Post-his-most-recent-concussion Steve who wakes up the next morning with his voice all but gone, raspy and painful and forced. Steve who tells everyone he just has a cold, but can barely stand up straight. Steve who goes to work with a pounding migraine, no voice, and an overwhelming urge to cry that he keeps pushing away as he chatters at Robin and scans dvds.
Robin, who has to do double the work because Steve is missing the barcodes on those dvds by a lot. He's scanning the back of his hand and softly making the ding noise under his breath, pale and breathing heavily, while the dvd lies a foot away. Robin who locks up quietly a few hours early, turns down the lights, and talks softly with a Steve that is fighting sleep behind the counter. Steve, face pressed against cool counter top, who doesn't even argue when Robin suggests getting them a ride home, just throws out a weak thumbs up and leans even harder into the counter.
Robin, and now Eddie, who all but carry Steve to the van, the man sandwiched between them. Robin, and now Eddie, who do the same little dance to get Steve into his house and up the stairs to his room, laying him gently on the bed and spliting up to get him ready for bed. Robin, who goes downstairs to throw together a quick girldinner while Eddie helps Steve into a hot bath, room dark and quiet. Eddie, who wash's Steve's hair and bats his hand away when the man tries to help. Eddie, who towel dries and dresses Steve like its the simplest job in the world, like he's done it 100 times before, like he wouldn't mind doing it for the rest of his life. Robin and Eddie, who, together, hand feed Steve a pile of grapes, and handful of cheese and crackers, and a small assortment of girlscout cookies.
Steve, who reaches out and grabs Eddie's hand when the man stands to leave, not nearly as asleep as his friends thought he was. Steve, with no voice, a raging headache, and tears streaming unacknowledged down his checks, who asks Eddie to stay with him. "I don't want to be alone."
Robin and Eddie, who set up shifts throughout the night to sit with him. Eddie, who holds his hand throughout the night.
Eddie, who, many years into the future, curls up right behind him during a particularly bad migraine, rubbing a hand down his back while the man cries his pain into the pillows. Eddie, who makes him tea at least twice a week and found low wattage bulbs years ago. Eddie, who supports his husband through the results of repeated head trauma, and never once regrets marrying the love of his life.
