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Steve yawns when he wakes up, jaw cracking painfully as it happens, and, immediately, his heart drops to his stomach. Because of course, of course, his stupid, three-time damaged brain would choose today of all days to lay down and scream about how damaged it is. Like a toddler hitting a stuffed toy with its little fists but the toy is the left side of Steve’s head and the toddler is the phantom remnants of Billy Hargrove and evil Russian interrogators beating him unconscious.
Steve buries his face into the pillow as if suffocating is a better fate than a migraine. Sometimes, it feels like it is. And it’s definitely a better fate than making Eddie’s big, brown, twinkling eyes turn dull and disappointed with the ruining of their plans. Just the memory of them makes Steve’s heart break a little.
Face shoved into the pillows, Steve thinks suffocating himself may be less painful than disappointing Eddie.
He finds Eddie in the little kitchen, wearing mismatched socks, worn-in boxers, and a tour t-shirt from 1973. From the hall, Steve watches Eddie flip a pancake without the spatula; practised and showy. The floor creaks under Steve’s foot when he shifts his weight, breaking Eddie out of his little bubble. He turns to Steve with a smile, dimples popped, eyes bright. There’s a smudge of batter on his chin.
“Morning, Stevie,” he says, sweet and sugary in the mornings as always. "I tried making hearts. To be cute and all. But, uh” - he turns back to the stove - “shit's hard, so."
Steve tries to hide his yawn behind his hand. Jaw aching horribly, he mutters, "G’morning,” and moves to wrap his arms around Eddie's waist. Looking over his shoulder, Steve laughs softly at the misshapen blob in the pan.
"Oh, he's laughing,” Eddie says. “You hear that? He's laughing at you in there. You gonna take that, Mr Pancake?"
Amused, Steve tucks his nose into Eddie's hair. Yawns again. He feels Eddie’s shoulders stiffen up a little. Feeling caught, Steve just watches the pancake bubble up.
"You tired?" Eddie asks carefully, head turned towards Steve. "You've been yawning a lot."
Steve burrows further into Eddie. He’s aware that it’s silly to feel ashamed, but he is. He hates this and he hates that it’s ruined their day.
"Not tired,” he whispers.
For a moment, Eddie's quiet. The pancake is probably black underneath at this point, but he’s not flipping it.
“You having auras? Are you nauseous?"
"Not yet."
Steve can feel it when Eddie makes the decision to act nonchalant and unbothered. It’s there in the way he sets his shoulders and finally flips the pancake - with the spatula this time, so he doesn’t jostle Steve.
"Well, at least you can eat breakfast before your day goes to shit,” Eddie jokes, deadpan. Steve snorts, but he’s still upset.
“I’m sorry. I could just…” He knows as he says it that it’s a lie. “I could ignore it. Stick it out, whatever.”
Put on a brave face and act like the pain doesn’t sort of make him want to kill himself. Nothing he hasn’t done before.
Eddie pours more batter into the pan, trying, again, to shape it into a heart.
“We both know how that’s gonna end, Steve. Baby, it’s fine. I’m not- upset, or anything. I mean, I’m sad for you and all, but… It’s fine. We can stay in and watch shitty TV and binge chick flicks, or something. I’ll eat junk food while you try not to yak on my uncle’s couch.”
Steve laughs, but also sort of groans at the same time. He lets himself go slack against Eddie.
“I hate this,” he whispers.
“I know, sweet thing,” Eddie comforts, putting the jokes aside. He kisses Steve’s temple. “I’m sorry.”
It makes the job harder, but Steve doesn’t stop clinging to Eddie like a koala the whole time Eddie’s plating up. He pours the syrup for Steve even though Steve is more than capable of doing it himself, and he hands Steve the plate of heart-blobs along with a knife and fork.
“I promise it tastes just as good coming up as it does going down,” Eddie says, taking up his own plate with just a fork and a lake of syrup.
“That’s disgusting,” Steve says, grimacing.
“Disgustingly sweet,” Eddie jokes. “Just like you.”
Stupidly in love, Steve just smiles at him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Eddie grins. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Stevie.”