Stavier One Shots

Sweet Honey

Steve is not very good at staying asleep once he goes under.

He always wakes at least once during the middle of the night because he's thirsty or has to piss. The reason is always different, but it always happens and it always keeps him up unless he does something about it.

Connie had gotten used to it. The movement of the mattress as Steve would get up at two and the dip as he'd return. She was lucky if that was the only time he got up from bed.

But Connie was gone now. Steve didn't have to worry about disturbing her.

His eyes squint in the darkness of the room, heavy with sleep. He can't see shit except for the bright blinking light of the alarm clock. It's only 2:47. He'd been asleep for barely two hours.

His throat is dry and in desperate need of water. Steve tries to close his eyes and will himself back to sleep, but his throat is aching in just the right way to keep his body awake. He grumbles, throwing the covers off him and trudging toward the kitchen.

He's halfway through guzzling a glass of luke-warm tap water when he realizes the TV is on. It shouldn't be. He hasn't even touched the television in a week. He sets the glass down on the counter and sets about searching for the remote. He spots it on the coffee table before he really even has to look, bending over to pick up it but stops abruptly.

There's a mop of black hair laying on his couch that he soon finds to actually be a sleeping Javier Peña. He's draped over Steve's couch with his face buried in the crook of his arm and one of his legs hanging of the edge of the arm rest. He's in sweatpants and an oversized shirt with one shoe on and the other next to the coffee table. "What the fuck," Steve says aloud. Javier makes a small noise and picks his head up. Steve's nervous that he's going to wake up and find him standing there in just his underwear, but he only places his head on his folded arms and continues sleeping.

The flicker of the TV casts a dim light over Javier's face. Steve decides he looks utterly exhausted even in his sleeping state, but his face is the definition of peaceful. He wants to gently shake him awake, ask him is he's drunk or if he wants to come to bed, but the softness in his face stops him.

Steve returns to his room to pull some extra sheets out of the closest and drapes them over Javier on the couch. He lets out a little sigh. Steve then turns the TV off and climbs into his own sheets, falling asleep quickly.

Javier wakes to the smell of fresh coffee and one Steve Murphy sitting in front of him on the coffee table. Javier peers at him, at the sheet bundle covering him, at the two coffee mugs in his hands, then back at Steve. "¿Qué?" he grumbles.

"I could ask you the same thing." He hands a mug to Javier and watches as the guy gulps half of it down without even blowing on it or anything. He looks like shit. "What are you doing on my couch Javi?"

Javier's staring down into his mug, tracing circles with his thumbs over the ceramic. He shrugs. "¿Qué quieres de mí?" He looks so grumpy and almost angry for some reason.

"What do I want? I just want to know why you're sleeping on my couch. Emphasis on the fact that it's my couch. In my apartment. You have one of those too you know. And a bed."

Javier scoffs. "You woke me up with coffee just to get mad over me sleeping on the couch you never sit on?"

"I'm not-" Steve sighs, "I don't care if you sleep on my couch or even in my apartment. I just want to make sure you're okay or whatever. Or if you just stumbled in here on accident because you were drunk off your ass." Javier doesn't say anything. He's still just staring into his coffee. Steve knows something isn't right. "So, are you okay? What's going on with you?"

Javier sets his coffee down and just looks at Steve. Looks at his pretty gringo face and his stupid blue eyes. Javier's a strong man, but when Steve looks at him with those concerned eyes his walls always crumble. He shakes his head slightly and whispers, "no."

Steve frowns and puts a hand on his shoulder. "What can I do Javi?"

Javier's eyes are full of so much sadness and pain, Steve just wants to brush it all away. "Can you-" Javier licks his lips, "will you just hold me? I'll leave right after I just-I need a hug. Murphy, please?"

Steve stands from the coffee table to sit at the opposite end of the couch. He lays his legs down the length of the cushions, nuzzling his back into the arm rest and looks to Javier's lost eyes. "Ven aquí," he says softly.

Javier untangles himself from the sheets and crawls to sit himself in Steve's lap. Arms come up to wrap strongly around his middle, and he lays his body against Steve's chest. His nose is pressed into his collarbone, his arms around his neck. Javier lets out a long shaky breath, and Steve feels him relaxing into the touch. He rubs a hand up and down his back, squeezing him tighter.

Javier shakes his head minutely. "I just couldn't sleep."

Steve knows he doesn't and won't talk about it, just from the small head shake and the way he was being clutched onto like a lost child. "Will you be okay?"

"I will. I will, just give me a few minutes."

Steve lets him stay there for as long as he wants. As long as he needs. They breathe in sync, and Steve holds him tighter every so often to let him know he's still here. That he's not going anywhere. "You don't have to leave if you don't want. I can make breakfast. We don't have work today." Javier says nothing, so he continues. "And you can stay on my couch whenever you want. Or the bed. I don't care. It's big enough."

Javier mutters something that doesn't sound like English and finally pulls away from Steve. He doesn't look as grumpy and a little of the dark in his eyes has faded away. "Thank you," he says softly, but he doesn't get off of Steve. Instead, he gently grabs his face in his hands and presses a long kiss to his forehead. Steve doesn't know why the action makes him feel so warm or why the touch of Javier's lips makes his skin tingle. He pulls away with tiny smile that's gone in almost an instant and he's quickly standing up. "Our coffee is cold. Lo arreglaré."

Steve's hand shoots out, catching Javier's wrist in a tight hold. He turns to squint at the man curiously. "Do that again," Steve whispers. He has to swallow a lump in his throat. They stare at each other for a few silent seconds. Steve's embarrassed but not ashamed that he asked, and Javier is just shocked. He finally leans back down and kisses the corner of Steve's brow. He doesn't pull away though. Javier's hand finds it's way to the side of Steve's face where he cups his jaw. Their eyes meet, eye lashes brushing against each other's skin because they're so damn close. Javier kisses his brow again, then his eyelid, then his cheek, and ghosts his lips over the plush pink ones he dreams about every night. He closes the minuscule gap in a chaste kiss that's so gentle Steve thinks maybe he's afraid to hurt him. Then he's pulling away and whispering, "Qué precioso," before sweeping their mugs off the coffee table.

Steve watches him pour them new coffee from his place on the couch. He hasn't moved. He doesn't plan on it. He wants Javier to come back and sit his ass right where he just was. He thinks he'll ask him to stay in bed with him tonight.

Steve's just a precious little bee caught in Javier's sweet honey.