The Technicality of Teeth

Bonded

Steve woke up to the scent of coffee and the feeling that his skull had been cracked open. Not an unusual sensation, but normally it wasn't quite this bad. It normally didn't slip down his spine and settle in his lower back like a cramp to mirror the ache in his head. He shifted to try and press further into Eddie for relief but... reaching out in front of him he found nothing but cool sheets. His pillow didn't even retain the shape of his head.

But Eddie was always there. Or if he wasn't, he made sure Steve knew where he was. Eddie never left the bed before Steve on the mornings after he went out. He stayed with him in their nest, snuggled up while Steve woke up slowly and groggily. He left only when Steve blinked up at him, promising to return with coffee and food and Tylenol. After that, they'd spend the whole day in the nest, snuggled up together and watching bullshit youtube videos on the TV in the bedroom. He wasn't even in his normal soft pajamas like Eddie slipped him into after a night out. He was still in his jeans from the night before, and his skin was tight like when he let his sweat dry on it.

With great difficulty and a lot of moaning and groaning, Steve sat up, his head swimming and his chest burning. Last night was such a blur... He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he lost track of things, but he could remember the scent of fir trees... Apple pie shots... someone had a lip ring... He needed Eddie. Where was Eddie? Where was Alpha? Alpha?

Steve froze. Alpha. The designation rang through his empty skull like the reverberation of a bell that had been struck and he couldn't silence it no matter how hard he tried. The title, like a prayer, whispered through his veins and he didn't -- couldn't understand it.

What happened last night?

Sweat had begun beading on Steve's forehead, and yet he felt clammy and his stomach turned painfully, like he was going to throw up, but he knew there was nothing in there to eject. Besides that, however, he also needed to pee, and that at least he could take care of.

The bathroom wasn't far, but it might as well have been miles with how slowly and painfully Steve was moving. His limbs felt like they were locked at the joints, like he used to after a really intense workout. Like he did after his heats. He must have really overdone it last night if he was this miserable. He'd have to text Robin for a play by play or maybe steal Eddie's phone to see what she'd sent him. Last time he knew she was sending him a picture of him alone at the bar and adding a point to his long standing "you suck" tally.

He popped a few Tylenol and was washing his hands when he noticed the bandage around his wrist.

Bandage.

Distantly, Steve remembered calling Eddie's name, his lungs so full of scent that he couldn't see straight. He remembered fangs in his wrist shooting pain and venom and possession through his bloodstream faster than he could think. He remembered wilting into arms as they held him up murmuring apologies but he couldn't remember why because all he felt was warm and held and owned and it had made his blood sing, so what was Eddie apologizing for?

Almost there, Imzadi. Then we can get you bandaged up and... we'll... we'll go from there...

Steve undid the bandages and used the hand towels in the bathroom to wipe away the blood and glandular oils that had dried there overnight. He knew what he would find, but that didn't stop the strange, conflicted little flip flops in his stomach. A perfect circle of teeth that wrapped around the curve of Steve's wrist. Marking him.

Bonding him.

And just as quickly as the conflict bloomed in Steve's chest, it died away, shooed away by blooming warmth that started behind his sternum and then washed over him from head to toe.