Yeah, none of us are really winning the prize for smartest guy in the room here.
[but Billy is a little insatiable and weak, so up he gods for a kiss, and the noses over to give one to Eddie too.
there’s a wheelchair around somewhere - tucked between the bed and the bathroom. Billy grabs it, does the thing he does now which is crouch while Eddie uses him go get up and settle into it.
hospital bathrooms aren’t really made for two people, but Billy makes do. he leaves Eddie for a minute to grab any clean pair of shorts or boxers Wayne might have left, and a wash cloth and some soap. it’s all very -] If I’m not careful, you’re gonna start expecting spongebaths all the damn time.
[dejavu. he peels Eddie from his shorts, cleans him up, hands him the cloth to finish off while he peels his shoes and jeans off, then his own sodden boxers. he’s real glad he wore them in the end - except now he really does have to go commando. he folds the boxers, takes a moment to splash his face with water and then laughs, slightly manic. ] Holy fucking shit, E. Did that just happen?
Surprisingly, spongebaths are not one of the things that get me hot and bothered. [ but it is... nice aftercare, surprisingly. sweet and tender and soft in all the ways he's not used to. ]
Wouldn't have fucking believed it if the evidence wasn't fucking everywhere. [ he tilts his head back, drumming his hands against his thighs. ] ... Guess if you're dealing with monsters all the time, handling dicks must seem like the most normal thing in the world.
[ his face goes hot. Wants to dispel his discomfort with laughter, because this shit is still new and he doesn't always know how to handle someone looking at him or speaking to him like he's worthy of their attention. ]
[Eddie really is so goddamn pretty; brown eyes so dark that Billy could get lost in them, just stare and stare, counting the little flecks of light. He’s never been romantic, not even in California where he’d been a little freer, a little less tightly wound and more desperate for validation.
Maybe it’s the dying that changes you: maybe the painful non-death of being torn asunder and stitched back together new has rewired some old, jaded part of his brain into something lonelier, less resistant to accepting the way Eddie Munson makes him want to crawl somewhere inside of him so they’re one thing. Maybe it’s Steve Harrington’s blood that makes him want to give into those little fond gestures of love, like getting his hands on Eddie’s hair, or the way he’s getting used to just existing with him, soft kisses and comfortable silences.
Maybe it’s the relief of having someone like him. A little broken, a little in love with Steve Harrington because isn’t everyone?
Except - except no one else is getting to claim Steve Harrington the way they just have. No one else will ever know the raw, primal intimacy of Steve Harrington’s blood on their tongue while he ruts and moans for release. No one will ever get to see that side of Eddie either, and it makes that old, jaded part of himself thrum with mean, possessive glee.
He kisses Eddie, sweet and lingering. Finishes the clean up, wheels him back out to Steve’s dozing form and thinks Friday - Friday they can get the hell out of here and do all of this properly. ]
[ Steve is curled up on the bed, asleep. The blood loss and high of orgasm has wrung him out and his arms are folded where he lies on his side, knees gathered up. He isn't even snoring, passed out and pale where his messy hair is tossed over a pillow. ]
[ it's a beautiful sight. a reminder that things don't have to be godawful for them, that regardless of the fact that they didn't come back right - they did come back.
They got time before the nurses make their rounds. He's content to climb carefully back onto the bed (largely lifted by billy's strong hands) and settle in beside him, pulling Steve to him and inhaling the scent of stupid fancy hair. ]
[He lingers for a while, hand drifting between stroking Eddie and Steve’s hair in turn. Only a while - he pulls himself away to catch the nurse on her way, tells her Eddie’s out cold and could she give him an another hour, please? It’s enough time for him to change into shorts and basketball shirt, slip back inside and slowly rouse Steve awake.
A careful stroke against his cheek, a knuckle smoothing his hair from his forehead. He murmurs his name, a soft wake up sleeping beauty. Lets him come to at his own pace before he glances to the door.
The late afternoon light is nice. Bathes them both in orange hues that makes them look real beautiful. Billy feels that possessive pull again, like he’s part animal trying to sink his scent into their skin. Maybe he can, one day. ]
Nurses are coming soon, pretty boy. You gonna be okay to drive? Or should I call Buckley?
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no subject
Yeah. It was. Catch a nap and let us get cleaned up, man.
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[but Billy is a little insatiable and weak, so up he gods for a kiss, and the noses over to give one to Eddie too.
there’s a wheelchair around somewhere - tucked between the bed and the bathroom. Billy grabs it, does the thing he does now which is crouch while Eddie uses him go get up and settle into it.
hospital bathrooms aren’t really made for two people, but Billy makes do. he leaves Eddie for a minute to grab any clean pair of shorts or boxers Wayne might have left, and a wash cloth and some soap. it’s all very -] If I’m not careful, you’re gonna start expecting spongebaths all the damn time.
[dejavu. he peels Eddie from his shorts, cleans him up, hands him the cloth to finish off while he peels his shoes and jeans off, then his own sodden boxers. he’s real glad he wore them in the end - except now he really does have to go commando. he folds the boxers, takes a moment to splash his face with water and then laughs, slightly manic. ] Holy fucking shit, E. Did that just happen?
no subject
Wouldn't have fucking believed it if the evidence wasn't fucking everywhere. [ he tilts his head back, drumming his hands against his thighs. ] ... Guess if you're dealing with monsters all the time, handling dicks must seem like the most normal thing in the world.
no subject
[he sounds so weak. turns to drop into a crouch, look up at Eddie with those bright blue eyes in total fucking awe.]
And you, [he says, softer.] You looked real damn beautiful with him.
no subject
Had nothing on you, babe. Trust me.
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Maybe it’s the dying that changes you: maybe the painful non-death of being torn asunder and stitched back together new has rewired some old, jaded part of his brain into something lonelier, less resistant to accepting the way Eddie Munson makes him want to crawl somewhere inside of him so they’re one thing. Maybe it’s Steve Harrington’s blood that makes him want to give into those little fond gestures of love, like getting his hands on Eddie’s hair, or the way he’s getting used to just existing with him, soft kisses and comfortable silences.
Maybe it’s the relief of having someone like him. A little broken, a little in love with Steve Harrington because isn’t everyone?
Except - except no one else is getting to claim Steve Harrington the way they just have. No one else will ever know the raw, primal intimacy of Steve Harrington’s blood on their tongue while he ruts and moans for release. No one will ever get to see that side of Eddie either, and it makes that old, jaded part of himself thrum with mean, possessive glee.
He kisses Eddie, sweet and lingering. Finishes the clean up, wheels him back out to Steve’s dozing form and thinks Friday - Friday they can get the hell out of here and do all of this properly. ]
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no subject
They got time before the nurses make their rounds. He's content to climb carefully back onto the bed (largely lifted by billy's strong hands) and settle in beside him, pulling Steve to him and inhaling the scent of stupid fancy hair. ]
no subject
A careful stroke against his cheek, a knuckle smoothing his hair from his forehead. He murmurs his name, a soft wake up sleeping beauty. Lets him come to at his own pace before he glances to the door.
The late afternoon light is nice. Bathes them both in orange hues that makes them look real beautiful. Billy feels that possessive pull again, like he’s part animal trying to sink his scent into their skin. Maybe he can, one day. ]
Nurses are coming soon, pretty boy. You gonna be okay to drive? Or should I call Buckley?