His voice was flat, unimpressed, the barest hitch to it that no one would ever catch.
Steve just grinned, kept tracing his thumb over the back of Eddie's hand, figure-8s around the knuckles, the barest trace of maddening pressure that made Eddie's throat click around a swallow.
"Eddie," Steve said, solemnly, a tiny quirk of a grin hidden at the edge of his mouth.
"Hospital hand-holding," Eddie said, going for his most maddeningly pedantic, "is for coma patients and grandparents. Siblings, possibly. Spouses, I'll allow."
The grin wasn't hidden any more, curling Steve's mouth up into something indescribably soft. Eddie'd look away, look at the damp-stained ceiling, if that didn't feel like admitting defeat.
"So more than friends, is what you're telling me," Steve said, squeezing Eddie's hand a little tighter. Eddie had to bite back a soft noise - almost managed it, too.
"Are we even- " Eddie started, then redirected, to avoid the line forming between Steve's eyebrows. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"You got a problem with me holding your hand, Munson?" Steve asked, leaning in too close, his grin lost to the brightness of his hazel eyes, his weight leaning on the bed sheets and pulling them tight against -
Eddie failed at biting back a noise again. Closed his eyes as Steve looked down.
"Look," Eddie said, shake in his voice, hopelessness in his tone, "look this is progress, okay?"
"I guess boners require blood pressure," Steve said, his tone a little off.
"It's not my fault you're some kind of fairytale hero," Eddie said helplessly. "I can't help it if my dick's kind of in love with you now."
A pause, then another tightening of Steve's fingers.
"Just your dick?" he asked, and there was something in his voice that sounded like it wanted to be hope.
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