stephanie nashton does it all (forthem) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-05-06 14:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | !dc comics, *log, eddie nigma, stephanie brown |
log: steph/eddie (2/2)
WHO Eddie and Steph (pt 2 o 2).
WHAT Trying to wade through what happened.
WHEN Recently.
WHERE The "Farm", AKA their apartment.
WARNING ptsd/anxiety, sad things.
Stephanie started to shake her head again as he rose to dress, dissonant and protesting noises sounding from her throat. Of course, this was all about her. This was all her being stubborn and unwilling to admit to herself when it was beyond both of their scopes. When her demons defeated her. Wasn’t this enough to see? If she couldn’t even deal with him touching her like the way he used to, like the way she always wanted him to, wasn’t that enough to know that she had lost? But, bats were never very good at admitting defeat, were they, and Steph was always more stubborn than most of them. It was what led her to chase her father down herself when she was just a kid, what brought her to the helm of a goddamn war at her fingertips because she wanted to prove herself, what gave herself the courage to put on the cowl in the first place.
And there was key word in all of that: herself. Stephanie was so used to fixing (or causing) her own problems that it felt foreign to let people in. Eddie, of course, was one of the few exceptions who got to see all of her, but now this was something so new and daunting and destructive that she couldn’t even fathom how to deal with it. But, she stubbornly wanted to do it herself. She wished that it was as simple as wanting to be better. That if she said yes, I want to stop imagining the man who nearly killed me or I would love to be able to get intimate with my boyfriend again without having a full-blown attack, it would all just end. It would all just be better. She would be able to love Eddie as fully as she did before. She would be able to love herself again.
Weakly, she reached out for him as he zipped up his hoodie, but she didn’t push. She had no goddamn right to push it. He should be leaving her at this point, and she knew that. After every fucking thing she had put him through, she had no right at all to want him to stick around. She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve him. And wasn’t that funny how the tables turned like that? Wasn’t he always the one who didn’t feel like he deserved her? The realization that she could really, truly lose him because of all this scared the living shit out of her, and she started to cry more -- harder, louder, shakier -- as he left the room and then the apartment. They were ugly sounds, snivelling and sobbing and gasping for air in the wake of his absence. Here she was, alone, the thing she feared the most.
Matilda, possibly piqued by the sound of Stephanie’s crying, slowly and quietly slipped into the room. The copper-haired dog sat down at the side of the bed and placed her head on the mattress by the human’s face, big brown puppy dog eyes looking at her owner’s mate like she was sad. Stephanie, opening her eyes, leaned forward and scooped the dog up in her arms to bury her face in Matilda’s fur. Soaking it with shaky sobs and a flood of tears.
Eventually, what seemed like years later, she calmed down enough that she could push let go of the dog, push herself up and out of the cocoon she’d created on the bed. She tugged the stockings off her legs in frustration, tossing them to the side, and grabbed a pair of leggings and a baggy shirt from her high school gymnastics team. Leaving the red satin lingerie discarded on the bed like the pathetic failed attempt. She pulled her messy hair back and wiped at her puffy red eyes, and after a couple of soothing pets to the sweet dog, she padded to her office and locked the door. Music, slow and soft and sad, blasted past the door and filled the apartment.
Eddie got halfway through a third cigarette before he smashed it out on the stone steps and turned to go back inside. There wasn’t a lot happening in those dark eyes. No calculations or planning. No puzzles to solve. All he could do was play over the night endlessly in his head and try to convince himself that letting her do what she felt was right was the only good option. Eddie loved her and he might have been an asshole, but he wasn’t leaving for good any time soon. He sighed, rubbed his face with his hands and then turned to walk back upstairs.
Whenever he was upset he either did something crazy to get the blood pumping or he worked on his programming. Honestly, Eddie would be fine if his blood didn’t pump beyond its gentle, overly calm flow at the time, so he opted for some programming. He unlocked the server room, ran up to get his laptop and made his way over to her office to sit with her whether she liked it or not. He tried for the door and made a noise when it was locked. Well maybe he deserved that. And, maybe he would have been acting the same way at her age. Was it finally time to call into question their age gap? Was an anxiety attack while she was wearing lingerie really the final straw on that subject?
He sighed, set the laptop down and went into the kitchen for his lock picking tools. When he got back, he knelt, mentally started the stopwatch and timed how long it took to pick the door open. Three seconds. Not bad. The cat was a little better, but that was no surprise. Eddie poked his head inside and gave her a derisive wiggle of his eyebrows. “If you want me, I’ll be right outside.” He made a show out of re-locking the door for her and then closing it. Wasn’t that the perfect symbol for their love? Him sneaking his way into her heart to prove he can and then letting her open the door for him anyway?
Eddie slumped against the hallway wall and popped his laptop open. How much longer could he keep doing this?
Stephanie heard him come upstairs and go immediately to the server room, and while she felt even worse than before, she only blamed herself. Truthfully, she was surprised he even came back upstairs at all, expecting him to spend hours doing god knows what god knows where. Perhaps escaping to the training center or one of the other myriad of bunkers Eddie had scattered across the city. And she couldn't really blame him for wanting a break, could she? Anyone would want to escape this level of brokenness and rejection. Some days she was still worried to wake up and not have him sleeping next to her. It wasn't just the failed proposal anymore, but the constant caginess any time they got close to being intimate that surely drove him further and further away. The worst part was that she had tried so hard tonight, and she failed miserably. She couldn't shut it off. She couldn't push past it.
She was so fucking weak.
When Eddie unlocked her door (which she had completely expected -- and frankly wanted), Stephanie sat on the floor, in the middle of the purple accent rug, and just looked at him with wide blue eyes that held so much emotion it was hard to suss out which one she was feeling right then and there. Guilt. Sadness. Disgust. Anger. It all hung on her sagged shoulders and in her bloodshot blues like they were making permanent residence. And both of them feared that most, didn't they?
For a while, all that could be heard was the soft cacophony of sad piano and soothing guitar drifting from her computer's playlist. Each song melded into the next, all mourning something, and maybe that was telling. Maybe it was just what she could find on spotify that night. But there was no wails from beyond the door, no choked out sobs. Just the floating music to drown out all her feelings and let her focus on herself in the room. She dwelled; of course she did. Ran over the entire night in her head over and over again and tried to figure out how it all went wrong. She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, and just remembered how overwhelmed she was by everything. By his touch. By his love. By him.
Eventually, after maybe a half-hour, she crawled across the floor to unlock the door and open it just a crack as an invitation. So much unlike her wanton invitation on the bed an hour or so before. There was hesitation, wariness, upset.
When (if) Eddie came in, Steph was on the floor again by the wall. Set next to her was a palate of paints - dark grays and blues and yellows - and her hand guided a paintbrush on the wall. Across the beige colored walls was the beginnings of a mural stretching from one corner to where she was now, about a foot away. But, it wasn't just any mural. It was the Gotham skyline stretching across the canvass of her office walls. Barely in its inception, there were only a few (surprisingly detailed) buildings gracing the wall, but sketches sat next to her hip. Of costumed crime fighters swinging from buildings. Of yellow moons, and bright colors splashes across the skyline, and the looming Wayne Tower. Of two lovebird in purple and green on a rooftop in each other's arms.
She didn't look up, kept concentrating on her work, on the stroke of yellow to make windows on black, and waited for him to speak first. There were blots of paint on her leggings and a streak of blue on her cheek, and pink tongue stuck between teeth as she tried her best to concentrate.
Eddie had expected an immediate unlocking of the door and when she didn’t, he missed her more than he had in years and years. He wanted to knock again, to beg because she was the only woman who could make him do that. But, he was the one who made the space between them. He was the one who needed air, who couldn’t stand her refusing help and wrapping herself up in pain as if it were more of a comfort than him. Guilt and anger set back in and he wished for that nice void of nothing covered in cigarette smoke.
Finally, the door opened and he crept inside, sliding his laptop on the floor as he looked up at the painted Gotham skyline. He smiled and an overwhelming feeling of love for her and this town and the life they wanted together hit him hard. “Steph.” Eddie crawled over to her, smelling of the two and a half cigarettes he just smoked as if it were some kind of normal habit for him. He laid on his stomach and snagged one of the sketches between his fingers, sliding it in front of him to look at.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Was kind of the theme of the night, right? But, he didn’t sound accusatory or mean. Eddie had a childlike wonder about him sometimes. As if he had wandered into her clubhouse and was delighted just to be there, even if it had been a secret for this long.
Steph’s nose wrinkled a little at the somewhat foreign smell, paintbrush paused on wall-turned-canvas. Yeah, she’d picked up the habit years ago for a few weeks while she was undercover, and maybe now and then she thought that a smoke break would be a good stress reliever in the middle of a warzone, but she always managed to lose that urge in warfare or Eddie’s hands wandering across her body. She never even thought Eddie smoked, even before they started dating, and the smell confused her. Well, not confused. Concerned. For all she knew it was a new habit. She looked at him, long and inquisitive, with a slight raise of her eyebrows. But, she didn’t press. She had no right to press. He was home with her and not running across Gotham trying to avoid her, and that was all she could even hope for. A couple of cigarettes snuck after she pushed him off and away her was so far from a dealbreaker at this point that it seemed stupid.
She regarded him for a moment as he looked at the sketches, half-willing to snatch it out of his hand in a veiled attempt to hide one last thing for the sake of vulnerability. Everything about her was vulnerable at the moment, and part of her was so terrified of opening up one more thing for him to have to shoulder or think about. Her lips twitched, however, at the tiny bit of awe in his voice, and she lowered the paintbrush. Blue eyes were still red and strained and puffy, and it looked as if the music had been to mask the fact that she’d been crying in here too. Stretching for the tiny Apple remote on the floor, she paused the song playing, and then sat back up to look at her riddled man once again.
“It’s not finished.” Stephanie shrugged, as if that were the answer to everything. Was she ever going to show him? He’d probably have stumbled upon it at some point. “It’s just something I’m working on to fill up time. To distract me.” Another shrug, dismissive and a little sad. As if she wished she could find better things to distract her. Or, really, that she probably wished she didn’t need any distracting at all.
He rolled on his back, wiggling his eyebrows at her like he’d explain the cigarette smell once they were done talking about this. Because, sorry Stephanie, the mural took priority. It was perfect to him. It gave him real proof that she really did dream about the same things he did. That she wanted it, even if it was going to take them a lot longer to get there. “Our lives aren’t finished and we still share those.” Eddie told her and held the paper up over him to look at it. “I want this tattooed on my back. I have a place for it. Look that’s our neighborhood. That funky tree in our neighbor’s backyard. That old school dry cleaner’s sign.” Eddie lowered the paper and gave her a very serious look. “I need this on my body.”
Eddie had a skyline on his back, a sprawling black and white design from one shoulder to the other. He wished he could replace it with this. Still, he always had a place for something she made. “Would you let me?” Eddie asked and smiled at her like he couldn’t hide how much he was in love. Even though everything went so wrong and lately he was feeling rejected and unloved, he was still so devoted to her. She could still bring out a side of him that was dedicated to her in a way that could never be replicated.
Pressing the paper to his heart, Eddie took her hand and brought it to his face, smearing paint on his cheekbone. “Do you remember your little apartment? That rising sun? I remember the first time I went over there and the second I saw that, I managed to fall a little more for you.” He pointed to the paper on his heart. “It’s the same with this. I don’t mind that it’s unfinished. I want to see how it all turns out.”
Gotham would always be her home. Always, no matter how hard she tried to deny it or couldn’t fit in. It was ingrained in her in the same sort of way that being a bat was or liking to stuff her face with waffles was or her undoubtable love for Eddie Nashton was. Even when she was continents away, Stephanie could never hope of escaping her hometown’s siren call. She never wanted to, even on days like today where she felt so trapped and scared and worthless that nothing seemed good. All Gotham kids, tried and true, were like that. You could leave, but you would always, always come back.
He earned a pointed look as if lives were different than a couple of sketches and an unfinished mural on her office wall, dropping the paintbrush on the palate. Lives were meant to be shared, but she wasn’t actually sure if she was ready to show all of this to him. Stephanie was actually a very talented artist with an innate sort of ability that she never got to showcase. But, she’d never nurtured the talent the way a person is supposed to, a product of her upbringing in a lower class neighborhood with parents who didn’t really care while she was a kid. She was good though; there was no denying that with the swirls of gradient grays and blues smeared across the wall or the detailed sketches of their street.
But, her bottom lip wibbled as he admired her work, saying he needed it on his body. And truthfully? That meant more to her than the other tattoos that proclaimed his love to her. The question mark with bat ears. The purple bats that ran up his legs. The poem splayed across his heart. “Yeah?” she asked, hopeful crack in her voice clear as day as he pressed her paint-covered fingers to his face. Smiling despite herself. She was careful not to tangle her fingers in his hair or touch his eyebrows, but she dragged them down his cheeks, leaving funny little streaks of yellow to mingle with stubble. Before she could help it, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him sweetly. Like she was testing to make sure their love still tasted the same way it always did.
It was soft, chaste, and she pulled back before anything else could happen. But, she looked down at him with watery-affectionate blues and a small smile. “My stupid doodles aren’t good enough to make someone fall for me more.”
He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch automatically. Eddie could hear a tiny voice in the back of his head tell him no don’t let her touch you. Don’t let her kiss you. Make her understand how much damage she had done. But, Eddie was good at locking things up behind impossible puzzle boxes. His eyes opened when she cupped his face, knowing what was coming next and he returned the kiss without chasing for more like he normally did. It was a mere confirmation that they still were on the same team. “They aren’t stupid.” Eddie kept smiling at her, even if sometimes his expression would flip into a line of concern for those watery, tired blue eyes.
“Even if they were, I’m sure there’s something I do that makes you feel the same way.” Eddie pressed the drawing to his chest again and then carefully set it aside and sat up to sit next to her. He automatically went to rub her back, a simple gesture of comforting and love that she was familiar with, even if right now it felt foreign. His fingers seemed to stutter, as if he realized that she had fought him off her earlier. “I’ve been sneaking cigarettes from you since we started dating. I’m very clever.” Eddie said with a flutter of his eyelids as if he was oh so impressive. He finally decided to hell with not touching each other and gently stroked her back, a soothing simple thing that made him feel better, too.
“When I worked at the carnival and days got tough I’d sneak one. Everyone smoked then so it wasn’t such a big deal. I never got addicted because cigarettes make you a slave to other people in jail, but I liked having one when I felt-” Eddie shrugged and then decided for honesty. “Down. Over the past six years? I’ve probably only had a dozen or so. I’d show you where I stash them, but I keep other things there that I don’t want you to know about soooooo” He trailed off with a grin.
She was pleased when he didn’t stop the kiss, sappier when she pulled away even with her watery eyes gazing down at him. She didn’t even dwell on the flickers in his expression, knowing her eyes were burning with tears and knowing that her affection overcame any sort of sadness she had at the moment. Stephanie stared at him as he pressed the sketch to his chest and took a mental snapshot of it. To be replayed over and over and over in her mind whenever the pain in her own chest ached so much she barely remembered how to breathe. She knew now that she at least needed to let him in on this. That though this was something to make her feel better, it could turn into a meaningful thing for the both of them.
And, he was right. There were tons of things Eddie did that made her love him more and more every time he did it. Like the way his mouth screwed up when he worked on a programming issue or the glee in his eyes that he got for certain things. Little things that she could appreciate in her day-to-day life with him along with other things. She smiled at that, giving him only the slightest roll of her eyes. Because yeah, of course she did.
Steph’s back stiffened more from surprise that Eddie was touching her at all than any sort of wariness of him rubbing her back. That was okay. That didn’t overwhelm her the way his mouth on her skin did or his fingers between her legs did. That just soothed her, and immediately she relaxed into his touch. Slumping her shoulders slightly and leaning her back into his hand, she sighed deeply, eyes drifting shut as she felt comfort for the first time in hours. “Really?” she asked curiously -- not mad or needling, just curious. One eye peeked open, and she looked at him through the corner of it. “You could have told me. I wouldn’t’ve gotten mad.” No accusation, still the curiosity.
She still felt a little distant from him, even with his hand rubbing her back, and she leaned her side into his, forehead pressed into the crook of his neck. It was a thoughtless thing, just the hunger and need to be close to him in a simple way. The other eye opened up, and she looked up at him. Or well, at the straight lines of his jaw. She didn’t know if she should apologize for the dozen times he’d ever felt down over the past six years, or for the new, fresh wounds she caused in their bedroom only a little while ago. She decided to just say sorry. “I’m sorry I made you ever feel down, baby.” Her voice was soft and apologetic, and god it was clear she loved him with all her heart. That she would never intentionally hurt him. Then, she chuckled quietly, spying the curve of his grin even as she stared up. “What kind of other things?”
“Yes, you would.” He chuckled hoarsely and pulled her close when she leaned in on him, just as desperate to be close to her as she was. Eddie knew it was a little pathetic to already have her back in his arms, but screw it. Playing some kind of distance game with her right now was just going to hurt them even more. “You would have lectured me and tapped your foot. You literally tap your foot at me when you’re pissed, it’s my favorite thing. It reminds me of movies you’re too young to remember.” He kissed her messy blonde hair. “The plan was to keep it a secret until we were old and I was dying. Then, you couldn’t get mad. You can’t get mad at me when I’m dying, right?”
Eddie hesitated and then tugged at her leggings to get her to sit on his lap. If she’d be as close to him as she could, that’d be some kind of achievement in this mess of a night. “Don’t apologize. I’m pissed and lonely and so sexually frustrated I want someone to break my fucking arms, but I shouldn’t have let you put so much goddamn pressure on tonight. You were gorgeous, you were goddamnit, but if we have any chance at being together again, that’s not how to do it.” He reached to touch her face so she’d look up at him. “We’ll take it slow. Like you said. I’ll romance you. When was the last time you got romanced?”
He leaned in to kiss her without that lingering hesitation. Soft and lovingly. “I’m not telling you what’s in there. I’ll give you a hint. You want a hint?” Eddie couldn’t resist. “Riddle me this, if I fall, I say my name. What am I?”
Stephanie rumbled out a noise of protest and shook her head. “No, I don’t!” She sounded amused, a laugh at the edge of her voice despite it all. “You’re so full of it. Tell me one goddamn time that’s happened.” But, she was smiling, something small and sweet, and she pressed a kiss to his neck when he pressed one into her hair. And then, there was another laugh, quiet and against his throat before she removed her mouth. “Have you met me before? I think I could.” She pulled back to look at him, bloodshot blues somehow a little playful. “I really think it was just your way of trying to get one last shock in before you kick the bucket.”
There was a second of hesitation, of wariness that he was doing this to appease her, before she climbed into his lap. She wanted to be as close to him as she possibly could without inducing another anxiety attack, and it showed in the way her arms wrapped around his neck and the way she buried her face into his chest. She almost apologized again, the sorry on the tip of her tongue, as she rubbed her nose on the cotton of his hoodie. Inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne that clung to every single thing he wore no matter how many times it got thrown in the wash. She loved it. It was why she wore his shirts to sleep almost every night. She wanted him to linger on her skin in whatever way he could. Which was why not being able to go through with everything earlier stung all the more.
Her hand slid down away from his neck and down his chest to rest over his heart for a second before going down a little further. Forehead still resting just underneath his clavicle. “We can try.” Her hand slid underneath his hoodie and danced delicately across his skin. There was a pause, then like the idea popped into her head suddenly, she smirked and pulled back to look at him. “There’s more than one way to take care of that, baby, and I’m here for it whenever you need it.” Reaching forward, her teeth nipped at his chest through his hoodie, and boy wasn’t that a different tune than before? But focusing on him, on his pleasure and release was a little easier when other things weren’t involved. Maybe not now, but she didn’t rule the possibility out.
The kiss was so appreciated, and he could feel it in the way she leaned into him even after their lips broke. Hand still pressed against skin and chest up against chest. Though it was short, she knew what it meant, knew the feelings of love and adoration and devotion shared between the both of them no matter what. But, her eyes narrowed when he riddled at her. “Not. Fair,” she told him, pouting.
Eddie looked up at the unfinished mural as Stephanie clung to him. He wondered if she’d let him sit and watch her paint. Was this a one time glimpse? Or did she need him around as much as he needed her? He kissed her hair again. That was an easy riddle. “I’ll probably go out at age 98, arguing with you over hospital jello flavors.” Eddie said it like that was the most romantic way to die (it would be). He let his mind wander off, imagining all those spiralling possibilities. Of dying with her at his side after a long life of happiness and challenges. She could feel him inhale deeply, his heart beating a little harder against his ribcage. Hope. Stephanie straight up murdered him with that stuff.
He looked down as her hand skate across his bare skin under his hoodie and he gave her a surprised grin. “Yeah?” Eddie kissed her again, grateful for at least thinking about taking care of him. Tonight wasn’t going to work, he didn’t want to try all over again after everything that happened, but a little action after they both got some sleep wouldn’t hurt. “I’d really like that.” Eddie whispered, brushing his cheek against hers to smear paint across her skin. “You’re good to me.” He leaned back to look at her. “Even with all of this, you’re so good to me.” And, then he kissed her before she could tell him no.
The kiss lasted longer than before, with only a hint of heat behind it. Mostly, it was just about feeling close to her. Affirming all those I love yous they murmured every chance they got. “Don’t look that up on the internet and don’t ask anyone. Promise me. If you don’t look it up, one day I’ll let you see what’s in there.” Eddie raised one hand, holding his pinky out to her. “Pinky swear?” He made his brown eyes go all puppy dog on her.
Her eyes drifted close as he kissed her messy hair and painted a tale of what things would be like fifty years down the road. Fifty. Steph liked the idea of that -- of them growing old together and still being the same Eddie and Steph, just with little additions like children and grandchildren and marriage and things to give their lives even more meaning that it already did. She smiled sappily up at him, so stupidly in love with him and devoted to him despite everything that was bouncing around in the back of her brain. If there was one thing she would never, ever doubt her entire life, it was her feelings for him. They were tried and true, and Stephanie Brown would always be so hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with Edward Nashton. And, she hoped he would always feel the same way, too.
She nodded earnestly, small smile curling up her lips in place of the playful smirk from before. As much as he wanted her to feel good and to feel better, she wanted the same for him. Probably nothing close to all the way, but she would take care of him the way he never really hesitated in taking care of her. “Yeah, baby.” Her hand continued its journey across his skin -- skating over the dips and grooves of his lean, fit body and scraping her nails gently across his back. “Anytime. Always.” She kissed him back, pressure and heat given back just as much as it was taken, and it was clear by the way she slanted her mouth against his that she did want all of it. His love, his affection, his touch, his explorations of her body. The problem was getting her shit together. And she had to for both their sakes.
It seemed easier then and there though, with him holding her and kissing her like she hadn’t just had a panic attack when he tried to have sex with her. Maybe they would move past it, they would take it slow, and things would turn out okay. She seared her lips on his, reaffirming again and again that her feelings were real. That their love was, too. Then, she pulled back and eyed him suspiciously for a moment before hooking her pinky finger with his. “Pinky swear.” A wry smile climbed up the side of her mouth, and she leaned forward to catch his lips with hers again. Long, languid, testing. Like she was trying to search for the boundaries by pushing as far as possible. “I love you,” Stephanie murmured against his mouth, eyes heavy-lidded and punchdrunk in love.
Eddie didn’t know what the hell to do with Stephanie. She kissed him like everything was okay, like she could follow through with how much they wanted each other. Even the way she just looked at Eddie slayed him. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how to take anything slow, but he’d figure it out. He’d have to.
When she hooked her pinky with his and pressed her lips against his like they solved some big puzzle, Eddie could feel his defenses melt. “I love you, too, damn it.” He whispered back, giving her tiny little teasing kisses before smattering her face and neck with affection.
With great restraint, Eddie kept himself from laying her on the office floor and climbing up her body again. He knew better and if they had another breakdown tonight, he didn’t think they’d recover. Even tough Gotham kids who got back up after taking the worst shot to the heart could only take so much, after all. “Wanna help me make my couch bed? You can have Matilda tonight if she makes you feel better.” The riddled man assumed that she didn’t want to sleep next to him right now. Sure, they were in each other’s arms, but what happened when he made her feel suffocated again? Eddie brought her fingers up to his mouth and kissed each one as if he was trying to give them an equal share of affection. “Then we can come back here, work and then go our seperate ways.”
Stephanie probably shouldn’t have been testing the waters like this, but she had never, ever been able to stay away from Eddie for very long, even when she should have. Even when she needed to. She couldn’t help it. Sitting in his lap, pressed so close and feeling like they actually could be okay now, she couldn’t help it. She whimpered as he teased her with is kisses, and her lips curved into an easy sort of smile as he smattered her face with more. Eyes drifting shut and hand slowly sliding up his chest.
“The couch?” The confusion that bloomed across her face might have been comical if they hadn’t been through so much over the last hour or so. But there it was -- eyebrows furrowed, blues clear and wary, mouth turning down -- and while he peppered kisses to her fingers, she watched him absolutely confuddled. It took her a moment to respond. Finally, Steph said, “Yeah, I guess. If you don’t wanna sleep in bed.” Her mouth screwed up though, and it was absolutely clear that she didn’t want him to sleep in the living room that night (or any night in the near future). She had no right, she guessed, to ask him to sleep with her tonight. After all, she had just pushed him away from her. Who could blame him?
Still, she would give it a try. Hands running up and down his chest in thought. “We’d have to make sure there’s room for two, since I’d be out there in ten minutes flat. Not able to sleep without you.”
His face mirrored her confused look, furrowed eyebrows, dark eyes clear and wary, frown wiggling the corners of his lips. “You sure?” Eddie tried not to smile. Really, he probably wouldn’t get any sleep out there on the couch. He might even try to sneak his way back into their bedroom after an exhausting night like this. But, he wanted to respect her boundaries. “I want to sleep in our bed with you tonight.” He said with such certainty she couldn’t question it. Such obvious statements would be silly in any other context. It was important here, to be clear with each other.
“Can I ask you something?” He pulled back to look at her, eyes calculating like a biologist trying to figure out an ecosystem. “Why- how- if this isn’t making you feel trapped, why did I-?” Eddie looked away, mouth twitching as he tried to think of a way to word it. “What did I do to make you feel bad?” Were they supposed to brush everything that happened under the rug? Wouldn’t be better to know what her limits were right now?
Stephanie smiled. “Good.” She still had her nightmares almost every single night, despite the meetings and talking to Eddie about it, and she knew that she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep without him there by her side as a comfort. He didn’t stop the nightmares, but he did provide the anchor she needed when she jolted up, screaming about dead teammates and searching for a weapon to fight off the hordes of Owlman’s goons. It wouldn’t stop, but at least he was there to hold her hand and keep her breathing. He was there for her, even if she didn’t actually deserve that.
She frowned at his question. Not angrily or sad, just uncomfortable. “I--,” she started, but then trailed off and looked away as well. “It wasn’t you, it was me.” And before he could protest or get angry, she turned back and put her finger to his lips with a look. “You didn’t do anything wrong, baby, I promise you. You didn’t hurt me, you didn’t touch me in a bad way. It was all good and wonderful and I wanted it and still want it just as badly as you do. I just…” She turned away again, sawing her jaw and swallowing hard.
“Remember when I was shutting down? That was so I--.” Stephanie looked at him for a moment, finger still pressed to his lips, wondering if she should admit it. “So I wouldn’t feel anything at all.” She chewed on her bottom lip, sighed, and looked down. “And now I’m feeling everything. And it’s a lot.” Clearing her throat, she dropped her hand and reached to grab his and bring it into her lap. “I just got overwhelmed. A lot all at once, and I just--I know that’s how we are and how we should be, but.”
Eddie laced his fingers with hers as she brought their hands into her lap and he gave a thoughtful sigh. A short burst of air that sent that front dark curl flying back. The gears in his head started ticking and he brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss before pulling her closer to him. “I see.” He rested the side of his head against her blonde hair and every part of him tried to process the information, try to make sense of her anxieties and how they related to his. “Look, the only thing that should be is that we want and love each other. We knew this was going to take time and patience, both of which I have plenty of despite my unpredictable reputation, and me going so aggressively at you wasn’t going to help anything. I had a feeling, a terrible gut feeling, but I ignored it because I’m an old pervert.”
He leaned back and waited for her to look up at him again. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore, Stephanie.” Eddie shook his head, smiling like it was the dumbest thing he had ever come up with on his own. Gotham ran red with insecurity (or in Eddie’s case green) and just like crabs in a whore house it just kept coming back no matter how hard they tried to scrub it away. “I can do this with you, I can be there for you, hell I can even goddamn forgive you for not going to a real doctor about this shit. I just need you to make me feel wanted. I need you to let me sit in here while you paint this mural. I need you to ask me to do things for you. Do you understand?”
Stephanie rested her head on his chest when he pulled her in close and sighed as well. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to do it.” And there was that guilt again, and she shook her head imperceptibly. “I should’ve known.” If she could barely sleep at night, how did she even think it was possible to be able to let him climb up her body like they used to? This was never a problem, him touching her. Even after the plague, even after Eddie read what Black Mask did to her, even after all the times he pissed her off beyond comprehension, their intimacy was something they had to fight to deny. And now? Even her trump card of red lace and curves couldn’t fix what was wrong. (Of course, that wasn’t the problem. Eddie wasn’t the problem. Stephanie was. And it was going to take more than a failed romp in bed to recognize that she was beyond helping herself now.)
She bubbled out a tiny little laugh, incredulous and a little shocked but not mean, and she looked up at him with big blue eyes so filled with love and worry that it seemed impossible that they could ever carry anything else. “That’s just fucking ridiculous,” she whispered, tugging at his hoodie, and she understood. She understood the fear of not being wanted. The demons in her head sometimes whispered that same kind of doubt in her ear. The guilt from saying no years ago still haunted her. But, she just thought it was ludicrous that she wouldn’t want him anymore. “Okay,” she agreed quietly. “I’m sorry. I promise. I promise.” Steph buried her face in the crook of his neck, mouth pressed against whatever exposed skin was there. “I promise that I want you. That I’ll always want you.” Her hands skated up and down his side. “But I’ll make sure you know. I promise.”
Eddie and Steph didn’t take promises lightly and it had been years since he had gone back on his word or failed to do what she asked. Years. And, with everything that had gone wrong, Eddie didn’t want that particular streak to end anytime soon. It had been a night of promises, big and small, all of which hinged on his ability to stand strong at her side. He lifted her chin with his hand and smiled softly down at her, kissing her lips and trying his very best not to linger for too long. “I love you, baby.” He told her and then pulled her into a hug, hands reaching under that loose, old sweatshirt to rub her back.
After a long moment of just holding her as if letting her go would make her crumble into nothing, he dug his face in the crook of her neck and exhaled. “Do you want to go to bed with me now?” It was early, but laying around reading or watching tv or talking seemed like the best thing in the world right then.
Stephanie meant every word she said. Promises were never thrown around between the two of them. After all, she couldn’t even say yes to marrying him if she couldn’t promise herself fully to him and he couldn’t promise her the life they deserved. But, she would always want him. That would never change. Not their anxieties, nor Gotham, nor a war could cheapen it. She loved Eddie Nashton with everything she could give, and wanted him just as much as he wanted her. She whimpered quietly into his mouth. “I love you, too. I love you so much.” The gentle touch of his hands on her back relaxed her immensely, and she sighed, melting into his arms.
One hand tangled in his hair as his face found the crook of her neck, and she smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. That’s all I want right now.” It did seem like the best thing in the world, and all Steph wanted at the moment was the simplicity of them. It was the only thing she needed right then and there.