Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 38
Part 1 Part 37
Steve keeps acting like he’s perfectly fine. Like he didn’t have part of his shoulder carved off. Like he’s not suffering through an hour of glorified torture masquerading as physical therapy every day, trying to build his muscle back up. Like the doctor hadn’t told him he might still never get back to shooting hoops and swimming laps with the precision he used to. Like his ribs aren’t still broken, and he doesn’t still have trouble standing, or wake up screaming, clutching at his throat. Like he doesn’t rub the back of his head sometimes and stare into the middle distance with lost eyes. And it’s pissing Eddie off.
Especially now, as he walks beside Wayne, pushing Steve’s wheelchair down the hall toward the elevator. This in and of itself was a feat. First, Steve had argued that he didn’t need a wheelchair, then he’d argued he didn’t need help pushing it. Eddie let Steve flounder for a few minutes, trying to make his useless arm wheel him forward, angry tears springing from his eyes before he acquiesces.
The latest rub is the worst: Steve wants to go home. As if Eddie doesn’t remember the look on Steve’s face when he said he wanted to go to Eddie’s trailer. As if Eddie doesn’t remember the way Steve’s voice broke when he called the trailer home.
“The doctor said somebody needs to keep an eye on ya,” Wayne says reasonably. “Either we do it, or you can stay with Joyce. She offered to put you up.”
Steve scoffs. “My parents—”
“Aren’t home!” Eddie snaps, pushing Steve into the elevator and pushing the down button on the elevator with enough force that his finger hurts.
Steve sits up straighter in his chair, reading for a fight. Wayne doesn’t let him. “If you’re staying at that house, then so are we,” he says, implacable. “Until your parents are there to watch you.” Left unsaid, is that no one had heard from them. That Steve hadn’t asked about them at all.
Steve slumps down in a position that must be hell on his cracked ribs, sighing. “Fine,” he says, like it hurts. “I’ll stay in the trailer.”
It feels like a knife twist. Eddie wants to shake Steve and remind him he’d called it home.
It’s quick after that. Steve signs himself out at the front desk, tucking the physical therapy schedule they’d made for him into the pocket of the sweatpants Wayne had scavenged from Eddie’s drawers for Steve to wear home.
Wayne and Eddie work together to help lever Steve into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. Wayne slides into the driver’s seat without asking, so Eddie grumbles his way into the back.
Steve’s quiet when Wayne pulls up front, quiet while they help him in, quiet when he’s settled onto the couch.
He’s looking around his surroundings just like he had the first time – like he’s amazed people live like this. That first time, he’d wanted to snarl, make sure Harrington knew that there was nothing wrong with this life he’d created with his Uncle. Now, he just thinks of Steve’s empty house, the hospital’s unanswered phone calls to his parents, and feels unbearably sad.
Wayne puts on a basketball game that Eddie doesn’t even complain about, and settles himself at Steve’s side.
Steve falls asleep halfway through the game, head falling on Eddie’s shoulder, warm puffs of air hitting the bare skin of his neck.
Wayne huffs, and Eddie looks up at him, already glaring defensively. “What?” he demands, quiet enough not to disturb Steve.
Wayne raises his hands placatingly, even as he smiles smugly over at Eddie. “I didn’t say anything.”
They all sleep in the living room that night. It’s cozy and warm, especially after Wayne drapes a blanket over them both.
It should feel weird, settling this closely to Steve, now that they’re not depending on each other to survive. Now that they’re back in the real world. But Eddie feels like he’ll fall apart if Steve’s not in sight, so maybe he’s not out of the woods after all.
It's peaceful.
It stays peaceful until the next day when it’s time for Steve’s physical therapy appointment.
“I can take myself,” he says. “I have a car.”
He’s not meeting Eddie’s eyes. Eddie takes a few deep breaths. He knows snapping won’t help anything, but he wants to smack Steve until this is easier. He just— he doesn’t get this. Can’t figure out what the problem is.
“It would take just as long to drive you to your car as it would to just drive you,” Eddie says, cleaning up their half-assed breakfast of toast a cereal off the table. He doesn’t look back at Steve, wants to play this cool and nonchalant, and he just knows one look at the obstinate tilt of Steve’s chin will send him swinging.
“I can walk,” he says, even though he really really can’t.
Eddie slams a dish into the sink. He’s almost surprised the bowl doesn’t shatter upon impact. He scrubs it, back to where Steve is stewing in silence.
He needs to figure this out. Why Steve is being so difficult, about staying here, about Eddie feeding him and driving him. He does the hardest thing he can think of, and asks, “why don’t you want me to take you to your appointment?”
He doesn’t turn around, just keeps scrubbing the dishes like this is a casual conversation over breakfast. Because it should be.
The silence drags him down, lasts long enough that Eddie doesn’t think Steve will answer at all.
“You shouldn’t have to,” Steve says.
Eddie thinks back – big house no parents – and wonders how long it’s been since someone did something for Steve without strings. He turns around, settles back into his seat and stares at Steve until he raises his eyes from the table.
Choosing his words carefully, he says, “I want to go with you,” Eddie says. “You saved my life—"
“But—” Eddie holds up a hand, and Steve stops, brows furrowed.
“You saved my life,” he repeats, meeting Steve’s eyes. “I’m gonna help you whether you like it or not.”
It’s not quite the whole truth, but Eddie’s not sure how to touch the way it feels like worms are writhing in his stomach when Steve’s out of his sight. How his shoulders only really relax when he knows exactly where Steve and Will both are.
Eddie bites his tongue on the too much of it all.
“Fine,” Steve says, still sullen, but he lets Eddie lead him to the van and drive him to his appointment.
It looks painful. Eddie holds his crossed ankles, to stop himself from leaping up and wrenching Steve away from the doctor’s ministrations.
By the end, Steve looks like he just got done with a basketball game, sweat dripping down his forehead, pits stained. If Eddie squints, he can almost see the uncomplicated jock of days past as they limp out of the hospital.
“You wanna go see Baby Byers?” Eddie asks.
“Please,” Steve says, slumping into the passenger seat like the princess he is.
Eddie drives, turning his music up loud enough to rattle their teeth just to see Steve smile.
Part 39
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