Steve never yelled.
It was something everyone knew and no one talked about. All his anger was quiet, a rage simmering just beneath the surface.
And sure; he’d raise his voice to be heard over the cacophony of the kids he’d unwittingly adopted, but everyone agreed that wasn’t yelling. That was just making sure he was heard.
Even Eddie, as his boyfriend, had never heard him yell before. And there’s something to be said about following the leader: even when they argued, even when tensions were high, Steve never yelled. So Eddie didn’t, either.
He wished he could take back the one time he did.
Eddie was hot-tempered. He knew this. Everyone knew this. Hot-tempered and a knife-sharp tongue, cutting down to the marrow with just his words. He’d never use his fists. This is also something everyone knows.
Eddie’s animated, larger-than-life, and he continued that trend in his arguments. Hands flying out to prove a point, but never to strike.
Everyone knew why. Everyone who knew Eddie knew what happened when he was nine, when Momma died and Daddy tried to find happiness at the bottom of a bottle.
That was the summer he moved in with Wayne. Wayne was a kind soul, slow to speak and even slower to anger. He was even-tempered, which meant it took a lot to get him mad, but once he was there, he wasn’t letting go easy.
So Eddie never raised his hands. Steve never raised his voice. Steve never raised his hands, either.
Eddie wished, with everything inside of him, he hadn’t raised his voice.
Because there’s something to be said about following the leader. When Eddie yelled, Steve followed.
Eddie didn’t know what they were arguing about anymore. Something stupid, he’s sure, but all he heard was blood rushing in his ears as he argued with Steve.
Steve, unflappable Steve, unshakeable Steve, argued back. He raised his voice.
Then, suddenly, he stopped. “Shit,” he whispered, eyes wide and not completely present. “Shit- I- sorry, I- I’m-” he shook his head, started to back up, almost tripped on nothing. Caught himself on the counter. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t- didn’t mean to-”
Abruptly, everything was silent. Eddie’s blood stilled as something ugly rose up in his throat. “Steve?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I’m not- not him, I swear, I don’t- I didn’t-” he shook his head again.
Eddie almost cursed when he finally realized what was happening. A panic attack. “Steve,” he said, slowly, calmly. “Stevie, baby, can I touch you?”
“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered again, gasping for breath.
“No, babylove,” Eddie murmured. “My fault, isn’t it? I should’ve known. Can I touch you, Stevie?”
He nodded, lip trembling. “‘M sorry.”
“No, sweets. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, c’mere.” He tugged Steve into a hug, nudged his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck, rubbed soothing hands down his back. “Breathe with me, baby, c’mon, you can do this. Come back to me.”
Steve choked on a breath. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled again, and here were the tears, here’s what Eddie had been waiting for. He knew crying would likely trigger a headache, so he made a mental list of things he’d need to prepare.
“Not your fault,” Eddie promised him again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never shoulda yelled, that’s on me.” He smoothed his hands down over Steve’s back again. “Come back to me, baby, where are you?”
Shaking hands grabbed at Eddie’s shirt, just above his hips. “Eddie.”
“That’s me,” Eddie agreed. “Take a breath for me, sweets, c’mon. In and out.” A shaky puff of air hit his neck, and he gently squeezed Steve. “That’s good. That’s so good. One more, Stevie, c’mon, just one more breath.”
Slowly but surely, Steve calmed down. He let out one last sigh and unclenched his hands, wrapping them around his boyfriend’s waist. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Eddie promised again. “You okay?”
Steve sniffed. “Think so. I, uh… didn’t know that would happen.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” He sniffed again, pressed his fingertips into the divots of Eddie’s spine. “I’ve tried, my whole life, to be anybody but my dad. He… he would yell, and I remember thinking as a little kid that… dads aren’t supposed to scare their kids.” He shrugged. “I don’t think it was ever a conscious decision, not to yell. Just a… side effect, I guess, of not being like him.”
Eddie sighed. “And here I come along and fuck it all up, huh?”
Steve shook his head. “You make everything better, Eds. Even if we argue. Because I know we’ll be okay.” He managed a huff of a laugh. “I, uh, don’t actually remember what we were arguing about anymore.”
Eddie chuckled. “Me neither, Stevie.” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Okay?”
“Okay.” Steve lifted his head to kiss Eddie properly. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Eddie answered instantly. “Always.”
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