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It’s nearly eleven a.m. by the time Eddie emerges from the bedroom, hair sleep-wild and pajamas askew as he shuffles straight for the coffeemaker.
“Good morning,” says Steve, who has been up for hours now and is, in fact, feeling rather chipper.
Eddie offers a moody sort of grunt in response. It’s an acknowledgement at best, not really any kind of proper greeting, but Steve doesn’t hold it against him; Eddie’s never been a morning person—says he does his best work after midnight—and Steve had known that before they’d moved in together.
Still, he can’t help but tease, “You’re a total zombie in the morning, you know that?”
Eddie, apparently done fiddling with the coffeemaker, hits the “start” button and then gives a loud, theatrical groan, hunching over like his spine suddenly won’t support him. Steve huffs out a little laugh, but Eddie isn’t through yet.
He turns and shuffles towards Steve where he’s leaning up against the opposite counter. His movements are stiff and jerky, dragging one leg like it’s gone limp – his very best zombie impression. He drapes himself over Steve’s front when he reaches him, leaning all his weight against him with another undead moan.
“Oh yeah, you’re terrifying,” Steve says drily, bringing his arms up around Eddie’s middle to keep him from sliding bonelessly onto the floor like a sack of sleepy pudding.
Eddie makes another noise from where he’s got this face tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck, this one more like a contented hum, and nuzzles further in. When he brings his hands up to grab Steve’s hips there’s nothing stiff or clumsy about his movements, his grip warm and sure through the fabric of Steve’s sweatpants. He mouths sweetly at the skin beneath his lips, leaving nipping little kisses down the side of Steve’s throat, before–
“Ow!” Steve yelps, jerking in Eddie’s hold. “Did you just bite me?”
He’s not even sure why he’s surprised; it’s not like this is the first time, and he doubts it will be the last.
Eddie hums again, worrying at the tender skin with the edges of his teeth in a way that zings down Steve’s spine and simmers low in his belly. “Now you’re going to turn into a zombie, too,” Eddie says when he pulls back. “You have no choice but to come back to bed with me.”
“That’s– uh–” It’s Steve’s turn to groan when Eddie shifts his stance enough to press his thigh up between Steve’s own. “That’s a pretty good argument.”
“I thought so,” Eddie says, pleased, before he tugs the collar of Steve’s t-shirt aside and bites down on the bared skin, playing the part of ravenous morning zombie to a tee.
Steve can’t find it in him to complain.