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You yawn loudly, stumbling into the living room with a murmured apology to Florence for tripping over her. The clouds hang low and iron-gray in the sky, blocking out most of the available light, but you can still place Volt by the glow of his hair, and if you can place Volt, you can place Eddie.
Despite copious protests and offers to let them use your bed (from both yourself and Betty), Eddie stubbornly refused. “I’m not puttin’ you out of your room just ‘cause I got hurt,” he’d grumbled. “Koa’ll do just fine, if it ain’t too much trouble for him.” It hadn’t been, and he’d stayed stubbornly in place in the living room. Volt, somewhat understandably, had refused to be parted from him, so Mateo had built him a floor nest of pillows and blankets. You can see him now, hair dimmed in sleep but still emitting a faint white aura, curled in on himself with the exception of one hand reaching up to hold Eddie’s where it dangles off the couch. Eddie seems to be asleep as well, but his breathing is labored.
Volt’s always been a light sleeper, a pun which never fails to get an exaggerated groan from Eddie whenever either of you make it, so you’re not surprised when his hair brightens a little as you creep through to the kitchen. He rolls onto his back, free hand coming up to scrub at his eyes as you beeline for Kopi.
“Caffe latte,” you say softly, “if it’s not too much trouble.” Kopi rolls her eyes, smiling and passing you a gently steaming mug. “How did you -”
“This is your comfort drink in the mornings,” she says, equally soft. “Dorian mentioned you were waking up, so I thought you might appreciate a coffee you didn’t have to think about.” You gently kiss her cheek in thanks, and she turns pleasantly pink as you head back to the living room.
Volt’s fully awake by now, sitting up and holding Eddie’s hand against his mouth. He doesn’t seem to be actively doing anything, just . . . sitting there, lost in thought.
“Volt?” you say, not wanting to startle him.
“Mmm? Oh, live wire - good . . . morning, is it?”
“Apparently,” you sigh, settling into an armchair and taking a sip of your perfect coffee. “Did you sleep alright?”
“It’s a funny thing, you know - I thought I was too wound up to sleep, but the second the blanket covered me I was, dare I say, out like a light.” You snort a little at the joke, and Volt grants you a smile at half its normal wattage before he turns to stare at Eddie’s sleeping face. It’s not an uncommon pastime of his, and one you often share - there’s something about the soft openness of Eddie’s face when he’s asleep, when it looks like he’s finally set down the weight of the world that he insists on carrying by himself - but there’s an undercurrent of worry in this look.
“He’s alright,” you say, setting your coffee down and kneeling next to Volt. He sighs, not looking at you, but when you hook your chin over his shoulder, he tips his head into yours. “He’s all stitched up, and he’s healing. Farya said he’s out of the woods.”
“My entire existence revolves around taking care of him,” Volt says, barely audible. “He created me because he had too much work for one person to handle. But even when I came to be, he still . . . he doesn’t know how to delegate. He doesn’t know how to let people in, how to let people help him. He wouldn’t have let Farya give him stitches if he hadn’t been almost unconscious from blood loss.”
“I had to bully him into letting me so much as look at a hammer,” you say. Volt huffs out a soft laugh. “He’s not going to be a model patient, is he?”
“I don’t know that he knows the meaning of the word patient - either meaning.”
“Rude,” someone mutters. You look up to see Eddie cracking one eye open, glaring up at both of you. “I know words. I know . . . so many words.”
Your chin comes off of Volt’s shoulder as he leans forward to press his forehead against Eddie’s, letting out a shaky exhale. “Oh, do you?” he says. He probably intended it to be teasing, but his voice just sounds unsteady with relief. “Enlighten me, then, on all your words.”
“Fuck, you, bastard, that’s three right there.”
“I guess not even stitches can stop you from being a sarcastic little shit, huh?” You pick your coffee back up and perch on the coffee table, gently patting Abel in thanks. “Stubborn.”
“Not even my best efforts can stop you from being a menace on my life,” Eddie snipes, although his snarky tone is at odds with the softness of the way he squeezes Volt’s hand and gently nuzzles their noses together. “You’re one to talk about stubbornness.”
Farya had told you to come get her as soon as Eddie woke up, to check on his healing and make sure he didn’t need any additional care, but you can’t bring yourself to interrupt Volt and Eddie for another five or six minutes.
“What? No, absolutely not, I’m not doin’ that for love or money. No.”
“Not really a choice, bud!” Farya chirps, noting something down on her clipboard. “You’re confined to bed rest - or couch rest, or chair rest, whichever you prefer - for at least ten days. Ideally two to three weeks, but I don’t think you’ll stay still nearly that long.”
“You’re damn right I won’t! That club will fall apart at the seams without me there to keep it running, and it’s not like anyone else can do anything about it.” Eddie tries to stand up, letting out a pained hiss as his torso moves, but you barely need to put any pressure on his shoulder to keep him sitting.
“Eddison, if you don’t take an actual break and let yourself recover properly, you’ll tear your stitches, and you know what’ll happen then? Sepsis! Internal bleeding! Self-evisceration! You might get yourself killed!” Farya looks a little bit too excited at the prospect of dealing with these medical emergencies, in your opinion, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice. “You’re on bed rest, and that’s doctor’s orders!”
“You’re not my doctor,” Eddie says mutinously. “I don’t have to do shit.”
“Oh, I’m not going to be the one enforcing the bed rest.” Farya turns to Volt, cheerful face becoming serious as she pulls a few sheets of paper off her clipboard and passes them to him. “Volt, you’re gonna have to keep all this in mind once you go back to your apartment. Showering’s going to be difficult, you should shoot for about five to ten minutes of light walking back and forth every few hours, no bending, no physical labor . . .”
Volt bends over the paper with Farya, murmuring softly as Eddie shoots them both a venomous look. “I’m not a fucking invalid, I can take care of myself. I’ve been taking care of myself for God knows how long.”
“Arguably, you are the exact definition of an invalid,” you say, rolling your eyes when he flips you off. “You’re recovering from a life-threatening injury. I don’t think you should be lugging boxes around or changing lightbulbs or whatever else it is you think you’re gonna be doing.”
“I’m gonna be doing my job, and you can’t stop me.”
“Maybe not, but I absolutely can,” Volt says. “I’m more than happy to use those handcuffs Ben-Hwa gave me for less sexy purposes if you force my hand.” Eddie blushes bright crimson, Farya stifles a giggle behind her clipboard, and you burst into laughter as Volt winks flirtatiously.
“Shut the fuck up, I hate you, I’m kicking you out of the club.”
“I don’t think you can do that, darling.”
“Watch me.”
“Eddie, I mean it,” Farya says seriously. “If you overexert yourself and tear your stitches, you run the risk of racking up even more time bedridden and off your feet, which means that you’ll be off duty for even longer. As long as you take this seriously and let your body get the rest it needs, you’ll be mixing drinks again in no time.”
“Please, spark,” Volt says, gently taking Eddie’s hand and lifting it to brush a kiss to his knuckles. “For me?”
Eddie’s flush rapidly deepens. “You know, one of these days, flattery is going to stop working on me, and then what will you do?”
“I sincerely doubt that, spark.”
“This place is a fucking disaster,” Eddie grouses, one arm wrapped around Volt’s waist for stability. He hates the way they move at a glacial pace through the club, the way his chest burns and wheezes with each breath, the way that Volt is holding him up. “That’s what the human gets for letting some stranger wander through and fix shit. I could have done it myself, y’know.”
“Not while you were actively bleeding out on the floor, you couldn’t,” Volt says. He clearly means it to come out as a joke, but his voice is quiet and solemn, with the slightest wobble of someone who has lived their worst nightmare and isn’t quite sure it’s over just yet. He does his best to guide Eddie straight for the stairs that lead to their little two-room apartment, but Eddie still catches a glimpse of the dark stain on the floorboards peeking out from behind the bar.
“Oh,” he says softly, stopping. Volt immediately turns to look at him, bringing his other hand up to cup Eddie’s cheek.
“Spark, what’s wrong? Does it hurt too much? Farya says no pain meds until a few hours from now, but if it’s too much to walk, I can always carry -”
“Volt, you fuckin’ mother hen, I’m fine,” Eddie says, ignoring the way a dull, bruising pain pulses along the incision in his abdomen. “I just . . . the human said all my blood disappeared when the Dateviators came off, but I guess that was just the blood on them, huh.”
Volt follows his gaze to the bloodstain on the flood, and his entire face crumples in an instant. The hand on Eddie’s face slides down to his neck, two fingers pressed firmly into it, seeking for his pulse. Eddie bites back the urge to roll his eyes, instead taking a deep, slow breath in and out, only a little exaggerated.
“When we, uh, get up to bed, if you . . . uh . . . wanna . . . cuddle, or whatever, you can - you’ll know that I’m . . . alive, or whatever.” Volt’s mouth falls open, just a little, and before Eddie can retract the statement or argue or anything else, Volt leans forward and kisses him. His mouth is warm and soft and slightly metallic-tasting, like copper wire, and his arm is firm and grounding around the small of Eddie’s back. He leans forward into Volt, just a little, and squeaks in surprise against his mouth as Volt bends, sweeps his hand from Eddie’s neck to the backs of his knees, and swings him up into his arms, bridal style.
“Volt, what the fuck are you -”
“The less you’re on your feet, the better!” Volt laughs, hair shimmering as he tosses his head back and shifts to settle Eddie firmly against his chest. “Besides, you said we could cuddle.”
“I meant we could do that in our bed!”
“You didn’t specify.” Volt drops a little kiss onto Eddie’s nose, leaving him spluttering as they head for the stairs.
Eddie draws the line at letting Volt dress him. “I am, in fact, capable of putting on my own clothes, you know.” Volt sits on the bed, nervously watching Eddie’s every move with his hands jerking forward whenever Eddie so much as breathes a little too heavily. Eventually, he gets himself into soft sleep pants and carefully settles himself into his usual side of the bed. Volt slides up effortlessly behind him, hovering an arm over Eddie’s waist instead of hugging him like normal.
“You worried you’re gonna catch getting stabbed or somethin’?”
“Moreso worried that I’ll put a painful pressure on your wound if I put my arm where I normally do, spark.” Eddie reaches up to take Volt’s arm, guiding it up a few inches to settle along his chest instead of his waist.
“There, you big baby. Problem solved.”
“Is it so ridiculous that I don’t want to hurt you?” Volt says, voice soft and wounded. “I watched you collapse, Eddie. I thought I was watching you die. When you - when I - how could I possibly -”
His breathing quickens against Eddie’s neck, and Eddie takes Volt’s arm again and lifts it up so he can lace their fingers together. “Hey, hey, Volt, I - I’m sorry. I . . . that was shitty, I . . . it was shitty. I’m sorry.”
Volt lets out a shaky exhale, pressing his lips to the base of Eddie’s neck.
“It’s alright, spark. Just rest, alright? Let me take care of you, for a change.”
Eddie is too tired to protest.
Volt is gone when Eddie wakes up. He opens his eyes slowly, groaning as he tries to sit up. Dull, bruising pain radiates through his entire torso from the incision where he’d been stabbed, forcing him to stay on his side and take deep, slow breaths for a few moments. It takes him almost two full minutes to push himself to sitting, moving probably the slowest he ever has. When he’s finally upright, he notices a folded piece of paper on the nightstand, next to a glass of water and a few pills.
Spark -
When you wake up, take the pain medicine and drink the water. I’ll work on cleaning up the bar and check on our live wire, and I’ll be back around midday. Please stay in bed.
All my love,
Volt
Eddie, satisfied that he’s completely alone, presses the note against his chest with both hands, feeling a soft shimmer like static electricity around his heart. Volt has always been more free with his affection than Eddie, even before he split himself. When Volt loves someone, he loves them with his entire being, pouring every ounce of his being into caring for them. Eddie’s seen the way that entire rooms glow when Volt walks in, the way everyone bends towards him like flowers turning to face the sun, the way the human never fails to go pink and red when Volt so much as smiles in their direction.
He loves Volt with his entire being, but sometimes he feels searing jealousy so intense it’s a wonder he doesn’t catch fire and burn away to nothing.
He takes the painkillers and drinks the water, looking around the room. He’s not sure what time it is, but if he had to guess, it’s not too far off from midday. Volt will be back soon - he should probably stay in bed. Everyone’s told him to stay in bed.
Eddie’s never been very good at doing what he’s told.
He finds the instructions Farya handed Volt without too much fuss, scanning through to the showering portion. “I can do this myself,” he mutters, dropping the papers to the ground. “I don’t need Volt to fuckin’ wash my ass or whatever. I’ll be fine.”
Staring into the bathroom mirror, Eddie winces as he pulls off the extra-sticky medical adhesive holding the gauze pads against his torso. Carefully, slowly, it comes off, revealing the raised red line of his stab wound stretching across his whole torso. The skin around it is mottled yellow-blue-purple bruised, with traces of adhesive around the edges. Bits of thread poke out at each end, and he winces as he runs his fingers over it. Selfishly, foolishly, he wishes it was Volt running his hands over the incision before shaking his head firmly.
No. Volt would only panic at the sight of this, or go all soft and sad in that way that doesn’t align with his vibrant personality at all. It’s better for everyone involved that Eddie handles this on his own, keeps the worst of it tucked safely away from Volt and the human and anyone else he could possibly end up worrying.
The warmth of the shower is soothing on his skin, gently falling on his back and soaking into his hair. He carefully massages soap into his shoulders and chest, letting the runoff wash over the incision without directly applying any soap there. It’s strange, he reflects, being in the shower alone. Even if they’re not getting up to . . . amorous activities, Volt almost always showers with him. He claims it’s to save water, but in reality, he’s just too lazy to wash his own hair, and he likes when Eddie does it for him.
He carefully shuts the water off after about fifteen minutes, feeling as exhausted as if he’d just run some sort of marathon. Just as he reaches for a towel, the bathroom door comes flying open, and Volt stands there, chest heaving, skin beginning to take on the unnatural electric blue tinge of his fury.
“What did I explicitly say, Eddie?! I don’t believe it was ‘get up and get in the shower’! In fact, I’m almost certain it was stay in bed!” Volt isn’t yelling - Eddie thinks it would be easier to process if he was yelling. His voice is quiet, shaking with controlled fury, and his hair is starting to spark and crackle around his face, like the halo of an avenging angel. “What are you doing?!”
“I felt gross, and last I checked, I didn’t need your permission to use my own shower.”
Volt’s anger dissolves when Eddie leans further forward to grab a towel and winces, pressing a hand to his tender abdomen. In an instant, Volt is there, towel held firmly in his hands as he wraps it around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls it up over his head like a hood.
“Is it so hard to let someone take care of you? To let me take care of you?” His eyes go wide and sad when he sees the incision, like Eddie had known they would, and he crosses his arms over it and turns his head away with a huff.
“I don’t need to be hovered over every minute of the goddamn day, Volt.”
“I am aware of that, which is why I left you for several minutes - several hours, in fact - to go clean up the club. But you are injured, Eddie, and not just a bruise or a burn. Why can’t you understand that I just - I want to -”
Volt’s voice trails off as he grabs a second towel and begins carefully patting Eddie’s leg dry. With a gentle nudge to his ankle, Eddie picks his leg up, uncrossing his arms to hold Volt’s shoulders for stability as Volt wraps the towel around his foot and continues drying him off. “I love you, spark. I just want you to be well.”
“I’m well enough.” Volt raises an unimpressed eyebrow as Eddie lifts one hand from his shoulder to rub the towel over his hair. It takes far longer than he’d like it to, but eventually he’s mostly dry, water still dripping from the ends of his hair onto his shoulders.
“Farya gave me some extra gauze and adhesive, so we’ll get you wrapped back up, and then our live wire wants to see you.”
“I suppose I can put up with them for a few minutes.” Volt shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. When he finishes drying Eddie’s lower half and stands, Eddie takes the opportunity to grab his chin and pull him in for a kiss, sliding his hand up to tangle in Volt’s hair. Volt hums happily against his mouth, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist, and for a moment Eddie can pretend that nothing’s wrong at all.
The moment ends far too soon, Volt pulling back and pressing a final, gentle peck against his lips before turning to take Eddie’s hand and gently pull him towards the bedroom. “Come on, spark. Let’s get that wound dressed, and then we can get you dressed.”
Eddie feels a little silly, laying flat on his back on the bed in nothing but his underwear. He’s been in this position plenty of times, but normally the person (or people, recently) hovering over him are equally undressed. It’s strange to see Volt fully clothed, eyes narrowed in intense concentration as he makes sure Eddie’s wound is clean and full dry before gently pressing a gauze pad against it. Eddie sucks in a sharp breath as the bruising pain becomes more intense, and Volt pulls back with a wince.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Not too bad,” Eddie says. “I don’t think it’d be any different if anyone else did it, and I’m not letting anyone else see me naked, so you might as well keep going.”
“I can think of at least one other person who’s seen you naked,” Volt says, but the quip lacks its usual innuendo. His face is completely serious as he places his hand on the gauze pad again, centering it before reaching for a pair of scissors and the roll of medical adhesive.
Eddie does his best to hold in the winces and pained grunts when Volt puts pressure on the adhesive to seal it to his skin, but he’s clearly not entirely successful by the way that Volt’s face dims and melts. Before long, though, the gauze is firmly fixed to his skin, and Volt is hovering over him to press a gentle, careful kiss to his forehead.
“Are you alright to walk downstairs?” he asks.
“i got stabbed, not paralyzed,” Eddie snipes. Volt gets off the bed, and Eddie hesitates for just a moment before lifting one hand.
“Spark, what are you -?”
“Don’t make me say it,” he says, feeling the blush spread up to the tips of his ears. “Please?”
Volt takes his hand, carefully pulling him up to sitting. “There you are, dearest.”
“Go entertain the live wire while I put some clothes on, will you? I don’t think this is an underwear-only situation.”
It takes longer that he’d care to admit, but Eddie does eventually manage to pull himself together and get dressed. He wears his own sweatpants, but when he reaches for his usual shirt, he hesitates. He wears the same thing every day, and the same thing every night - he doesn’t think the human has ever seen him in any clothes other than the ones he wore when they first met, except for the times when they’ve seen him in nothing at all.
But despite the brave face he’s putting on, he is in pain, and he did get stabbed, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s earned a little bit of a break.
If either of them says a word about this, he’s kicking them both out of the club for life.
Volt meets you at the door to the Breaker Box with a kiss and a hug just short of bruisingly tight. It doesn’t escape your notice that when you pull away, Volt’s hands drift up, one cupping your face and the other pressing against your neck. “Live wire,” he sighs, leaning your foreheads together. “You’re alright, I trust?”
“I’m fine, Volt,” you say, leaning up on your tiptoes to nuzzle your nose up against his. “I promise, I’m completely fine. How are you?”
“I’d be better if Eddie would take Farya’s advice seriously, live wire. I leave him explicit instructions to stay in our god damn bed, and what do I find when I go back up there?”
“I’m assuming it’s not Eddie in bed.”
“Nope! He’s in the shower! The shower, which is all the way across the apartment from the bed where he’s supposed to be recovering!”
“You didn’t really think he was going to be easy to take care of, did you?”
Volt sighs, pulling away from your embrace but leaving one hand intertwined with yours as he leads you into the club proper. “Eddie is many things, live wire, but ‘easy’ has never been one of them. It’s one of the things I love about him, his tenacity, but I . . . I can’t say it isn’t irritating, watching him push himself past his limits.”
“He hasn’t reopened his wound?”
“Not to my knowledge, live wire. We just changed the gauze, and everything looked normal. He should be down shortly, but I’m not sure how long I should wait before I go look for him.”
You turn your gaze to sweep over the Breaker Box as Volt guides you toward the edge of the stage. The remaining chairs and stools are stacked neatly along the edges of the room, and there are piles of broken furniture, bags of trash, and swept piles of shattered glass dotted throughout. There’s also a small fence of wet floor signs around the bar, but when Volt catches your gaze lingering there, he turns your back to it.
“Volt, is that -”
“I’m going to have to speak to Cam later on,” Volt says, voice loud with false cheer. “He’s not the most pleasant fellow, I’ll admit, but he’s better suited than anyone else in the house to handle all this . . . clutter.”
“Volt, the bar, it -”
“I feel bad for Chairemi, with all the broken chairs and stools and stuff, but she never really animated any of them, so as far as I know, she’s not injured. Which is good, we have to make sure no one else is hurt after what happened, don’t we?”
“Volt, on the floor, it’s -”
“Please, live wire, I’m begging you,” Volt says, and his voice suddenly fades from bright to broken. “Just - just don’t look at it, okay? I can’t - I can’t think about that, I . . .”
You turn in his grip to face him, gently holding his face and swiping a tear off his face with your thumb. “Oh, Volt, I’m sorry. I won’t push, okay? It’s alright. Everything’s alright.”
Volt is taller than you, but he bends down to tuck his face into the curve of your shoulder. He takes a shuddering breath, two, three, before pulling back and kissing your forehead, eyes slightly misty and face a little clearer.
“Thank you, live wire.”
You let Volt lead you to the edge of the stage, hopping up to sit on it as a noise on the stairs draws Volt’s attention. Eddie appears from the dark of the stairwell, one hand wrapped around his torso and the other bracing himself on the wall. He’s wearing an outfit you’ve never seen on him before, soft grey sweatpants with little lightning bolts around the cuffs of the legs and a sweatshirt that’s a little too long for him, like it’s made to fit someone taller. Volt’s breath catches in his chest, just a little, and Eddie blushes when he sees whatever look is on Volt’s face.
“It was the first thing I could find,” he mutters, shuffling slowly across the floor to join you. “I didn’t wanna overextend myself rummaging through the drawers cause I knew you’d get all pissy about it.”
Volt just smiles, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s waist the second he’s close enough. “No complaints here, spark. You know how I get when you wear my clothes.”
Eddie blushes even more furiously, glaring half-heartedly at you. “Not a single goddamn word about this, you hear me?”
“On my honor,” you say, committing Eddie’s blush and Volt’s tender expression to memory. “How are you feeling?”
“Like my whole stomach’s one giant bruise, like I went five rounds with Wallace in a boxing ring.” Volt carefully guides him towards the edge of the stage, shifting to hold his hand as Eddie sits next to you with a grunt. “I’ll be fine, though. Definitely don’t need the level of fussing certain people seem to think I do.”
“I don’t think you’re taking this nearly seriously enough, spark.”
“I’ll take your face seriously.”
“I don’t think that’s a real saying, you know,” you say, mostly to watch Eddie glare at you and flip you off.
“Shut up and fuck off, live wire.”
“Make me,” you tease, leaning in and kissing his cheek. Eddie shifts his hand from flipping you off to holding your face in place as you try to pull away, leaning up to kiss you properly.
“Careful what you wish for.”
It takes five days for the situation simmering between Eddie and Volt to come to a head.
You’ve made a point of visiting the Breaker Box every day to check up on Eddie and Volt. Every time you go, they seem to be deeper in some sort of argument, although they always shut it down immediately when they notice you. You try asking them about it, separately and together, but they always find a way to change the subject. You ask Closet Dorian if he’s heard anything, but he just shakes his head - whatever’s going on between Eddie and Volt hasn’t been loud enough for him to overhear, until now.
You’re about to checkmate Parker for the third time in as many games (he keeps demanding rematches, and it keeps you from hovering, so you keep agreeing) when Front Dorian manifests and sprints into the living room.
“Dorian, what’s -”
“Sorry to interrupt - whatever this is, but you gotta go upstairs, now.”
“What? Why -”
“Eddie and Volt - something’s happening in the Breaker Box. They’re -”
Dorian winces, covering one ear with his hand. “It’s so loud, and something just shattered - please, human, come now.”
You abandon the board game immediately, sprinting upstairs and sliding the Dateviators over your eyes. By the time you’re on the landing, you can hear raised voices from the closet, which swings open all on its own to let you inside. The Breaker Box’s door is open, and you stop just shy of going in when something shatters.
“I’m not a fucking child, Volt! I’m more than capable of taking care of myself!”
“You’re hurting, Eddison! I can see it, you wince every time you move! Farya needs to come look at your stitches, I’m sure they’re not supposed to look like that and I know you’ve been overdoing it when I’m not looking, and I -”
“When you’re not looking? I’m not stealing cookies from the cookie jar, I’m a grown-ass man living his life! I don’t need you or Farya or the fucking human or anyone else telling me what to do! I ran this club for years without you, in case you forgot, and I could do it again! I don’t actually need you, Volt, I just keep you around because you’re fun and a good fuck. Now get the fuck out of my bar!”
You step inside in time to see Volt’s body go blue with anger as Eddie hurls a whiskey tumbler at him. Volt ducks effortlessly, and it shatters against the wall as a light bulb explodes over the bar.
“Eddie, Volt, what’s -”
“And you!” Eddie seethes, wheeling around. “If you hadn’t gotten some half-ass handyman in here to do my job, if you’d just waited for me to fix it myself, I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess! You let a stranger fuck with my wires, and now I’m not at full strength and i might never be again! This entire situation is your fault! I should bar you for life, you - you -”
“Eddison, that’s enough!” Volt thunders, stepping between you and Eddie as more light bulbs burst with their rage. “They did the best they could! We’re both doing the best we can, it’s you who’s not trying! You’re so stubborn and pigheaded that you can’t see when you’re wrong!”
“I’ve only been wrong twice in my life,” Eddie says, voice low and dripping with menace. “When I thought I needed to make you, and when I thought I could trust them. Now get out of my bar before I have Dorian drag you out.”
You know Eddie doesn’t mean it, somewhere deep in your heart, but all you can feel is sorrow and rage swelling up like a tidal wave within you. Volt takes a step towards Eddie, clearly intending to continue to conversation, but he stops when you let out a slow, shaky sob.
“I’m sorry that my love is so inconvenient for you, Eddison,” you say, fighting to keep some semblance of composure. “Not to worry - you won’t have to deal with it again.”
You can hear Volt’s voice as you turn and flee the Breaker Box, but Eddie remains silent.
Volt finds you later, curled up in Koa’s lap, wrapped in Mateo’s warmest blanket with Davi’s head resting on your thighs. Sprite, in a rare display of tolerance, is folded neatly into a loaf at your side, letting you gently scratch around her ears.
“Live wire?”
You flinch a little at the nickname. Davi growls, low and threatening, and Sprite’s back arches a little. “Maybe not the time,” Koa says, gently rubbing his hand along your back.
“I - live wire, if you want me to go, tell me, and I will. But if you - if he hasn’t - live wire, I’m - I’m so sorry.”
You turn, just a little, to see Volt standing awkwardly in front of you. His jacket is gone, as is the flush of blue anger from before. His hair is limp around his shoulders, so dim it’s barely lit at all, and his eyes are bloodshot. His left hand is clasped tightly around his right wrist, turning back and forth in a repetitive, self-soothing motion.
“Volt,” you say softly.
“You don’t have to talk to him,” Koa says gently. “If you’re not ready, you don’t have to listen to him. If you’re never ready, that’s fine. He’ll respect it if he knows what’s good for him.”
Volt winces a little, hair somehow dimming even further, but you turn around fully to face Volt, carefully waiting for Davi to list his head.
“Hi, Volt.”
“I - Koa’s right, live wire, if you’re not ready, don’t push yourself. I can - I can wait, as long as you need, even if that ends up being forever.”
“No, it’s - you’re alright.” You stand up, gently scritching around Sprite’s ears one more time before taking a step towards Volt. He stays completely still, waiting for you to make each move.
“I’m so sorry you had to hear that, live wire. Eddie was -” You wince again at the mention of his name, and Volt’s expression grows even sadder. “- way out of line, saying those things about you, about me, about - he’s - I don’t know what’s gotten into him, I really don’t. We’ve never . . . we’ve never fought like that before. It’s . . . scary.”
“It was scary to watch,” you say softly. “I thought he was going to hit you with that glass.”
“You and me both,” Volt says. You both lapse into silence for a few moments until he speaks again. “He was wrong, you know. Opening up to you was one of the best decisions we ever made. If I could go back and do everything again, I wouldn’t change a thing, do you understand me? Not a single fucking thing.”
You take another step closer, holding out a hand. Volt looks at it, carefully unclasping his hand and revealing a raw red ring of skin where he’s been worrying at his wrist. He takes your hand, gentle as a feather, and when you don’t pull away, he lifts it up to kiss the back of it, just like he had the day you first met.
“Live wire,” he says softly. You take another step forward, then another, and then you’re crashing into Volt’s chest, arms tight around his waist as he wraps himself around you and buries his face in your hair. “Live wire, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, can you ever forgive me?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, hearing how his voice is just as wet and broken as yours. “You didn’t - you defended me, Volt, how could I be mad at you for that?”
“I should have stopped him - I should have -”
“You’re not responsible for his bad decisions,” you say, leaning back just enough to look into Volt’s eyes. “If he wants to be an asshole, that’s his call, and he’ll deal with those consequences when he mans up enough to face us. But I’m not mad at you for his asshole behavior.”
“Live wire, can I kiss you?”
In place of a verbal answer, you press your mouth against his, and the tingle of electricity shimmers straight down your spine.
Eddie probably shouldn’t be drinking.
Rephrase: he absolutely shouldn’t be drinking. It’s one of the few rules on Farya’s stupid little sheet that he’d actually followed; one of the things no one tells you about being a bartender is that you learn real quick what substances can and cannot be ingested alongside alcohol. He’s pretty sure he’s got non-opioid painkillers, since the human has no reason to keep opioids, so it’s not as bad as it could be, but still. Alcohol should not be in his system right now.
This does not stop him from knocking back a third glass of whiskey.
Cam had cleared off the majority of the trash piles that accumulated as a result of the break-in last week, but there’s freshly shattered glass from where he’d - oh, God, he’d thrown things at Volt - and plenty of other debris scattered throughout the room.
His hands shake a little as he picks the bottle up and pours himself a fourth glass. Even if he wasn’t on a medical suspension, this is more alcohol than he’d normally ingest in one sitting. He likes the pleasant sort of buzz that comes from a couple cocktails, the way it makes him feel a little bit looser, a little less like he’ll snap if he takes one wrong step, but he doesn’t like being this floaty. He feels detached, like his soul is barely connected to his body by a few fraying threads that snap ever further with every second.
He’s not particularly interested in being anchored to his body right now, if he’s honest. He’s not particularly interested in being aware of his shitty attitude and the way that his pathological inability to accept help had driven away the two people he loves most in the world. The front door of the Breaker Box is firmly locked, which will keep away most of the rest of the nosy-ass busybodies in this house. Volt has a key, so he can get in if he wants to, but who is Eddie kidding - he’s not ever going to come back.
Not after Eddie selected all of his words to cause as much pain and suffering as he possibly could, not after Eddie dug deep and took all the fears and vulnerabilities Volt had whispered to him in the middle of the night and fashioned them into knives designed specifically to seek out and destroy Volt’s soft underbelly.
He has a fifth glass before pushing himself away from the bar, swaying just a little bit. On autopilot, he takes the glass over to the sink behind the bar and begins to wash it out. He hadn’t thought he was coherent enough for that, but years of practice take over and put his body on autopilot, which unfortunately leaves him free to ruminate on all his horrible decisions.
When he finishes washing the glass, he looks around. “Fuckin’ . . . disaster area,” he mutters, ignoring the pulse of pain in his stomach. “Gotta get this cleaned up. Can’t - can’t ask no one else to do it - I gotta do it myself.”
The club hasn’t been open since before the break-in, but Eddie finds himself running through his normal closing time checklist. He moves the remaining chairs and stools back to their proper places atop the tables and surrounding the bar, sweeps up the shattered glass and dumps it into the bin (and absolutely doesn’t bite back tears remembering how the glass got shattered in the first place), wipes down th counter until he can see his own haggard reflection in the shimmering wood. With every task he completes, every step he takes, the low, dull bruise on pain in his midsection aches more, radiating through his torso and spreading to his entire body, but he can’t bring himself to care.
This is only a fraction of the pain he dealt to Volt and to the human. He deserves this. He deserves worse than this.
Eventually, he grabs the ladder and sets it up behind the bar, bracketing the bloodstain from where he’d collapsed. Volt’s been trying to scrub it clean for days now, and it’s definitely faded from its initial occurrence, but Eddie’s eyes are uncontrollably drawn to it every time he gets within a few feet of the bar. He heaves a box of clean lightbulbs onto the counter, wincing as he feels sweat soaking through the front and back of his shirt, and tucks three or so into his pocket before ascending the ladder.
It hurts, strangely, to reach up and twist at the bases of the shattered bulbs, more than just the standard du ll pain he’s been living with. It’s sharper, stabbier, like the knife is sliding into his stomach again. Eddie groans a little, leaning down on the top of the ladder and taking a few rapid, hyperventilated breaths.
“Ow . . . fuckin’ . . . hell, maybe I . . . should go to bed? No, no, I . . . I gotta . . . the lightbulbs, I’ll do the . . . bulbs, and then I’ll . . . go t’bed.”
He pulls a lightbulb from his pocket, ignoring the scream of his pain from his torso as he straightens up again, and frowns when he sees the glass streaked with something dark. He tries to rub at it with his sleeve, but it just gets his sleeve dark. He swipes his fingers across it, irritated, and they come off dark with a familiar stickiness.
Slowly, horror building, Eddie looks down to see a familiar dark stain spreading across his torso. He tries to come back down the ladder, but his foot slips off the rung, and suddenly he’s tumbling backwards into open air.
The last time someone fell off this ladder, it was you, and Eddie had run in from the back room to catch you before you could hurt yourself.
There’s no one here to catch him.
It takes some convincing, but Sprite graciously allows Volt to sit next to you on the couch. You tuck yourself up underneath his arm, and he rests his head on top of yours, hair still dimmed with grief.
“You’re not responsible for him,” you say, breaking a silence that’s rested for nearly thirty minutes.
“I feel responsible for him,” Volt responds, and you have no answer for him.
Eventually, you both doze off, shaken awake by Koa after a couple hours of rest. Volt looks more well-rested than he has since Eddie was injured, although still exhausted, and he stands with a single fluid motion. You climb to your own feet, stretching your back with a satisfying crack, and look at Volt.
“What now?”
“We can’t leave him alone in the Breaker Box,” Volt says. “Who knows what he’ll get up to unsupervised?”
“Maintenance, probably,” you say.
“Despite clear instructions to the contrary? You think he’d - what am I saying, of course he would.” Volt drags a hand down his face, groaning. “He might hate us now, but we’ve still got a responsibility to make sure he’s not dead.” He looks at you. “Well, I do, anyway. You’re not required to come with me, live wire, he was quite horrible to you. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to come back.”
“I told him he wasn’t getting rid of me that easily, and I meant it,” you say firmly. “If he really doesn’t want to see me around anymore, he’s gotta tell me calmly and rationally, not in the middle of a shouting match. And even if he does hate me, that doesn’t mean I have to stay away from you, does it?”
Volt smiles at you, but before he can say anything, he stiffens like he’s been struck by lightning. He gasps, all the wind knocked out of him at once, and suddenly he’s doubled over, clutching his stomach.
“Volt?! Volt, what’s wrong?!”
“My - head - stomach - feels like - hurts - hurts so much - I can’t -”
Volt’s eyes find yours, wide and panicked as he fights for breath. “Eddie,” he wheezes, and you’re off up the stairs again.
Closet Dorian frowns when you come running around the corner, but one look at your face has him stepping aside for you to rush to the Breaker Box. The door is locked, and it won’t budge no matter what you do. You pound on it, shrieking Eddie’s name so loudly it’s a wonder the whole house doesn’t come running, throwing your shoulder ineffectively against it.
“Let me,” a voice says behind you, and you whirl around to see a sheepish Closet Dorian with Keith at his side. “I have never been given a key to this club, but there are very few locks I cannot undo. Dorian, dear, if I cannot unlock it, go get Bobby?”
“Yeah, ‘course,” Dorian says gruffly. “You can do it, though. No door’s ever been able to resist you.”
Keith fiddles with the lock for a few moments before standing up and shaking his head sadly. “Unfortunately, it seems this is one door who does not respond to my touch.”
“It’ll respond to mine,” Volt says, voice shaking and ragged. You whirl around and run to his side, hooking one of his arms over your shoulders as his trembling fingers fish a key from his pocket. Keith takes it reverently, unlocking the club door swiftly. Volt pushes inside without taking the key back, and as you take it from Keith, there’s a shattering scream from inside the club.
You run, tripping over your feet in haste, but stop dead when you see Volt kneeling next to Eddie’s body. There’s a ladder set up behind the bar, right over the loose floorboard he’d warned you about when you first helped him with maintenance at the club. Eddie is sprawled on his back, shirt soaked through with blood, face pale and sweaty.
“Farya - get - get Farya, now, NOW!”
Volt’s hair flares brighter than you’ve ever seen as you run from the Breaker Box in tears for the second time that day.
Your head snaps up when Farya comes into your bedroom, hours later, wiping blood off her hands.
“Farya - is he -”
“He got drunk, tried to do maintenance work, tore his stitches, and fell off a ladder, it looks like,” she says, her normal cheer evaporated in the face of your concern. “He wasn’t supposed to be drinking, not on his pain meds, and that probably helped cover up the fact that he’d ripped himself open until it was too late. He’s probably concussed, but he’s re-stitched, and I don’t think he lost too much blood.”
You nearly collapse with relief, steadied only by Betty catching you before you can fully hit the ground. “He’s alright?”
“He’s alright,” Farya says. “Volt’s okay, too - he got some pretty intense aftershocks of Eddie’s pain, but now that Eddie’s all patched up and taken care of, he’s feeling better. He wouldn’t leave Eddie’s side, no matter what. Wouldn’t be surprised if those two developed some serious separation anxiety after all this.”
“Can - can I see them?”
Farya shakes her head. “Eddie was under for the surgery, and I gave Volt a mild sedative to stop him from freaking out. They’re asleep together in their apartment. I mean, there’s nothing stopping you from going up and looking at them, but they’ll be out cold for a while yet.”
“That’s - no, that’s okay. I - should probably sleep, too, it’s been - it’s ben a day, for all of us. Farya, I can’t thank you enough, for everything you’ve done.”
Farya smiles softly. “It’s my job, remember? I’m happy to do it.”
“Come on, lover,” Betty murmurs, helping you to your feet. “Come and rest. Those boys will be eager to see you when they wake up, and you should be well-rested when you go meet them.”
She settles you down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, and you’re asleep before her lips leave your skin.
When Eddie regains consciousness with a splitting headache, Volt is sitting on the end of the bed, face turned away.
“Volt?”
“Eddison.” Eddie winces; it’s rare that Volt doesn’t use some sort of pet name, but it’s even rarer for him to use his full name. His memory is a little blurry, but bits and pieces start to come back to him - the shouting, the throwing, the drinking. The working, the bleeding, the falling.
“I . . . oh.”
“Yes, oh.” Volt’s hair flickers around his head, and his hands squeeze together in his lap, but his skin doesn’t go blue. “You cannot possibly understand how distressing it was to come back and see you on the floor, unconscious - dead, for all I knew - and covered in your own blood. Again.”
“Volt, I didn’t -”
“You didn’t what, Eddison? You didn’t mean to say the things you knew would hurt me the most? You didn’t mean to throw things at me and the human and drive us away? You didn’t mean to ignore Farya’s direct orders, get drunk as a skunk, overwork yourself to the point of tearing your stitches, and fall off a ladder and concuss yourself? Which one of those things didn’t you?” Volt’s voice is calm, quiet, measured fury, nothing like the explosive wrath Eddie’s more than used to seeing.
It scares him.
“I felt it,” Volt continues. “I felt the breath knocked out of my lungs like I’d been hit by a car, I felt fire tear across my stomach, I felt my head collide with the floor - for amp’s sake, Eddie, I thought I was feeling you die! It was the worst thing that’s ever happened, and I - you - what were you thinking?!”
“I wasn’t,” Eddie says. He wants to try and sit up, but the pain is more intense than last time, and he doesn’t want to risk upsetting Volt further. “Volt, love, I wasn’t thinking at all, that was the problem, I was just - I was mad, and I wanted to be mad, I didn’t want to - I just - I’m sorry, V.”
Volt turns to look at him then, and the cold fury on his face is almost as bad as the tears in his eyes.
“Eddie, I thought the last thing we ever said to each other was going to be in anger. Something said in the heat of the moment, something we didn’t really mean - or, at least, something I didn’t really mean.” Eddie winces at that, and Volt reaches a hand toward him before yanking it back.
“Don’t - don’t do that,” Eddie croaks, lifting a hand toward him. “Please, don’t - don’t pull away from me. I know I fucked up, I know I said some stuff I can’t ever take back, stuff I’m gonna have to spend the rest of our lives making up to you, if you’ll let me, but - but please, you - please, don’t -”
Volt takes his hand without hesitation, curling his fingers around Eddie’s so that it’s palm-down. He lifts it to press a kiss to his knuckles, and Eddie feels tears welling up in his own eyes as well.
“I’ve got so much to apologize for, Volt. I’m so, so sorry,” he says. “I love you so much, and - and I - I didn’t mean any of it, I -”
“Oh, spark,” Volt says, pressing Eddie’s hand to his chest. “I - I’m just - I’m still very, very mad at you, but I - I can’t be angry when I thought you were lost to me forever.”
“Never,” Eddie swears, wincing as he fights to sit up. Volt drops his hand immediately, surging forward to arrange the pillows at the headboard before sliding his hands under Eddie’s armpits and helping him into a sitting position. “Never, Volt, no matter what kinda dumb shit I say, I don’t ever want you to leave me, I - I couldn’t bear it, you’re the other half of my heart, you’re my everything, and I was such a stupid idiot for saying that shit to you and pushing you away when you were only trying to help me, and I -”
“I didn’t help, spark, I didn’t mean to treat you like you’re incompetent, you’re not, you’re scarily competent, and that’s the problem, you’re so stubbornly self-sufficient that if I didn’t push, you wouldn’t have let me help at all, and I thought if I just pushed hard enough I could keep you from doing - well - this to yourself, and I -”
“I know, I know, I’m the worst patient there’s ever been, and I -”
“- just love you so much, spark, and wanted to keep you safe -”
“- love you, Volt, I’m so -”
“- sorry I didn’t see that I was hurting you instead of helping you, I -”
Eddie cuts off both of their streams of babbling by leaning forward and as best he can and kissing Volt. Volt immediately closes the distance to allow Eddie to relax back against the pillows, kissing him like he needs it to stay alive.
“I love you, Volt,” Eddie whispers, pulling back just enough to whisper.
Volt blinks, laughing even as tears hit his face. “And I you, spark, and I you.”
“And you’re sure he wants to see me?”
Volt is on his knees at your bedside, having been lurking in your bedroom since before you’d woken up. “Yes, live wire, he asked for you by name. He’s - he knows he’s shat the bed, badly, and he wants to apologize.”
“Did he apologize to you?”
Volt nods, hair back to shining with its usual brightness. “He did, live wire, and he meant it. He . . . he and I have a habit of pushing each other’s buttons, when we’re upset, picking the words we know will hurt the other the most. It’s shitty that we do it, and it’s something we’re working on, but he did genuinely regret it - does genuinely regret it. He wants to see you, to apologize to you, but if you’re not ready yet, live wire, he’ll understand.”
You sigh, looking at Volt. “I . . . let me have breakfast first, okay? I’ll eat something, and then I’ll come talk to him. Can he wait that long?”
Volt kisses you before standing up. “For you, live wire, he could wait forever.”
Breakfast is a simple, quiet affair, just a coffee and a bowl of cereal, but you eat a little more slowly than you might otherwise. You can’t say you’re not excited to see Eddie again, if only to confirm that he’s alive and reasonably well, but you also can’t help lingering on the last time you saw him conscious, how angry he was, the hurtful things he’d said. You’d told Volt you were ready, and he’d said it was okay if you weren’t, and you’d thought you were, but . . . are you?
Eventually, you force yourself to knock back the last few mouthfuls of coffee (no sense wasting Kopi’s excellent product on your moping) and take your dishes to the sink. Daisuke nods at you as you leave, catching your hand to give you a gentle kiss on the cheek before you head upstairs.
Volt is sitting at the bar when you walk into the Breaker Box, and his entire being lights up (quite literally) when he sees you. “Live wire, you’re here!”
“I said I would be, didn’t I?”
“Of course you did, but I wouldn’t have been surprised or offended if you’d decided you needed more time. Eddie wouldn’t have been, either. You can walk out whenever you want.”
“No,” you say firmly. “No, I’m ready. We might as well do it now, hmm?”
Volt stands, carefully taking your hand and leading you upstairs to the little apartment where he and Eddie spend most of their non-work time. When you get to the door of the bedroom, Volt lingering in the other room to give you privacy, your breath catches in your chest to see Eddie propped up in bed, finishing off a glass of water. He fumbles it onto the nightstand when he sees you, eyes widening.
“Live wire, you - I - hey.”
“Hey,” you say, taking a step into the room. “How are you feeling?”
“Like i tore my stomach open and concussed myself falling off a ladder,” Eddie says. “Sounds like that’s what happened, huh?”
“Yeah,” you say, keeping your voice as neutral as possible. “Funny what happens when you don’t listen to your doctor’s instructions post-major surgery, isn’t it.”
Eddie winces, running a hand through his hair. “I’m - fuck, live wire, I’m so sorry. I was a real asshole to you, I know that.” You don’t say anything, and he continues. “I said - I said what I said because I thought it’d make you leave, because I was miserable and I wanted everyone else to either be miserable with me or leave me the fuck alone.”
“Or both, as it turns out,” you say.
“Yeah,” Eddie says, looking away. “Or both.”
“You’re not good at accepting help, are you?”
Eddie laughs a little. “Not even from Volt, the person I specifically created to help me.”
“I hope you apologized to him, too, you know.”
“Believe me, I did. I’m gonna be apologizing to both of you for a while, based on how big of an ass I was - which I’m happy to do, to be clear, because I was, in fact, a massive ass.”
You carefully come to sit on the edge of the bed, holding a hand out to Eddie. He takes it, carefully pressing your palms together and lacing your fingers with his. “You really, really were.”
“I mostly didn’t want you to see Volt and I fighting, but - but I think part of it was that I didn’t want you to see me . . . weak.”
“I saw you freshly stabbed, Eddie, I don’t think it gets much weaker than that.”
“Yeah, but like . . . you saw me unable to do the stuff I always do.”
“Eddie, I’ve helped you out plenty of times before. What made you think I wouldn’t wanna do that again?”
Eddie looks away, biting his lip. “I - it’s not that I thought you wouldn’t want to, it’s that I thought you . . . wouldn’t want to be with me, anymore. If I couldn’t take care of you, the way I always do.”
You roll your eyes, leaning forward to kiss Eddie’s cheek. He jolts a little bit, looking at you with wide, fragile eyes. “Eddie, the whole point of being in a relationship with someone you love is that you take care of each other. It’s a two-way street, or, I guess, three-way in our case, since Volt’s here too?”
“How wonderful to hear you haven’t forgotten about me, live wire,” Volt drawls from the doorway, coming over to sit beside you on the bed.
“I’m so sorry, to both of you,” Eddie says, looking from your face to Volt’s and back again. “I - tell me what I can do to make it up to you, please, anything at all and I’ll do it.”
“Follow Farya’s orders so you actually heal properly this time,” you say immediately. Volt laughs a little as Eddie glares at you before softening.
“Yeah, yeah, I walked right into that one.”
“Seriously, spark,” Volt says, reaching around you to cup Eddie’s face. “We love you, so much. Please, just let us take care of you?”
“You always do such a great job taking care of us,” you say. squeezing his hand. “All we want to do is return the favor, show you that we love you just as much as you love us. Won’t you let us do that for you?”
“Aw, hell, how am I supposed to say no to that face?” Eddie sighs. You lean in to kiss him, feeling Volt’s free arm wrap steadily around your waist, and the last inch of tension and worry seeps out of you as they sandwich you between them.