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Eddie may not be in the possession of superpowers himself, but having a superhero boyfriend has made him pick up on a few skills of his own.
Case in point, picking up on the telltale sound of said-boyfriend landing on the fire escape outside his window which, to the untrained ear, may just sound like the old structure settling like it does several times a day. But Eddie knows better.
Sure enough, it’s only a few seconds before there’s a light tap on Eddie’s window and when Eddie peeks over his shoulder, there’s Steve leaning against it still in his suit.
“Just a sec, bug boy,” Eddie murmurs, laughing quietly. He’s in the middle of scribbling down a note for his next campaign—and it’s a good idea. He doesn’t wanna lose it. “It’s unlocked if you wanna let yourself in.”
It’s a short moment before Eddie hears the window creak open, and another second longer before Steve grunts out, “What did you call me?”
Smirking, Eddie says, “What, bug boy? You don’t like it?”
Steve huffs out a laugh.
“You know,” Eddie continues, finishing his note with a flourish, “it’s only one letter off from big boy, and you like that one, don’t you? What’s the difference?”
“I’m not a bug,” Steve says grumpily, and Eddie spins around in his chair just in time to see Steve fall through the window and hit the ground with a drawn out groan.
Eddie lurches out of his chair towards Steve, reaching automatically to cradle Steve’s head. He carefully removes Steve’s mask and yelps out, “Jesus, Harrington, what the hell happened?”
“Y’should see the other guy,” Steve slurs out, and there’s blood dripping from his mouth too, fucking Christ. He sags into Eddie’s arms without complaint though, only making a sound as he shifts to wrap an arm around Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie moves slowly, pulling them both to their feet. “The other guy being… shit, a fucking alien with tentacles or something—”
Steve hisses in pain when Eddie helps him down onto the armchair in his room, and with the way he sprawls out in it Eddie is finally able to take stock of his injuries. There’s the obvious ones, the wounds that look like fucking bites taken out of his torso—Eddie picks up some shirt off the ground that he’s like ninety percent sure is clean and presses it to Steve’s chest to apply pressure—but there’s also a red welt against the pale skin of Steve’s neck, encircling it completely.
Eddie reaches out and touches the mark with gentle fingers. “What’d this guy try to do, choke you to death?”
“And then some,” Steve grunts. His head drops back against the armrest, exposing the long line of his neck even more. It has to hurt, stretching the abused skin, but Steve just sighs in relief. Eddie reaches up until his shaking fingers brush against Steve’s jaw.
“You scare the shit outta me, sweetheart,” Eddie admits, breathless. “Comin’ back with all these wounds. What if one day I can’t stitch you up?”
Steve raises his head, leaning into Eddie’s touch. “Eddie,” he says helplessly.
“Sorry,” whispers Eddie, embarrassed. He knocks their foreheads together.
And Steve’s hand wraps gently around the base of Eddie’s neck, cradling him and holding them close together. A touch so soft Eddie almost worries he doesn’t deserve it. “Eddie,” breathes Steve, voice honey-soft and warm, “baby. Didn’t I promise I’d always come home to you?”
Eddie huffs out a laugh. “Oh, I trust you when you say it,” he reassures Steve, “I just don’t trust these alien and vampire fuckers you keep getting into fights with to try and keep the same promise.”
“I’m stronger than them,” Steve promises, grinning smugly. There’s blood on his teeth and sweat matting his hair but he’s beautiful. Always beautiful.
“Cocky asshole—” Eddie starts to say.
“Hey, Ed?” comes Uncle Wayne’s voice from down the hall.
“Shit, fuck,” Eddie hisses. Steve’s ready to move in an instant, already extending a hand that Eddie takes to pull him up out of the chair. As Steve ducks behind it, Eddie barricades himself at the door. He yanks it open just a crack before Wayne can knock, fist poised to do so, and it startles them both. “Fuck. Yeah? What’s up?”
Wayne regards him suspiciously, looking him up and down. Eddie smiles and hopes it doesn’t look too crazy. “Rob’s makin’ hot cocoa, you want any?”
“Why is Robin making hot cocoa in the middle of August?” Eddie asks, wrinkling his nose.
Wayne gives him a look that says, she’s your sister, you ask her. “Just gimme a yes or no, boy, I ain’t got all night."
Eddie huffs out, “No, I’m good,” and closes the door quickly. He lasts about half a second before the guilt creeps in and he reopens the door another small crack. “But thank you, Uncle Wayne.”
“Sure thing,” Wayne says before Eddie can close the door again. “You alright?”
“What?” says Eddie, heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Wayne glances down again briefly, even though his expression stays carefully neutral. Eddie realizes a bit belatedly that he’s probably got some of Steve’s blood on his shirt. Eddie doesn’t panic. He won’t panic. His eye twitches at the exertion of trying to look normal, but he is so not panicking. Wayne eventually decides it’s not worth the fight, probably, because he sighs after a beat and mutters, “Yeah, alright.”
“Okay,” Eddie says haltingly.
“Well, anyway. I’m sure Robin’ll end up makin’ more cocoa than just she needs, so. If you change your mind about wantin’ any, you just holler. Seem to recall just last week you said something about livin’ in a chocolate house in another life, so I can’t imagine hot cocoa’s that far below you.”
“Uncle Wayne,” hisses Eddie, hyperaware of the way Steve’s still in the room behind him and able to hear every word of this conversation with his stupid superhero hearing. “I didn’t—that’s so impractical. And it would melt in this weather.”
Wayne snickers as he turns on his heel to walk away. Then he decides, evidently, that he hasn’t embarrassed Eddie and ruined his life enough for one night, so he calls over his shoulder as he goes, “You ask that boy a’ yours if he wants any cocoa, too, y’hear? This family is considerate to guests.”
Eddie chokes.
From somewhere in the room, Steve bursts out into uncontrolled giggles—clearly unbothered by being almost immediately caught.
“Okay, goodnight, Uncle Wayne!” Eddie yelps out, slamming the door closed behind him. Steve’s chin is resting on the armrest when Eddie turns around, the only part of him that’s visible.
“Chocolate house?” Steve repeats, giving Eddie a dopey grin. Eddie’s gonna kiss that stupid smirk right off of his dumb face.
“Shut up,” Eddie mutters, already crossing the room.
Steve calls out, “I’d love some cocoa, Uncle Wayne—!” but he’s cut off by his own laughter when Eddie reaches him and pulls him up into a kiss, blood still in Steve's mouth and all.