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The knife hitting the floor was what made Eddie decide to break cover and go towards Steve.
They’d had a fight earlier that evening and not spoken since. The pair of them went to bed at separate times and lay facing opposite sides, practically on the edge of the bed. Both had to take a solid twenty minutes adjusting to the alien concept of not sleeping with their legs tangled up, and the cold on their backs from the distance between them was almost enough to call a truce in itself. They had spent a few hours each thumping their way around the house, slamming doors and cabinets, to let the other know that I still think you’re a dick despite giving the silent treatment.
When Eddie woke to the sound of Steve snuffling in his sleep, he stayed listening for moment to gauge how bad the nightmare was and if it was enough that Steve would need to be woken up. Usually it would ride out within a short while and any twitching or groaning would stop but sometimes Eddie needed to intervene. He had just turned over and decided that yes, Steve being ok was more important than being stubborn, when Steve gasped his way into consciousness. He sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the edge before holding his head in his hands to try calm his breathing. Eddie lay an arm across the bed expecting Steve to lie down again. The intention was to catch him as he did and pull him close, but he instead stood up and left the dark room, pulling on a sweater as he left.
Eddie followed him a few minutes later when the sounds of Steve trying to be quiet in the kitchen had become more frantic. A tell-tale sign of Steve fending off a panic attack was an increase in the urgency of how he moved. Eddie stayed hidden in the darkness of the doorway while he kept an eye on Steve. He was trying to make himself a sandwich but his hands were shaking and his eyes were streaming. He struggled to open a Tupperware container of lunchmeat and abandoned an attempt to unscrew a mayo jar, and that’s when the knife skidded over the edge. Steve stepped back from the counter and looked to the ceiling, wringing out his hands and taking deep, wet breaths. Eddie would have scooped him up immediately the second he got downstairs if only Steve hadn’t told him at the start of their relationship how embarrassed the nightmares made him. It was better to give him some space to work through it and be there when he was ready. Besides, he wasn’t sure Steve wouldn’t push him away and tell him to fuck off because he was still angry at him.
The fight was pushed to the very bottom of any priority list now though as Eddie crossed the kitchen. The only thing in his head was that he needed to let Steve know he was there, whether he wanted him to be or not. He picked up the knife as he did so, standing close behind his lover to reach over and place it back on the countertop. Steve’s head drooped forward and he sighed, leaning back into Eddie’s chest, pressing the slightest bit of pressure into his body. Eddie rubbed his forehead into Steve’s hair and gently moved him out of the way, pointing to a stool at the kitchen island. Steve nodded and went where he was told. Eddie waited until he was perched on the stool before turning back to the counter and taking over where Steve had left off in making his snack.
Behind him, he could hear a faint drumming noise. One of the coping mechanisms that a therapist had recommended was to tap his fingertips in a 1-3-2-4 rhythm, and a quick glance over Eddie’s shoulder confirmed that Steve was beating softly on the surface of the island in the helpful pattern. Eddie felt a surge of pride. This was the first time Steve had willingly tried to soothe himself in this way, usually there was a minimum of an hour of pushbacks before he would admit he needed help to get past whatever he was dealing with.
Eddie carried the food over to Steve and took the stool next to him, nudging the plate in front of him. Steve slowly nodded an acknowledgement as Eddie settled in beside him. It was a little while before Steve started to eat. His breathing was calmer now but still had a ragged edge, and Eddie noticed that his eyes were still swimming. Probably not the worst nightmare he’d ever had, but the first one in a while he tried to deal with by himself. His hands were still trembling but he was more relaxed now than when Eddie had first come down. Eddie’s rings were up on his bedside table so instead of spinning them on his fingers while he waited for Steve to finish, he twisted a piece of his hair over his face.
Steve held out some crusts for Eddie to take. Steve hated the crusts but refused to cut them off. He preferred to eat around them. Luckily his boyfriend had no such qualms and would happily eat them for him. Eddie took them and earned a small smile from Steve, and a gentle nudge as he leaned his body sideways to have the lines of their arms touching. The contact was sorely needed, feeling each other’s body heat was like a lifeline. The couple of hours after a fight and before an apology came was always tense. Each of them would wind themselves up and wonder if maybe this was it, this was the time when it would come between them. They would laugh about it through a whispered I’m sorry and wonder how they could have been so stupid to even think that way. Nothing would ever come between them and they knew it, but the silent ‘what ifs’ of an argument were great fuel for an anxious fire.
Steve finished eating and Eddie brought his plate to the sink, chewing the last of the crusts as he went. He turned back around to see Steve stifling a yawn before looking over at him. Eddie crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. Sometimes Steve would fight against going back to sleep after a nightmare, swearing blind that he was well enough rested and then floating through the next day like a zombie. Steve’s shoulders slumped and he gave a resigned sigh. Eddie walked back over to him and held out a hand for Steve to take, gesturing with his head back towards the stairs. Steve held his hand and let himself be pulled off his seat, but before Eddie could lead him out of the kitchen he wrapped him arms around his waist and settled into the crook of his neck. He let out a contented hum against Eddie’s skin, nuzzling in close, as he tightened his grip.
Steve’s apologies were like this a lot. He struggled with talking about how felt most of the time and Eddie had come to terms very quickly with the fact that there would never be a discussion about things like this unless absolutely necessary. If all he got was a hug and an I’m Sorry Too in the morning, that was enough. He was the same, really. Teachers, cops, everyone always demanded an in-depth run-down of why exactly he had made the decisions he did, why he chose to do things a certain way. It made him squirm having to pick apart something he hadn’t even really thought about for more than a split second. There was no thought process, just an action. And Steve would have known the second he felt Eddie standing behind him that there was nothing that needed to be said. He was here for a reason and it wasn’t to restart an argument. The great thing about being so overly tactile was being able to practically read minds between touches. It was different to anything he knew before. He was always grateful that there would never be an after.
Eddie planted a kiss on Steve’s temple and walked him towards the stairs. Tomorrow morning they would verbalise the apology, kiss and make up, but just feeling it was good enough for tonight.