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“It’s your fault, Steve,” he said, eyes blank and unseeing, dark blood congealing on the concrete.
“Steve,” he said again, and Steve was motionless, staring at the lifeless body of
his partner in the oppressive heat of this goddamned Miami parking garage. He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t move his mouth—he couldn’t move a single bone in his body—
“Steve…”
“Steve!”
Steve jolted awake. Fuck. He thought he stopped having that dream months ago. He sat up on the couch—his couch? No, he’d crashed at Javi’s tonight. It was late getting back from the stakeout and he didn’t want to wake up Connie and the baby.
“You alright there, bud?” Javi was perched on the armrest, looking down at Steve with a furrowed brow. “Making an awful racket out here.”
“Shit, sorry,” Steve mumbled, slowly sitting up. His white t-shirt clung to him, soaked in sweat. God, it was disgusting.
“No worries,” Javi said. “You need anything? A drink?”
Steve tugged at his nasty clothes. “Uh, I’d like a shirt. If you’ve got one.”
Javi wasn’t wearing a t-shirt, only boxers, but Steve figured he must have something other than those button-downs that he seemed incapable of buttoning all the way.
“Sure thing,” Javi replied, shuffling off to his bedroom. Steve heard several drawers open and shut and the rustle of fabric before Javi returned with a plain black t-shirt.
Steve peeled his soggy shirt off and tossed it aside before taking the fresh shirt from Javi and shrugging it on. It smelled strongly of cigarettes—Javi definitely smoked more than Steve did—but Steve found the scent oddly comforting. And most importantly, it was wonderfully dry.
“Thanks,” Steve said, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were starting to droop.
“You’re welcome,” Javi said with a nod. “Try and get some shut-eye. We’ve got an early day tomorrow.”
Steve lay back down on the couch, a heavy wave of sleepiness dragging him there. Javi watched over him for a moment before turning to walk back to his room.
Steve stopped him, grasping at Javi’s wrist.
“Javi?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t you dare fucking die on me,” he rasped. “I can’t… I can’t lose another partner. I can’t.”
Javi gave Steve’s hand a brief, firm squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, voice quiet and sincere.
With promised words hanging heavy in the space between them, Steve fell back asleep, blissfully dreamless.