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

redamancy

The cabin in the woods is far grimmer in mood than Eddie expects it to be.

He pulls himself out of the BMW not without a lot of wincing and a bitten-back groan, swallowing past the pain threatening to envelope every part of him and discourage him from taking another step. Despite the doctor assuring him that he's cleared to come back home, Eddie feels like shit. Bound to happen with the decrease of painkillers in his system and forcing his body to move rather than to lie in a bed most of the day.

Steve shuts the driver's side door more firmly than Eddie expects him to, and Eddie cuts him a look with a frown. "What? You didn't have to come pick me up-"

"What?" Steve frowns at him, brows furrowing together as he pulls the zipper up on the front of his bomber jacket. It is getting chillier, Eddie thinks; winter is on the way. "I told you I didn't care to come get you, Munson. What is it you're on about this time?"

Like hell he's reading Steve wrong. The two of them have known each other barely at all, but Eddie can tell something is wrong. "You're pissed about something. What's up?"

"Oh." Steve studies the cabin in front of them for a moment, the haphazardly parked cars in front of it, the light and the promise of warmth coming through the windows. To Eddie, it seems like someone might have done a patch job on the place, but how can he be sure? "Yeah, uh. Let's get inside. It's supposed to start snowing any minute now."

That isn't an answer; Eddie doesn't argue. He follows Steve up to the front porch and through the front door, relishing the warmth that billows into his face as he shrugs out of his leather jacket and the vest beneath. Half of the faces in the living room are familiar to him, and the other half alien, and it occurs to Eddie that he just willingly waltzed into someone's house without even bothering to knock. Well, Steve did, but still.

Shit. He doesn't even know the Byers, not really. Listening to Dustin rave on and on about someone named Will does not constitute knowing these people, and he looks like shit. Hell of a way to make a first impression that's going to do lasting damage to his image here.

Dustin still shoots off of the couch almost faster than Eddie can track with his eyes, and he bites back a curse when Dustin throws his arms tight around Eddie's waist. "You're here! I didn't think you'd ever get out of that hospital. How are you feeling, Eddie?"

Shrugging off the crushing pain in his ribcage, Eddie ruffles Dustin's flyaway curls and favors his favorite pup with the warmest, brightest smile he can muster. "Feeling better now that I'm not stuck in that fucking bed all day. No amount of cute omega nurses walking the halls could ever make that shit bearable." And there had been plenty, but most of them were too busy, and Eddie was in too much pain to do anything about it.

On a better day, he might have flirted at the very least. But being half-wrapped in bandages and aching every time he breathed made the idea of talking unattractive.

Dustin half-pulls him over to the empty spot on the couch next to Dustin's own, and Eddie sits down as carefully as he can. There are stitches holding various wounds on his body shut, and he does not want to risk ripping any of them open. That would mean a trip back to the hospital and another night in those cold, sterile white walls. No thank you.

"Where are Jonathan and Argyle?" Steve takes a seat on the coffee table, elbows resting on his knees, his mouth set into a grim line that makes Eddie slightly anxious.

A gentle elbow in the side that does not cause pain to flare all over his body reminds him to calm himself, and Eddie takes a few deep breaths as Dustin answers. "Combing the woods again. I know that Will's not out there, but Jonathan won't listen to reason."