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He was blissfully asleep in bed when a sudden cold shock to his back awoke him.
Steve yelped, “Jesus!” And turned around to see who had snuck into his house this early in the morning (it’s only nine) and came face to face with his boyfriend, Eddie. “Eds, what the fuck? Hello? Hi? What happened to those? Christ.”
Eddie didn’t even look sheepish when Steve met his eyes. He was ready to chew him out, but one look told him that Eddie wasn’t doing too well. His whole body was trembling, teeth chattering, breath leaving him in short puffs. He couldn’t even get any words out, he was that cold.
Immediately, Steve’s hackles rose. He tentatively scooted across the mattress to get closer to Eddie. But, it’s as if Eddie didn’t even notice him. His eyes were glazed over. There were tear tracks wobbling down his face. Eddie’s lips were bitten raw, chapped, and slightly purple. He was fighting with himself to try and stay focused with the moment, if the subtle jerks told Steve anything, but he quickly fell back into himself.
“Baby?” Steve ventured. “Did something happen?” He had a feeling he knew what. But his stomach turns at the idea of how Eddie even got over here safely. It’s January, for Christ’s sake. It’s freezing.
A small and sharp exhale left Eddie. He whispered, his voice a terribly awful rasp, “Nightmare.” And as the word left his mouth, his eyes began to tear up all over again. “You. Bats. Scared,” he relayed.
Steve nodded minutely in understanding.
There was one reoccurring nightmare that seemed to follow Eddie no matter what. He’d talked about it in full length before, but that seems to have made it linger in his psyche. Eddie swims down into Lover’s Lake right after Robin jumps in. Except, somehow, he makes it through the portal first. He always knows where to find Steve to try and save him from the demobat attack, even though his true self wouldn’t have (at least, not when this nightmare takes place). But the space between him and Steve’s body stretches longer than it’s supposed to. In turn, by the time he actually reaches Steve, he’s already dead. A demobat wrapped around his neck, more chunks than real flesh on his torso, his arms a mottled bleeding mess, pants chewed to bits and pieces, and his mouth filled with blood. Eddie recalls Steve’s face. Blood vessel broken, eyes glazed and far away yet still hazel brown, hair tacky to his skin, lips parted and bloodied, and pale. Already dead. He always claims the second worst part of the nightmare to be when Robin and Nancy finally reach the two of them. Nancy gasping under her breath, then turning around to puke. Robin screeching like she’s been stabbed, her words only sobs. And Eddie never knows how to comfort them, even if that’s not true in reality.
Which, if Steve takes in how Eddie came in now. To touch him, to sense. He can tell that Eddie came to see if…Well, if Steve was here and alive. What may have freaked him out again, though, was the fact that Steve was sleeping. And that’s why he had to touch him. Steve can deduce that pretty easily.
“Oh, baby,” Steve sighs. He opens his arms in silent invitation. But when Eddie doesn’t move, he voices softly, “Come here, honey. It’s okay. I’m alive. I’ve got you.”
Though it takes some thirty seconds of silent hope and prayer, Eddie eventually scoots in close enough to be scooped up. Steve takes him between his arms, squeezing him in as compact as he’ll go, wraps his comforter around the two of them, and lets Eddie stick his hands back under his shirt. He hisses slightly at the contact again, but they’re less cold than when he first arrived.
With the warmth and embrace, Eddie is brought to tears. In the silence of his bedroom, Steve picks up on only two sounds. His own breathing. And Eddie softly weeping and whimpering into his shoulder. He smooths one hand down his spine and the other over Eddie’s cold-to-the-touch curls. Shushing as quiet and soothing as possible in his ear. Kissing over his temple and his cheek, the skin freezing there, too. Using all his might, Steve manages to swallow back his own emotion.
The one thing he hates more than nightmares is the after effects that reduce his boyfriend to tears. Hates the aftermath with every fiber of his being, even if they do get to cuddle. He enjoys cuddling in nicer circumstances, though. This sucks. It hurts his heart to hear how Eddie cries.
When Eddie goes pliant, Steve wrangles them around so that he’s laying on his back and Eddie’s halfway on top of him. He lets Eddie tuck himself in close, nose pressed to the base of Steve’s neck, eyelashes fluttering against his skin when he blinks. His arms are loose, one tucked under his torso, the other splayed over Steve’s own, fingers underneath the t-shirt to trace the evidence left behind—that show that Steve actually survived. Steve leaves one arm wrapped around Eddie’s middle, the other cupping the back of his head, keeping him pressed.
Though, his stomach turns again at how Eddie even got here. “Eds?” He breathes into the silence.
“Yeah?” Eddie whispers, his breath tickling over Steve. Somehow also cold. He’s just chilled all around. Steve is able to hold back the shudder that teases his bones.
“How’d you get here?”
Eddie huffs. “I walked,” he states simply. “My van’s still in the shop, wasn’t an option.” He barely lifts his head, but Steve shoves him back down immediately. Get him warm, his brain supplies. “Why?” Eddie asks when he nuzzles back in.
“You’re so cold,” Steve murmurs. “You didn’t take a jacket.”
“Forgot,” Eddie drones, his voice flat. Tired. Still raspy. He had probably screamed when the nightmare finished playing. Steve aches.
“I told you, Eds. Call me first. I’ll come get you, baby.” He squeezes at Eddie’s middle. Bunches his fingers, tangling them loosely in Eddie’s hair. “Scared me.”
He feels Eddie swallow against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. His next breath stutters, as if he’s gearing up to cry again.
“No, Eds, it’s okay,” he lies. “Don’t cry. It just worries me when you’re out there, vulnerable like this, practically freezing to death.” He soothes his hand up and down Eddie’s spine. “Promise that you’ll call me next time?”
Eddie only nods. He shuffles in closer.
Steve tilts his head sideways, cushioning his cheek atop Eddie’s hair. “Are you still cold?” He asks. Eddie’s nod against his shoulder is minute, a little hesitant. “Okay,” he mutters, “let’s go get hot chocolate and put you in front of the fireplace, alright?”
“Okay,” Eddie breathes. “Hold my hand?”
So, Steve does. Squeezing Eddie’s palm with every step down the stairs. He wonders how Eddie even managed a staircase in his post-nightmare dazed state, but realizes it would be futile to ask. At least he made it here, Steve has to remind himself, and he’s alive and he sought you out.
He plops Eddie down in front of the fireplace, quickly chucks a few logs in, and lights them up to let out a small, yet pleasantly warm flame. He maneuvers a blanket over Eddie’s shoulders, soothes his hands—which are warm and heavy—down the sides of Eddie’s neck. And excuses himself to the kitchen to make a couple mugs of hot chocolate. Steve makes sure that he’s loud when preparing them. Clattering the dishes. Slamming some of the cupboards. Noisily twisting and untwisting the cap on the milk jug. And reenters the living room, a steaming cup handed off to Eddie.
They sit in front of the flames for a few silent moments. Sans their slurps. This time, when Steve takes noisy sips—like he would do with his morning coffee—it doesn’t earn him a small Eddie snort. It doesn’t really get him anything at all. He sets their mugs on the mantle when they’re finished and tucks himself under the blanket with Eddie, wrapping his arm around his middle once again. He forces Eddie’s head into his shoulder junction. Rests his own cheek atop Eddie’s hair. And sighs.
Kissing his scalp, he murmurs, “I love you.” Seals it with another soft peck.
“I love you, too,” Eddie whispers in return. “Thank you for—“
“I’d let you put your hands under my shirt anytime, baby. No need for that.”
Eddie only sighs in contentment. And Steve relishes in the exact moment when he goes boneless against his side, making their sides conjoin in a single tight line, snoring softly into his neck. He’d do anything for Eddie, no matter what he asked.