If you're still looking for Steddie prompt requests from that list, 35 (things you said at the top of your lungs) or 40 (things you interrupted me to say)?
Ah! Thank you for the prompt! I started with 35 and went in for a little hurt/comfort (someone else also requested 40, so I'll be doing that one separately!)
Prompt from this list: #35. things you said at the top of your lungs
cw for panic attack (or something very like it), just in case
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Eddie had been surprised to learn that, in spite of how heâd acted in high school, Steve is not a particularly loud person.
Heâs outgoing, and heâs unsubtle, and he can make his presence known, but he isnât loud. The most he raises his voice these days is to try to make himself heard over a gaggle of unruly children or to complain at whatever displeasing turn the game heâs watching on TV has taken.
This isnât to say Steve canât be loud. The boy has a set of lungs on him (swimmers, man), and Eddie has heard him use them â in the midst of a melee, while swinging his fists or a nail-studded bat, while bellowing for someone to get down, get out of the way, look outâ
Life or death situations.
Steve doesnât yell often, but when he does, people listen, because shit must really have hit the fan.
This is exactly why Eddieâs skin jumps, why his heartbeat stutters, why the breath leaves him when he hears one word echo from the back of the trailer, traveling from the top of Steveâs lungs.
âEDDIE!â
And Eddie doesnât stop to think, barely even registers that heâs moving, is only tearing across the living room and down the short hall, to the bedroom where heâd thought Steve was sleeping. He only knows that he needs to move, because something is wrong, Steve needs him, Steve is screaming, Steve is in trouble, Steve isâ
Still asleep.
Heâs on the bed, thrashing so hard against the blankets it looks like heâs convulsing, knocking pillows to the floor, the constant harsh mutter of âno, no, no, no, NO,â underscoring his actions.
Fucking nightmares.
Heart still jumping, Eddie approaches the bed and grabs for one of Steveâs struggling legs (heâd made the mistake of trying to wake Steve by shaking his shoulders once and had nearly gotten clocked in the face when Steve had woken up swinging, which really hadnât helped the situation in any way). He wraps his fingers firmly around Steveâs ankle, trying to ground him, trying to keep him from kicking out and hurting either one of them.
âSteve,â Eddie says, giving him a little shake. âSteve, wake up.â
Steve jerks against Eddieâs hold, panting like heâs been running for hours, but he doesnât open his eyes. He keeps muttering to himself, low, distressed, unintelligible.
Unlike Steve, Eddie is a very loud person; he always has been, proudly so, and he puts that quality to use now, shaking Steve a little harder and raising his voice to be heard over whatever panicked noise is in Steveâs head.
âSteve! Wake UP!â
Finally, Steve jolts awake, his eyes flying open as he heaves himself immediately into an upright position, scanning the room in a panic. Heâs breathing so hard heâs almost choking, and for a moment Eddie thinks heâs going to be sick, prepares himself to grab the bin near the bed, but then Steve leans forward and grabs for Eddie.
âWoah!â Eddie finds himself dragged across the distance between them, nearly in Steveâs lap, and this would have been an entirely agreeable turn in the proceedings if Steve had appeared in any way to be in his right mind.
As it is, Steve is shoving his hands, fever-hot and clammy, under Eddieâs shirt, feeling along his sides, running his palms over scars that have been healed over for more than a year now, but he canât quite seem to see that at the moment.
His eyes are glazed over still, voice cracking roughly as he presses his hands hard against Eddieâs waist. âEddieââ
âSteveâ Steve, hey, youâre freaking me outâ itâs okay.â Eddie reaches out with unsteady hands and grabs Steveâs face, turning him until heâs facing Eddie head on. âLook at me, Iâm okay, itâs okay.â
Steve goes quiet as he finally meets Eddieâs gaze, and his eyes are wet, and Eddie starts to tear up sympathetically at the raw, helpless fear he sees there.
Theyâre both still for a moment, each clutching the other, catching their breath, and then Steve leans in further, breaking Eddieâs hold on him to press his face into the crook of Eddieâs neck. His arms wind around Eddieâs waist now, pulling him as close as he can get, and Eddie goes willingly.
âOkay,â Eddie says, one hand coming up automatically to cup the back of Steveâs head, the other pressing hard into his back, making sure Steve can feel him there. âOkay. Youâre good, Iâm good, itâs okay.â
Steve nods against him but makes no move to pull back, and Eddie certainly isnât about to make him. He holds onto Steve, rocking back and forth almost on instinct, and if the harsh breaths Steve is heaving take on a different cadence, if Eddie feels the shoulder of his shirt growing wet, he says nothing.
In the wake of something so loud, sometimes all they can really do is be quiet and wait for the echoes to fade.
<3 a reminder that there is absolutely no way Max is simply brain dead, screenwriters write everything for a reason and if they wanted her dead they wouldâve killed her at the end of s4 bc keeping her semi-alive is much harder in writing and in production <3
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