Fics like warm comes the night

It’s not like the nightmares are, y’know: something new. What’s new is the way he wakes up from them. It’s still a gasping thing, with his heart shot up past the base of his throat more near his tonsils or some shit, somewhere he can almost taste it like metal and the sour tang of fear as it rattles and shakes and pounds, like his chest’s caving in on itself and that’s all normal, that’s all stuff he knows and— “-ve you,” but now there’s a sound on the periphery of his awareness, sneaking in the almost-nonexistent space between his hammering pulse but he grabs for it, because something in him knows it’s important: the most important. He follows it in between the beating, risks getting crushed if he fails here, too, and— “Love you,” Steve hears more clearly, all of a sudden, and he feels hands on him, running smooth and swift courses up and down his arms; then he also feels lips, he can feel the words as motion against his body almost more than he can pick out the sound: “love you, love you, love you,” and now he knows it, now that his vision clears as it adjusts to the darkness and he sees him: Eddie. - Or: Steve has nightmares. Eddie talks him through.

Fics like warm comes the night

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