To Heal All Wounds

Dinner Plans

Eddie had, indeed, come over after dinner, staying for a movie and some beers, and had even slept over. Wayne was at work and Chrissy was with her family. When his people were gone, Eddie opted to stay with Steve and Robin, even if the couch was a freebie from the side of the road and smelled like dust and mold no matter how much chemical freshener they sprayed on it. Eddie swore that he didn't mind the smell or the lumps in the stuffing or the way springs like to pop out and stab some unsuspecting occupant. He always smiled as Steve or Robin handed him a blanket and cited something like it's easier to sleep with other people around. Steve couldn't even blame him, however much it made him feel like the most pathetic "plan B". Most times, just having Robin across the hall in her room made Steve's own nightmares so much less vivid.

Even so, there were some nights when they fell into one bed or the other together, clinging to each other as the trembling and the tears died away and sleep finally overtook them. Sometimes Robin would sing to him, her voice trembling over the words as she tried so hard to be brave. Other times Steve would recount stupid stories from his boyhood as he ignored the twisting shadows in the room because he needed to be the brave one that night.

Even the kids sometimes ended up at the apartment, sleeping in various configurations on the floor. Tall, lanky teenagers readying themselves for college and the working world, but trembling together against the night and the monsters that they all knew hid within. It made Steve ache as much as it made him swell. There were all together, still, after so much time and loss. But it hadn't been nearly enough time and there had been so much loss and they were all so young. He and Robin were so young.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair that everyone Steve knew and loved was so good and yet they had all suffered so much and no matter how much Steve wanted to open up heads and uncross wires to make it all better he couldn't. His best friend, his kids, all of them exactly equal portions of everything, and Steve couldn't protect them from their own fear. Their own trauma. Their own personal hells. All he could do was put on a stupid movie for them, or tell them a stupid story, and hold them all so close until the sun rose and proved to them one more time that they made it through another night.

This time, when the sun rose with all of the sherbet-colored hues of spring, Steve was covered in a layer of cold sweat, but he had the good fortune to not remember the dream that had caused it. It was the best he could hope for.

"Robin," he muttered, rapping his knuckles against her door as he passed. "Rise from your grave, Robin."

He heard shifting from inside and a low, sleep-muffled groan.

"You've got half an hour until the bathroom is clear."

It had ended up taking Steve forty-five minutes as opposed to the promised thirty, even with Robin pounding on the door at the half-hour mark to berate him about using all the hot water and taking too much time on his "precious hair." But the hot spray of water had felt so good and it chased away the last shadows of his nightmares along with the slight chill left in his bones from the early spring morning. When he opened the door, Robin nearly pulled him out herself, hissing that she needed to pee, and slammed the door very much on his literal ass.

Steve laughed despite the ever-so-slight bite of irritation, his whole chest warming at the way her hair stuck out at odd angles and her voice was still rough with sleep. She still had a crease from the pillowcase crossing the length of her cheek and Steve wanted to give it the loudest, most obnoxious smooch he could manage. Because she was his best friend, his greatest love, and his most trusted confidant. Because they had made it through another night.

And didn't that warrant a little bit of celebration?

In the living room, Eddie was curled up and facing the back cushions of the couch, snoring lightly. He must run hot, because though Steve was still sleeping in sweats and long sleeves and waking with slightly frost-bitten toes, Eddie had stripped down to his boxers, leaving his clothes in a pile under the coffee table -- Steve supposed that was his own way of keeping a space that was not his as neat as possible. And not only had he done that, but he had also kicked the blanket supplied to him the night before down around his ankles.