddie teases, and Steve smiles.

He tugs his shorts and underwear off, kicking them away. Eddie's staring and Steve wraps a hand around his own dick, and gives it a long, slow stroke.

"Uh, I think my eyes were bigger than my ass," Eddie says, low and slow. But with a grin that makes Steve's stomach tighten.

Steve laughs, can't not, "We don't have to,

you

don't have to, you know?"

Eddie nods, "I want to. Somebody told me it might be my last day. So, just go easy on me, Harrington."

Steve smiles at him, "I wouldn't do anything else," he promises. And he wouldn't. He has no interest in hurting Eddie in any way. He's been hurt enough. They both have.

He crawls back on the bed, and covers Eddie's body with his own, again.

"We can really just do this, or you can fuck me, I'm not picky, Eddie. Anything you want to do, we'll do."

"I want to try, at least," Eddie says, and Steve nods. They can definitely do that.

Steve scoots further up the bed, and finds the K-Y Eddie has sat out, and he slicks up his fingers. Eddie spreads his own legs apart, and Steve slides his hand over Eddie's dick, over his balls, until he's found his opening.

"You say stop, if you want me to stop," Steve says, and Eddie nods. Steve kisses him, and presses one finger against him, pushing inside when he doesn't meet much resistance. Eddie might be nervous, but he wants this, Steve can tell.

Steve kisses him, flicking his nipple with his spare hand, as he gently works his finger in and out of Eddie.

Eddie is panting, straining up towards Steve's face, and Steve presses his forehead to Eddie's.

"You're doing so good, Eddie. Does it feel good to you?" Steve asks, wanting to make sure, even if it seems like Eddie is having a damn good time.

"S'good," Eddie moans, pressing his face into Steve's neck.

Steve adds a second finger, and Eddie presses down against Steve's hand.

"Still good," Eddie says, pressing his lips to Steve's skin, and sucking. It makes Steve buck a little, pressing his dick into Eddie's side.

He's probably gonna have a hickey tomorrow, and Robin is definitely gonna give him all kinds of shit about it, but he can't find it in himself to care. Eddie can mark him up any way he wants to. He wants to be Eddie's, and Eddie to be his. For a very long time. As long as they can manage.

All across the universe, that's been true, and it's still true now. Here. Tonight.

"I love you, Eddie," Steve whispers, pressing his fingers deeper, twisting them, grinding them into Eddie's body. "I've loved you in every year, every place we've been. I've loved you when I thought it was hopeless."

Eddie presses his face into Steve's neck, and Steve continues, "And I'll love you when this is all over. When we win."

It's intimate, this thing between them. It has been since before Steve even realized it.

Gently, he pulls his fingers out, gets them slicked up again, and tries three. Eddie pants and tosses his head back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut tight.

"Too much?" Steve asks.

"No. Never," Eddie answers, and Steve believes him.

Finally, Eddie opens his eyes again and is clearly searching for Steve's eyes in the darkened room.

Steve takes his free hand and cups his cheek, "I'm here."

"I'm ready," Eddie says, and Steve nods. He thinks that's true.

"Okay, honey. I'm ready, too."

Steve carefully slides his hand free of Eddie's body, and wipes it on the towel at the end of the bed. He crawls over Eddie's body, slotting between his thighs.

Eddie's thighs are shaking, and Steve grips them, rubbing his thumbs against Eddie's skin, feeling his leg hair.

Leaning back on his haunches, Steve reaches for the condom. He tries to open it with no luck, and laughs, handing it to Eddie.

Eddie opens it, and hands it back, his fingers caressing Steve's hand as he does.

Steve carefully rolls the condom on, and this is nothing new, but it

feels

new. He smiles at Eddie. He's not nervous, he doesn't think.

He's excited.

He smiles and Eddie smiles back.

"You ready?" Steve asks.

Eddie nods, and Steve squeezes some more of the lube on his fingers, putting it on the condom.

Eddie spreads his thighs, and Steve cups his hips, sliding his hands down to his ass, lifting him up off the bed a little. He pulls Eddie towards him, and lines himself up. He grips the base of his own dick, and presses the head of his dick against Eddie's opening.

"That feels good," Eddie says.

Steve grins, "I'm not doing anything yet."

"Well, I can feel you right there."

Steve brushes his free hand against Eddie's inner thing, "If it hurts, tell me."

And Steve presses inside, the head of his dick pushing in, and he waits. Eddie's chest is heaving a little, his breathing faster than it was.

"Jesus H. Christ, that's something," Eddie whispers, and Steve holds still. He stays right where he is, not moving, barely breathing. Waiting, hoping Eddie will adjust. Will relax again.

He does.

And Steve smiles, and Eddie nods, and Steve presses further, and further, until he's seated in Eddie and Eddie is gripping his forearm, "Wait. It's…wait," Eddie says, and Steve nods.

"I'll wait," Steve promises.

Steve knows what it feels like, the fullness, the stretch, the burn of it. It is different, and hard to get used to, even if you want more

so fucking bad.

It's not like fucking a girl. Wet, and ready, and accommodating.

It's just different, and Steve likes it, from both sides. Likes the feeling, likes the roughness of Eddie's leg hair pressing, rubbing, against his own. Eddie doesn't have much chest hair, just a little bit between his pecs. It's far more sparse than Steve's own chest hair, but still manly. Steve likes the hair on Eddie's stomach, his happy trail, promising more, below.

And there it is.

His cock, hard and laying against his skin, flushed and red at the tip.

It's different.

Not better, not worse. Just different.

Well, maybe better, he decides. Just because it's Eddie.

He presses his hand to Eddie's stomach, and rubs the hair he finds there under his hand.

He's gently rubbed clits while a girl under him adjusts to him being inside her for the first time, so he figures there's no reason something similar can't work on Eddie, too. Steve wraps his hand around his dick, and strokes. A gentle, soft slide of his fist. Not trying to overwhelm him, just trying to make him feel good.

Eddie fists his hands in his own hair, and Steve figures that's as good of a sign as he's gonna get.

"Jesus, Steve."

Steve smiles, and moves his hips. Just a little. Testing the water. Eddie responds well, and before long, Steve is sliding in and nearly out of him, in longer strokes.

"Stay deep," Eddie says, and once Steve pushes back in, he listens. He just grinds into Eddie, using small, controlled movements.

"That's it," Eddie assures, so Steve keeps doing it. He's good at following directions, and hopes that Eddie is always willing to tell him what he wants. Likes. Needs.

"You feel good, honey."

"You, too, sweetheart," Eddie says, and Steve lets that settle in his chest.

He hopes this isn't the only time they'll ever get to do this. He wants to spend time, real time, getting to know everything about Eddie. What he likes, what he loves.

Steve has plans, big plans, for their lives,

after.

And when Chrissy Cunningham seeks out Eddie in the woods, instead of just Eddie, she finds a whole army of teenagers, armed and ready to fight to save her. 
She's overwhelmed, and rightly so. Steve can tell she wants to run, flee, but Max catches her by the shoulders."You're hearing a clock. Seeing it. Right? And visions?"And Chrissy nods."We're here to take care of that," Max promises. "Better than any drug Eddie could provide."Chrissy looks at her, then at the rest of them."What can I do to help?" she asks.And Robin comes forward, handing her a change of clothes, "I had to guess your size. We got them at the War Zone. I hope you like them," Robin says, and Steve wants to roll his eyes. Now is not the time to act goofy around pretty girls.Chrissy takes them, looking at everything, even the boots, "How'd you guess my shoe size?""Magic," Steve says, but honestly Eddie just picked the lock on her gym locker to find out.They weren't sure if she'd want to be involved, and it definitely isn't required of her, but they wanted to be ready. Just in case she made that decision.Eddie steps forward, waving a fire extinguisher, "This will be yours. Stick with Max.""Put these on," Max says, looping a pair of headphones over her head. "Whatever your favorite song is? You're gonna need that on a loop," Max tells her, tapping her own Walkman with her hand."What is this?""Insurance," Max says.And it is. If she hadn't wanted to jump in with them, the plan was to at least arm her with a Walkman and directions to keep listening to her favorite song. Steve wasn't sure they'd be able to convince Max, she's a known contrarian, but the whole ending up blinded, with broken arms and legs thing must have been compelling enough to get her on board.
They've worked on a plan, a good plan, Steve thinks, but it's still terrifying. They still have to manage to open a gate without anyone dying. That's the last piece of the puzzle. El says she can do it, and that's what they are all counting on. But it's untested. The one thing they couldn't rehearse without tipping their hands. And if it turns out she can't, then they'll have to come up with a new idea, on the fly.

Steve knows this could still go wrong. Chrissy could still die.

Eddie

could still die.

Steve won't be able to live with that, not again. He's too attached now. Too in love with him. They have to stop Vecna before he can get the upper hand. They have to stop it quickly, this time. Before anyone gets killed. Before the clock starts ticking. They can't let him open one gate, let alone four.

And Steve thinks they've got a chance. They've got El. She's here in Hawkins this time, and she's more than ready to fight.

Maybe working together, instead of separately, will be better.

They're ready, as ready as they'll ever be, and head to the old abandoned Creel house. They hadn't planned on finding Wayne standing outside it with his own hunting rifle, but at least he came prepared. Wayne might have just learned about it last night, but Steve is still glad that a real adult will be present. They've done it without Hopper and Joyce, but it didn't go so great. They loiter outside the house, looking up. Finally, they make their first move.Breaking in, they set up a staging area in the living room. El's gonna open a gate into the Upside Down, right here. It seemed like the best option.
Steve stops in front of Gareth, and helps him buckle his vest. It feels like it's the reverse of what happened in Europe, during the second world war.

"Thanks," Gareth says, and he's a little too quiet for Steve's comfort.

"You don't have to do this, we've got it," Steve assures him, squeezing his shoulder, because there's no shame in saying no. He wishes Eddie would have said no the first time.

"No, I'm okay, just nervous," Gareth admits, and Steve claps him on the shoulder as he releases him.

"We're all nervous, it's not just you. Don't worry," Steve tells him, not sure how he's gained another kid to look after. But he will. If Gareth will just trust him enough to let him.

He hands Gareth the bottle, with the scrap of fabric hanging out the end.

"If anything goes wrong, run. Back through the hole. You'll see it. The real world, on the other side. El's gonna try to do it in a good place, so we don't have to climb or fall or anything this time," Steve says, mainly to just reassure himself more than anything.

Gareth nods.

"Stay with Eddie and Dustin. Stay with them. Listen to Eddie. He's been through this. And Dustin. He knows how this works, too."

"Okay, I will," Gareth says, and Steve slaps him on the back, one more time.

Gareth doesn't know him, not yet, but someday he knows he will. Because Eddie is here, and their friends are gonna overlap now. There's no question.

Gareth might not imagine a life where he's friends with Steve, but Steve knows enough for both of them.

Steve looks at everyone, gathered. There are more of them this time. And they have more weapons and are better prepared. They're going to go in waves.

Nancy, Robin and him are still first. With Jonathan, too, this time. He's done it before, has fought off a demogorgon, and Nancy is the best shot they've got. He tried to get Robin to hang back with the second wave, but she didn't want to be without him. He gets it. They have a good track record together.

He looks at the second wave: Mike, Will and Lucas.

And the third: Dustin, Eddie, Wayne, Gareth.

And the fourth, on the outside: Argyle and Erica. Max and Chrissy. Jeff and Goodie.

And the big gun, all alone: El.

And the backup, if they fail, will be Hopper, Joyce and Murray when they get back in the country. If they fail tonight, somebody will need to know what's happened and be ready to finish what they couldn't contain.

They knew that they needed to go to him. That they need to kill him while he's sleeping. Hibernating? Trussed up like a Christmas ham? Steve's not sure what to call it, but they know where he's at, and know that he's vulnerable. Last time they just didn't finish the job, and he got away. This time, they're ready. They're bringing in everything they have.

"Wait, wait," Nancy says, "if we burn down the Creel house on the other side, are we gonna trap ourselves?"

"I don't…I don't think so," Steve says, "but maybe? Maybe we should open the gate in the backyard? Just in case?"

Everyone looks around at each other, and nods in agreement, before they move the operation to the backyard. It's not as private as Steve would have preferred, but at least it isn't facing the street.

He looks at El, and nods.

And El rips a hole right through the fabric of their world, through space and time, to get them into the Upside Down. Right near the back door, so they can see straight into the house.

It's worked. Steve can tell.
"Hive mind," he reminds, and everybody nods.
And the first through third waves moves together, a little army unit, very different than it was in WWII or Vietnam. They didn't leave anyone out. Anyone that wanted to help, they've put to work. Erica is running point alongside Argyle on the outside, walkie in hand, trying to make sure they'll be able to get back through.

Once they're into the Creel house on the other side, half of them stay downstairs, in sight of the others back in the real world, and the rest of them prepare to head upstairs.

Eddie is armed. Chrissy is armed. They're trying to save themselves, this time. They've set up a speaker system off in the distance to blast music to distract the bats, just to buy a little time, without actually putting Eddie in the line of fire. Eddie made a mixtape, something with dead air at the beginning, so they could try to plan exactly how long they needed before the music cut in, and pulled the bats away from them. From Vecna. Buying them a little time to work.
Dustin and him had run off and set it all up while El was prying opening the gate.
Steve didn't want Eddie to go anywhere near the Upside Down, didn't want to risk it. But Eddie wasn't about to sit around and let them fight this battle without him. No way in hell. So Steve relented. Put him in the third wave, even if he fought him about that at first. Steve had said he wanted someone else with actual knowledge of the original fight still on the ground, if something happens to him up front. It's bullshit. And Eddie had to have known that, but he relented.

They are downstairs, behind the second wave, if needed. Just inside the gate, within arms reach of the other side. Erica in charge. Steve gave her explicit instructions in private to make the boys in her wave manhandle wave three all back outside the gate if this goes south. She had nodded, assuredly. And he trusts her. Scoops Troops forever. Jeff and Goodie weren't exactly thrilled with being led by a girl younger than them, but Erica has the experience, she knows what the fuck is up, lived through the Russian saga right along side them.

And she's got Argyle as her second, laid-back enough to be totally fine with her being in charge.

She's got this.

Steve prepared them all the best they could. Eddie, especially. Steve taught him everything he knows, including when running is the best thing he could do.

If this goes south, Steve wants him to run, fucking far and fast. And don't look back. He wants him to get back through the gate, and let his friends pull him back through to safety. They argued about it, but Steve wasn't backing down from that. That's the plan, take it or leave it.

Eddie took it, begrudgingly.

If Steve dies here this time, so fucking be it, he thinks, so long as Eddie survives. If that happens, then he's done his job. He's changed history. He'll have saved people, Eddie included, if they can finish Vecna off before he gets started.

"Hey, Steve," Eddie says, the same as he did the last time. The location is different, but the inflection is the same, and Steve smiles at him.

"Don't do anything stupid," Steve tells him. "Don't try to be a hero."
"I won't, I promise," Eddie answers. Crossing the distance. He's not supposed to be in here, and Steve meets him in the middle. Ready to redirect him, but Eddie catches his hand, leaning up to kiss him. It's brief, and chaste, but it's a nice fucking send off. 
"I love you," Eddie whispers, just for Steve's ears, "be careful."

Steve pulls back and smiles at him, "That's my line."

"Which one?" Eddie teases, letting him go and taking a step back towards where he promised he'd stay.

"Both of them," Steve answers, with a grin.

Eddie winks at him, and Steve gives him a little wave, and then he follows Nancy, Jonathan and Robin up the staircase. Avoiding the vines. He was adamant that they be extra careful. He doesn't want to be choked, again. They have the time to go slow. Vecna isn't expecting them, Steve's pretty sure.

He hopes he's not. That will really suck and throw a wrench into things.

But Vecna's exactly where they knew he'd be, in the attic. Hovering, mid-air.

And Steve stops dead center in front of him, and grinds his toe into the floor of the attic, standing his ground. Getting leverage, facing him head-on.

Then Steve throws the first Molotov cocktail, Robin the second, Jonathan the third, and Nancy goes in guns blazing.

And Vecna's eyes open.

Steve holds his gaze, just like he promised himself he would, as he fights back. Again.

He catches fire, the flames engulfing him, immediately.

And it doesn't take long before the vines supporting him are burning away, and he's falling to the ground.
That much has stayed the same, and once they've weakened him, even just a little, El steps in and takes him on. That part is different. There's no standing around staring at him this time. No, this time, El's holding him still with her hand, her mind. Nose bleeding, arm outstretched, and Vecna is fucking pissed that his plans have been interrupted. Steve isn't sure, but he fucking hopes she's strong enough to finish the job. They probably won't get a third chance. This is it. They've got to do it now.

This plan has to work. It has to, or they are so fucked.

Once Steve's pretty sure El has him pinned, immobile, Steve nods at Jonathan. And Jonathan picks up his ax, and Steve does the same. Nancy still has ammo, they made sure of it. But they don't want to blow him out of the window this time.

Steve holds up his hand, counting down on his fingers: Three, two, one.

And they both swing.

They plan to cut his fucking head off.

But they can't. They don't have the strength. The blades aren't enough.

Vecna screams, a shrieking sound, and Steve can hear the second wave tromping up the staircase. No longer careful of the vines. Vecna knows they're here, there's no use in trying to sneak up on him. Not now.

Lucas has squared up, slingshot in hand, aiming. A bag slung across his hip. They've made him custom projectiles. Not just rocks. Accelerants. And he handles them with care and he pulls back, letting the first one fly. It flares up the fire, making it burn hotter, stronger, causing Vecna screech.

Steve sees Mike hold his hand out, and Will putting his hand right into Mike's. They know the plan. And Mike drops the wire down from his hand, and Will does the same, and the both step apart, pulling it taut.

Fuck. No. That isn't going to work. Vecna's made of stronger skin than a human. They've miscalculated this aspect. The kids won't be able to do it, because Jonathan and him are barely making a dent with the axes and El can't hold Vecna forever.

Steve lunges forward, and reaches for the wire instead. This wasn't the plan, but Steve thinks he'll have more leverage than the kids, and Mike fights him, just for a second, but then hands his side over without complaint. Wayne does the same on Will's side, and they look at each other. 
Wayne's not even supposed to be up here yet. Doesn't matter.
Mike takes the ax from Steve, Will the rifle from Wayne. Lucas follows, and Steve looks at Wayne.

He nods.

They can do this.

Steve runs and loops the wire around Vecna's neck, wrapping it around once, twice, trying to stay away from the flames, but his sleeve catches fire and Robin is immediately putting it out with her jacket.

He smiles at her, and then he darts to his side of the attic as Wayne does the same on the other. Steve pulls hard, until he has it taut. There's no more slack left in his line, and he sits on the ground bracing his foot against a beam in the attic, and pulls. Hard. Tight. Trying to decapitate him.

It's harder than it looks like. Vecna's not a man. Not anymore. It's not just a human neck to slice through. And he's fighting against them, against El. Even as Jonathan and Nancy go after him with their weapons. Even as the fire burns, hot and wild around him.

Steve thinks they might not be able to do this, when there's the sound of heavy footsteps heading for the attic, and no, no, no, they weren't supposed to be up here. Not yet. They weren't called for.

But it's Hopper, brandishing a sword, and he swings it, cutting off Vecna's arm, the one with the big hand, and he thrashes against all their constraints, in pain. Hopper backs up to take another swipe at him, when the fire suddenly flashes hot, exploding off Vecna's body, and Hopper has to take a step back, shielding his face.

"Fire!" Steve yells, and Chrissy, Gareth and Max come up with fire extinguishers. Not trying to put Vecna out. But trying to keep the house from burning down around their ears.

It's working, Steve thinks, even if it's harder to breathe. Even if his hands are killing him as he pulls, as hard as he can. He can almost see Wayne across the room doing the same thing. But the smoke, and the residue from the fire extinguishers are making it hard.

The vines are struggling, writhing, dying. Clinging and pulling on anything they can reach, trying to save themselves from certain death. One snags Steve's ankle and tightens down.

He tries to kick it off, force it away, but it's not working. He tries to focus on keeping his hands taut. But it's really got a hold of him, and he feels it as his ankle snaps and pops under the pressure. He huffs out a noise of pain, worried it's broken, but still trying to keep it to himself, but he's heard.

Gareth is kneeling at his feet, knife cutting at the tendril, trying to force it to loosen and let go. It's not working and he disappears, only to turn back up with one of the axes. Steve doesn't have time to not trust him, he just closes his eyes, pulls the wire tighter, and feels relief when the constriction is released.

Gareth is unwinding it from his leg, and then tosses it away. Then, he keeps the next vine, and the one after that from attaching themselves to Steve's legs. He hopes someone is doing the same for Wayne on the other side, but he can't see that far. Not with the smoke and fire and chaos.

"Thanks," Steve grinds out, digging his feet further into the wooden floorboards, but he's not making the progress he'd hoped they would be. His feet are slipping, even in his boots, and now he has to fight against the pain to dig in deeper. Harder. He can't do it.

But then Hopper is suddenly behind him, arms sliding under his armpits, yanking, his hands over Steve's.

"You've got this," Hopper says from behind him, and Steve nods.

They don't got this, because the bats have broken free of their distraction, and are descending upon them. Biting, clawing. Steve can't let go of his wire, so Hopper is batting them away from his face, his neck.

The fucking bats.

One tears into his right side, and then a second is ripping into his left, and he's felt this searing pain before as he writhes, still holding on, but trying to get away at the same time.

Another snags him by the neck with its tail and yanks,

hard,

trying to pull him away from Hopper, and Steve gasps. Fighting the urge to let go of the wire, to claw at it so he can breathe.

He doesn't have to let go. Hopper is prying it off of him, his fingers digging into Steve's skin, as he physically removes it from Steve's neck, pulling it in two. Casting it aside with a careless toss.

Steve's breathing hard, trying not to hyperventilate as he sucks in oxygen, finally able to breathe unrestricted.

It's happening again. It's all happening all over again, just as before, and the worry settles in Steve's gut, heavy as a stone.

Everyone is screaming, trying to protect themselves from the ongoing attack, and he knows they are running out of time before they're completely overtaken. Before someone ends up just like Eddie did the first time. Torn open, bleeding out, too hurt to save.

He needs to get eyes on Eddie, but he doesn't know where he is. He doesn't know if he's already down somewhere. Already collapsed, already dying. Coughing up blood through red-stained teeth.

The bats are swarming, screeching, trying to protect Vecna. Or themselves. Both, maybe.

Nancy is shooting them out of the air, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. But they fall with heavy thuds. Squirming as they die. Unfortunately, for every one she kills, it seems two more appear.

Then Steve catches sight of Eddie.

His face bloody, his white shirt already staining through, turning crimson. He can't. He can't do this again. And Steve pulls tighter, the wire slicing deeper into his hands as he screams.

But Eddie's on his feet. No bats are currently attacking him as they are being fended off by everyone else. Wild swings, and Hail Marys, left and right.

He sees Jonathan catch one from mid-air, struggling to take it to the ground, finally holding it under his foot and pulling it clean in half. Jonathan wasn't there, didn't see Steve do that on the dry lake bed the last time, but it's still happening again.

Chrissy and Max spraying them with what little remains in their extinguishers, not really hurting them, but keeping them off everybody else. Buying time.

All they need is time.

Steve can see now that Eddie has Hopper's sword, and he watches as he swings it around, as if he's judging the weight of it. Testing it, like he's some sort of goddamn fantasy hero that's found the magic weapon that'll save them all. A character from his D&D campaign, maybe, Steve thinks. This was not part of the plan. Eddie wasn't supposed to go hand-to-hand in combat. But Eddie also wasn't supposed to get attacked by the bats again.

Plans change.

And Steve watches him take a deep breath, and then Eddie's backing up, getting a running start as he lunges at Vecna, shoving the sword deep into his chest. Steve doesn't know if Vecna has a heart in that wrinkled husk of hide or not. But if he does, he's pretty sure Eddie didn't miss.

And then it happens.

Vecna starts to peel away from himself in what looks like black ashes, starting to float off violently into the air. It's like they're being swarmed with bees that have no stingers, except the sound is horrible, and all of them that can cover their ears, do. Steve just has to bear it, unwilling to let go of the wire. If he ends up losing some of his hearing, so be it. It'll be a fair enough trade, if Eddie walks out of this house alive.

If they

all

walk out of this house alive.

The bats flee at the noise, and the black vines resend, slithering away. Steve doesn't know if it's defeat, or self-preservation, or just instinct. Maybe it's the loss of their host. Their master.

But finally,

fucking finally,

Vecna gives way. His body can't hold back from El's power a minute longer, and he explodes to dust. Just a black smudge where his body should have been.

Steve collapses back into Hopper, no choice in the matter, after the sudden release of the tension on the line.

They don't have time to celebrate.

The Creel house is still on fire, burning around them.

"Out!" Nancy shouts, and they all start falling in line. Steve stumbles to his feet. His ankle wants to give out from under him, and he's sure his boot is the only thing keeping him upright. It's hard to breathe, his throat feels raw, and compressed. His hands are killing him. They are bleeding and cut open from the wire slipping. His sides are on fire, and he's sure the same deep gashes he had before are back.

He watches as Hopper picks up El. Slings her over his shoulder, and they run down the staircase, and down the back steps, where Erica and the others have been waiting. Ready.

Argyle puts his hand out, and Steve takes it, and lets himself be pulled through the gate. And that's the last thing he can do before Steve stumbles, falls to his knees, trying to breathe. Between the smoke, burning fumes of the fuel, and his injured neck, he's choked.

Eddie moves closer and stands at his side, letting him cough, letting him throw up in the dirt, while he has his back. Steve appreciates it, and wraps a hand around Eddie shin, holding on tight. When he feels better, he climbs back to his feet. Robin and Nancy are talking with the others, seeing if they are ready to move onto the next phase.

Triage and holding the line.
Burning the house down on the other side.The Party has gathered up the gas cans, the remaining Molotov cocktail bottles, and have formed a line, ready to go in and finish the job. Max and Lucas, Mike and Will, Dustin and Erica. The freshest of them, now. And they spring into action, acting to fuel the flames that are already starting to overtake the old, abandoned house. Steve wishes they'd have all stayed behind in the real world, but they aren't children, not totally, not anymore. They're growing up, and this has unfortunately been part of that for them.Steve just hopes that this will be their very last act of fighting against the Upside Down. Against Vecna. Against anything at all that isn't completely fictional and done around a table.That maybe, without the house, Vecna won't be able to resurrect.They don't know that, but they'll take any insurance they can get to get out ahead of him, in case this goes south again. If he isn't really gone. If it's a false alarm, again.If they need to flee.
They don't have to go anywhere, El staggers on her feet, weak but smiling, and they wait until the Creel house has burned to the ground on the other side of the gate.

"Is he gone?" Robin asks, looking around for answers from anyone willing to give them "For good? Gone for good?"

"Yes," El says, "he is gone."

Steve hopes this is the last time any of them have to do anything like this. He hopes the rest of their childhoods, what's left of them, is spent playing DnD with Eddie at the helm. He wants that for them, for all of them.

He wants things to go back to normal, as normal as they can, after they've all experienced everything that they have.

Steve wants to take off his boot, and moves to untie the laces, but Wayne's hand covers his, "Don't. Not yet. It'll swell and you'll never get it back on if you need to."

He's right. Steve knows that. Has twisted his ankle in enough basketball games, and kept playing. His high top sneaker was the only reason he was able.

He nods and lets go. It can wait until they're home, safe.

For sure.

El is weak, worn out, but she closes the gate. They watch it stitch together, slowly, so slowly, but it gets smaller and smaller, until it's finally gone, like it was never there.

Hopper catches El as she collapses, and they all just stand there, stunned. Not sure what happens next.

And suddenly, everything goes dark.

There are hands pressed to his skin in several places.

"Hey. Hey!" Robin yells, and Steve lulls his head towards the sound, "You stay with us."

He feels faint, and dizzy, "Am I bleeding to death?" he asks, in a hoarse whisper, all his voice will allow.

"Not on my watch," Eddie says, and Steve nods, closing his eyes again.

"Maybe I have rabies," Steve teases, coughing and he likes the disgruntled noise Robin makes in protest.

"Don't even joke about that, dingus," she says, and he fades back out into the darkness, once again.

They take up several rooms in the hospital, Hopper distracting the staff and the other officers with his miraculous reappearance enough that they don't really have to give many answers before the government has swooped in, cleaning up the mess after the fact. After they'd been no actual help.

And when it's over, wounds licked and healing, they reconvene and run it down again. They are pretty sure it's over, that maybe the entire Upside Down saga is finished. Steve sure hopes so. El thinks she can close it off, maybe even cave it in, totally. Later. After she's regained her strength.

But she swears Vecna is gone. She promises she felt it happen. She says she made him. And she swears she destroyed him.

They have no choice but to believe her.

Finally released from the hospital, Steve lays in bed with Eddie right next to him. They're both sore, and bandaged. Healing. Steve feels like he succeeded, because he got it worse this time than Eddie did.

He changed it.

He fucking did it. They all did.

"I don't think I can move," Steve says.

"Agreed," Eddie says. "I'm not going anywhere for a month."

Steve laughs, "Nice try. You've got high school to graduate from."

Eddie groans dramatically and Steve smiles as he closes his eyes.

Steve wakes up to something being put down on the nightstand beside his head. He sleeps light these days, and he looks up, and Wayne is standing there, putting down a cup and a bowl.

"Hi," Wayne says, quietly. "There's soup."

"Thanks," Steve says, moving to sit up. Eddie is still asleep beside him.

Steve nods and reaches for the bowl. He is hungry, starving maybe. And it smells good. Even if the bowl hurts his still raw hands.

"Eddie likes soup. When he's run down," Wayne says, trying to make conversation of any kind. Steve can tell.

He appreciates it.

"Sounds great, want me to wake him up?" Steve asks, and Wayne just shakes his head.

"Let him sleep, I'll keep it warm for him," Wayne says, and then lingers, "He's okay, right? We're good, now? He's safe?"

"Yeah, I think we all are," Steve answers. He looks at Wayne's hands, "Your hands okay?"

"I've had worse," Wayne says, and that's the end of that. He hadn't even been checked out at the hospital, refusing to leave both of their sides.

Now, they just have to heal. But at least they're all here to do it this time.

One Week Later

"Yes, you have to," Steve says, pushing Eddie's back towards the door, out on the porch, down the steps, and towards his car. Steve grasps the railing and tries to keep as much weight off his ankle as possible. Eddie beats him to the car and slumps into the passenger seat, affronted at this early hour.

He's going back to school. And he's going on time. Because he's gonna graduate. Steve's gonna make sure of it.

"But I'm injured," Eddie whines, pointing at all his bandaged spots.

"So am I, you don't see me crying, Munson," Steve says, pulling down the gear shift, sliding the car into reverse.

"But you don't have to go to school," Eddie argues. Steve ignores him. So, Eddie tries a different tactic, "Should you even be driving? You got a broken ankle."
"I know you're a historically bad driver, but you don't actually use your left foot on the pedals. Just so you know," Steve banters back, looking over his shoulder, making sure he's not going to back over anything or anyone.
It's a good thing he did, because Wayne is pulling into the drive beside him as they're backing out, and they both wave at him, and he waves back. 
"If I have to be on my feet, so do you," Steve says.
"I should be able to lay in bed as long as I want. I'm a hero," Eddie whines, and Steve rolls his eyes.

"You're a twenty-year-old super, super senior. Let's get this graduation shit wrapped up. We've got a life to live together," Steve says, and Eddie turns and looks at him, smiling. Steve pretends he doesn't see it, but his own smile surely gives him away.

They pull up in front of Robin's house, and Steve honks. She knows the system. They've done it a million times.

She bounds out of the house, eating an apple. She seems lighter. They all do. Like the black cloud that hovered over this town has finally lifted. That the few injuries they've sustained are nothing in comparison.

It's nice.

They all still look like they went ten rounds with a monster, because well, they did. But this time they all lived to tell the tale.

Then she stops right in front of the passenger side door, and yanks it open.

"Um, excuse you, Munson," Robin says, leaning in the passenger window, "that's

my

seat."

Steve expects a fight, but Eddie just clambers over the center console, headed for the back.

"Hey, watch the leather!" Steve yells at him, just seeing his ass up in the air and his dirty shoes dragging all along his cream colored seats. But Eddie's letting Robin climb into the front seat instead. Steve can't be too mad at that. He wants them to get along.

And Robin was right. That's her seat. She had first dibs.

"The audacity of your boyfriend," Robin says, looking over at Steve, and she laughs when Eddie knees her in the back, right through the seat.

"Children," Steve says, as he throws the car into drive.

When he pulls up outside of the school, Chrissy Cunningham runs in front of the freshly parked car, and waves at Steve, stopping to wait for Eddie and Robin to unload.
Eddie leans forward and squeezes Steve's shoulder, all the goodbye they're gonna get here in public, and Steve smiles at him in the rear view mirror before Eddie bails out of the backseat.

Steve watches the three of them walk towards the building, and before they hit the door, Nancy and Jonathan have fallen in line next to them.

The kids are sitting over on the brick divider, and he honks at them as he drives by. Everybody looks pretty damn good for what they've been through.

They only have a couple months of high school left, and they are gonna get Eddie through them this time. He's gonna graduate. Nancy, Robin, and him are determined to make that happen.

He's close.

So close.

And Steve wants that for him. Wants for this year to end differently. Wants a fresh start for both of them.

Nancy has talked to Ms. O'Donnell and told her that she'll tutor him. That she'll make sure he does the rest of the work, and does it right, if she'll just show him a little bit of grace for being behind. For missing an additional week after spring break after his

accident.

They were all out, and Steve's not even sure what lie Hopper told the school. But the fact of the matter is, Ms. O'Donnell can't say no to Nancy Wheeler, it's just not an option, and now Eddie has a path to graduate. Fucking finally.

Steve thinks it's fitting that Eddie will graduate with Robin and Nancy. Jonathan. Jeff and Goodie. Chrissy. He likes that they'll all do this thing together, because he had to go it alone last year, and that kind of sucked. But they'll get to finish together, and then get to enter life,

after,

together, too. They won't flounder like he did. Shiftless and aimless, with nobody to turn to for help, nobody in the same boat. They can go to school, or work.

They can move out, or move away.

Eddie can lay in bed, if he wants.

Anything they want to do now, is possible.

The future, wide open.

And Steve is making plans. Big plans.

Three Months Later

School ended, graduation happened, and against all odds, Eddie walked the stage in his green cap and gown for pictures. He didn't even flip Principal Higgins the bird, though he did snatch the diploma out of his hand a little roughly, making the entire auditorium laugh. He wasn't the town pariah, wasn't accused of murder, he was just a little bit of a freak.
Steve wouldn't have had it any other way.
And now they're spending the summer hanging around in the trailer. The perfectly unscathed trailer that never had a dead cheerleader pinned to the ceiling. No gate ripped through it, opening up a portal into the Upside Down.

Everybody is in and out, at all hours, and Steve can tell Wayne doesn't know what to think about it. Kids he's never seen before, plus some he has, taking over his house.

Today, Gareth drops his backpack on Eddie's bed and starts digging through it, finally pulling out a handful of papers.

"Help me pick a college, my mom is on my ass," Gareth says, tossing a stack of college brochures at Steve and Eddie, all of them fluttering down onto the blanket.

"You're just a junior," Steve says, but pokes at the one on the top of the pile.

"I'm a senior," Gareth says, giving Steve the eye, "school's over for this year. I'm

a senior

now."

And Steve smiles, he remembers how important the distinction was, "My bad. But you have a whole year to worry about this."

"Not according to my mom," Gareth grumbles, "Summer just started and she's already on my ass to make a decision."

"Well, I vote no more school," Eddie answers, refusing to even take a look at the options.

Steve grins at him.

"Of course you'd say that. You army-crawled your way out of high school," Gareth says.

Eddie lifts his hand, flipping him the bird and waving it around, making Gareth laugh.

Gareth is unaffected, used to it, and just keeps talking, "You know Mama Jones isn't going to stand for that."

For a kid that was

so sure

he'd never accept Steve a few months ago, he sure did just that, awfully quick. Steve's not surprised. He's lived through this before. Gareth latching on isn't even remotely unexpected.

"Why so many options?" Steve asks, looking at all the flyers. It looks like he went into a truck stop lobby in a touristy area and just grabbed one of every brochure they had on display. Except they're for schools, and not the world's largest ball of twine, or whatever.

"I don't know! They just keep appearing on my bed!" Gareth howls, like he's suffering, greatly.

Steve laughs, and looks at the flyers advertising all the different schools. He's been through this before, not only for himself without any luck, but also with Gareth. After Eddie died. But Eddie's here now. So, Eddie can deal with Gareth's college woes and can leave Steve the fuck out of it. Hallelujah.

Shiny and glossy, the brochures are scattered across the bed, all the schools trying to put their best foot forward with their best looking students. It's fake, it's all fake. Posed and ridiculous. Steve's sure none of these schools, or students, actually look anything like this.

Then, he notices one of the brochures peeking out of the pile, and he reaches for it, sliding it out of the mess of them.

The University of Omaha.

And right on the cover, is Di. Holding a backpack, and a stack of books.

He laughs,

there you are.

He knew he couldn't have made a whole girl up, and he knows he didn't, now. She was just someone he saw on one of the brochures Gareth had made him look at last time. Before Eddie came back. Before, and After. That's how Steve thinks about it. Before he traveled through time. After they got a second chance to change their whole world.

"Omaha," Steve says, decidedly. "Go to Omaha."

And he hands Gareth the brochure.

"Why Omaha?" Gareth asks, looking at it. "You didn't even read it!"

"I just have good feelings about it," Steve says. Because he doesn't know. She might not be named Di. This picture of her might be ten years old. Steve doesn't know shit. Other than that she

might

be there. She

might

be waiting for Gareth to show up. Anything is possible.

Steve's learned that in a big, bad way this year.

"Omaha," Steve assures. "It's gotta be Omaha."

"Omaha's too far," Eddie whines, "he can't go to Omaha. I won't allow it."

"Maybe we'll all go to Omaha," Steve says, because, why not? There's nothing holding them in Hawkins, not anymore. They could go anywhere, do anything.

"I think we could all aim a little higher than Nebraska," Gareth says, looking down at the paper in his hand, "But maybe I'll reconsider if she's there. She's cute," Gareth says off-handedly, then he throws the brochure back on the pile.

"She is. Maybe she's your future wife."

"Yeah, that seems likely," Gareth snarks, and Eddie joins in, laughing at Steve.

Well, Steve tried. If Gareth listens, he listens. If he doesn't, well, that's on him. Especially if he ends up tripping through time trying to fix his mistakes, because Steve will give him a big

I told you so

in response.

And then help him, just like he was helped.

Summer wears on, the heat settles over Hawkins like a heavy blanket, and Steve is laying on the trunk of his car, looking up at the stars, out in the middle of nowhere. It's a familiar scene, only this time, Eddie is right beside him.

Movement catches Steve's eye, and looking upwards, they both see a shooting star streak across the night sky.

"Hey!" Eddie says, clearly delighted, pointing.

"Don't even think about it," Steve says dryly, clamping his hand over Eddie's mouth, "no more wishes."

Eddie laughs, and rolls onto his side, the metal popping and groaning beneath him, as he tucks himself against Steve. Steve wraps his arm around Eddie's middle, slinging it over his body, taking Eddie's hand into his own. They can do anything this summer.

They can do anything for the rest of their lives.

Options are sure nice to have, again.

But Steve knows he

definitely

doesn't need wishes. Not anymore. He has this, a second chance, and that's so much better.

- end -