Archive of Our Own ^beta

Eddie Munson was a lot of things.

To start he was, maybe, a little rough around the edges. He wasn't deluded about his faults or anything, he could admit it any day of the week, hell, anyone with eyes could see he was rough from the way he stumbled through life. Then, he was scrappy to a fault, knowing how to hotwire a car over a single goddamned thing about taxes or algebra felt earnably scrappy at least. He was scrappy enough to once have accepted the crusts off a complete stranger's peanut butter and jelly sandwich like it were a Sunday morning communion, the flesh of the lord wolfed down dry no better than a goose inhaling bread scraps at the park. Though, if you were ever lucky enough to hear that story, he'd let you know the real travesty of that whole exchange was someone feeling bold enough to offer the scraps off their sandwich to a stranger in the first place. Like, sure he'd said hell fucking yeah I want your scraps, gimmie, but in any other circumstance who'd be so bold to assume such a thing? What kind of grown-up goes through the trouble of making a sandwich only to pick the crusts off and think a stranger would thankfully gobble 'em up?

Okay, so he was rough and scrappy, big whoop. Eddie had good bits too, clever bits. And if he could give himself something good and for real something honest to god good, it was that he was perceptive.

In DnD you often have to do these things called perception checks. There are a ton of reasons to do them like to check for monsters, or traps or whatever else squelchy, dark threats lay in wait for you and your party. Sometimes if you had really good perception you can see those threats from a mile away, read them in the eyes of the shady bartender, save yourself and your party a lot of grief.

That was Eddie Munson, he was fucking perceptive. Rolling natural 20s any time he stepped into a room type of perceptive. Couldn’t turn it off even if he wanted to.

See, when he was little he had to learn pretty early on that he had to be perceptive if he wanted to survive. He had to be able to read the tiniest change in a face, and sense the molecular shifts in air pressure when daddy dearest walked into a room. These were always tiny things like the quiver of a lip, the yeasty smell of beer on hot breath, these things were always tiny, but noticing the little things was the difference between waking up bruised or not.

So, no, Eddie couldn't turn it off, couldn't turn off the way he noticed things before anyone else, the way he noticed everything.

Even a quick little dip into Family Video on the strip wasn't fucking simple. It just couldn't be simple because before the door even shut behind him he noticed Steve Harrington at the counter with shaky hands and wide blown-out eyes staring off into the abyss.

Harrington mustered out a squeak of a greeting, something far too choked up and soft to compete with the ding of the bell announcing Eddie’s arrival into the store.

Eddie knew what was going on before the door even shut behind him, knew from a single paltry glance at the counter. He’d already seen the way Steve was unsteady on his feet, clinging to the counter with his hands crossed over each other and clenched so tight they were paper white.

Eddie knew a panic attack when he saw one.

Eddie tried to keep focused and scampered over to the sci-fi section as quickly as he'd noticed the state Steve was in. The thing was that he couldn't imagine Steve Harrington being all too keen to let the likes of Eddie Scumbag Freak Munson The Third (It was a family name) see him at such a low point.

Eddie decided to give it some time, it seemed like the store was empty aside from the two of them and he reckoned maybe if he pretended like he was having a tough time choosing between Blade Runner and The Thing he could give Steve long enough to pull himself together for a painless exchange at the counter.

He tried not to think about it, tried not to think about the look in his eyes, the tremble of his hands.

Eddie was fucked.

Eddie gave it as long as he could afford and then picked up The Thing, spinning around on his heel to approach the counter. He kept his eyes pointed to the ground, attention hooked around his change and Uncle Wayne’s expired Family Video card sitting solid in the palm of his left hand.

When Eddie set the video on the counter in front of Steve and finally dared to look back up at him his heart sank deep into his stomach.

Steve Harrington’s lips were parted, inhaling deep fruitless gasps that he was trying to keep under control. Perhaps he was just as desperate to get through this encounter as Eddie was.

“Um.” Steve faltered, face drained almost completely of color aside from the purple bags sitting beneath hollow eyes. Now that Eddie was close he could see the trembles wracking Steve’s body, the unquenchable chill of terror.

“I just need it for a night.” Eddie tried to help him along, but he knew he couldn’t control the look of pity he was casting Steve’s way. How could one not pity him?

“Um. I um-” Steve tried again, moving his hands up as if he were going to reach for the movie to scan it, but he froze.

God, he was trying so hard to be strong, wasn't he?

Eddie leaned over, trying to gaze over Steve’s shoulder to see into the backroom, checking if there was anyone else lurking in the back of the store who could come to Steve’s aid.

There was nobody to be seen.

“Hey, you okay?” Eddie kept his voice low even though nobody else was within earshot. “Steve?”

Eddie hadn't ever really crossed paths much with Steve Harrington. It wasn't like he'd avoided the guy, just that they were two completely different people on different paths in life. Steve was a jock with friends, prospects, a bright future, and an immaculate ass (though, maybe this was the wrong time to have an internal monologue about it.) Eddie didn't ever fuck around with the basketball players, they were supposed to be mortal enemies after all weren't they?

But one look into those eyes, those big brown eyes that were sucking in all the light of the room, one single look and Eddie felt a swell of pity overwhelm any desire to leave Steve alone in such a state. Any invisible rivalry they were destined to have could be tucked away for another time.

Eddie leaned closer to the counter, hand sitting near Steve’s but not yet touching him. “Hey, you’re going to be okay.” Eddie started, “Is your friend here? That Robin girl?”

Steve inhaled an audible breath, a tiny choked-out whimper slipped through as he shook his head no.

“It’s going to be okay, are you hurt?”

Steve opened his mouth to speak and then closed it and then opened it again only able to utter out a soft, “I don’t- I don’t, um, no.” Steve swayed where he stood, eyes raising up to the ceiling for a flicker of a moment. His knees buckles beneath him and he looked mere moments away from collapsing into a heap.

Eddie didn't like the look of it.

"Steve, do you mind if I- uh-" Eddie gestured clumsily towards the back of the counter, "If I come back there?"

Steve swallowed hard and managed a hesitant nod, eyes shifting around the store like he was taking a great risk in allowing Eddie to come back there with him.

Eddie gently walked around the counter toward Steve, hand extended in front of him all the while as if to say It’s okay, everything is okay I’m not a threat.

When he reached Steve he didn't move to touch him yet, he simply allowed his presence to come into focus. Eddie knew not to take it too fast, to allow Steve to set the pace lest he get even more frighten.

“I can’t breathe.” Steve whispered through mouth fulls of fruitless gasps of breath, his chest rose and fell swiftly, fingers curled tight into fists on the counter.

“Yeah, I know it feels that way, but you have to try to slow your breathing or you’ll pass out.” Eddie pressed a hand over his own chest as if to demonstrate, every last movement he made was slow and intentional. “Like this, Steve, in-” Eddie demonstrated with a slow breath in and then held it in his lungs for a while, “-then out through your nose.”

Steve tried, but an inconsolable gasp through clenched teeth told Eddie it was too difficult. 

“Here, can I?” Eddie gestured toward Steve’s hand, asking in his own way if he could touch Steve.

Steve wasn’t himself and he nodded pleafully, shoving a tightly wound fist towards Eddie’s hand.

“When you’re getting too much oxygen your hands can ball into fists like that, like you’re a little lobster or something.” Eddie’s voice was soft, softer than anything he could afford as he took Steve’s hand in his. Gentle and slow with every inch he dared move. “You’re okay, you’re just breathing really fast and it’s making you feel worse. I know it’s hard.” Eddie kept his voice soft as he gently pressed Steve’s clenched fist to Eddie’s chest. “Try to do what I do okay? Take a deep breath in-” Eddie demonstrated again and this time Steve nodded meekly, inhaling a trembly breath.

“Hold it for a while, for as long as you can, it will be okay.” Eddie whispered, leaning closer.

Steve nodded again, eyes glazed over and distant as he heeded Eddie’s advice.

“Good job, you’re doing good. Now exhale through your nose, do it slow, okay?”

Steve followed suit, exhaling a shaky breath through his nose.

“Keep doing that, okay?”

“Fuck.” Steve whispered through his next shaky exhale of breath. “Fuck, I’m so scared.”

Eddie kept his hand tight around Steve’s and the way his fist slowly unclenched over Eddie’s chest did not go unnoticed. “I know it’s hard, I know. Nobody’s here, it’s just us, take your time.” Eddie glanced around, “You got a chair?”

Steve blinked like he were clearing the gunk from his eyes, “Uh, yeah, uh. Fuck. Um, in the back… In the back theres a chair.”

“Okay. Good. Hey, I’m gonna leave for just a second to grab you a chair to sit in okay? I’m not leaving you, I’m not anywhere, I’m still right here with you.”

Steve nodded like he understood. Eddie hoped he did.

Eddie moved quickly, scuffing his shoes along the way as he lunged for the chair in the back. He made quite the commotion in his scuttling, scraping the chair along the ground as he slid it out of the break room toward Steve. It was a musty brown metal folding chair, probably a back pain machine above any source of comfort, but it would do for now.

“Right. Sit in this, okay? You’ll be okay.”

Steve collapsed backward into the seat, falling into it like he had weights around his ankles. He looked up into Eddie with his big brown eyes, lips parted as he tried his best to keep his breathing slow like Eddie had taught him. Eddie was weak for it, weak for it over any invisible rivalry that would live between them when he left home to watch his movie.

Eddie kneeled down so he was on the same level as Steve, not moving to touch him again, but moving so that Steve knew he still had a friend, an equal.

“You have anyone I can call to come get you?”

“Um.” A bit of Steve’s color had returned, the breathing was helping. “Robin will be here in a few, I’ll be okay until then, I feel better.”

Eddie smiled, “You look better. Look,” Eddie gestured toward Steve’s newly opened palms, “no more little lobster hands. Just stay sitting for as long as you can, okay?”

Steve nodded, lowering his gaze to his feet. A thought seemed to strike him, because he looked up again in an instant, eyes wide as they captured Eddie once again. “Hey, Eddie?” Steve practically whispered, tone uncertain.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Eddie smiled at that, “I’ll stick around until Robin shows up, okay? You don’t gotta go through things alone. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

There was something about Steve, something deep within the folds of his character that felt like a secret. A gentle whisper that was there only for those who knew how to listen, a secret that Eddie had just been given a glimmer of and the gravity of that did not fall flat upon him. Steve Harrington seemed like the type of guy to offer the crusts off his sandwich to a stranger, and Eddie reckoned he was the kind of guy who would accept them without second thought.