[ eddie's not really sleeping by the time the door opens, drawn back to reality but the sounds of the storm and then footsteps. he's not a light sleep normally, he's not, but nights like this bring forth nightmares and the sort of anxiety that would otherwise have him playing his holy diver cassette as low as possible to not wake the neighbors and get him and steve kicked out while also being comforting enough.
it's a delicate balance, an art form really.
the thing about eddie's nightmares is normally they start out really realistic; with him in bed like this, sometimes with someone creeping into his room or into steve's room when he's crashing there. sometimes it's vecna, sometimes it's the bats moving in slowly and quietly until they're on him and steve. it's fucked up.
eddie's not sure what it is now so he stays still, waits. nothing shitty happens and instead he hears footsteps that don't fill him with dread. instead the bed dips and it's not a clawed hand reaching for him. eddie almost turns, but then steve's arms snake around his torso and hold on tight over eddie's ratty t-shirt. ] Steve? [ he asks softly, whispers his name though he know it's steve and can't be anyone else as he slides his hands over steve's arms until his palms cover the back of his palms. it feels natural to do it, comforting and grounding that's more than it should be given what they are in name.
it's the sensation of steve hiding against his shoulder that has him worried, the way he can almost feel steve trembling behind him. or maybe that's eddie, suddenly alert but able to take a deep breath and walk himself back from the edge as thunder strikes overhead. he doesn't jerk like he would otherwise. he swallows, pushes the edges of sleep from his voice. steve's hold makes it pretty much impossible to twist around so eddie threads his fingers through steve's, squeezes his hands in an attempt to anchor him in place until he has room to turn and wrap his arms around steve in return.
steve's so good at comforting him when he has nightmares but so shit at letting eddie to anything for him in return at any point, too stubborn even in moments like this. eddie has to push. ] 'm here. Sorry.
I didn't want to wake you up sneaking in late. [ as if to explain why he wasn't there when steve woke up, when whatever it was pulled him from sleep dragged him out into the height of the storm rattling their apartment building. nightmares, he guesses, because they both have them and it's the only time steve holds on as desperately as this, when he curls into himself and sometimes eddie like he can't fathom letting go. ]
( it's beautiful and terrible; the sound of Eddie's voice. Steve breathes a painful sound of relief, like someone finally eased up on the pressure viced around his chest. who knows why — Vecna could surely make Eddie talk, if this was more than just a nightmare. it doesn't mean anything and means everything all at once, because Steve is desperate for a scrap of proof what he saw isn't real. Eddie managing to blearily mumble his name and spread palms down his arms is real, can replace the horrific images splashed across his thoughts like blood.
and it's terrible, too, because it's an objective failure at not dragging Eddie into the depths of his bullshit along with him. Steve grimaces, teary eyes forcibly screwed shut against the fabric of Eddie's shirt. so much for not worrying him — though, after all they've both been through, how sneaking into his bed unannounced wasn't gonna wake him, was definitely not thought out. it was always going to, and it feels bad. Eddie shouldn't have to deal with this, shouldn't feel guilty for sleeping in his own bed. Steve should be handling it and he's not and that shouldn't be somebody else's problem.
just turns out, knowing he should be handling the adrenaline soaked horror of a night terror is easier said than done. Steve is usually good at sequestering memories and reactions to neat little mental boxes. trying to tuck how he feels into appropriate, manageable pieces. he's so out of his element, here, raw from a dream of Eddie gone and unresponsive, getting there just a little too late and destroying two different lives in the process. and on top of that, the reality losing Eddie, even for a moment, in a nightmare, has the power to entirely unravel him. Steve doesn't know what to do with that kind of oppressive sort of feeling. it almost feels like he messed something up, caring this much. he doesn't want to ruin things and this, this is asking for too much. needing too much.
he should answer. Eddie is trying to reassure him, without even being able to look at his face. Steve feels worse for no good reason, he doesn't even know why. he tries to pull together a coherent thought, something that resembles a sentence. talk down why he's being so weird and assure Eddie he can be late, it's not a big deal! he doesn't need to be sorry, the over emotional oaf that got carried away with a bad dream, is the one who should be sorry.
Steve doesn't end up managing anything that concise. ) Sorry. Sorry. ( he repeats, hopelessly, not even sure what he's apologizing for, specifically. maybe all of it at once. waking Eddie up, making him feel guilty. the fact Steve isn't strong enough to keep it together. needing to know Eddie was fine so badly Steve startled ruined both of their sleep, instead of just the one. still not being collected and together when Steve's got so much more time and exposure to all this, so shouldn't it be easier? shouldn't he be past this?
it feels selfish to need comfort as badly as he does. constricting, too much, smothering even. Steve forces himself to relax his grip, so Eddie can twist out of it if he wants. even if that's dangerous, too, because letting Eddie look at him will just show exactly how not right Steve really is. maybe he won't — sometimes it's easier, not to look this sort of thing in the eye. Steve wouldn't blame him for it, in fact it would almost be a relief if Eddie just shook it off and went back to sleep. in fact, Steve can't help himself. ) You can go back to sleep. ( nothing to see here, nothing to worry about. he's already gotten more than should have needed, proof that Eddie is okay. tired, using that half asleep voice that is usually so endearing. Steve shouldn't ask for anything else. he'll calm down on his own eventually. a lot faster, now, with Eddie so close. )
's okay. [ really, it's more than okay. eddie's woken steve up with poorly muffled whimpering before, he knows that. his own nightmares have him pulling away when they do share a bed, curling into himself to try hide underneath the blankets as if that's a safer spot than with steve's arms around him. they both don't want to bother the other, to cross lines when it's comfort they both seek. eddie's better about giving in, he thinks. at least when consciousness fully claims him.
still, who is he to judge or get mad for steve waking him when he was barely asleep? when he's done the same more times than he can count? ]
Uh huh. [ even if he were able to fall back to sleep, which eddie is pretty sure he can't at this point, he wouldn't. not with the way steve's forcing words up his throat, the way eddie can now feel him still pressing his face into his shoulder and he swears there's a wetness there soaking into the thin fabric of his shirt.
steve's vice like grip loosens from around him and eddie doesn't move away, instead rolls over until they're chest to chest, or rather steve can press his face into eddie's chest instead of his shoulder as he wraps his arms around him. one of his arms snakes between steve's chest and the mattress, the other drapes around his shoulders so eddie can press his palm between his shoulder blades and brush his thumb over steve's back in gentle sweeps.
he can see that steve's not fine, that he's far from okay even with only the light from a flickering street lamp and the flashes of lightening making anything visible in eddie's small room. he watches steve carefully, brows creased and heart aching because he wants to wipe away that fear dancing in his eyes.
eddie takes a deep breath, vaguely remembers his mother holding him and trying to get him to match her breathing when a panic attack had dug it's claws into him a as a child. it works now as an adult too, when he's not alone to deal with them. he knows it helps in general to sync your breathing to another person's, that it's some instinctual thing he read about once and retained though he's not sure where. definitely not in school. or maybe he didn't read it at all and it's another memory from a life before living with his uncle. ] Hey. Try to breathe with me?
You're okay. We're okay. [ totally safe from whatever it is that has steve seeking him out, crawling into his bed and holding on so tight. ]
( he's never been a big crier. like crying is just something he could opt out of. no, no, that's too much emotion for me. no thanks. I'm good. it's not that Steve never cries, it's just that he very intentionally avoids crying in front of other people. if it happens where no one can see, is it like a tree falling in the woods? slumped to the bottom of a shower with useless tears burning at your eyes, locked in an empty car in a dark lot — maybe those don't count as really crying. if so, Steve hasn't cried in a long, long time. not since he was a kid, his father explaining he'd be away over Christmas. it'd hardly been the first thing his dad had to miss, so it probably didn't deserve the waterworks. When are you gonna be a goddamn man? his father had asked him, disappointment paired with anger, which was uncomfortably new.
so crying now, over something assuredly imaginary, just feels so stupid. at least when he'd rushed out of Tina's party, the last time he'd been close to tears — there was something there, to be upset about. getting choked up about a nightmare is bad enough, but Steve is pretty sure the tears are relief, which somehow feels worse. breathing is hard but it felt functionally impossible when his head was convinced Eddie was gone. gone like Barb, gone like Max. gone and all the things they were or could have been gone too, just like that.
so, he's not fine. it's even more obvious, even in limited light, when Eddie turns to face him. stain of tears, the frozen grip of panic that should be gone, already, and isn't. the sort of disarming, disorienting useless panic that doesn't help, only hurt. the sort of stuff Steve can't afford to feel, because freezing up like this just gets people hurt. he can't stop it, though, a wall of emotion hitting him like a ton of bricks. if he could just stop, he would. he just can't.
there's some stiff resistance left, when Eddie turns around to snake closer. some last vestige of thinking he should handle it, or turn away and deal with it himself. be a man, whatever the fuck his father even meant by that one. the look on Eddie's face stops him, though, the raw expression of desperation. hurting because someone else is. having someone pull away from that doesn't feel better, Steve knows it for a fact. because he's had it happen to him, and it just hurts worse to know someone is off on their own and choosing to hold onto the poison alone.
Steve folds forward, forehead pressed against Eddie's chest and arms winding back around Eddie's sides, not half as tight a vice but somehow still a little desperate. his breaths are still ugly, cut short and not deep enough, though his heartbeat starts to lull at the familiar smell of Eddie's shirt, the heat of his skin. )
Okay, ( Steve says, and even rasping out the one word feels hard. he isn't sure if he's responding to the idea he should breathe or that they're okay. both and neither. really, he just wanted to say something, like that might be some kind of relief. Steve closes his eyes and tries to focus on Eddie's breath, curled so close to his ear. the rub of his fingers on his shoulders, the thrum of his heartbeat a little too fast. Steve is honestly a little unused to being hugged and held and consoled like this, it should feel more strange and awkward than it does. and yet it doesn't, even as the pressure in his chest starts to lessen, the arms around him just seem to center him. anchor him in a memory he'd rather be in, than the ugly ones made up in his dreams. his body relaxing slowly, incrementally, like some part of his brain isn't entirely convinced this isn't some trick. )
[ eddie doesn't really expect steve to answer, not when he's in tears and shaking with the force of it. he wants to know what the nightmare was, what made steve of all people so terrified that the only place he could find comfort is here with eddie. maybe it's a little messed up that a part of him is so goddamn happy that he can do this for the other too. that eddie's not the only one taking here, taking and taking and taking like he always does.
he slides his hand from steve's back up into his hair, glad he remembered to take off his rings for once as he slides his fingers through soft strands at his nape. it's some sort of witchcraft, whatever steve does to it to keep it so soft when it's styled. or maybe it's that farrah hairspray he's found in steve's room and not in the small bathroom that they share between them. but that really doesn't matter as much as eddie remembers steve told him this little secret, not quite a silmaril's type treasure but a near thing.
eddie tries to curl himself around steve in his embrace, wiggles a little until their legs are intertwined just so there's a bit more skin touching between them. the storm is rumbling up above but in the moment the world really narrows down on this bed, on the way each sharp and rasping inhale on steve's part sends thin ice through the veins of eddie's hammering heart.
he needs to calm down too, he knows, because that's helping neither of them. steve will worry too and this isn't about eddie needing comfort. he's not letting steve turn the tides this time, not at his own expense. so he strokes his fingers through his hair, starts to hum a tune that might be more journey's arms wide open than the sort of thing he sings when he's doing chores around the house or up late at night. something steve might recognize better or not at all in this state but this time eddie wouldn't dream of flashing a mischievous grin and teasing him for it. ]
( honestly, half the battle is trying to convince himself that he doesn't have to feel bad for needing this. it's not as if he's judged Eddie for being... not okay. after everything. after what he saw with Chrissy. how close a call things were before they found him, after the big battle. Steve has never thought anything of when Robin needs to sob until her voice is entirely gone, besides glad he can be what she needs eve if it results in a salty stain on the neat stripes of his shirt. how sometimes Nancy just needed him to hold her, couldn't talk and wouldn't talk but needed his arms around tight enough it had to be almost a little painful. it's entirely reasonable, for everyone else. Steve is in his own way, insisting that he has to be fine. desperately wanting to be isn't exactly enough to be okay. no matter how good he's gotten at pushing it all back.
and of course, trying to will it to be over faster, just makes things worse. being frustrated that he can't make how he feels go away just makes it harder to breath, harder to focus, harder to think. it all seems to keep spiraling away from him, and that doesn't seem fair. why is he still losing it? Eddie's fine, he's fine, he's right here — it's stupid to be upset, still. crying and over emotional about something that didn't even happen. no matter how vividly his mind can paint the picture.
it isn't until Steve lets himself focus on the press of Eddie's fingertips, the steady strokes through his hair, that he finally relents. Steve did tell him that playing with his hair was a good way to calm him down. it's strange to have evidence that Eddie cared enough to remember outside of trying to convince him to sit still amid a feral goblin high. Steve lets his hands roam, trying to find some place to find purchase, and not knowing exactly where would make him feel better. eventually they just knot in the raggy fabric of Eddie's shirt, pressed by his spine at the small of his back. like he's afraid what might happen if he lets go.
it's slow. his breaths getting a little deeper, less ragged. he's not exactly calm, but the choked noises from trying not to let the tears get any worse start to fade. his voice is still a little traitorously broken when he finds words, delivered stilted and unsure. ) If this were a dream, you'd tell me. Right? ( the question hardly even makes sense, and Steve doesn't have it in him to be cognizant of why. in his head, it makes complete sense. not even dream Eddie would want him to feel like this — dream Eddie wouldn't pretend to be fine, if he really wasn't. right? Steve isn't ready to look Eddie in the eye, head still crushed against his chest, but he sounds like he feels. desperate and hopeful all at once. )
I've got you, Steve. [ eddie tilts his head down, mumbles the words pretty much into steve's hair he continues to comb through it. his touch is gentle, firm but more intended as a reassuring presence in the moment. he keep humming softly, feels himself relax a little when steve's hands slide down and settle against his the small of his back.
steve's holding on still and eddie doesn't mind. he wishes he knew what to do here, how to better help. how to help at all.
he's not expecting steve to speak at all, to do more than hold on tight and try to ride out the storm when the words breath through. oh. oh shit. eddie's not sure to do with that question because logically, if it were a dream that vecna had concocted, he'd say he was fine and then probably break into some sort of cruelty about all the things steve's insecure about. eddie knows those from the moments when they'd just talk after they smoked, on the nights they didn't fuck around or maybe even after. those glimpses were rare, sure, but eddie sees them.
and steve's not a closed book when someone's looking, when someone wants to look. eddie does. he looks all the damn time; so much he's not sure how steve doesn't notice that he's constantly staring, feels like a planet stuck in the sun's orbit. he swallows, nods and presses his lips to the top of steve's head. ] Yeah, babe. Yeah. Of course, I'd tell you. [ he's been using babe a lot when they have sex and lately it's been slipping out when they're not too, like it's the most natural thing. ] I'd tell you if you were off in Vecna's weird Upside Down Mordor, but you're back home in the Shire with me. In our little hobbithole of an apartment where the boiler working is kind of hit or miss.
[ he presses another kiss to the top of steve's head, slides arm under steve's side a bit lower so he can slip his hand under his shirt and touch warm skin, palm flat over birthmarks he's pressed his lips to before. ] Whatever it was before. That was the nightmare.
( yeah, if this were a Vecna dream, dream Eddie would totally insist it was normal and pick the world's worst moment to show that it wasn't. probably after he pointed out how Steve wasn't fast enough to save anybody. not Max, not him, maybe Dustin is next — he'd peel back and the Eddie that is healed over and mostly whole will be the Eddie he found after the fight. bleeding and barely conscious and still mumbling about how he didn't run. rheumy gray eyes and a scary smile as he insists the wrong people died, didn't they, Steve? you're still here and they're not and they had so much more to offer than you.
Steve lets his head lolls slightly back, balanced on Eddie's arm instead of a pillow. there's no hiding the tearstains, in the limited security light glaring through the blinds. Steve doesn't have it in him to pretend they didn't happen. he manages a huff of a laugh at the mention of the boiler. god, they're gonna goddamn freeze this winter if the landlord doesn't do something about it, and as of yet, no progress on the repair front. it's weirdly grounding, the mundanity of their questionable boiler. Eddie's fingers over the sealed over scars on his sides help too. )
Just a nightmare, ( Steve agrees, tone still a little jagged and blurry, though more collected than it has been since he crawled into bed. his hand sneaks under Eddie's shirt, to the knots and spots and ugly bumps of scar tissue healing on his sides. it's fucked up, probably, to find those comforting. but it's proof Eddie is here, healing, better every day. still with him, unlike what his subconscious likes to taunt him with. Steve takes an overbearingly large breath, like he's trying to catch up on two dozen short ones. he just barely bites back another apology. third time isn't the charm, it's stupid. if Eddie didn't want him here, he'd have shrugged him off already. or at least shown discomfort in trying to calm him down, instead of winding him close, picking around words to find the right thing to say to chase back the panic. )
Can I sleep in here? ( Steve asks instead, because while he could awkwardly toddle off to his own corner... he really, really, really doesn't want to. if he's got any chance of sleeping at all, it'll be here. with his heartbeat lulling back towards a normal tempo, it is hard to deny he feels safer like this. which is stupid, there is a psychic murderer in an alternate dimension that can hop into their mind without warning to murder either of them, there is no safe.
safer than on his own, though... that's fair, right? )
[ seeing steve's face like that, eddie's not sure how he's supposed to stop himself from reaching up to wipe the tears from his cheek. the one not pressed into his arm, pillowed on it as they lay already pressed close in his bed that somehow doesn't feel like his own. he sleeps so much better in steve's, in the bed that smells like them somehow even though steve changes the bedding so goddamn often.
so he doesn't stop himself. he's not so strong that he can deny his impulses and steve's so close, still searching for comfort. instead eddie reaches up, cups steve's cheek and brushes the tears still linger across his cheekbone away.
the laugh is practically music to his ears, earns a smile from eddie that might be too much of a grin for this stormy night where nightmares have poisoned steve's dreams. ]
Yeah, just a nightmare. You're stuck with me still in the land of the living. Doomed to deal with my cold feet. [ and maybe that's making light of it, when he knows steve doesn't feel stuck with him at all from all the times he's said it but eddie's trying to not say anything that could sound too close to vecna's lies. vecna probably doesn't know that eddie's hands and feet run colder now after the upside down, that his circulation isn't as great because of some inopportune bites that will probably leave him frustrated if his hands seize up in the winter when he's trying to spend an evening with his guitar. vecna certainly doesn't know that eddie relishes that steve runs warm, that he wants to tuck his hands against his skin all the time and soak up that heat like a cat snoozing against it's own personal radiator.
he brushes his thumb over steve's cheekbone again before pulling his hand back, sliding it down over steve's arm and then sneaking it back under his shirt to rest against the small of his back. it's allowed right now, this touch, when they haven't lead up to it with sloppy and eager kisses. ]
Yeah, of course. You can sleep here. [ any other night too, eddie thinks. though he knows steve prefers the tidiness of his own bedroom than what's become eddie's dungeon of figurines, d&d books and the books he keeps in his room because steve's so tired of book piles already. ] Anytime. You don't have to ask, Steve.
( that smile would have a sinister amount of teeth if Steve were not already so accustomed to it. it's a Munson special, a smile that seems to show every last one of his teeth. sharper canines and all. it's intense, a little too much, probably shouldn't be as charming as it is. that smile feels like a detail too small, too important. Vecna wouldn't be able to capture it because all he sees is the ugly worst parts of people. Eddie's feral goblin smile when he's at his most genuine, just doesn't feel like something Vecna could replicate. maybe that's stupid, grasping at straws that don't make sense. the smile is a relief anyway. )
Great, ( Steve says, and in a better situation he could hit a sarcastic tone there, which is appropriate for threats of icy feet and Eddie's frankly evil tendency to play footsie with them. instead it just sounds watery and hopeful, because yeah, he's dreamed about the alternative so that's a doom he's desperate for. Steve doesn't want to think about how much Eddie's presence and jokes and mess and weird habits mean to him, how empty his life would feel without them. how quickly Eddie Munson had taken residence in what matters to him. too much, it's all too much, too much for a guy that never asked for any of this. but it is also too late to throw the brakes on now. Steve isn't sure he wants to stop, anyway, even with the nightmare.
it feels exposing, Eddie thumbing at the foolish tear tracks running down his face. Steve is too exhausted all over again to overthink crying in front of him, though, mostly he's a little lost in a touch that is so tender and unbelievably lacking in judgment. Steve is pretty sure even Dustin, one of the people he adores most in the world, would give him shit for crying. and instead Eddie is wiping it away like even after seeing the obvious weakness, there's something here worth caring about. it is a lot for Steve's exhausted, still panic tinged mind to handle right now. )
Just tonight, ( Steve mutters, eventually, which may seem like he's dismissing the idea that sharing a bed is an acceptable anytime situation. he's not, in fact that idea is perfectly reasonable to him. now more than ever, all of a sudden. it's more their location that is intended to be a just tonight thing. he's unwilling to get up to go to the room that is at this point more familiar for both of them. exhaustion is starting to hit again like a ton of bricks, with the fear and panic responses starting to flag. usually after a nightmare, Steve has no chance of falling asleep again. not any time soon, anyway. tonight is apparently a rare exception, because he's already feeling the heaviness of his eyes. with Eddie safe and next to him, wound around him, practically, it is hard to try and push back the idea of sleep. )
[ another day, or during the day, eddie may have made a joke and teased steve for the lack of enthusiasm that comes with that 'great.' in the moment, he can appreciate that it sounds hopeful and a little less broken than the breaths that he'd tried to pull into his lungs, that eddie had felt him struggle through as he'd stroked his fingers down his back and played with the long strands of hair at his nape. ]
Lucky you. [ he mumbles instead, leaning down to press his lips against steve's forehead again. eddie's the one that feels lucky to be able to do this, to have someone that he knows would do it in return. maybe steve would be more hung up on the proximity and affection in a different moment, he thinks, but there's never been any judgement when eddie's needed it himself after a panic attack or a nightmare.
and steve's seeking comfort so eddie feels less inclined to hold back, to reel himself in like he does with the impulses he has. not the ones to drape himself over steve when he's cooking or press into his space at any given moment, to join him in bed and drape himself over the steve like a blanket while reading, but the ones to kiss and touch when there's no afterglow to mask the tenderness.
the answer steve gives makes him swallow and eddie knows, knew, he was being too greedy when he'd mentioned it. that all the time, no matter what, was too far but he'll take tonight if that's allowed. ] Okay, just tonight. [ steve's breathing is evening out slowly, eddie can tell with the way they're tangled, so he starts to hum once again and if it's a song by wham! then, well, steve's on the edge of sleep and eddie's going to claim ignorance later.
it's not long before he hears the soft sounds of steve's snoring; it's really too cute, eddie thinks. he sounds like a baby truffle pig, making those sounds with his face pressed to eddie's chest. it shouldn't be endearing but it really is.
eddie doesn't fall back to sleep for a while but the sound of rain and steve's breathing, steady and sound, eventually pull him away from consciousness. the thunder lasts through the night, a steady sound, and in the morning eddie's pulled back from sleep by rain against the window. the curtain is open enough to have some light from the grey world outside pouring in at the wrong angle. it hits his face, makes him let out a low hiss like he really is a creature of the night.
they've moved in their sleep, deeper into the bed. eddie has his arms around steve, who's using him as a body pillow. it would be uncomfortable if he weren't used to it. steve's still asleep, he thinks, breathing evenly but not snuffling or snoring like he's on the edge of wakefulness. eddie takes a moment to take the sight of him in, lit up by the dim light and at ease in eddie munson's arms of all places. that's a sight to see, one eddie was sure he'd never get with anyone much less steve of all people. he sneaks in one more kiss, lets his greedy heart have that.
he's quiet, sure, barely whispers into steve's hair and drawls out the words. ] What I would give to have this every morning. See you first thing, as long as you'd have me.
[ he's sure that steve's still asleep when he pulls back, rests his head back against the pillow. he untangles his arm from around steve's waist, lifts it to rub a hand down his face. he keeps his hand on his face, covers his eyes and then mumbles to himself this time. ] Jesus, Munson, you've got it bad.
( Steve isn't a heavy sleeper. used to be, back in the before times. he'd have to set half a dozen alarms to be sure he'd get to practice on time, that he wouldn't miss class. not so much these days, because he just doesn't sleep particularly well at all, anymore. even asleep, movement and noise could mean anything. and his body is determined that he be awake to figure out what it means, exactly, or else.
it's a little better, lately. he doesn't go from dead asleep to bolting awake most nights. though, notably, mostly it seems he sleeps better when he shares a bed with Eddie. maybe his brain can buy that things are normal, that they're safe, if it can't run away with the easy fear of isolation. who knows.
so, Eddie waking and cringing at the existence of muted rainy day sunshine, and shifting a little next to him, doesn't wake Steve up. or, at least, not completely. it is enough to open up a blurry awareness of the world, if not a completely coherent one. he hears some mumbling of talking, see you, first thing, as long. his half asleep brain is trying to connect those words into a coherent sentence, when Eddie moves, suddenly, and that is what really wakes Steve up. even gets a half muttered whine of disapproval, very five more minutes, mom. if your mom was the sort to wake you up for things, that is. )
What? ( Steve asks, blearily, eyes half open, half propping himself up on his elbows. ) What's bad? ( does he need to charge out of bed and get a baseball bat, pull on pants and grab his car keys, is the entirety of Hawkins burning outside their window? Steve is struggling to try and make his brain alert, because the bed is so warm still, and the drum of rain on the window practically insists that there could be no reason to get out of it. )
[ eddie doesn't wince when steve whines against his chest, when he speaks and it sounds like he's heard at least part of what he's said. the question doesn't reveal that steve heard it all, though, just that tail end that eddie hopes he can turn into something that explains away the way his heart jumps in his chest.
he knows steve won't run from him, or he really hopes, but he might back away slowly because while eddie's doing his best to pretending this isn't a relationship while wanting it to be, the whole point of what they started was so steve could experiment; could try being with a guy out with no jugement involved. no one asked for feelings here. eddie's just a fucking idiot with a heart that latched on to the hot, kind boy who saved his life and who might be an asshole but is the sort of asshole eddie likes.
he drops his arm down, slides it back around steve's waist and under his shirt. clearly physical contact is fine, not admissions that he's got it bad for steve harrington. he takes a deep breath, tilts his head to the side and tries not to fucking lose it over how soft and endearing steve harrington looks first thing in the morning, half asleep and looking blearily at the world.
eddie's not supposed to want that but he does.]
Nothing serious. [ eddie's heart breaking eventually is fine, really, when that's sort of par for the course. people leave, get fed up with his shit and how much he is. steve will too, one day. he's got it bad but it's fine, as long as he doesn't ruin it for a little bit longer. as long as he doesn't think for too long about how he's worried about heartbreak and what that fucking means with steve sleeping on top of him.
eddie reaches up with the hand not resting under steve's shirt, tugs a stray tuft of hair by his sideburns and then tucks it behind his ear. ] Back to sleep, big boy, there's nothing bad in sight unless you're about to protest a rainy morning in bed in favor for a run in the storm.
[ does he sound a little like he was caught red handed doing something bad? maybe. is he hoping steve isn't awake enough? also affirmative. ]
( the part of Steve's brain that was trying so desperately to wake up, and pronto, is a total pushover. because Eddie winding an arm around him is astonishingly convincing. is he really this easy, or can he excuse still being half asleep? nothing serious, and fingers toiling in his hair, and his common sense just checks out. back to snoozy it is.
it's just hard to convince himself to wake up and crawl out of bed and be productive when he doesn't have to. doesn't even want to, when it feels so good to be wound together like this. legs entwined somehow in the night. a comfortable knot of both of them, the familiar feeling of Eddie's touch running over the purpled skin of his sides. anyone else, Steve would likely feel the need to pull back, spare them the ugliness.
Eddie, well... nobody could possibly understand the stretches of marred skin like Eddie. )
Mmph, ( Steve says, which isn't a word at all, just the closest to a response as he can manage to the idea of running out in the rain. no, thank you. he doesn't have to work until after lunch. there's no reason to bolt, for once. it's not the first time he's wanted to stick around in bed with Eddie, though it might be the first he's actually been able to. and his head is still a little blurry, blurry enough to not overly dissect it wasn't sex that got him here, like that was the only excuse to be tangled up with his roommate.
Steve shifts back a little, if only because being half awake is enough of a reminder that he's a little stiff from not moving. it might seem like he's trying to get out of bed, after all, for about as long as it takes to settle on his side. after that, though, snaking arms around Eddie and fully dragging him back into his space is proof enough Steve isn't planning on going anywhere. it's a bit of an echo of how Steve had held onto him last night, truth be told. a stubborn big spoon that won't allow Eddie to look back at him. it's just that this time, it isn't to hide tears, it is because he's using a fluffy metal head like a living, breathing teddy bear. face happily smooshed in his shirt, lost in the scent of fabric and skin and okay, a bit of weed smoke, but since that is so quintessentially Eddie, Steve sort of likes that smell now. )
Morning, ( Steve lands on, eventually, when his brain boots up enough to manage conversation. Eddie will feel the hint of a smile against his shoulder, but it sneaks into the huskiness of Steve's voice, too. the idea of sleeping more is at least a little tempting, though honestly, just staying like this would be just as good. it just feels... nice. comfortable. he could stay like this for hours, maybe, way longer than was entirely reasonable to lounge around doing nothing. though... there are some flaws to his brain finally waking up, because he supposes Eddie might have better things to do than cuddle for no reason with his sleepy roommate. the smile slips a little, and so does Steve's grip around him. just a little. )
You getting up? ( Steve ventures, cautiously, less casual than it should be. he really should have made some attempt to sound less wounded by the very concept. he vaguely remembers Eddie talking, and moving. so... maybe that was the idea, getting up. if Eddie is getting up, he should too. )
Morning, Stevie. [ eddie let’s his eyes slip closed as steve settles, can’t help but feel a little more at ease with the weight of him on his chest. steve has more bulk on him, sure, but he’s not actually so much heavier that eddie can’t find comfort in the way he blankets his frame. plus, in the shadow of the storm and the rain still pitter-pattering against the window it’s the best sort of warm comfort.
he traces the edges a scar that flares up to steve’s ribs, not sure if this one is more sensitive or numb to touch. he splays his palm over this skin, knows he has one that matches and might be a bit deeper in a few spots. it’s strange how grounding it is, knowing someone else has gone through this with him and having this fucked up physical proof when he’s sure he’s lost his mind and made it all up.
eddie is lost in thought for a moment as steve settles, snuggles close and let’s eddie drift off into a fantasy where this is fine and what they both want in all circumstances. he feels himself melt into the bed, relaxing further as he slides a hand into Steve’s hair.
this is fine, he can have this. until steve tenses and pulls back and eddie isn’t sure. ] I wasn’t planning on it. It’s kind of early.
Unless… Are you trying to kick me out of my own bed, Harrington? [ he means for it to come out teasing, coupled with an upward quirk to his lips but neither quite land either. still, he notices the cautiousness in Steve’s voice. maybe it’s the nightmare still, lingering. ] Are you okay?
( is it kind of early? Steve hasn't even checked the time. not to point fingers here, but in his room, his alarm clock is positioned across the room, so you can see it from either side of the bed. it's great. except for the part where he has to get out of bed to turn it off, but, that's intentional too. forces him to wake up, even if he doesn't want to. even if Eddie demurs like a dying king about him dragging out of bed. Eddie always thinks it is early, so maybe Steve shouldn't trust the guy that it is still lounge around in bed hours.
but he wants to believe, in this particular instance.
Steve doesn't blush. it isn't his thing. if anyone asked, he'd persist that he doesn't. still, he does feel slightly embarrassed at the accusation he's trying to kick Eddie out of his own bed. right... right. this is Eddie's bed. not his bed, where they usually wake up. that feels more like their bed than it should, these days. clearly defined lines that have gotten way too blurry. my bed is going to be running in Steve's mind all day, now. unintended jumpscare. )
No, ( Steve says, and really!!! it's true!!! he's not. he doesn't want Eddie to get out of bed, his or otherwise. if the blatant snuggling hadn't made that obvious enough. he isn't trying to kick Eddie out, at all, he just doesn't want to tangle him up and trap him here if he wants to go. Steve rubs an eye, because he's pretty sure that's how it works. to wake up, you rub the sleep out of your eyes, and then your brain works better. you don't say stupid things or cross lines you shouldn't when you're fully awake. )
I just heard you talking, is all. ( Steve struggles to hit the rewind button on his thoughts, go back to what Eddie was talking about. he was talking, wasn't he? Eddie should thank his lucky stars that Steve gives up about as soon as he starts, instead deciding to focus on something else. namely, insisting Eddie should stay in bed. even though the guy just said he wasn't planning on going anywhere. ) It's raining. Nowhere to go, anyway. We might as well stay here.
( yeah, it's just practical, to stay tangled up with his roommate. obviously! )
[ honestly, anything before noon is early in Eddie’s book but it is actually barely past eight based on his wrist watch and it’s a miracle that he’s awake. a testament to steve’s influence in his life, really. eddie hasn’t seen this hour outside of the school year in years and waking up to say goodbye to steve when he has an opening shift or is taking dustin to school now means he’s up willingly earlier than this some weekdays. that’s devotion in his book!!! ]
You heard me talking? [ and if Eddie sounds particularly squirrels about that, well, who can blame him. he bites into his lower lip, worries it for a moment before he decides to bite the bullet. ] What'd you hear?
[ it’s better to ask, to pry as if he’s just being nosy instead of assuming. at least given what he’d actually said, an admission he’d thought was spoken to a man asleep and lost to the world. he had hoped for that, honestly, for his own sake. eddie ducks his head down, cheeks flushed before he cranes his neck and presses a cheek into the pillow he’s resting on. there’s no way he can hide. ] Staying here sounds like a better plan. Other bed is cold anyway. [ he’d go burrow there if steve had been planing to kick him out. luckily, that’s not the case. ]
( what did he hear? something about seeing. and every morning. you can tell how hard Steve is thinking about it, because of the knit of his brow. the rain? was Eddie really into rainy mornings? no, that's dumb. it wasn't about the rain. see you, first thing. every morning, as long...
Steve is distracted, unfortunately, by Eddie pressing his face into the pillow and muffled talk about abandoning for the other bed. which is, for starters, ridiculous. trading beds for no reason when they're already comfortable in this one. if anyone would get out of bed, it would have to be Steve, since Eddie rightly pointed out this isn't his bed. ) Would you knock it off? I'm not kicking you out.
( in fact, it is a rare opportunity that he can actually steal a little more time in bed. Eddie often whines that he should stay a little longer, maybe once or twice he's been a little too convincing and Steve has had to rush out of the house with messy hair and an uncooked poptart for breakfast. one occasion he managed to leave the apartment, ferry Dustin to his desired location, and still make it back before Eddie was out of bed, and sneaking back into it had felt strangely right. and Steve wasn't much of a lounge around in bed sort of guy. he could always find something to do, because sleep was more of a have to than want to. )
I don't want you to go, ( Steve admits, finally. and that's not crossing bro lines, is it? he's already said, out loud, that he likes Eddie's company. it doesn't have to be weird, it's just the objective truth. Steve likes having Eddie around. so much, in fact, that his subconscious has taken to torturing him with the idea of losing him. Steve sighs, sticking his face in Eddie's threadbare shirt. thoughts drifting back to the nightmare that brought him to Eddie's room in the first place. yes, he knows that Eddie is fine, now. doesn't mean the comfort of being close to him isn't still welcome, even in the light of day. nightmares mostly left behind them. )
[ is he grateful steve doesn’t say anything? yes. is he curious enough to prod and tickle his side, also yes. maybe it’s not the right approach here, but he doesn’t want to have steve follow that line of questioning even if he is distracted enough on his own. plus, eddie is a touchy guy and he has an excuse in that.
still, he’s placated by simple words and a huff against his chest. it settles him and has him resting his palms on steve’s mid-back and against his shoulder blade. ] Okay, fine. We’re staying here and staying in bed. Snoozing. Relaxing. Listening to the rain and maybe we’ll get up and make some waffles later but… after a little snooze.
[ and he sounds fond, happy even, with a soft chuckle that follow the words. eddie feels himself flush as he tucks his chin down to look at steve again from the corner of his eyes. ] Well, good then. I don’t want to go.
[ and maybe that’s too raw and honest than it should be, arms tightening around steve as if to stop him from bolting as he says it. that’s what eddie fears most, steve running away. he cranes his nexk up, glances around the room and maybe that graze is his lips against Steve’s forehead seems natural. maybe. ]
( Eddie would prod at his side, just for the sake of being a brat. it mostly just results in Steve wriggling away from the poke and firmer into Eddie's side. if Eddie is afraid Steve is going to make for the hills, hopefully the insistent way he winds arms around him is proof enough he doesn't want either of them to go anywhere. Steve usually feels like he's expecting or needing or asking too much, to be this openly appreciative of affection. maybe there's something about the waking up together after a nightmare, though. he's not ready to pull apart and knit himself together and pretend he doesn't need this right now.
so if Eddie will indulge him just a bit longer, Steve isn't going anywhere. Eddie might be looking at him, but Steve is staring at the rain pattering against their (Eddie's, shit. their comes way too easy to him, these days) window, and then at the inside of his eyelids. last time he passed out it was half because the heavy wave of panic had entirely exhausted him. this time it's because he's comfortable and content, and wants to pad out that feeling just a little longer. )
Waffles, ( Steve says, distant but amused, in the voice of someone trying to sound more alert than they are. it's the rain putting him hack to sleep, surely. he doesn't protest the kiss to his forehead anymore than he's protested a kiss — well, anywhere else, actually. outside of the island of the bed they're sharing, it might make him get in his head. right now, it is beyond Steve to second guess anything besides not wanting this moment to be over just yet. )
Or pancakes. World's our oyster, Stevie. [ eddie drops his head back to the pillow, closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy the closeness of this moment. steve's wound around him, arms around him and legs intertwined with his own. it's a comfortable feeling even in a bed that's not normally the one they share.
eddie knows he'd like waking up anywhere, pretty much, if he could have steve there with him. if he could be as sure as he is now that, at least for the moment, steve's not running away; that no one's going to play this off as a thing that doesn't mean anything at all.
that's a scary thought, one too overwhelming for the early morning where sleep's tugging steve back under and eddie could follow so easily. he probably will, if he can get his mind to slow down just a bit more.
eddie turns his face into the pillow, forces a yawn and then it's followed up by a louder real one. ] Get some sleep.
( Steve is not above getting in his head about this, later. sometimes it just feels like there's limits. on how much he can ask for. what he can take. Eddie's his roommate, his friend. one of his best friends, honestly — nobody can topple Robin off her throne but the rare days he doesn't talk to or see Eddie, his entire day feels off. and even accepting he cares that much, it's hard not to feel like at some point there's a too much, and he's going to barrel into it headfirst if he isn't careful.
asking too much and needing too much, it always kicks him in the ass. with his parents, with the assholes that weren't ever really his friends. with Nancy, somehow, even though the details of how and why are still pretty goddamn fuzzy. just bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, all the way down. it's hard to course correct when you don't know what turn was the wrong one. Steve's running a little blind as it is, and it's hard not to get addicted to how it feels. to have someone to lean on. to not have to truck along and be okay and figure it out on his own. he can't want too much of this, can't rely on it too much, because what is he gonna do when it's gone?
this morning, though... it's hard to feel like stealing one lazy morning will ruin everything. not when Eddie feels so comfortable and content, too. maybe it isn't taking, so much as sharing. both of them together, instead of trying to grin and bear it and push through it on their own.
he meant to say a word, a confirmation. pancakes or waffles, sounds good. sleep a little more. instead he's barely cognizant enough to land a mumble. nuzzling closer with a content huff of a sigh. yeah, okay. sleep, pancakes, safe. he can agree to that. )
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no subject
Date: 2022-09-13 03:36 am (UTC)it's a delicate balance, an art form really.
the thing about eddie's nightmares is normally they start out really realistic; with him in bed like this, sometimes with someone creeping into his room or into steve's room when he's crashing there. sometimes it's vecna, sometimes it's the bats moving in slowly and quietly until they're on him and steve. it's fucked up.
eddie's not sure what it is now so he stays still, waits. nothing shitty happens and instead he hears footsteps that don't fill him with dread. instead the bed dips and it's not a clawed hand reaching for him. eddie almost turns, but then steve's arms snake around his torso and hold on tight over eddie's ratty t-shirt. ] Steve? [ he asks softly, whispers his name though he know it's steve and can't be anyone else as he slides his hands over steve's arms until his palms cover the back of his palms. it feels natural to do it, comforting and grounding that's more than it should be given what they are in name.
it's the sensation of steve hiding against his shoulder that has him worried, the way he can almost feel steve trembling behind him. or maybe that's eddie, suddenly alert but able to take a deep breath and walk himself back from the edge as thunder strikes overhead. he doesn't jerk like he would otherwise. he swallows, pushes the edges of sleep from his voice. steve's hold makes it pretty much impossible to twist around so eddie threads his fingers through steve's, squeezes his hands in an attempt to anchor him in place until he has room to turn and wrap his arms around steve in return.
steve's so good at comforting him when he has nightmares but so shit at letting eddie to anything for him in return at any point, too stubborn even in moments like this. eddie has to push. ] 'm here. Sorry.
I didn't want to wake you up sneaking in late. [ as if to explain why he wasn't there when steve woke up, when whatever it was pulled him from sleep dragged him out into the height of the storm rattling their apartment building. nightmares, he guesses, because they both have them and it's the only time steve holds on as desperately as this, when he curls into himself and sometimes eddie like he can't fathom letting go. ]
no subject
Date: 2022-09-13 04:25 am (UTC)and it's terrible, too, because it's an objective failure at not dragging Eddie into the depths of his bullshit along with him. Steve grimaces, teary eyes forcibly screwed shut against the fabric of Eddie's shirt. so much for not worrying him — though, after all they've both been through, how sneaking into his bed unannounced wasn't gonna wake him, was definitely not thought out. it was always going to, and it feels bad. Eddie shouldn't have to deal with this, shouldn't feel guilty for sleeping in his own bed. Steve should be handling it and he's not and that shouldn't be somebody else's problem.
just turns out, knowing he should be handling the adrenaline soaked horror of a night terror is easier said than done. Steve is usually good at sequestering memories and reactions to neat little mental boxes. trying to tuck how he feels into appropriate, manageable pieces. he's so out of his element, here, raw from a dream of Eddie gone and unresponsive, getting there just a little too late and destroying two different lives in the process. and on top of that, the reality losing Eddie, even for a moment, in a nightmare, has the power to entirely unravel him. Steve doesn't know what to do with that kind of oppressive sort of feeling. it almost feels like he messed something up, caring this much. he doesn't want to ruin things and this, this is asking for too much. needing too much.
he should answer. Eddie is trying to reassure him, without even being able to look at his face. Steve feels worse for no good reason, he doesn't even know why. he tries to pull together a coherent thought, something that resembles a sentence. talk down why he's being so weird and assure Eddie he can be late, it's not a big deal! he doesn't need to be sorry, the over emotional oaf that got carried away with a bad dream, is the one who should be sorry.
Steve doesn't end up managing anything that concise. ) Sorry. Sorry. ( he repeats, hopelessly, not even sure what he's apologizing for, specifically. maybe all of it at once. waking Eddie up, making him feel guilty. the fact Steve isn't strong enough to keep it together. needing to know Eddie was fine so badly Steve startled ruined both of their sleep, instead of just the one. still not being collected and together when Steve's got so much more time and exposure to all this, so shouldn't it be easier? shouldn't he be past this?
it feels selfish to need comfort as badly as he does. constricting, too much, smothering even. Steve forces himself to relax his grip, so Eddie can twist out of it if he wants. even if that's dangerous, too, because letting Eddie look at him will just show exactly how not right Steve really is. maybe he won't — sometimes it's easier, not to look this sort of thing in the eye. Steve wouldn't blame him for it, in fact it would almost be a relief if Eddie just shook it off and went back to sleep. in fact, Steve can't help himself. ) You can go back to sleep. ( nothing to see here, nothing to worry about. he's already gotten more than should have needed, proof that Eddie is okay. tired, using that half asleep voice that is usually so endearing. Steve shouldn't ask for anything else. he'll calm down on his own eventually. a lot faster, now, with Eddie so close. )
no subject
Date: 2022-09-14 02:06 am (UTC)still, who is he to judge or get mad for steve waking him when he was barely asleep? when he's done the same more times than he can count? ]
Uh huh. [ even if he were able to fall back to sleep, which eddie is pretty sure he can't at this point, he wouldn't. not with the way steve's forcing words up his throat, the way eddie can now feel him still pressing his face into his shoulder and he swears there's a wetness there soaking into the thin fabric of his shirt.
steve's vice like grip loosens from around him and eddie doesn't move away, instead rolls over until they're chest to chest, or rather steve can press his face into eddie's chest instead of his shoulder as he wraps his arms around him. one of his arms snakes between steve's chest and the mattress, the other drapes around his shoulders so eddie can press his palm between his shoulder blades and brush his thumb over steve's back in gentle sweeps.
he can see that steve's not fine, that he's far from okay even with only the light from a flickering street lamp and the flashes of lightening making anything visible in eddie's small room. he watches steve carefully, brows creased and heart aching because he wants to wipe away that fear dancing in his eyes.
eddie takes a deep breath, vaguely remembers his mother holding him and trying to get him to match her breathing when a panic attack had dug it's claws into him a as a child. it works now as an adult too, when he's not alone to deal with them. he knows it helps in general to sync your breathing to another person's, that it's some instinctual thing he read about once and retained though he's not sure where. definitely not in school. or maybe he didn't read it at all and it's another memory from a life before living with his uncle. ] Hey. Try to breathe with me?
You're okay. We're okay. [ totally safe from whatever it is that has steve seeking him out, crawling into his bed and holding on so tight. ]
no subject
Date: 2022-09-14 04:19 am (UTC)so crying now, over something assuredly imaginary, just feels so stupid. at least when he'd rushed out of Tina's party, the last time he'd been close to tears — there was something there, to be upset about. getting choked up about a nightmare is bad enough, but Steve is pretty sure the tears are relief, which somehow feels worse. breathing is hard but it felt functionally impossible when his head was convinced Eddie was gone. gone like Barb, gone like Max. gone and all the things they were or could have been gone too, just like that.
so, he's not fine. it's even more obvious, even in limited light, when Eddie turns to face him. stain of tears, the frozen grip of panic that should be gone, already, and isn't. the sort of disarming, disorienting useless panic that doesn't help, only hurt. the sort of stuff Steve can't afford to feel, because freezing up like this just gets people hurt. he can't stop it, though, a wall of emotion hitting him like a ton of bricks. if he could just stop, he would. he just can't.
there's some stiff resistance left, when Eddie turns around to snake closer. some last vestige of thinking he should handle it, or turn away and deal with it himself. be a man, whatever the fuck his father even meant by that one. the look on Eddie's face stops him, though, the raw expression of desperation. hurting because someone else is. having someone pull away from that doesn't feel better, Steve knows it for a fact. because he's had it happen to him, and it just hurts worse to know someone is off on their own and choosing to hold onto the poison alone.
Steve folds forward, forehead pressed against Eddie's chest and arms winding back around Eddie's sides, not half as tight a vice but somehow still a little desperate. his breaths are still ugly, cut short and not deep enough, though his heartbeat starts to lull at the familiar smell of Eddie's shirt, the heat of his skin. )
Okay, ( Steve says, and even rasping out the one word feels hard. he isn't sure if he's responding to the idea he should breathe or that they're okay. both and neither. really, he just wanted to say something, like that might be some kind of relief. Steve closes his eyes and tries to focus on Eddie's breath, curled so close to his ear. the rub of his fingers on his shoulders, the thrum of his heartbeat a little too fast. Steve is honestly a little unused to being hugged and held and consoled like this, it should feel more strange and awkward than it does. and yet it doesn't, even as the pressure in his chest starts to lessen, the arms around him just seem to center him. anchor him in a memory he'd rather be in, than the ugly ones made up in his dreams. his body relaxing slowly, incrementally, like some part of his brain isn't entirely convinced this isn't some trick. )
no subject
Date: 2022-09-16 12:03 am (UTC)he slides his hand from steve's back up into his hair, glad he remembered to take off his rings for once as he slides his fingers through soft strands at his nape. it's some sort of witchcraft, whatever steve does to it to keep it so soft when it's styled. or maybe it's that farrah hairspray he's found in steve's room and not in the small bathroom that they share between them. but that really doesn't matter as much as eddie remembers steve told him this little secret, not quite a silmaril's type treasure but a near thing.
eddie tries to curl himself around steve in his embrace, wiggles a little until their legs are intertwined just so there's a bit more skin touching between them. the storm is rumbling up above but in the moment the world really narrows down on this bed, on the way each sharp and rasping inhale on steve's part sends thin ice through the veins of eddie's hammering heart.
he needs to calm down too, he knows, because that's helping neither of them. steve will worry too and this isn't about eddie needing comfort. he's not letting steve turn the tides this time, not at his own expense. so he strokes his fingers through his hair, starts to hum a tune that might be more journey's arms wide open than the sort of thing he sings when he's doing chores around the house or up late at night. something steve might recognize better or not at all in this state but this time eddie wouldn't dream of flashing a mischievous grin and teasing him for it. ]
no subject
Date: 2022-09-16 02:04 am (UTC)and of course, trying to will it to be over faster, just makes things worse. being frustrated that he can't make how he feels go away just makes it harder to breath, harder to focus, harder to think. it all seems to keep spiraling away from him, and that doesn't seem fair. why is he still losing it? Eddie's fine, he's fine, he's right here — it's stupid to be upset, still. crying and over emotional about something that didn't even happen. no matter how vividly his mind can paint the picture.
it isn't until Steve lets himself focus on the press of Eddie's fingertips, the steady strokes through his hair, that he finally relents. Steve did tell him that playing with his hair was a good way to calm him down. it's strange to have evidence that Eddie cared enough to remember outside of trying to convince him to sit still amid a feral goblin high. Steve lets his hands roam, trying to find some place to find purchase, and not knowing exactly where would make him feel better. eventually they just knot in the raggy fabric of Eddie's shirt, pressed by his spine at the small of his back. like he's afraid what might happen if he lets go.
it's slow. his breaths getting a little deeper, less ragged. he's not exactly calm, but the choked noises from trying not to let the tears get any worse start to fade. his voice is still a little traitorously broken when he finds words, delivered stilted and unsure. ) If this were a dream, you'd tell me. Right? ( the question hardly even makes sense, and Steve doesn't have it in him to be cognizant of why. in his head, it makes complete sense. not even dream Eddie would want him to feel like this — dream Eddie wouldn't pretend to be fine, if he really wasn't. right? Steve isn't ready to look Eddie in the eye, head still crushed against his chest, but he sounds like he feels. desperate and hopeful all at once. )
no subject
Date: 2022-09-16 03:28 am (UTC)steve's holding on still and eddie doesn't mind. he wishes he knew what to do here, how to better help. how to help at all.
he's not expecting steve to speak at all, to do more than hold on tight and try to ride out the storm when the words breath through. oh. oh shit. eddie's not sure to do with that question because logically, if it were a dream that vecna had concocted, he'd say he was fine and then probably break into some sort of cruelty about all the things steve's insecure about. eddie knows those from the moments when they'd just talk after they smoked, on the nights they didn't fuck around or maybe even after. those glimpses were rare, sure, but eddie sees them.
and steve's not a closed book when someone's looking, when someone wants to look. eddie does. he looks all the damn time; so much he's not sure how steve doesn't notice that he's constantly staring, feels like a planet stuck in the sun's orbit. he swallows, nods and presses his lips to the top of steve's head. ] Yeah, babe. Yeah. Of course, I'd tell you. [ he's been using babe a lot when they have sex and lately it's been slipping out when they're not too, like it's the most natural thing. ] I'd tell you if you were off in Vecna's weird Upside Down Mordor, but you're back home in the Shire with me. In our little hobbithole of an apartment where the boiler working is kind of hit or miss.
[ he presses another kiss to the top of steve's head, slides arm under steve's side a bit lower so he can slip his hand under his shirt and touch warm skin, palm flat over birthmarks he's pressed his lips to before. ] Whatever it was before. That was the nightmare.
no subject
Date: 2022-09-20 03:04 am (UTC)Steve lets his head lolls slightly back, balanced on Eddie's arm instead of a pillow. there's no hiding the tearstains, in the limited security light glaring through the blinds. Steve doesn't have it in him to pretend they didn't happen. he manages a huff of a laugh at the mention of the boiler. god, they're gonna goddamn freeze this winter if the landlord doesn't do something about it, and as of yet, no progress on the repair front. it's weirdly grounding, the mundanity of their questionable boiler. Eddie's fingers over the sealed over scars on his sides help too. )
Just a nightmare, ( Steve agrees, tone still a little jagged and blurry, though more collected than it has been since he crawled into bed. his hand sneaks under Eddie's shirt, to the knots and spots and ugly bumps of scar tissue healing on his sides. it's fucked up, probably, to find those comforting. but it's proof Eddie is here, healing, better every day. still with him, unlike what his subconscious likes to taunt him with. Steve takes an overbearingly large breath, like he's trying to catch up on two dozen short ones. he just barely bites back another apology. third time isn't the charm, it's stupid. if Eddie didn't want him here, he'd have shrugged him off already. or at least shown discomfort in trying to calm him down, instead of winding him close, picking around words to find the right thing to say to chase back the panic. )
Can I sleep in here? ( Steve asks instead, because while he could awkwardly toddle off to his own corner... he really, really, really doesn't want to. if he's got any chance of sleeping at all, it'll be here. with his heartbeat lulling back towards a normal tempo, it is hard to deny he feels safer like this. which is stupid, there is a psychic murderer in an alternate dimension that can hop into their mind without warning to murder either of them, there is no safe.
safer than on his own, though... that's fair, right? )
no subject
Date: 2022-09-20 05:49 am (UTC)so he doesn't stop himself. he's not so strong that he can deny his impulses and steve's so close, still searching for comfort. instead eddie reaches up, cups steve's cheek and brushes the tears still linger across his cheekbone away.
the laugh is practically music to his ears, earns a smile from eddie that might be too much of a grin for this stormy night where nightmares have poisoned steve's dreams. ]
Yeah, just a nightmare. You're stuck with me still in the land of the living. Doomed to deal with my cold feet. [ and maybe that's making light of it, when he knows steve doesn't feel stuck with him at all from all the times he's said it but eddie's trying to not say anything that could sound too close to vecna's lies. vecna probably doesn't know that eddie's hands and feet run colder now after the upside down, that his circulation isn't as great because of some inopportune bites that will probably leave him frustrated if his hands seize up in the winter when he's trying to spend an evening with his guitar. vecna certainly doesn't know that eddie relishes that steve runs warm, that he wants to tuck his hands against his skin all the time and soak up that heat like a cat snoozing against it's own personal radiator.
he brushes his thumb over steve's cheekbone again before pulling his hand back, sliding it down over steve's arm and then sneaking it back under his shirt to rest against the small of his back. it's allowed right now, this touch, when they haven't lead up to it with sloppy and eager kisses. ]
Yeah, of course. You can sleep here. [ any other night too, eddie thinks. though he knows steve prefers the tidiness of his own bedroom than what's become eddie's dungeon of figurines, d&d books and the books he keeps in his room because steve's so tired of book piles already. ] Anytime. You don't have to ask, Steve.
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Date: 2022-09-21 04:19 am (UTC)Great, ( Steve says, and in a better situation he could hit a sarcastic tone there, which is appropriate for threats of icy feet and Eddie's frankly evil tendency to play footsie with them. instead it just sounds watery and hopeful, because yeah, he's dreamed about the alternative so that's a doom he's desperate for. Steve doesn't want to think about how much Eddie's presence and jokes and mess and weird habits mean to him, how empty his life would feel without them. how quickly Eddie Munson had taken residence in what matters to him. too much, it's all too much, too much for a guy that never asked for any of this. but it is also too late to throw the brakes on now. Steve isn't sure he wants to stop, anyway, even with the nightmare.
it feels exposing, Eddie thumbing at the foolish tear tracks running down his face. Steve is too exhausted all over again to overthink crying in front of him, though, mostly he's a little lost in a touch that is so tender and unbelievably lacking in judgment. Steve is pretty sure even Dustin, one of the people he adores most in the world, would give him shit for crying. and instead Eddie is wiping it away like even after seeing the obvious weakness, there's something here worth caring about. it is a lot for Steve's exhausted, still panic tinged mind to handle right now. )
Just tonight, ( Steve mutters, eventually, which may seem like he's dismissing the idea that sharing a bed is an acceptable anytime situation. he's not, in fact that idea is perfectly reasonable to him. now more than ever, all of a sudden. it's more their location that is intended to be a just tonight thing. he's unwilling to get up to go to the room that is at this point more familiar for both of them. exhaustion is starting to hit again like a ton of bricks, with the fear and panic responses starting to flag. usually after a nightmare, Steve has no chance of falling asleep again. not any time soon, anyway. tonight is apparently a rare exception, because he's already feeling the heaviness of his eyes. with Eddie safe and next to him, wound around him, practically, it is hard to try and push back the idea of sleep. )
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Date: 2022-09-24 03:40 am (UTC)Lucky you. [ he mumbles instead, leaning down to press his lips against steve's forehead again. eddie's the one that feels lucky to be able to do this, to have someone that he knows would do it in return. maybe steve would be more hung up on the proximity and affection in a different moment, he thinks, but there's never been any judgement when eddie's needed it himself after a panic attack or a nightmare.
and steve's seeking comfort so eddie feels less inclined to hold back, to reel himself in like he does with the impulses he has. not the ones to drape himself over steve when he's cooking or press into his space at any given moment, to join him in bed and drape himself over the steve like a blanket while reading, but the ones to kiss and touch when there's no afterglow to mask the tenderness.
the answer steve gives makes him swallow and eddie knows, knew, he was being too greedy when he'd mentioned it. that all the time, no matter what, was too far but he'll take tonight if that's allowed. ] Okay, just tonight. [ steve's breathing is evening out slowly, eddie can tell with the way they're tangled, so he starts to hum once again and if it's a song by wham! then, well, steve's on the edge of sleep and eddie's going to claim ignorance later.
it's not long before he hears the soft sounds of steve's snoring; it's really too cute, eddie thinks. he sounds like a baby truffle pig, making those sounds with his face pressed to eddie's chest. it shouldn't be endearing but it really is.
eddie doesn't fall back to sleep for a while but the sound of rain and steve's breathing, steady and sound, eventually pull him away from consciousness. the thunder lasts through the night, a steady sound, and in the morning eddie's pulled back from sleep by rain against the window. the curtain is open enough to have some light from the grey world outside pouring in at the wrong angle. it hits his face, makes him let out a low hiss like he really is a creature of the night.
they've moved in their sleep, deeper into the bed. eddie has his arms around steve, who's using him as a body pillow. it would be uncomfortable if he weren't used to it. steve's still asleep, he thinks, breathing evenly but not snuffling or snoring like he's on the edge of wakefulness. eddie takes a moment to take the sight of him in, lit up by the dim light and at ease in eddie munson's arms of all places. that's a sight to see, one eddie was sure he'd never get with anyone much less steve of all people. he sneaks in one more kiss, lets his greedy heart have that.
he's quiet, sure, barely whispers into steve's hair and drawls out the words. ] What I would give to have this every morning. See you first thing, as long as you'd have me.
[ he's sure that steve's still asleep when he pulls back, rests his head back against the pillow. he untangles his arm from around steve's waist, lifts it to rub a hand down his face. he keeps his hand on his face, covers his eyes and then mumbles to himself this time. ] Jesus, Munson, you've got it bad.
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Date: 2022-10-02 12:02 am (UTC)it's a little better, lately. he doesn't go from dead asleep to bolting awake most nights. though, notably, mostly it seems he sleeps better when he shares a bed with Eddie. maybe his brain can buy that things are normal, that they're safe, if it can't run away with the easy fear of isolation. who knows.
so, Eddie waking and cringing at the existence of muted rainy day sunshine, and shifting a little next to him, doesn't wake Steve up. or, at least, not completely. it is enough to open up a blurry awareness of the world, if not a completely coherent one. he hears some mumbling of talking, see you, first thing, as long. his half asleep brain is trying to connect those words into a coherent sentence, when Eddie moves, suddenly, and that is what really wakes Steve up. even gets a half muttered whine of disapproval, very five more minutes, mom. if your mom was the sort to wake you up for things, that is. )
What? ( Steve asks, blearily, eyes half open, half propping himself up on his elbows. ) What's bad? ( does he need to charge out of bed and get a baseball bat, pull on pants and grab his car keys, is the entirety of Hawkins burning outside their window? Steve is struggling to try and make his brain alert, because the bed is so warm still, and the drum of rain on the window practically insists that there could be no reason to get out of it. )
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Date: 2022-10-02 12:23 am (UTC)he knows steve won't run from him, or he really hopes, but he might back away slowly because while eddie's doing his best to pretending this isn't a relationship while wanting it to be, the whole point of what they started was so steve could experiment; could try being with a guy out with no jugement involved. no one asked for feelings here. eddie's just a fucking idiot with a heart that latched on to the hot, kind boy who saved his life and who might be an asshole but is the sort of asshole eddie likes.
he drops his arm down, slides it back around steve's waist and under his shirt. clearly physical contact is fine, not admissions that he's got it bad for steve harrington. he takes a deep breath, tilts his head to the side and tries not to fucking lose it over how soft and endearing steve harrington looks first thing in the morning, half asleep and looking blearily at the world.
eddie's not supposed to want that but he does.]
Nothing serious. [ eddie's heart breaking eventually is fine, really, when that's sort of par for the course. people leave, get fed up with his shit and how much he is. steve will too, one day. he's got it bad but it's fine, as long as he doesn't ruin it for a little bit longer. as long as he doesn't think for too long about how he's worried about heartbreak and what that fucking means with steve sleeping on top of him.
eddie reaches up with the hand not resting under steve's shirt, tugs a stray tuft of hair by his sideburns and then tucks it behind his ear. ] Back to sleep, big boy, there's nothing bad in sight unless you're about to protest a rainy morning in bed in favor for a run in the storm.
[ does he sound a little like he was caught red handed doing something bad? maybe. is he hoping steve isn't awake enough? also affirmative. ]
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Date: 2022-10-02 01:03 am (UTC)it's just hard to convince himself to wake up and crawl out of bed and be productive when he doesn't have to. doesn't even want to, when it feels so good to be wound together like this. legs entwined somehow in the night. a comfortable knot of both of them, the familiar feeling of Eddie's touch running over the purpled skin of his sides. anyone else, Steve would likely feel the need to pull back, spare them the ugliness.
Eddie, well... nobody could possibly understand the stretches of marred skin like Eddie. )
Mmph, ( Steve says, which isn't a word at all, just the closest to a response as he can manage to the idea of running out in the rain. no, thank you. he doesn't have to work until after lunch. there's no reason to bolt, for once. it's not the first time he's wanted to stick around in bed with Eddie, though it might be the first he's actually been able to. and his head is still a little blurry, blurry enough to not overly dissect it wasn't sex that got him here, like that was the only excuse to be tangled up with his roommate.
Steve shifts back a little, if only because being half awake is enough of a reminder that he's a little stiff from not moving. it might seem like he's trying to get out of bed, after all, for about as long as it takes to settle on his side. after that, though, snaking arms around Eddie and fully dragging him back into his space is proof enough Steve isn't planning on going anywhere. it's a bit of an echo of how Steve had held onto him last night, truth be told. a stubborn big spoon that won't allow Eddie to look back at him. it's just that this time, it isn't to hide tears, it is because he's using a fluffy metal head like a living, breathing teddy bear. face happily smooshed in his shirt, lost in the scent of fabric and skin and okay, a bit of weed smoke, but since that is so quintessentially Eddie, Steve sort of likes that smell now. )
Morning, ( Steve lands on, eventually, when his brain boots up enough to manage conversation. Eddie will feel the hint of a smile against his shoulder, but it sneaks into the huskiness of Steve's voice, too. the idea of sleeping more is at least a little tempting, though honestly, just staying like this would be just as good. it just feels... nice. comfortable. he could stay like this for hours, maybe, way longer than was entirely reasonable to lounge around doing nothing. though... there are some flaws to his brain finally waking up, because he supposes Eddie might have better things to do than cuddle for no reason with his sleepy roommate. the smile slips a little, and so does Steve's grip around him. just a little. )
You getting up? ( Steve ventures, cautiously, less casual than it should be. he really should have made some attempt to sound less wounded by the very concept. he vaguely remembers Eddie talking, and moving. so... maybe that was the idea, getting up. if Eddie is getting up, he should too. )
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Date: 2022-10-02 01:45 am (UTC)he traces the edges a scar that flares up to steve’s ribs, not sure if this one is more sensitive or numb to touch. he splays his palm over this skin, knows he has one that matches and might be a bit deeper in a few spots. it’s strange how grounding it is, knowing someone else has gone through this with him and having this fucked up physical proof when he’s sure he’s lost his mind and made it all up.
eddie is lost in thought for a moment as steve settles, snuggles close and let’s eddie drift off into a fantasy where this is fine and what they both want in all circumstances. he feels himself melt into the bed, relaxing further as he slides a hand into Steve’s hair.
this is fine, he can have this. until steve tenses and pulls back and eddie isn’t sure. ] I wasn’t planning on it. It’s kind of early.
Unless… Are you trying to kick me out of my own bed, Harrington? [ he means for it to come out teasing, coupled with an upward quirk to his lips but neither quite land either. still, he notices the cautiousness in Steve’s voice. maybe it’s the nightmare still, lingering. ] Are you okay?
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Date: 2022-10-02 02:14 am (UTC)but he wants to believe, in this particular instance.
Steve doesn't blush. it isn't his thing. if anyone asked, he'd persist that he doesn't. still, he does feel slightly embarrassed at the accusation he's trying to kick Eddie out of his own bed. right... right. this is Eddie's bed. not his bed, where they usually wake up. that feels more like their bed than it should, these days. clearly defined lines that have gotten way too blurry. my bed is going to be running in Steve's mind all day, now. unintended jumpscare. )
No, ( Steve says, and really!!! it's true!!! he's not. he doesn't want Eddie to get out of bed, his or otherwise. if the blatant snuggling hadn't made that obvious enough. he isn't trying to kick Eddie out, at all, he just doesn't want to tangle him up and trap him here if he wants to go. Steve rubs an eye, because he's pretty sure that's how it works. to wake up, you rub the sleep out of your eyes, and then your brain works better. you don't say stupid things or cross lines you shouldn't when you're fully awake. )
I just heard you talking, is all. ( Steve struggles to hit the rewind button on his thoughts, go back to what Eddie was talking about. he was talking, wasn't he? Eddie should thank his lucky stars that Steve gives up about as soon as he starts, instead deciding to focus on something else. namely, insisting Eddie should stay in bed. even though the guy just said he wasn't planning on going anywhere. ) It's raining. Nowhere to go, anyway. We might as well stay here.
( yeah, it's just practical, to stay tangled up with his roommate. obviously! )
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Date: 2022-10-02 02:34 am (UTC)You heard me talking? [ and if Eddie sounds particularly squirrels about that, well, who can blame him. he bites into his lower lip, worries it for a moment before he decides to bite the bullet. ] What'd you hear?
[ it’s better to ask, to pry as if he’s just being nosy instead of assuming. at least given what he’d actually said, an admission he’d thought was spoken to a man asleep and lost to the world. he had hoped for that, honestly, for his own sake. eddie ducks his head down, cheeks flushed before he cranes his neck and presses a cheek into the pillow he’s resting on. there’s no way he can hide. ] Staying here sounds like a better plan. Other bed is cold anyway. [ he’d go burrow there if steve had been planing to kick him out. luckily, that’s not the case. ]
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Date: 2022-10-02 02:56 am (UTC)Steve is distracted, unfortunately, by Eddie pressing his face into the pillow and muffled talk about abandoning for the other bed. which is, for starters, ridiculous. trading beds for no reason when they're already comfortable in this one. if anyone would get out of bed, it would have to be Steve, since Eddie rightly pointed out this isn't his bed. ) Would you knock it off? I'm not kicking you out.
( in fact, it is a rare opportunity that he can actually steal a little more time in bed. Eddie often whines that he should stay a little longer, maybe once or twice he's been a little too convincing and Steve has had to rush out of the house with messy hair and an uncooked poptart for breakfast. one occasion he managed to leave the apartment, ferry Dustin to his desired location, and still make it back before Eddie was out of bed, and sneaking back into it had felt strangely right. and Steve wasn't much of a lounge around in bed sort of guy. he could always find something to do, because sleep was more of a have to than want to. )
I don't want you to go, ( Steve admits, finally. and that's not crossing bro lines, is it? he's already said, out loud, that he likes Eddie's company. it doesn't have to be weird, it's just the objective truth. Steve likes having Eddie around. so much, in fact, that his subconscious has taken to torturing him with the idea of losing him. Steve sighs, sticking his face in Eddie's threadbare shirt. thoughts drifting back to the nightmare that brought him to Eddie's room in the first place. yes, he knows that Eddie is fine, now. doesn't mean the comfort of being close to him isn't still welcome, even in the light of day. nightmares mostly left behind them. )
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Date: 2022-10-02 03:27 am (UTC)still, he’s placated by simple words and a huff against his chest. it settles him and has him resting his palms on steve’s mid-back and against his shoulder blade. ] Okay, fine. We’re staying here and staying in bed. Snoozing. Relaxing. Listening to the rain and maybe we’ll get up and make some waffles later but… after a little snooze.
[ and he sounds fond, happy even, with a soft chuckle that follow the words. eddie feels himself flush as he tucks his chin down to look at steve again from the corner of his eyes. ] Well, good then. I don’t want to go.
[ and maybe that’s too raw and honest than it should be, arms tightening around steve as if to stop him from bolting as he says it. that’s what eddie fears most, steve running away. he cranes his nexk up, glances around the room and maybe that graze is his lips against Steve’s forehead seems natural. maybe. ]
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Date: 2022-10-10 03:32 am (UTC)so if Eddie will indulge him just a bit longer, Steve isn't going anywhere. Eddie might be looking at him, but Steve is staring at the rain pattering against their (Eddie's, shit. their comes way too easy to him, these days) window, and then at the inside of his eyelids. last time he passed out it was half because the heavy wave of panic had entirely exhausted him. this time it's because he's comfortable and content, and wants to pad out that feeling just a little longer. )
Waffles, ( Steve says, distant but amused, in the voice of someone trying to sound more alert than they are. it's the rain putting him hack to sleep, surely. he doesn't protest the kiss to his forehead anymore than he's protested a kiss — well, anywhere else, actually. outside of the island of the bed they're sharing, it might make him get in his head. right now, it is beyond Steve to second guess anything besides not wanting this moment to be over just yet. )
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Date: 2022-10-15 07:03 am (UTC)eddie knows he'd like waking up anywhere, pretty much, if he could have steve there with him. if he could be as sure as he is now that, at least for the moment, steve's not running away; that no one's going to play this off as a thing that doesn't mean anything at all.
that's a scary thought, one too overwhelming for the early morning where sleep's tugging steve back under and eddie could follow so easily. he probably will, if he can get his mind to slow down just a bit more.
eddie turns his face into the pillow, forces a yawn and then it's followed up by a louder real one. ] Get some sleep.
🎀 here mb??
Date: 2022-11-07 01:01 am (UTC)asking too much and needing too much, it always kicks him in the ass. with his parents, with the assholes that weren't ever really his friends. with Nancy, somehow, even though the details of how and why are still pretty goddamn fuzzy. just bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, all the way down. it's hard to course correct when you don't know what turn was the wrong one. Steve's running a little blind as it is, and it's hard not to get addicted to how it feels. to have someone to lean on. to not have to truck along and be okay and figure it out on his own. he can't want too much of this, can't rely on it too much, because what is he gonna do when it's gone?
this morning, though... it's hard to feel like stealing one lazy morning will ruin everything. not when Eddie feels so comfortable and content, too. maybe it isn't taking, so much as sharing. both of them together, instead of trying to grin and bear it and push through it on their own.
he meant to say a word, a confirmation. pancakes or waffles, sounds good. sleep a little more. instead he's barely cognizant enough to land a mumble. nuzzling closer with a content huff of a sigh. yeah, okay. sleep, pancakes, safe. he can agree to that. )