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Comfortember Day Three : Overthinking

Fandom: Criminal Minds ♡ Main: Emily ♡ Ship: Penemily ♡ Features: Misunderstandings, hot drinks, Emily Prentiss’ smile, losing your mind, losing your voice, but getting the girl

Read on AO3

Patent pink kitten heels scurried down the hall, dodging drops of lukewarm coffee as they fell from a ceramic unicorn mug. 

The tight grip on the handle of that mug was one of Miss Penelope Garcia, the BAU technical analyst, eyes wide with eagerness, as she made her way toward the east entrance elevator. She hastily turned the last corner, dodging two oncoming agents and stealing a look at her watch. 

Three minutes.

Three minutes until the usual time that Emily Prentiss would make her way out of the elevator, where Penelope would “coincidentally” run in to her, starting up a morning conversation. 

Three minutes until Emily made her daily beeline toward the coffee machine, never even stopping at her desk to take off her coat, all while Penelope scurried behind, trying to keep up.

Three minutes until the blonde’s favorite part of the day- her cheeks warming each time Emily made her laugh as they stirred sweetener into their mugs together. 

Penelope usually had a good handle on this routine, but today was a little bit different. She had come in early to take care of a few things, and a combination of early morning grogginess and autopilot caused the technical analyst to make a solo mug of coffee. A mug that would sit there, untouched until the very moment she began her mad dash down the hallway. 

The thing is, if Penelope thought about it, she didn’t even like coffee all that much.

But she did like Emily. 

“Going somewhere, baby girl?”

Derek Morgan, seemingly materializing out of nowhere, stopped Penelope in her shiny pink tracks, just a few feet from the elevator. He stepped back as another wave of liquid poured out of her mug and onto the floor in front of them. 

“Oh, shoot…”

“You alright there?”

Pushing the mug into Dereks hands, Penelope pulled a package of tissues out of her skirt pocket. She bent down in an attempt to clean up her spill, simultaneously trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for her haste. When she thought of something that she might be able to get away with, the blonde popped up back in front of the other agent, curls bouncing around her jawline. 

“Yeah!- Yeah, I was just running to freshen up my coffee before the briefing started.” 

“Um, okay. But I think you can slow down a bit because we have a briefing this morning. I was just sitting with everyone, and I think JJ would have told us.”

Penelope’s eyes somehow widened even further than they already were, her eyebrows lifting over the orange plastic frames of her glasses.

“Oh! Well silly me, then. Bye now!” 

Penelope pushed past the wall of a man standing in front of her, pulling the unicorn mug back into her possession in the process. As she began to stomp away, wave of realization made her halt, spinning back around on her sensible kitten heel.

“Everyone? Whose everyone? Who you were sitting with?”

“Y’know…everyone? In our cubicle at least. Reid, Prentiss. Rossi and JJ even stopped by for a bit because we were all making fun of-“

“Prentiss?”

“Yeah, how did you kn-“

“What? No- shhh… Prentiss is here already?” 

“Yeah… she’s at her desk. I wouldn’t try talking to her though-“

Penelope started down the hall, abruptly ending the conversation. As she shuffled back in the direction of her lair, she turned her head toward the bullpen for confirmation- and quickly finding it. There was Emily, sat in her chair with a closed-mouth smile, seemingly stifling a laugh as Reid prattled on about something. A travel mug sat next to her on the desk and her coat was draped over the back of her chair.

Penelope’s cheeks warmed as they usually did, but this time it was due embarrassment and concern. A thought enveloped her mind- a tidbit from Morgan that she didn’t even know that she had heard over the sound of her shoes. 

I wouldn’t try talking to her though. 

Why wouldn’t Emily want to talk to her? How did she miss her by the elevator this morning? Why did she bring coffee from home?

Was she trying to avoid me?

After making it back to her office, Penelope plopped down in her seat, causing her plastic earrings to clack in her ears. She pulled a pom-pom adorned pen out of her desk and tapped it against her lips in concentration. 

You’re jumping to conclusions, Penny. She’s not mad at you, you’re just overthinking. Maybe the morning didn’t go as planned, but let’s just wait until lunch. We always talk at lunch.

…

They didn’t talk at lunch. 

Penelope chewed ravenously on the apple slices in front of her. The buzz of the dining hall light above her seemed to grow louder and louder as the seconds ticked by. On any other day these seconds were usually filled with very different sounds- mainly Penelope’s workplace gossip followed by Emily’s laughter and a well-timed witty retort. 

Today, though, it looked like the technical analyst was flying solo. That was until a lanky figure topped with a mop of sandy-brown hair slid into the seat across from her. 

“Apples, huh? Did you know that bobbing for apples started as a British courtship ritual?” 

Reid began shuffling his salad around with his fork. He had no intention of putting anything in his mouth before rambling off his daily quota of “fun” facts to Penelope. 

“That’s wild, Reid…”

The blonde sat there, slightly hunched. Her eyes drifted from the boy-genius in front of her to the cafeteria entrance, where maybe- just maybe a turtleneck-wearing brunette would come through the door.

“They did it to try and determine’s ones future mate-“

“Uh-huh…”

“Maybe we should do it at the BAU Thanksgiving dinner. Imagine getting Hotch’s head in a barrel of water? Or Rossi? Although, now that I think about it the idea of that many microorganisms congregating in one place during cold and flu season is somewhat horrifying.”

“Absolutely…”

“Y’know, I’d still bet that Emily would do it after a few glasses of wine.”

“Emily?”

“Oh yeah, you know she’s kind of wild. One time after a case in Nashville-“

“Where is Emily?”

This caused Reid to stop and take a moment to look around the bustling dining hall. 

“Oh- you’re right, she’s usually here before me… Maybe she went out for lunch today?”

“She would have come and told me.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. She really wouldn’t tell you much of anything-“

“Why do people keep saying things like that?!”

“Garcia, I think she’s sick-“

“Sick of what? Sick of me?!”

Garcia tossed the half-gnawed apple slice back on the tray. She rose hastily and marched out of the door she was staring only moments ago. 

Continuing her brisk pace toward her office, Penelope snapped her head toward the bullpen. Emily’s jacket was still slung over her chair, her bag propped up against the wall of her cubicle, and her computer was locked, but still on. 

She didn’t leave for lunch… Where was she? Reid confirmed it… she’s avoiding you. She knows…

The technical analyst walked as fast as her shoes could take her. She felt tears stinging in her eyes.

You did too much, Penny. She’s a profiler! Of course she would figure you out.

Garcia hung left down the hall, shoes sticking to the floor where someone must have spilled coffee this morning.

Theres only so much I can blame on being naturally affectionate. She’s grossed out by you, Pen. She’s not even gay!

A few final steps and Penelope would be at her office door. A few final steps and she would be face to face with her cute embellished wall placard. A few final steps and she would run into-

Emily.

Penelope’s vision swam as she slammed on her own personal brakes. 

“Em!”, she squeaked, exceptionally less chill than she would have preferred. 

The brunette, looking sullen coming out of Penelope’s dungeon, suddenly brightened when she saw the other woman. Emily broke into a smile that would have caused those tears in Penelope’s eyes to fall if she hadn’t been blinking them back, furiously. 

Emily’s opened her mouth as if to speak, but then simply bit her bottom lip as she tenderly rested her hand on Penelope’s shoulder. The blonde stiffened. 

This is it.

“Look, I know you’ve been avoiding me today. It’s okay. We can talk about it.”

Penelope looked down, unable to keep eye contact as she said the last few words. Because of this, she didn’t notice Emily’s brows furrow in confusion. She did feel the other woman’s hand slip off of her shoulder, though. But what she heard next, over the sound of her racing heartbeat was not what she was expecting. 

A series of weak but persistent coughs rattled through the tight hallway and Penelope shot her head up, startled by the noise. Emily’s back was now turned, head bowed into her elbow as she coughed into her cream cable-knit sweater. After composing herself, she turned back to the blonde, both of their cheeks a bit rosier than they had been before. 

“Sorry…”, Emily’s voice was hoarse, only slightly above a whisper. 

“Don’t be… Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah… Just-“ Emily fruitlessly tried to clear her throat. She continued, most of the time her voice completely skipping over the vowels, “Do you have any more of those lollipops? I mean cough drops would be great but-“

“Shh, shh… Yes I do, come, in.”

Garcia led Emily into her office, directing her to a chair and placing a bowl of several mismatched hard candies and lollipops on the desk beside her.

“I wasn’t avoiding you”, Emily rasped, her voice slightly better with the addition of the candy. 

“I think I knew that… I didn’t see you this morning, and then when you didn’t come to lunch, I-“

“I’m so sorry, I would have texted you, but this morning was such a mess, I forgot my phone. I woke up late, and I sounded like this and I debated not coming in if we didn’t have a case”, she cleared her throat again, “but I changed my mind about a thousand times before deciding to try make a gross cup of tea honey and shit, and powering through.”

“You? Tea?”

Emily let out a rough chuckle, “I know! I couldn’t force it down my throat at home so I tried bringing it with me. It’s still in the thermos on my desk, I can’t drink it! I actually wound up getting here early, which is why I missed you at the elevator this morning.”

Penelope felt an odd mixture of embarrassment and understanding as she laughed at the story. She watched as Emily unwrapped another candy from her bowl and placing it gently on her tongue before continuing. Penelope swallowed thickly. 

“As for lunch, Hotch basically told me to ‘go the fuck home, and rest’. Not exactly those words, but I could feel it in his stare, y’know? I needed to finish a few reports though, so I figured I’d work through lunch then go home. I must have not realized what time it was when I came to find you and steal your candy. ”

“I’m sorry you’re having an awful day, Em.” Penelope placed a hand on Emily’s knee, disregarding the anxiety from earlier as it threatened to take hold of her again. 

“Nah, it’s alright. I’m sorry I made your day awful too… I mean not that not seeing me would make your day awful, but-“

“It’s okay…” Penelope gently squeezed Emily’s knee. The brunette responded with her infamous smile, her tongue adorably poking out from between her teeth- cherry red from the candy she had in her mouth. 

“If you aren’t completely revolted by the sound of my voice, you can come by my place after work. We can make up for lost time? I missed talking to you today.”

Penelope could feel fireworks going off in her chest as Emily placed her hand over hers and carefully dragged her thumb back and forth. The blonde wordlessly nodded, and the plan was set. 

…

Moments later, when Emily left the office and the door shut with a click, Penelope was again left to her own devices. This meant overthinking the hand-hold, overthinking the invite to the other woman’s apartment, overthinking her ruby-tinted tongue.

Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?

Then, when Penelope got home, and began to get ready to head over to Emily’s, she overthought her outfit, her timing, her bag stocked with lozenges, cough medicine, and soup. 

Was it too much? Am I too much?

It wasn’t until the blonde crossed the threshold into Emily’s apartment, that her head would stop spinning. She felt a welcomed wave of peace when she saw the brunette, clad in a pair of soft sweats and knit cardigan over an old FBI softball tournament t-shirt, hoarsely thanking her for the supplies as they walked inside.

That evening Penelope wouldn’t overthink- not about the closeness of their spots on the couch, or how she played with Emily’s hair as they watched a movie. She didn’t overthink the profuse compliments that the other woman gave her when Penelope finally made her a decent cup of tea. She didn’t over think the brunette’s insistence that she stay over when it got too late or how she felt when she crawled into Emily’s bed. 

There was nothing to overthink about how they ended the night- the cherry-flavored kiss they shared under the covers. Well, other than how they were going to explain to the team where Penelope’s voice went the following morning. 

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Comfortember Day Three : Warm Food

Fandom: MCU/Captain America ♡ Main: Steve and Bucky ♡ Ship: Stucky ♡ Features: Domestic super-soldiers, Depression-Era Reminiscing, sneezing, losing voices, chilly autumn gardening, and love in the form of cooking.

Read on AO3

Somewhere, in an undisclosed stretch of land in upstate New York, two super-soldiers embarked on the task of harvesting vegetables from their garden. The chill in the autumn air indicated that it was time to begin pulling carrots up from their safe cloaks of soil and dusting off beets to prepare them for pickling later on.

Maybe Bucky will have developed a taste for them this year.

 Usually, this would be a simple feat. As previously mentioned, they were super-soldiers after all. How hard would it be to pluck an apple from their tree when you could literally rip the trunk in half with your bare hands?

Well, today, that aforementioned autumn chill was catching up with the pair. The change in the seasons, specifically from summer to fall, usually left them feeling achy, with a wide range of other symptoms including Bucky’s raw throat and Steve’s unrelenting congestion. 

A few of their more scientifically inclined friends, namely Tony, Bruce, and Shuri, came to the conclusion that their enhanced immune systems were just overreacting to the new strains of influenza and rhinovirus that peak in the fall and winter in the northeast…

Bucky and Steve usually stopped paying much attention after that, the explanations getting longer and longer each year. All that they knew was that they felt terrible, and it was best just to hole up in their home for a while and ride their illnesses out together. This proved infinitely more beneficial than being laid up in some technologically advanced medical facility where microbiologists would come in to steal their used tissues. 

Yes, the home that they had made their own a few years back, was a much better place to recoup. The pair had been fighting off fevers for the past few days and were finally starting to get out of their fog, allowing them to do something a bit more active today. They decided that a bit of light gardening and collecting some fresh vegetables for a warm stew would be an appropriate use of their time and somewhat renewed energy.

Steve, sinuses still riddled with pressure, found it painful to smile, but couldn’t help himself as he watched Bucky. The other man was haphazardly bundled in a crewneck fleece and a knit scarf, the fringe at the end dragging in the soil as he reached for the herbs in front of him.

“Who knew that James Buchanan Barnes would have such a green thumb?”

Bucky kept his gaze down, letting out a barely audible chuckle followed by a few weak coughs. He continued to pluck sprigs of rosemary off of the plant.

“Well technically, it’s a vibranium thumb…”

Steve rolled his eyes, but looked on in adoration. He placed his chin on Bucky’s shoulder and snaked his sweater-clad arms around the brunette’s waist. Brushing the dirt off of his scarf, he kissed Bucky’s jaw, noting the warmth of his skin. 

“Very funny… I guess I’m just jealous.”

Bucky tipped his chin up and to the left, catching a glance at two warm, half lidded blue eyes and stringy flaxen hair. He flashed Steve a smirk.

“Jealous?”

“Yes, jealous! Look at these baskets!” Steve, keeping his head on Bucky’s shoulder, thrust his hand forward to emphasize the bountiful harvest before them. “You planted the carrots, and the parsnips, and the herbs. You even grew that funny looking squash.”

“Okay, well you really impressed me with those potatoes…”

“I better have! If I didn’t I’m pretty sure Sarah Rogers herself would have come to haunt me.”

A few breathy chuckles were punctuated by a sniffle from Steve. A solemn silence then fell over the garden.

“I miss your mom.”

Bucky lifted his flesh hand, warmer to the touch than the other, and placed it on Steves, still resting on his abdomen. Steve threaded his right fingers through Bucky’s, pulling his vibranium hand in with his left.

“Me too”, Steve and Bucky began gently rocking side to side, “I think about her a lot when I’m out here. She would have loved this garden.”

“Hey, remember when she would take us to the gardens in the city when we were younger? The ones they made in old lots?”

“So people could feed their families, of course I remember. Sometimes that’s the only way we’d get food that week. Ma also made me pick tomatoes just to feel useful for once.”

“Yeah, and I got stuck trucking your full wagon up the hill. You were always running up behind and sneezing your ass off because you were allergic to the flowering vegetables. And the trees… and the sun.”

“Alright alright, I get it…”

As if on cue, Steve stifled two harsh sneezes into the crook of Bucky’s neck, barely scrambling out of his embrace with the other man before a third overtook him, let out forcefully, but ragged. 

“Yeah! Like that! Bless you, doll.”

“Thangk you…” Steve ran his sweater sleeve delicately under his nose, his voice rounding out with congestion. Bucky frowned.

“We should get you inside, it’s not getting any warmer out here and your cheeks are getting flushed again.”

Steve softened his features, supplying a pathetic sniffle. His shoulders dropped and his head tipped to one side, looking at Bucky with a mix of fondness and sentiment.

“I also remember you talking to me like that when we were younger. ‘Oh Stevie, your cheeks are flushed’, ‘have you got your handkerchief, Steve?’, ‘Oh doll, did you forget your gloves?”, the blonde nudged playfully.

“Are you kidding me? Have you thought about your old self lately? Its a medical miracle that you made it through the things you have. Those concerns were warranted.” 

Steve stepped back, throwing his hands up in feigned surrender. With a wet chuckle he clapped a hand on Bucky’s back.

“I know, angel” Steve reassured, “You know I know. I kid because you don’t have to worry anymore. Not in the same way, at least. I can take care of you now, too. Especially when your voice sounds like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a lawnmower!”

“Alright, alright- let’s get inside and both get warmed up.”

The pair gathered the baskets, brimming with a colorful harvest and made their way up the path toward the house. They maneuvered through the door and into the kitchen, where they began the process of sorting and washing the vegetables for their stew. 

Bucky took the job of chopping, as he argued that his knife skills were superior. Steve wanted to refute, but realized that using a sharp blade while managing fits of sneezing was probably not a wise choice. Instead, Steve sautéed carrots, onions, and celery in a pan while also bundling sachets of herbs, stealing adoring glances at the man accompanying him in the kitchen. 

He wasn’t used to this much abundance, and he knew Bucky felt similarly, but was pleased with the way they could use this meal to come together and share their love. Each of them contributing flavors and skills, stealing swift kisses and gentle touches as they warmed the bread and set out bowls and spoons. Bucky’s laugh inaudible as the steam from the pot made Steve sneeze again.

They mutually agreed to eat their meal on the couch in front of the fire, while shrouding themselves in thick flannel blankets. They recalled more memories of their childhood, swapping stories that made their eyes shine with nostalgia -finally feeling comfortable enough with their presents to look back on their pasts.  

As the night stretched on, and Bucky’s voice faded from an abrasive rasp to a painful whisper and Steve’s aching sinuses made it hard to keep his head up, they slowly came to a silence. Empty bowls of stew lay on the coffee table and the fire died down to only embers, leaving the pair of super-soldiers entwined on their sofa- finally able to just relax, to just be ill. To finally be together, and to be home.

To finally be human.

[uncozy-unrose]

[uncozy-unrose]

Comfortember Day Two : Stressed

Fandom: Glee ♡ Main: Blaine (college aged non-minor) ♡ Ship: Blam ♡ Features: Chilly autumn walks, limping, spiraling into anxiety, comforting Sam, and curly haired Blaine

Read on AO3

It was hard to beat a crisp autumn day in New York. 

It was hard to beat the breeze and sound of the leaves. The pumpkins on the doorsteps of the brownstones that they could never afford. The steaming drinks with the scent of cinnamon that tickled their noses. The trees that casted a warm orange glow on the sidewalk in front of them.

It was even harder to beat a crisp autumn day in New York, when you are taking a walk with someone that you love. Someone with dark curls, adorably sticking out of his knit cap. Someone with a slightly cool hand to hold, as it’s still too warm for gloves. Someone who lets you try their fancy latte without even having to ask. Someone with a slight limp, favoring their left foot…

Wait, Blaine doesn’t have a limp.

Sam’s brows knit together in a blend of concern and confusion. He slowed his pace, allowing himself to fall behind Blaine. He then ran is gaze down the other man’s leg and lingered on the odd cadence of his brown lace-up boots. 

“You alright, B?”

Blaine looked back at him. His eyes, usually soft, now had a flash of panic in them, and his voice followed suit.

“Alright?”, the shorter man furrowed his brow and pursed his lips in feigned confusion, “Of course I’m alright… it’s such a beautiful day.”

He gestured out in front of him, hoping to distract Sam. His fingers outstretched to the golden pavement ahead. The blonde though, who’s hair was picking up that same golden hue, didn’t take the bait. Blaine was forced to turn to more drastic measures. Carefully picking up his pace, Blaine threaded an arm under his boyfriends, linking them together as they continued down the street. His his head gently nuzzling against Sam’s arm. 

“It’s a perfect day.”

Sam pressed a kiss into the olive-hued wool atop Blaine’s head, but his concern didn’t waver. As they walked, he could feel the other man��s arm tense with every other step, and it only took about half a block of lip-gnawing and tongue biting for Sam to bring up the subject again. He pulled his arm free and trotted in front of Blaine, turning toward him and catching his shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. 

“There’s something wrong, Blaine. You’re limping!”

“I’m no-“

Sam pressed a finger against Blaine’s lips, ready to argue, but stifled it as he looked down in front if him. He was met with hazel eyes, filled with trembling tears stuck to long dark lashes. Hushing his boyfriend gently, he hugged Blaine close, running a comforting hand up and down the length of his peacoat. Blaine sniffled and spoke into Sam’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know…It started Tuesday-“

“Tuesday?” Sam pulled back from the embrace, “Why didn’t you- s-sorry… Sorry, go ahead.”

“It started Tuesday, after rehearsal. But it’s really not that bad, I’m serious!”

“Oh, B…”

The tears were now slipping down Blaine’s cheeks, rosy from the chilled autumn air. Sam carefully swiped them away as they took a seat on a bench outside of Central Park.

“I’m sorry… I just-“ Blaine began to stammer and glanced around erratically, looking for something to focus on other than the worry-filled blue eyes in front of him, “The musical is such a great opportunity, but rehearsal is getting so intense…I’m overdoing it, but I actually don’t think I’m doing enough! These other performers are unreal, Sam. They’re like machines and I have to keep up, but… but then my foot… Its so frustrating, like a shooting pain every time I take a step, and-“

“Blaine-” 

Sam clutched the frantic man’s hands, once chilled but now clammy and shaking. He attempted to snap Blaine out his spiral.

“It’s okay, babe. Seriously, I think its a stress-“

“I know its stress! Sam, of course I’m stressed! I dropped classes to do this show and I’m missing shifts at work when we really need the money, and… and then I get hurt? I’m not hurt, I can’t be. I-“

His words were rapidly replaced with gasping breaths. Sam squeezed his hands again. 

“No, wait! I think it’s a stress fracture. People used to get them during football, its like a teeny-tiny break in your bone-“

“Teeny-tiny?” 

“Yeah, but it still could get serious, B.”

“I’m gonna throw up…” 

Blaine dry-heaved, twisting his head to the side. Sam placed a tender hand on his cheek and brought their eyes together again. 

“No you’re not - look at me. Let’s get home and get that leg up. We’ll put some ice on it and let it rest… and by the looks of it, your foot isn’t the only thing that needs resting.”

Blaine looked up at him in doe-eyed confusion. Sam let out a dry laugh.

“You, babe. You need rest!”

Blaine pulled off his hat, his temperature rising with his anxiety. He let his shoulders drop in surrender, moving his gaze to the ground and the leaves that skittered across it with the breeze. He heard Sam continue, barely audible over the sound of his frenzied heartbeat. 

Let yourself rest. 

…

After a slow walk home, with Sam proposing a piggyback ride every few blocks, the pair reached their apartment. Ahead of them was an afternoon of painkillers, questionable movies, and leaky bags of ice. 

The evening would then bring sushi delivery and shy smiles as Sam made sure that Blaine stayed glued to the couch, bringing him warm green tea and extra wasabi without a word.

Finally, after finishing their meals, Sam cleaned up and Blaine hobbled to their bedroom to turn down the bed. As they switched off the light and climbed under the sheets, the two didn’t quite know what was in store for the days to come. For tonight, though, they tried to focus on healing. Healing injured feet as well as racing minds and tired bodies. They focused on each other, and the love that they were lucky enough to share. The warmth of each other in a bed that was a little too small, and the touch of each others hands that were a little too cold. And finally, they focused on the little things, like a crisp autumn night in New York. The cool breeze and the sound of the leaves that they could still hear through an open window as they surrendered to a much needed moment of rest.

[uncozy-unrose]

Comfortember Day One : Hugs

Fandom: Stranger Things ♡ Main: Jonathan (non-minor) ♡ Ship: Stonathan ♡ Features: Old Injury flare ups, hiding pain, rainy day cuddling, grumpy baby vs sunshine baby, hot water bottles, and warm blankets.

Read on AO3

Sometimes it worsened when it he was overworked. Sometimes, it was when it was cold. Most of the time it was when it rained. 

Today it was all three. 

Jonathan lay still on the couch, eyes firmly pressed closed in an effort to calm his breathing. Every breath seemed to make the gnawing ache in his back even worse. A ratty pillow was shoved under his spine in a desperate attempt to keep him in a comfortable position, and a thick crochet blanket was draped over his frame to provide some much needed warmth. It also served to hide his hands, which where tensing and releasing with each wave of pain. 

It had been a few years now since a metal stool had been hammered into Jonathan’s back as he licked the cold linoleum floor of the Hawkins Memorial Hospital. A few years should be enough to quell the repercussions of fighting a minion of the mind flayer, but he could still feel the pain as clearly as he could see the horrifically violent face of Bruce Lowe.

Jonathan could hear the rain begin to get worse outside, coming down in vicious sheets. the wind howled loudly, almost concerningly so, and Jonathan audibly cursed as he realized he had not closed the kitchen window after an incident with burning his eggs this morning. He cursed even louder when he hastily rolled off of the couch and began to sprint toward the kitchen, causing his back to scream out wildly. One hand flew out to grip the counter in order to steady himself, and the other reached for the top of the window, but Jonathan was unable to muster up enough strength to push down hard enough to close it. 

A bright voice, contradicting the tone of the current situation, rang out as Jonathan heard the front door swing open and bang into the wall behind it. 

“Honey! I’m home!”

Jonathan stiffened at the noise. Straightening his frame to the best of his abilities, he swallowed his pain and called out to his boyfriend. 

“Steve!”

Jonathan had been hiding these miserable back flare ups from Steve for forever. That wasn’t the always plan, bet then again, dating Steve Harrington wasn’t the plan either. If you ask Jonathan, he would say he wasn’t technically hiding his plight from the other man, he simply just hadn’t had a good time to mention it. If you ask anyone else though, they would say that it was a combination of Jonathan’s reticence and general need to not be a bother.

A mess of dripping brown hair turned the corner, and with it, a smiling Steve. His gleeful expression promptly fell as he saw Jonathan struggling with the window, rainwater pooling around his feet as it blew fiercely through the frame. Steve gripped the window with both hands and helped push it closed, hearing Jonathan’s hearty sigh of relief when the deed was done. He noticed his gray t-shirt speckled with raindrops and his poor socks were drenched.

“Hey, are you alright, Byers? You’re soaked!” 

Jonathan let out a choked laugh. 

“Are you kidding? I’m soaked? You look like a wet dog.”

“Hey now, I just saved the apartment from getting flooded, so…”

Jonathan smiled and apologized with a quick kiss, his hand still firmly gripping the kitchen counter. Steve grinned. 

“Well, let’s get in some dry clothes. It’s fucking freezing in here.”

The pair made their way into the small hallway adjacent to the kitchen and then into their bedroom. Jonathan watched as Steve peeled off his damp clothes and replace them with a dry fleece tracksuit, picking the brief moments where his back was turned to begin taking off his own clothes. The ache in his back turned into a biting sting as he raised his arms over his head and he didn’t want Steve to notice. 

Jonathan successfully slipped his warmest knit sweater over his torso and managed to get his arms through the sleeves without blowing his cover. He was even able to bend down to swap his damp socks with dry ones, concealing his twisted grimace from the man just a few feet to his left. After cautiously straightening himself up and resting a steadying hand on his dresser,  Jonathan replaced the grimace with a sweet smile as he watched Steve rough up his hair with a towel in an attempt to get it dry. 

Steve tossed the towel onto the bed between them and peered at Jonathan through a jungle of tangled waves, returning the smile. 

“Well, that was a bit chaotic, huh? Can we start over?”

Steve raked his hand through the mop on his head, pushing it back into submission. He strode over to a slightly shivering Jonathan with open arms, not noticing the fact that the shorter man’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers. Muttering a quiet “C’mere”, he pulled Jonathan in for a hug. 

Stiffening, Jonathan could not hold back a wince as he tucked his head between Steve’s neck and shoulder. He managed to slide his hand off of the dresser and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. If he was being honest, Jonathan didn’t even mind the discomfort gripping his spine. For the first time today he actually felt warm. 

Appreciating the support he was getting, both physically and emotionally, Jonathan let himself melt into the embrace. Steve’s smile broadened and he responded by gently tightening his grip, unknowingly sending an excruciating wave down the other man’s back. The stifled whimper that escaped Jonathan’s throat startled Steve, causing him to pull back and grasp his shoulders.

“Hey? Hey, what’s wrong?”

Noticing the tears threatening to spill on to Jonathan’s cheeks, Steve flung into autopilot and drew him in to his chest again, hugging him close. Jonathan let out a louder yelp this time as he stepped backwards, taking a hasty seat on the bed and twisting the sheets tightly between his fingers. Steve dropped to his knees and placed a gentle hand on Jonathan’s tensed one in front of him.

“Jon, talk to me…”

Swallowing thickly, Jonathan managed to open his eyes and face not only Steve, but a secret that has been looming over him for several years now. 

“Sorry, uh…” he sniffled, “It’s just my back…”.

“Oh… did you hurt yourself?”

“No, it just does this sometimes.”

Steve shifted from his position on the floor to sitting on the bed next to Jonathan, placing a supportive hand on his bouncing knee. 

“Sometimes?”

“The rain makes it worse… And the cold.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in concern. He looked down at his feet.

“Oh yeah, my mom’s shoulder gets like that when it rains, but she fucked it up in high school… cheerleading accident. Did you ever hurt your back?”

Jonathan let out a dark chuckle and explained the violent events of Hawkins Memorial, but now in more detail than Steve had heard before. It took everything for Steve to bite back chastising words like ‘you should have told me sooner’, and ‘why haven’t you seen doctor?’. Instead he fell into the role of caretaker, a role in which Steve was naturally gifted, especially when it came to Jonathan. 

Steve kissed away a tear that was making its way down Jonathan’s cheek, choosing not to mention it out loud. He then stood and made his way to the bathroom, turning on the tap and opening the medicine cabinet. He tucked a bottle of aspirin under his arm, filled the cup next to the sink with water, and adjusted the tap to a warmer temperature, letting it run as he ran to the bedroom to place the medicine and cup into his boyfriends slightly trembling hands. 

Jonathan’s lips tugged at a grateful smile and placed the cup on the bedside table. After shaking two pills into his hand first, then tossing them back into his mouth, Jonathan sipped at the water and watched Steve leave and then re-enter the bedroom holding a hot water bottle. He placed the hot water bottle on the bed and snaked his hand up Jonathan’s sweater, brushing his gentle fingers down his spine, making him shudder. 

“Can you lay on this? The heat will help.”

Steve moved his hand to behind Jonathans nodding head and guided him down to a comfortable position, the hot water bottle situated evenly under his lower back. Letting out a satisfied groan, Jonathan practically melted into the mattress below him. Steve grinned as the other man let his eyes flutter shut in a moment of relief. He shifted on to his hip and lowered his own body down to cuddle up next to Jonathan, pulling a blanket over the both of them.

“Hey, stupid”, Steve half-whispered, peering up through his eyelashes. 

Jonathan  scrunched up his nose, then looked down at Steve, letting out a light laugh.

“Hey…”

“Thanks for being honest, love. I know you never want to inconvenience anybody, but just know that I kind of like taking care of your ass.”

Jonathan chuckled through a few more escaped tears, communicating both gratitude and understanding. The sound blended with the rain drumming rhythmically on the bedroom window, and soon the pair succumbed to sleep, Jonathan breathing much easier than he had been able to before.