Eddie always runs a little cold. His fingers, his toes. He turns a little blue outside and can shiver even through the thickest of jackets.
Enter Steve Harrington.
The Upside Down is unusually cold. Even through his layers, without that vest he offered Steve for his 'modesty', Eddie's trembling like a newborn lamb. It's a deep, stomach-clenching cold, wracking his very bones and shaking him to the very core. It's painful. It's awful.
Eddie can't imagine how cold Steve is through the small scrap of denim.
He shivers again, visibly this time. Steve notices, stopping and allowing some distance to build between them and the girls. "Dude, if you were so cold you shouldn't've given me your vest. Here." He halfway strips down, dusting off crusted blood from the inside of the jacket. "I can't promise it's not ruined, but it'll keep you warmer than fake leather."
"Harrington, I don't take charity-"
"Shut your mouth and take it. I'm a fucking heater. Feel." Steve grabs Eddie's hands, and woah.
Eddie's jaw drops, stunned into silence. His fingers burn with the heat of Steve's palms, warmth returning to them for the first time in hours. His mouth gabs closed a few times, face that of an incredulous child.
"Okay. Shit, fine. It's your funeral."
Eddie has a heart attack after Robin steps on Vecna's slime vines.
Luckily he stays conscious for almost all of it. He's only out the last five minutes until, they were later told, Murray, Hopper, and Joyce saved their asses.
They quickly decide Steve'll carry him back to the Rightside Up and the girls'll handle Vecna. It's insanely risky - cutting their team in half, with one totally unconscious and the girls seriously exhausted. But it's worth it to save Eddie in the long run, Steve reasons, so they say their goodbyes and he totes him back to real world.
Several days and scans later, Eddie's back to feeling mostly normal. The doctors find a congenital heart defect - the running and the stress of saving the world was enough for Eddie's misshapen aortic valve to give out and he needed an emergency replacement. He'll be on blood thinners for the rest of his life, and Steve's very firm on the "no more monster hunting" - but Eddie's alive, and that's all that matters.
He is, however, entirely unable to get warm after surgery.
"That fucking operating room was thirty degrees below freezing, I'm not even kidding Harrington. Thirty below! They were TRYING to kill me back there! Ice me over and send you back with a popsicle stick!" His hands are white, lips purple and flushing with the pressure of every word. "I thought this shit would get better after surgery but nooooo."
Steve stands, shucking off his varsity jacket, and throwing it directly at Eddie's face.
"What the FUCK was that for man?! Did you forget I just had open heart surgery or was that intentional?"
"Your modesty. And so you'll quit bitching, eventually." And it suits you.
Weeks later and he's back at home, largely being nursed back together by Steve. When Wayne isn't home, Steve stays the night on the couch, carefully listening for any mumbles or disturbance from Eddie. Things actually go off without a hitch, most of Eddie's problems being taken care of during the morning hours.
"I'm not up to eating today, Steve." A shiver wracks through him, and he pulls the blankets up to his chin.
"I didn't ask if, I asked what. So - am I making waffles or am I making eggs?" Another shiver, harder this time.
Steve sighs, snagging his sweater from off the couch. "How's about we get you warm before we think about breakfast, hmm? Then we can ask Wayne what he thinks when he gets home." Eddie nods, leaning into the soft material and deciding not to argue.
The rest of their day goes off without a hitch, coming to a soft close when Wayne leaves for work at sundown. The boys tuck into Eddie's bed for a movie, a rewatch of Labrynth.
It must've been a good one, because Steve wakes up the next morning in Eddie's bed.
He's hot, he's too hot, sweat dripping down his neck and onto the pillow below him. Eddie apparently hasn't noticed, because he's plastered to Steve's side and holding on for dear life.
The first thing Steve notices are Eddie's hands. They look so delicate wrapped around Steve's stomach, rings accentuating the thin digits they encompass. They're also pink. They're pink and flushed with life and warm against Steve's bare skin for the first time since he's met Eddie. Even when he held the bottle directly over Steve's throat, his hands were bitingly cold. But now, now, they were hot enough to burn.
Eddie shifts, soft noises breaking the atmosphere. He looks up, like a deer in the headlights when he makes eye contact with Steve. Before he can speak, Steve stops him.
"It's okay. You're finally warm. Go back to sleep."
So he does.
