Lana del Rey vibes

❤️❤️❤️

Steve scrambles back, arms and legs flailing, and in the process knocks into Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s arms come up around him, immediately shifting to drape over his shoulders. The timing is uncanny. Steve’s mind had just started to form the word vines.

“You’re okay,” Eddie says. His thumb presses against Steve’s shoulder just where it connects with his collarbone. “You’re okay.”

“This is fucking crazy,” Steve says, which isn’t much of an agreement. He stops shoving his heels against the dirt and tries to calm himself, to feel Eddie’s hands as grounding and not a trap. 

“Yeah, okay. We’re okay.”

The sound Eddie makes is almost a laugh. It almost makes Steve feel better, only, isn’t that what people do in impossible, crazy situations to cope? 

“I said you were okay, sweetheart. Jury’s out on me.”

“Why would you say that?” Steve asks. “There’s nothing wrong with you, you’re just. . .”

Eddie regards him with a pursed lip and a sky high brow. “I am waiting on tenterhooks to see how you’ll finish that sentence.”

Steve yawns. Fuck. “What’s a tenterhook?”

Eddie unpeels himself from Steve’s back and crawls around to face him. He sits back on his knees and inspects his face clinically, only it’s Eddie, so there’s a touch of the sinister and a touch of the goofy in it. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think this place is doing more of a number on you than me. You’re sleeping more. And it’s knocking you on your ass.”

Steve feels a little drunk, come to think of it. “Good thing I have a great ass,” he replies with a snort that comes out of him like a hiccup. 

Eddie looks up at the roiling sky. “No chance you could help me out with this one, is there?”

There is no lightening flash. That’s kind of sad, Steve thinks. He begins to slump and then there’s warm legs beneath him, a hand soothing his back. 

“You guys should really give Eddie some answers,” Steve mumbles. “He deserves them, after everything he’s been through.”