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Fingers. Running through his hair. Letting the strands (long, too long his father might have said) twist and curl gently around them. The motion repeats, soothing him down to his bones. He sighs.
There’s a low chuckle from somewhere above him. Familiar, just as the hand in his hair is. “Alright there, Stevie?”
Stevie. Steve. That’s right. That’s his name. And he knows that voice, though his mind is drawing a blank right this second. But one thing he’s certain of is that he’s safe. The person - the man - attached to that voice has him, and he’s safe.
He hums out an affirmation. His body is a bit sore, his limbs feel like soft taffy, and his brain is still pleasantly fogged up. But he’s feeling safe and wonderful and loved, and he says as much.
Another chuckle. “Glad to hear it, sweet thing. Wanna open your eyes for me?”
Not particularly, Steve thinks, content to stay in this dark world of peace and safety forever. He does so anyway. He’s greeted by warm, dark eyes, framed by the loveliest face in the universe. With eyes full of love, somehow directed at him.
“Eddie.” He breathes. The other man looks down at him, at Steve’s head in his lap, smiling softly.
“Right here, baby.” His free hand, the one not petting through Steve’s hair, moves over slowly to cup his boyfriend’s cheek. Rubbing over the two moles there with the pad of his thumb.
“What do you need?” He asks. Steve reaches up and touches Eddie’s own cheek, deliberately mirroring him.
“You,” he says, not missing the way Eddie’s eyes grow impossibly softer. More fond. “It’s only ever you.”
The hand on his face pulls away, only to cover the one on Eddie’s. They drop to Eddie’s chest, almost unconsciously twining their fingers together. Steve sighs again, the feeling of fingers in his hair settling parts of him that he hadn’t known needed soothing. He takes a slow, shuddering breath, and closes his eyes.
“Steve?”
“Hm?” He’s starting to drift.
“I love you. You know that?”
He knows. Of course he knows. Eddie doesn’t have to say the words. He never does. It’s obvious, isn’t it? In the care and gentleness Eddie gives to him when he’s feeling sick. In the way he does little things around the house, chores when he doesn’t have to. In the way he treats Steve like he’s precious when they make love. It’s in every look, every touch, every word. It’s in his eyes now. Steve knows.
“I love you too, Teddy. You know that?”
He feels Eddie take a shuddering breath of his own. There’s a quiet sound of lips on skin before a light pressure of fingertips on his temple. An indirect, but loving kiss.
“I know.” The hand in his hair hasn’t stopped. “Sleep, Stevie. I’ll be here.”
He knows that too. Feeling safe and soothed and loved, Steve lets himself drift out into the dark sea of unconsciousness. And even then, he could still feel fingers in his hair, and the phantom of lips against his skin.