“Ow,” Steve mutters with a hint of dramatics, his voice muffled slightly by the pillow beneath his cheek. He lies sprawled across your bed, shirtless, his muscles tense beneath your gentle touch as you kneel beside him, carefully applying ointment to the two fresh wounds just above his shoulder blades. “That stings, baby.”

“It’s going to sting, Steve. They’re still open wounds,” you reply quietly, unwrapping a clean bandage with practiced hands. With a sigh, you press it over the broken skin, feeling him flinch beneath your fingertips.

Nights like this always bring the memories flooding back, the night Steve almost died in the Upside Down. The night you, Nancy, Robin, and Eddie fought to save him from the demobats. The night you lost Eddie.

But it wasn’t just trauma or nightmares that lingered. When the demobats attacked Steve, when they sank their teeth into him, they left behind more than just scars. Their venom had mixed with his blood, infecting him in a way none of you understood. It changed him.

Now, every so often, especially under the cover of night, the transformation begins. Wings tear through the skin just above his shoulder blades. His teeth sharpen into something inhuman. And something inside him, wild and primal, takes over. Most times, he disappears into the woods, drawn by instincts he can’t control, only to be found hours later, collapsed and unconscious on your doorstep.

Last night had been no different. You had woken with a start, heart pounding, dread curling in your chest as you opened the front door to find him there again. Bloody, broken, and barely breathing.

“This fucking sucks,” Steve mutters now, breaking the heavy silence as he slowly pushes himself upright. He watches you quietly as you reach for the gauze, your hands steady as you begin to wrap it around his torso.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with all this,” he adds, his voice dropping to a whisper. His gaze falls to the floor, shame etched across his face. Tears glint in his eyes, unspoken guilt weighing heavily between you.

You don’t say anything right away. You simply keep working, your touch gentle, steady. Because no matter how many nights you have to do this, how many times he comes back torn apart, you’ll still be here to patch him up. Because he came back. And that’s what matters.