don’t die on me just yet
rated M | written for @steddiemicrofic august prompt: “hole” + 606 words | content: gore, injury, ambiguous ending
(happy birthday @griefabyss69 i promised you a fic by the 7th so please enjoy whatever the hell this is)
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“GodDAMMIT!” Steve howls as he kicks the carcass again. A demodog chased them through the woods then ten feet down, thrashing limbs and vicious snarls until Steve wrestled free and stabbed the thing in the head.
Now they’re caught in their own trap.
The walkie’s busted.
Eddie’s laugh sticks like cigarette tar in his lungs.
“Yeah, laugh it up,” Steve scowls, walking the perimeter, checking for holds. It’s hopeless. The stones are eroded silk-smooth under the muck, and the well’s too wide to shimmy up. Not that Eddie could. He’s pretty sure if he rolled his jeans up he’d find bone sticking through skin.
“Sorry.” Another wet laugh. His ribs are killing him. “We’re just…so fucked.”
“And that’s funny to you?”
“Nah, man, it really isn’t.” He’s laughing harder, though, uncontrollably, shaking his ruined rib. He can feel it hanging loose—an overripe banana broken off at the stem, dangling all stupid with its skin half-peeled. Jesus Christ. They’re gonna die in a fucking hole.
“We’re not gonna die, dude, calm down.”
“No?? You got a magic rope ladder up your ass or some shit?”
Steve smirks; drops down beside Eddie with his back against the wall. “…You okay?”
Not even close. His breath hitches, misses a step on the decaying staircase of his busted ribs. “I’m— kinda wrecked, but—” Oh, this is bad. He can’t tell Steve how bad this is. “Scale of one-to-bat-bites, I’m alright. You?”
“Feel like one big bruise, but other than that…” He tips his head toward the sky, the circle of gray gloom over the pit.
It’s not the worst place to die, Eddie thinks. At least there’s a hot guy he’s half in love with next to him. “You wanna jerk each other off?” he jokes, straining with the effort.
Steve doesn’t dignify that with a response, just rolls his head and drops his chin to give him a classically bitchy look. Pure Steve aimed at him like a laser.
“…Fuck, you’re hot.”
“Quit screwing around.”
“I’m not.”
Gravity shifts for a second. Then Steve rolls his eyes, the corner of his mouth ticking up, face twisting in pain as he pushes into a crouch.
Eddie lets his eyes drift shut—not sleeping, just resting, just for a minute. “Whatcha doin’?” he slurs, trying to guess based on the rustle of fabric, the squelch of rotten leaves.
“Looking for a— no, no, no, hey!” Steve’s above him suddenly, straddling his thighs, tapping his cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Don’t you dare pass out on me.”
Eddie smiles. Bucks his hips. Everything hurts.
“Jesus Christ,” Steve huffs. “Stop moving, you horny little jackass.”
Eddie moves his hands to Steve’s hips and squeezes.
Steve’s breath wobbles. “Seriously, man, c’mon. Let me make sure you’re not gonna bleed out first.”
“Fine,” Eddie sighs. “Be boring.” He drops his hands; lets Steve manhandle him.
Steve pulls a roll of gauze from his pocket, sits him up and mutters ‘this is gonna hurt, I’m sorry’ and hoooooly shit, it does. Scale of one-to-bat-bites, Eddie might take the human bat buffet again. He whimpers while Steve gets his rib as relocated as it’s getting without a hospital visit—never mind that no one’s set to take over this patrol for hours, so they’re definitely gonna die first. Whatever. Sweet that Steve cares.
“There,” Steve smiles when he’s finished. There’s demo blood on his canine. Eddie wants to lick it off.
“Good job,” he praises; means it. In an alternate reality he would have made a great field medic.
“Hey.” Steve lets his weight fall heavy in Eddie’s lap, zippers touching. “Don’t die on me just yet.”
