Let's Burn Down Our Hometown

10. Old Man Bill's Farmhouse

tw: use of the word 'faggot' in a derogatory manner

Eddie rarely woke alone. At least not since he began sharing a sleeping bag with Steve. 

Normally Eddie would wake to Steve asleep right beside him. Everything from their shoulders to their hips, to their feet, touching or tangled. Steve's arm either slung across his waist or slotted between Eddie's cheek and the pillow. Almost always Eddie's hand was either buried in Steve's sweater, where he would have a handful of the cotton or slipped underneath. His palm would be cool against Steve's nearly always warm skin.

Steve would normally be snoring. Just on the cusp of being too loud, but Eddie neverminded. The soft reminder of Steve living and breathing was enough for Eddie to push any annoyance away. Besides, Eddie was sure he snored too.

But today there was a foot pressed right up against his stomach, a furry form stretched against his side, and a rather bony leg thrown across his shins. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. Completely opposite of what it felt like to wake up in Steve's arms. 

Eddie peeled his eyes open slowly, spotting the first signs of dawn breaking through the cracks in the boards nailed across the windows. It was barely pushing seven in the morning if Eddie had to guess. 

He turned, just a slight twist of his neck, to find Dustin sprawled on his back beside him. Limbs going every which way and snoring, loudly. His foot was wedged up against Eddie's stomach, somehow beneath the sleeping bag, with his heel pressing hard. Nearly stealing the breath right out of Eddie's lungs, which he was sure was the reason he woke in the first place. 

Another turn and Eddie found the rumored Henderson-beloved cat sleeping against his side.

 Eddie had thought for certain he'd never meet the animal, as it normally spent the long hours of the day roaming around the basement. Or sprawled up on Argyle's shoulders with complete nonchalance. Completely content with being carted around by the long-haired man.

With another twist of his neck, Eddie found Steve. 

He was sat on the middle cushion of the couch with Robin's good leg beneath him that he had pinned down with his own long legs, and her stub propped up in his lap. His fingers worked what Eddie assumed to be a knot of muscle beneath her scarred skin. A steady rhythm of back-and-forth flexing with his fingers.

Eddie was immediately jealous of Robin. But he remained to lie there, watching them in the gentle light, and let himself bask in the private moment of the two friends. 

Robin was talking, or rather whispering, hands going every which way as she explained whatever it was that ran rampant through Robin Buckley's mind at any odd hour of the day. Whatever it was had Steve slightly amused, lips quirked and fingers working. A slant of the dawn light cut across his face, turning half his hair a shade of gold. 

Eddie watched him, allowing himself the moment to imprint this version of Steve in his mind until the bony leg strung across his shin shifted. His own bony leg twitched with the movement, shying away from the gentle pain. So very different than Steve's legs, which were always warm, and soft.

Eddie glanced down to find Mike sleeping there, sprawled similarly to Dustin, but rather than a starfish form he was elongated. Limbs stretched up and down, with Will pressed along his side, though he was curled up tightly. His own chain was tucked into his own chest. The two were crammed in the space between the sleeping bag and the mattress that held the Sinclair siblings.

Eddie let his eyes roll up to the ceiling and allowed a soft, long breath of air out of his lungs. He and Steve had been overridden by the needy tendencies of the nerdy little friend group they both undoubtedly adored.