Work Text:
Steve was pulled from the depths of sleep by a distant ringing. He groaned, becoming aware of how feverishly warm he was, and the way something heavy hung onto him. He blinked, slowly becoming aware of the cloud of curls that covered his vision. He realized then that Eddie was curled against him, comfortably asleep on his chest. Eddie’s cheeks were still colored with fever and Steve felt as if he was laying under a heated blanket. Sweat gathered at the place where Eddie slept against him, and Steve could smell the scent of sour sickness still emanating from Eddie’s snoring mouth.
The ringing came again, earning a groan from Eddie.
“I’ll geddit,” Steve mumbled, sleep stealing most of his syllables. He forced his leg to shift out from under the tangle of sheets, earning another groan from Eddie. Unlike the low moan of warning before a choked, sicker hiccup, this moan was higher and almost a whine. Steve wasn’t sure if it was from being woken up or from him trying to leave the bed, but then Eddie’s leg pressed against Steve’s in protest, as if to say don’t leave.
“S’the phone,” Steve whispered, planting a kiss on Eddie’s forehead. “M’comin’ back. Three minutes.”
Steve stroked Eddie’s cheek as his boyfriend’s face scrunched in tired frustration.
Eddie’s leg off Steve’s, taking Steve’s soft forehead kiss as acceptable payment for leaving the bed.
The warmth from the bed only lasted a few seconds as Steve wished for a shirt as he stumbled across the room and to the hallway. He reached the phone seconds before it went to voicemail.
“Hello?” His voice was raspier than he expected and he swallowed. “This is Steve.”
“Oh I was hoping to not wake you,” Joyce’s voice tutted from the other end of the line. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
He blinked rapidly as the bright light in the kitchen seemed to stab at his half-asleep eyes. He didn’t have his watch on, but the digital clock on the microwave read 8:34. He paused, wondering how Joyce knew about Eddie, but then remembered the call he’d made to her place at some time closer to 2am, when Eddie could barely keep down water.
“Hey, yeah, we’re okay. It was rough for a bit last night, but it’s cooler downstairs and I think moving him to the guest room helped.”
“Okay, good. Jonathan’s got the same thing and is still feeling pretty rough. You call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Joyce.”
She reminded him to check Eddie’s temperature and Steve assured her he would before they hung up.
Steve set the phone back on the cradle, still squinting in the bright light of the morning. He rubbed his eye with the back of his hand; it was later than he realized, which meant Eddie was on his fourth hour of uninterrupted sleep.
Maybe this was the corner he’d been hoping to turn all along.
Steve absently filled a glass and it was only when the water touched his dry tongue that he realized how thirsty he was. He gulped the rest of the glass, quickly refilling it to down it just as fast. He’d been so focused on getting water in Eddie, that he’d forgotten to hydrate himself. The water refreshed him, removing the last of the sticky sleepiness between his bones. Joyce’s call reminded Steve of how sick Eddie had been last night, and winced at the memory of Eddie’s choking gags and heaves as he struggled to bring up everything he’d eaten in the last week. Steve lost count of how many times Eddie had pushed himself over the toilet bowl before Steve had to assist and the hours blurred as they moved between the bedroom and the bathroom.
Steve fought a yawn as he refilled the glass to bring back to the guest room. It was late but if Eddie was awake, maybe he’d be up to try some water and medicine.
The guest room door was ajar and as Steve approached, he caught the sight of Eddie’s arm sleepily hanging off the bed first. As he entered the doorway, Steve saw that the rest of Eddie was curled comfortably in the pillow dent left by Steve’s body. The sheets tangled around Eddie’s ankles, stubbornly kicked off sometime in the night. Sweat gathered at Eddie’s temple and dampened the pillowcase, making Eddie’s baby hairs stick to his temple and neck and dampening the pillowcase into a darker blue.
Despite being sick, Steve was astonished at how beautiful Eddie was like this. The ponytail Steve tied last night had fallen loose, and Eddie’s hair was now spread across the pillows like a curly black storm cloud. His boyfriend’s back was a sight to take in; Steve had each divot and dimple memorized. Eddie’s outstretched arm was inked in tattoos, each a few inches apart. His fingers were long and slender, and Steve could make out the faded reminders written in Sharpie on the back of Eddie’s hand. Whatever bug Eddie was fighting stole most of his color, but his cheeks were still rosy, but nothing like the raging red they were last night.
For the first time in days, Eddie looked comfortable.
Relief came in a warm glow that seemed to expand through Steve’s chest, and Steve leaned heavier against the doorway. It’d been a long few days, and his own body wanted nothing more than the return to bed with Eddie. But the thought of waking Eddie or worse, the movement of the bed making Eddie’s nausea return, was a risk he didn’t want to take.
He'd crash in his bed, but their bedroom upstairs was still a mess from the last few days.
But, a clean bed was what they both needed.
The thought of curling up with Eddie in clean sheets gave him the momentum he needed and he headed upstairs to begin.
His bedroom was at the end of the hall, and he was hit with a heavy stuffiness and the same sour smell. Sickness seemed to hang in the air like an invisible fog. The sunlight shone in from the open curtains, casting the window panes in rumpled shadows over the unmade bed. He crossed the room to unlatch the lock on the window and cracked it open. The whoosh of air that came in carried the chilly bite of the oncoming winter, but it instantly cut through the stuffiness, making the room feel less suffocating.
Steve surveyed his room, taking in each part of the mess. Various painkillers and medicine for fevers were scattered across the surfaces of his room. His nightstand looked like a mini city of medicinal skyscrapers, the bottles of cough syrup to Pepto-Bismol and half-full glasses of flat Sprite, all clustered together. The thermometer lay nearby untouched crackers on a napkin, and a used washcloth hung off the side of the nightstand. The backup thermometer sat near the lamp, skewed to the side from Steve's rush to grab the trashcan when Eddie had first felt sick. Steve adjusted it and then picked up the TV remote next to it, trying to remember why he’d brought up the TV from the kitchen. The screen was off, but he remembered when he caught sight the open VHS case of Lord of the Rings. The cassette was still in the player, and although Steve lived by the be kind, rewind rule, but knew Eddie would want to eventually finish the movie.
Maybe later this afternoon, if Eddie feels better.
The thought was a comfort as Steve started clearing the nightstand. He moved easily, taking a thing and finding the proper place for it, finding a rhythm with cleaning. The cough syrup, now capped, sat closed in the medicine cabinet. He tossed the used tissues in the trash, and the crumpled washcloth was replaced with a clean one. He set out a new pair of shorts and a shirt for Eddie on the dresser to wear later.
The bed was last.
The quilt came off first and with a few tugs, the top sheet followed. The sheets were next, and Steve leaned on one knee to pull each corner free. The fibers of the sheets seemed to shake sickness off into the air, sticky and sweaty, and Steve was thankful for the open window. The pillowcases were stained and crusty, and he pulled those off, piling them with the sheets gathered at the end of the bed. He added Eddie’s abandoned shirt he stripped off days ago, along with the one Steve tossed to the side sometime yesterday.
Steve wasted no time getting the pile to the laundry room to wash.
On his return upstairs, Steve paused in the doorway of the guest room again to check on Eddie and smiled at the sight. Eddie had turned over into a full stretch across the bed, still sound asleep. His back glistened and Steve could see the stain of sweat against the pillow from where he slept. Hopefully, Eddie would sleep even better in clean sheets and fresh pajamas.
As Steve leaned against the doorframe, the same warmth glowed in his chest, this time tasting of sweet relief and a little something like love.