Story's on archive so you can read here (chapters)

redamancy

Eddie is half-floating on painkillers and missing Will something awful, something almost painfully awful, when Steve Harrington rolls into his room in a wheelchair.

Alarm must flood his face as soon as he processes the image because Steve waves a hand through the air before wheeling himself over to the side of Eddie's bed. "Relax, Munson. I'm just sore after physical therapy. How you been holding up since you woke up?"

"Henderson tell you?" Eddie guesses, but he feels like he already knows the answer to the question. Who else would have told Steve if not for the pup who clings to them both?

"Of course he did. Told me right after he left your room to give you and Byers some privacy. Which is, uh, something we gotta talk about later." Steve adjusts his wheelchair a couple of times until he seems satisfied with where it sets, then leans back in it, looking rougher around the edges than Eddie has maybe ever seen him. "I thought you weren't going to wake up. All that work we did to get you back to Hawkins Memorial, and maybe you'd just languish in a coma and eventually die. I was worried about you."

There is a note of concern in his scent; Eddie would have to be nose blind to miss it. "You can't get rid of me that easy. Demobats aren't enough to kill me, anyway. You knew that."

"I guess I did know that." Steve folds his hands over his stomach and lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, and Eddie notes how tired he looks. How exhausted he must be from holding things together for all of them the last year or so. "Can't be feeling good, can it? I know Byers hasn't been by today because Nancy's going fucking crazy."

"Well, I don't feel that bad. Now I kinda feel bad for feeling bad at all." Eddie spits the words out, wrinkling his nose at how repetitive they sound. Almost not like words.

The painkillers do weird things to his brain. He is simply going to have to accept that part.

Steve chuckles, his head tipping back farther, neck pressed against the backrest of the wheelchair. "Probably because it's new. She imprinted on Jonathan years ago. Said if she hadn't kept herself so busy with the paper, she'd crawl out of her own skin."

"It's good to hear you two are talking normally again." Eddie wets his lips, slightly nervous to even broach the subject; one brown eye cracks open, observing him quietly. "Uh, sorry."

"No, you're fine. I just like messing with you. Pack alpha status goes a long way toward making people squirm, and I'm bored lying around in bed most of the day." Steve stretches a hand up to rough at his shoulder, and Eddie imagines the muscles there must get sore from so little activity. His probably would be without the drugs.

Quiet hovers in the air between them for a moment, and Eddie lets it, exploring the strange twinge somewhere low in his ribs every time it really hits him that Will isn't sitting next to him right now. It would be unrealistic to keep him around all day when he isn't injured and the hospital staff need to be able to come and go freely when it comes to all their patients, but still. Eddie wishes he was here next to him again, huddled up against him under the shitty hospital blanket just so Eddie can bathe in that apple pie scent.

Doesn't stop him from selfishly wanting it right now. Doesn't stop him from wanting to hit up Nancy's for Jonathan's number or something so he can try to weasel his way into having his omega close once again. If Will feels the pull strongly enough to come to him, then he'll come. Eddie can't force him to. That isn't the kind of person that he is.

Speaking of the kind of person that he is... "I owe you an apology, Harrington. A huge one."

"Yeah?" Steve sits up a little straighter in his wheelchair, opening his eyes, and Eddie takes in the dark circles under them. How little has he been sleeping in this place, exactly?