"What are we?" Steve murmurs, one morning after waking up in between Nancy and Jonathan yet again.
Nancy is already wide awake, the early bird of the trio. She's scratching Steve's back with one hand, and when he turns his head to look at her he sees her(more) reading a book with her other. Her brows are furrowed in concentration, but as soon as she realizes Steve is waiting for an answer she gives one. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Steve tries, rolling over to lay on his back and motion towards Jonathan's sleeping form next to him. "You two are an item. And I'm just here."
"You're looking comfortable," Nancy says, fingers drumming against his bare chest. "I like it."
Steve frowns and turns away from her to stare at Jonathan. Maybe it's the eye contact, or Steve's legs brushing against his, but Jonathan stirs after a few minutes with a loud groan. He turns his head to make eye contact with Steve first, then Nancy, and then sighs.
"Are you guys talking about something serious?"
"Maybe," Steve says. "Why?"
"I can see it on your face, you know." Jonathan's voice, slow and raspy, is tinged with concern. He reaches out, thumb stroking against Steve's forehead. "You look nervous."
Perceptive as ever, even in the mornings.
"What are we?" Steve asks him. "Nancy won't give me a straight answer."
"There's nothing straight about this, Stevie," Jonathan says, hand moving to Steve's hair. Stevie. The nickname is a little endearing, not that Steve would ever let him know. "I'm serious," Steve insists. "Please. I want to know."
"We're whatever you want," Jonathan says. "Isn't it obvious?"
Steve isn't sure about anything. But as Nancy puts her book away and wraps an arm around him, he's surprisingly okay with that.(less)