#so going back to steve. who Doesn't know her like that?

[c4tluver02]

new friends

wc: 3.4k

summary: After finding a cat on your walk, Steve happens to be one of the many doors you knock on trying to find the owner. He's even kind enough to let you in.

cw: slight Nancy hate (barely any), mentions of wounds/cuts, nothing rlly!

a/n: who wants to send requests to a girl that has severe writers block? anyone?

Taking walks always helps you feel better. It was something about the way the sun did more for you than any medication could. 

It was a perfect temperature out, warm from the sun but a nice cool breeze. And since you've been walking for so long you are in a neighborhood you've never seen. It has vines and flowers that cling to the bright white fences. If the greenery didn't tell you the type of neighborhood you were in, the houses definitely did. Each house was way bigger than your own and some even had nice cars parked out front of it. 

This was just one of the perks of walking, seeing places you wouldn't see normally, even if it's just some rich neighborhood. Daydreams of someday possibly owning a house like these or decorating your own home with vines and flowers. It was something that easily calmed you down, none of the stresses from your present life taking up your mind when you were walking. Sometimes you even listened to music but when the sun is out the birds chirp. 

And thankfully today was a day you didn't listen to music, because if you did you wouldn't have heard the meowing of a cat. 

It made your head turn so quickly and when you spotted a small cat you immediately bent down to its level. Letting out a hand slowly for it to come to and sniff. Once it got closer you could see a pink collar, a small metal heart was attached to it. 

When it started sniffing your hand you moved closer to look at the collar, there was no address or number on it, only adorning the name ‘Pepper’. The name fits pretty well as you notice the black cat with small brown feet. 

After bending down for a few minutes petting Pepper your knees start to hurt. The collar seems to be for more fashion purpose than safety which makes you think she belongs to someone in the neighborhood, so safe and secure a cat wouldn't even dream of getting out. 

But unfortunately Pepper did, so now your walk is interrupted by the task of going door to door in hopes of finding the owner. 

Pepper is only concerned with pets and the way she rubs her head against your knee gives you enough confidence to pick her up. A purr is quick to come out as your hand goes back to scratching her chin. 

You wish Pepper would have found you on a day that the sun didn't make you look shiny or one you had a better outfit on. Not really planning on seeing anyone, let alone talking to people. But after a quick pep talk on how you don't live here and will never see them again you begin your search. 

Pepper isn't a cat that misses treats and your arms are starting to weaken the more you hold her. When you knock on the front door of a house right in front of you, you set her down. You wish you could keep her yourself, she sits so perfectly next to you. Maybe being rich means you also get lucky with extremely well behaved pets. 

When the door opens you are met with an older woman who has diamond earrings paired with a pearl necklace. 

“I don't want to buy anything.” She says as she closes the door in your face. 

If this is her cat, Pepper wasn't quick to walk in when the door was open. And her rude response means she doesn't deserve a cat, so you walk to the next house. 

By the fourth house you were getting tired of carrying her. Maybe this is the world telling you, you need a new cat. Maybe after the fifth house you could take her to the vet to see if she's microchipped. 

You have a horrible wish that no one here knows this cat and she can be yours. It’s now been about an hour with her and already she’s become your shadow. Walking with you, following you wherever you go. 

The fifth house you walk to has two doors and a nice red car parked in the driveway. You press the doorbell before bending down to pet the cat who’s meowing loudly at your side. 

“Okay Pepper, this is the last house we are gonna try. You must be so hungry huh?” Her meow translated to a ‘yes’ in your mind. 

Before you get a chance to get up the door is opened. It makes you jump to your feet quickly. A boy holding an ice pack to his face is in front of you. 

“Can I help you?” 

“Hi, um, yes. I found this cat on a walk and I've gone to multiple houses but she doesn't belong to any of them. I was wondering if you knew where she lived or maybe if she was yours.” Pepper isn't his, you know that by the fact that he didn't pick her up once he saw her, there was no relief in his eyes that a girl had found a cat. But still you continue to ramble on. 

“Not mine, and I don't think she's from this street. I couldn't tell you much more about the block over though.” He leans his arm against the door frame which makes his bicep prominent. The other hand holds the ice pack. 

 “Oh, okay.” You’re beginning to feel defeated. There might be someone out there missing her. 

“You gonna keep her?” Steve’s head is really starting to hurt him. The bright sun and standing up for a long time is not a good mix. But the cat seems sweet and despite the shit he just went through with Jonathan, he does have a heart, one that wants the cat in a safe place. 

“I mean I want to. She’s been my little shadow for the past hour. I don't know, do you think that’s bad?” You aren't sure why you're asking him what he thinks but really there's no one else for you to ask. 

He lets out a groan as he pulls the ice pack down from his face. He doesn't miss the little ‘holy shit’ you mutter in surprise. The blood is no doubt all dried up and dark now, Steve only got home a hour or so ago, not yet cleaning the wound. 

“If there's no address or number on the collar that's the owners fault, it’s just a cat s’not like you’re stealing a million dollars.” He should shut the door, go lay down and think of a way to apologize to Nancy but he’s weirdly invested into this.  

“Are you okay?” You pick at your nail as you say it. Like you know it's none of your business but something inside of you couldn't help but ask. 

“My girlfriend got a new boyfriend.” He states plainly. A joke that really isn't a joke. 

“Oh, well, you might want to clean it.” You say pointing to your own face. “Infections are awful, and can ruin nice faces.” 

This makes the boy smile. Still with all the blood and open gashes he looks really pretty. 

“You think I have a nice face?” 

“I really need to find Pepper's owner. Are you sure she doesn't live around here?” He’s really the only house so far to give you the time of day, so you're taking all you can get. 

“Is that her name? Pepper?” You nod wanting him to give you the green light that she is in fact not from around here and you can take her home. 

“People around here don't have kids, let alone pets.” Steve only knows this because if there were kids around here he would have tried to befriend them, only left to be utterly alone instead. 

“I think I might keep her, i'd rather her get a good home then leave her out here to go back to where she came from.” 

“Well no one around here has enough heart to love a cat, my guess is she is from a different area.” He gives you a light shrug also looking down at her. 

“Are you saying you don't have enough heart to own a cat?” He does live ‘around here’ as he said. 

All the boy does is let out a laugh at your question. Pepper is starting to pant beside you. The heat must be getting to her, you wonder if he could get her a little bowl of water or maybe that's too much for someone who just got the shit beat out of him. 

“Is she thirsty?” He asks, pointing to Pepper. Maybe he can read your thoughts. 

An idea pops into your head and comes out just as quick. Too quick for you to think it over. 

“Would it be possible if she could get some water? I can even help bandage you up if you need it.” Your house isn't very close on foot and the walk will be even longer with a cat. She needs water, you're positive she would ask for it herself if she could. 

His eyes widen, well really one eye– the other is slightly swollen. You can tell he wasn't expecting you to ask that. Knocking on doors to help a cat has really changed things around. 

He doesnt want some stranger touching up on him that doesn't know what they are doing. But why would you offer if you didn't know? The sun must be getting to you too, as you lift your hair up Steve could see the way the nape of your neck was slightly damp. 

And he may only have one real working eye right now but he could still see how pretty you are. Soft pink lips pressed together into a kind smile as you're halfway bent over trying to pet the cat but also showing him that he has your full attention. 

It’s a risk to have a stranger come into a house but at this point Steve feels like you wouldn't even hurt a fly. You are kind enough to find a house for some street cat. It really doesn't hurt to have a pretty girl help bandage a few cuts right? 

“Alright, yeah, fair trade.” He opens the door wider to let you in, Pepper follows with no fight. 

“She just really needs water and my house isn't exactly close.” You explain, not wanting to come off creepy or weird. This newfound cat of yours is already making you risk your life going into some guy's house just to make sure she's okay. 

“I get it, still thanks for, um, offering to help.” He brings the ice pack up to his face, the time he had the door open already almost melted the bag but still it was better than nothing. 

You say a small ‘no problem’ as he gets a bowl filled with water for Pepper. He also fills a cup of water for you, you take it only because you saw him pour it. 

“Pep, c'mere girl.” His voice comes out loud and it makes you jump. 

But for some reason she’s no longer near you. The sound of fabric ripping is heard and when you turn your head you see her clawing at his couch. 

“Pepper! No!” Steve hasn't seen someone run after a cat so fast. She’s in your arms in a millisecond. “You can't scratch at other people's furniture.” You scold. This cat mom thing seems to be in your blood.

“I think you should keep her.” He says nodding like he can confirm now after seeing you lecture her that you two are a perfect match. 

“I'm so sorry, she didn't damage it I promise.” 

You bring her back to the kitchen and it makes your heart break in two at how quickly she tries to drink the water. 

“If I lost my cat I would only hope someone kind and pretty would find her and give a nice home.” 

“I went to five different houses and no one was able to tell me if they knew about her, maybe I should do more though.” His complement didn't go missed by you, your flushed cheeks are proof. 

“Trust me when I say that no one will be helpful. Everyone stays in their house and I bet if you asked them if I lived here they would say no.” 

“Are your parents home?” He yelled loud for Pepper and no one was quick to come out and ask about it. 

“Nope, gone for the weekend. It’s why I'm able to stay at home looking like this.” He’s referring to his face. And honestly he should go to the hospital but this isn't your face that's all bruised and cut. 

 “Do you have any med kits? It'll have the supplies we need.” You ask, hopping off the bar stool chair. 

“I should, it might be in my bathroom.” He starts walking towards that direction and you’re not sure if you should follow or stay where you are. He doesn't tell you to stop once you both walk up the stairs. 

“Your house is really nice.” It’s missing all the family photos but the amount of chairs that are tucked into the dining table makes up for the lack thereof. 

“It’s only nice because there's never anyone here to mess it up.” 

When he opens his bedroom door you are met with a plaid wallpaper. Only a few posters filling in the walls and for a boy to be living alone it's pretty clean. 

“Got it!” He yells from the bathroom even though you are close enough to hear him. 

You walk into his bathroom and see a big red box open with alcohol wipes and bandages. He takes a seat on the toilet lid and you wash your hands. 

The closer you get to his face you can see all the cuts. There's one on his lip, bridge of his nose, and on his temple– basically from his eyebrow. He has nice strong brows and long lashes, even with the gash on his nose you can see how handsome he is. 

“This might sting, I'm sorry.” The smell from the alcohol pad immediately fills your senses. 

His legs open further so you can come closer to his face. Your hand gently holds his chin so he can look up. Now he’s getting a chance to truly take a look at you himself. 

Your cheeks are still pink, must be from the heat, he thinks. A piece of hair falls into your face from how you bend your neck to look down at him. It takes everything in Steve not to put it behind your ear, it’s stopping him from taking you all in. 

You’re only wiping away the blood that's built up along the wounds, but once you lightly start to clean the cuts his eyes shut tightly. A hiss comes out of him and his hands tightly squeeze his knees. 

With the pounding headache, and the intense sting he feels like his head is being crushed all over again. Who knew Byers would have this in him? 

“So how did this happen?” The silence is killing you and his eyes feel like they burn through each layer of your skin. 

“I already told you, my girlfriend-” 

“I know, got a boyfriend but did this boyfriend get a punch back from you or?” The fact that he still calls her his girlfriend brings a shutter through you. You keep reminding yourself once you leave you won't see this cute boy ever again. 

“Yeah, he did. It was just a stupid fight.” Steve doesn't want to tell you what he wrote on the movie theater sign, and even worse that not only did his girlfriend slap him but Jonathan threw harder punches.  

“Are you gonna break up with her? I mean, I don't think girlfriends should have two boyfriends, right?” His cuts are all clean, now you’re taking out bandages to patch him up with. 

“I mean, I might. I don't know. It’s complicated.” 

Half his face is all bandaged now and it brings a slight frown to your face. 

“Well you're all fixed up now.” You say with a sigh. The need to leave is getting stronger, Pepper has had enough time with her water and you finished your side of the deal. 

“Thanks, I swear I would have given Pepper water alone but, I wanted to continue talking to you.” 

His comment makes your frown turn into a smile. There's something about him that you think could heal you, similarly to the way the sun does on your walks.  

“I should get going, I don't want to walk home in the dark.” Your 3pm walk went on for an hour which turned to 4pm and it took you an hour to look around for Peppers owners and now it's already 6pm. Summer isn't fully in swing yet, keeping the sun in the sky for just a few hours longer. 

He gets up from his seat on the toilet lid as he follows you out of his room. Pepper is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, feeling the cold wood beneath her. 

“I could drive you home, it’s not safe to walk out there alone.” He offers. 

“I really couldn't ask you to do that, you've already helped us enough-” 

“I insist really, what kind of guy lets a pretty girl walk home alone at night?” He really lays it on thick huh?

But still that big gleaming smile of yours is brought back instantly at his compliment. Both of you stand at the bottom of the staircase as he waits for your answer. 

“I mean if it’s really not a problem, that would be really helpful.” The idea of carrying a fluffy cat in this heat all the way home seems like your version of hell. Despite how easy going she’s been you doubt she’d sit still the whole walk home. 

“It’s no problem at all. Let me go grab my keys okay?” When walks into the kitchen area he can hear your little murmurs of ‘Pepper we don't have to walk!’

She’s already in your arms by the time he gets back to you. Steve doesn't know how he can just go on with his life without knowing more about you. How cursed can someone be to get beat up and then have a girl be taken away from him forever, all in one day. 

“If you ever wanted to come back, not to fix me up or for water, you can.” 

“Yeah? You don't mind people knocking on your door to get stuff from you?” It comes out playfully and Steve breaks into a huge grin. 

“I mean if that person is you then I don't mind one bit.” 

You nod at him and he opens the door, Pepper is too big in your hands for you to do anything else. The red car in the driveway makes a loud sound as he unlocks it. Again opening that door for you to get in. Pepper sits perfectly perched in your lap as Steve goes to the other side of the car, getting in himself. 

The car ride to your place is filled with conversation. You tell him he has good music taste and Steve positively lights up. Practically glows at any of your compliments. Despite the walk to your house being long, the drive is quite short. He almost wishes you lived further away so he could talk to you more. 

But when he does make it to your place, you grab onto Peppers paw and wave at him. 

“Thank you-” You leave room for him to tell you his name.

“Steve.” 

“Thank you Steve, you've been extremely sweet to us.” You lean your head against the cat and Steve thinks he could melt right there. His name sounded so nice coming from your lips. 

“I meant what I said, come by anytime okay?” You nod your head feverishly in response. 

“And if it’s any consolation, I think you deserve way more than someone who cheats. You’re too good for her.” 

Steve doesn't really know how to respond. You think he’s good but really he deserved what he got. Still he is too late to say something back, the car door makes a loud shut as you shut it closed with your hip. 

When you make it to your door Steve waves at you with a nice smile. You finally put the cat down to unlock the door and respond to him the same. A wave and smile that will forever be ingrained into Steve's brain. What he sees when he closes his eyes for the night, and of course the only thought he has on his drive home.

[eeriesilkworm]

There's a real possibility we get a Will Byers centric love triangle in ST5

We know the Duffers love a good love triangle.

So much so, they've given us one (or several) in every season of Stranger Things thus far—and I don’t think they’ll break that streak in Season 5.

One thing I’ve noticed is that while some love triangles stretch across multiple seasons (like Steve/Nancy/Jonathan), the writers also introduce at least one new triangle each season.

Here’s a quick breakdown:

S1: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan S2: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan + Joyce / Hopper / Bob + Lucas / Dustin / Max S3: Robin / Steve / Tammy + Joyce / Hopper / Alexei + Joyce / Hopper / Mr Clarke S4: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan + Mike / El / Will + Robin / Vickie / Vickie's ex-boyfriend S5: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan (likely resolved) + Mike / El / Will (will come to a head) + ???

Sometimes they’re played straight, but the writers also love to openly mock the love triangle trope, too—especially in Season 3:

For example, Hopper gets irrationally jealous over Joyce talking to Mr Clarke and even Alexei—prompting Joyce’s sarcastic line about how every man she talks to must be her boyfriend. And of course, there's Steve wrongly assuming Robin has a crush on him, then confessing to her, only to find out she actually liked Tammy Thompson.

Basically, there’s no one way the writers use this trope. They clearly enjoy it—but more importantly, they enjoy subverting it.

So, call me delusional but I think it's likely that we could be getting another Will Byers love triangle in Season 5:

He's the main character of the season and his arc will (partially), revolve around his "coming of age" and acceptance of his sexuality, after all.

Will has consistently been portrayed as someone who is considered attractive or desirable in-universe. In every season except Season 3, a girl shows interest in him despite his nerdiness and perceived queerness.

And now, it looks like the Duffer Brothers are visually rebranding him as a romantic lead:

His new hair and costume design feels both heroic and boyish. The flannel—once a staple of his wardrobe and a symbol of his innocence—is slowly being phased out, suggesting a gradual loss of that innocence. However, he’s still buttoned up. That tells me Will is stepping into his manhood (and by extension, his sexuality), but he's still holding something back. He's going to need to be pushed out of his comfort zone; both physically and emotionally.

Even narratively, there are established links which hint at a possible non-Mike love interest:

When we look back at Will’s comment about not falling in love, we often read it as foreshadowing his feelings for Mike—or hinting that he already is in love with him. But I also interpret it as something more: Will doesn’t believe he will ever inspire love (or romantic attraction). He sees himself as undesirable.

Think about the four original members of the Party. Yes, they’re all considered uncool nerds to some degree—yet three of them are affirmed through romantic connection: Lucas has Max. Dustin has Suzie. Mike has El. They each receive validation and the feeling of being wanted.

Will does not.

And yet, the writers have made a consistent effort to show us that Will is considered attractive—despite his belief that he isn’t, and despite the lack of romantic validation he receives. That creates a real disconnect. A kind of cognitive dissonance.

Having Will repeatedly receive attention from girls—only to reject them or appear disinterested—was an effective way to subtly hint at his queerness. But it’s happened so many times now, that there needs to be a payoff.

What is the long-term point of making the canonically gay kid, who already believes he’s undesirable, only receive interest from women?

Er, there isn’t one.

It makes sense, then, to give Will the opportunity to experience mutual same-sex attraction with someone who isn't Mike.

Because Will's arc about accepting his sexuality doesn't just have to culminate in the realization that Mike loves him too (as sweet as that is).

It should culminate with the knowledge that queerness is valid, that he is considered desirable and worthy of romantic interest, and that he isn't alone in experiencing queerness.

Additionally, as mentioned above, Will is already perceived as queer—he’s been bullied for it his entire life, despite never explicitly coming out. Hawkins is a small town where word travels fast. So if there is another young gay guy in town, chances are… they’ve already heard of “Zombie Boy” Will Byers.

He'd certainly be on their radar: he’s good-looking, he’s mysterious, and he’s still closeted, which means he’d likely be discreet.

And let’s not forget where Will was emotionally at the end of Season 4, especially regarding his feelings for Mike:

He’s starting from ground zero in Season 5. He has zero hope that Mike feels the same way, and he’s likely going to be making zero moves.

In fact, most Byler theorists agree—it makes sense that Mike will have to be the initiator in Season 5. Will is just too emotionally shut down to make the first move.

But… wait a minute.

If this season is supposed to be about Will coming into his own as a young gay man—about self-acceptance, confidence, and owning his identity—how does that make sense if Mike is the one initiating everything?!

Well… maybe Mike needs to make the first move when it comes to Byler. But that doesn’t mean Will has to stay passive the whole season.

It’s possible that Will could gain some much-needed confidence—maybe even a bit of romantic “practice”—by taking a more active role with someone else first.

Giving Will a (temporary) new love interest would also level-out the playing field between himself and Mike:

There's a real sense of karmic justice and ironic foreshadowing in Stranger Things.

Will's jealousy of Mike and El's relationship has been hinted at for two seasons now—and he even complained that Mike only called a couple times while El had a "book of letters" from him.

What’s interesting is that even after Mike takes accountability for their argument and they make up, that specific comment—about the phone calls and letters—is never addressed. It lingers.

That’s why I think we could see a similar conversation (or even a full-blown argument) between Mike and Will in Season 5. But this time, Will might be the one receiving phone calls or letters—from someone else.

And let’s not forget: it’s possible that the Byers are temporarily staying with the Wheelers in Season 5. If Will has a secret admirer, and he’s trying to keep it quiet, Mike is going to find out. (Excellent way to manufacture drama).

I also feel compelled to reiterate that the Duffers have shown time and time again: they can handle love triangles in many different ways.

They can play it for comedy. They can make it completely one-sided or delusional—like Mike projecting his own jealousy, much like Hopper did with Joyce in Season 3. A love triangle doesn’t have to be serious or long-lasting. It could span multiple episodes, or just one. It could involve a kiss—or zero physical contact at all.

And it doesn’t have to disrupt a Byler endgame—in fact, quite the opposite:

Seeing Will Byers receive romantic attention from another male character would serve as a reminder to the audience that Will is desirable and that he has options—this increases the stakes for Mike.

The GA will start wondering if this is really Will's endgame, and if he is truly ready to get over Mike. The GA, especially those who never shipped Byler before, may find themselves unexpectedly invested. They might even feel disappointed or sad at the thought of Will "moving on."

It also creates space for the writers to show us jealous Mike. Just as we've seen jealous, longing Will, a temporary love triangle allows us to explore Mike’s feelings through that same lens of romantic insecurity.

This brings the possibility of Byler to the forefront of the GA's subconscious. At the same time, it invites them to root for Mike, and therefore Byler.

[magicalqueennightmare]

Temper Flare Headcanon

Heacanon for how the fellas would react when you're normally chill but your temper finally flares

Tony has been known to not walk on eggshells around anyone (Bruce when everyone was worried about the hulk and Tony is over here zapping him and shit) but with you it seems like hardly nothing sets you off anyways. The day you finally get pushed far enough, he couldn't even tell you who said what but when you jumped to your feet and said three little words "You know what?" everyone around sat down and shut up until you were through. It's quite possible he fell in love with you more then and threatened Steve with you a time or two.

Clint is also chill for the most part and only lets his temper flare when he's been pushed to a certain point. When you finally get pushed he's not too surprised to see that part of you. He just stands to the side with his arms crossed. "Gonna stop her?" "Nope"

Steve is used to you being more laid back so when you do go off? He starts to intervene but one look from you and he's even backing up. Instead he just stands to the side to make sure you don't need him and when you do calm him he gives you that little grin "How ya feeling doll?"

Sam hangs with super soldiers and spies on the regular. He always suspected you had a little temper on you. However he didn't think it was like that. He stands there, wide eyed while you're going off. When it's said and done however? This man is laughing "Damn baby. Remind me not to piss you off"

Joaquin gets that little puppy dog look when you finally go off. The man can face dangerous missions, near death experiences but the thought of you being upset with him? However when he finds out it was cause the little blonde barista was talking about trying to get his number and wouldn't take the fact that he was with you? Well he's a grinning idiot then.

Bucky is used to people saying whatever. By now nothing bothers him and he's used to you being laid back so he doesn't expect much to bother you. One day the right (or rather wrong) thing gets muttered and he gets to see just what temper you keep under wraps. He lets it go for a few minutes, lets you get your point across then he's tossing you over his shoulder "That's enough sweetheart. You made your point clear"

John I wanna say how appropriate it would be that Captain Crashout had a girl that was a closet crashout? You and him were out, you just needed a new jacket that was it. All the people in the store had to do was keep their mouth shut but they keep muttering. John just stood there, he wasn't going to say anything and ruin your day. However you took enough. When he has to pick you up and carry you out he can't help but a low chuckle escape him.

[cheriecoke]

˚₊‧꒰ა WAKE UP CALL ! — bucky barnes

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. following a spontaneous lead from valentina's assisstant, bucky calls you to let you know he’s driven halfway across the country and picked up a few strays.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. written as f!reader in mind but can be gn!, phone call, thunderbolts era, established relationship, takes place right before the scene in the gas station, pet names, veryyy light angst, steve mentioned — 1.4k words

𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒. this is just a little practice fic i wrote post-thunderbolts! it's based loosely on my oc, who was in the og avengers, so there are references to that and her fighting/having powers. but feel free to imagine it however you want <3 can be read in the same timeline as this fic, but it's not necessary to read.

The phone rings once, twice, then a third time, before Bucky’s apologetic, softened voice runs down the line.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he starts off gentle, before his words are coming out in one barely coherent string, like he can’t get them out fast enough. “First of all, I’m sorry. I should’ve — I should’ve told you I was leaving. It wasn’t — Well, I was gonna stay out of it, but the whole thing with Valentina…” Bucky trails off. His voice grows quieter, like there's someone else in the room with him, before he picks back up again.

For a few seconds more, he babbles, almost like he’s afraid to let you speak. He sounds slightly flustered, and more than exhausted — but that’s evident only to you, who has known him so well, for so long. 

Then, he concludes his little speech, less than eloquently. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I should’ve called earlier. I’m sorry.” 

You pause, letting your spoon rest against the side of your coffee mug, trying to make sense of all the words he's just said. The coffee swirls inside the cup, shading a lighter color of brown, before it settles, stilling completely.

Outside, the sun is already beginning to beat hot on the concrete, though it’s not even noon. Which tells you that sometime between the gala last night and the crack of dawn, Bucky had already gotten himself into some sort of trouble. 

“It’s nine, Bucky,” you say, taking a long sip of your coffee. You’d only just brewed it, but you’d used enough creamer to cool it to a drinkable temperature. “I wouldn’t have answered had you called any earlier.” 

He exhales on the end of the line, and says nothing. You can’t tell if he’s relieved or not. 

“When's the last time you slept?” 

“Doesn't matter. I'm fine," Bucky says. You can hear him shifting, his jacket rustling as he brushes up against something. He changes the subject quickly, going back to the matter of calling, which is more than enough to have you worrying. “Listen, I meant to call last night when I got back, but they gave me all these packets to read and—”

“Bucky,” you cut him off, before he can launch into another disgruntled tirade about all the paperwork he hates reading. “What’s going on?” 

This time, the pause on the other line lasts a few moments longer. 

While Bucky never lies to you about anything, he struggles, sometimes, when it comes to communicating. Occasionally, he omits the truth, or says nothing at all, because he wants to keep you safe, and he knows you’ll drag yourself into the danger with him. 

Despite all the years you've been together, Bucky still can't quite fathom that someone would put themselves in the crossfire because of him. He always accused Steve of having something to prove, and he thinks the same of you, when the truth is, you both just love—loved—him enough to put your lives on the line. 

Bucky hesitates on the other end before answering, his voice hushed, growing quieter again. “I don’t know everything, yet.”

You close your eyes, lean your head against the wall. For all the shit he gave Steve for jumping head-first into things, Bucky’s never been much better, in your opinion. “Bucky—”

He doesn’t let you interject, insistent on regurgitating all his words before you can chew him out. “Remember Valentina’s assistant I was telling you about?”

You wrinkle your eyebrows together. “Yeah. Did she actually give you something?”

Bucky exhales as you take a seat on the couch, curling your legs up into your chest. It’s been over a week since he’s been back home, and you miss him already, even if you’re used to being apart. 

He explains, briefly, about the people involved in Valentina’s dirty work, ones he can use in the trial against her. You’ve heard of them all, infamous in your line of work, including John Walker, who you’ve had the displeasure of meeting before. 

Bucky’s story is finished up quickly, a messy wrapping, tied up in nothing more than a knot. You can’t tell if he’s leaving out details, or if he really just doesn’t know them all. 

You purse your lips, pulling at a loose thread in your sweater. “You should’ve taken me with you,” you say, before falling back into the couch, your eyes glued to a spot on the ceiling, where the paint looks off. The longer you gaze at it, the more it starts to look like a discoloration, one you’re not certain is real. Maybe your imagination is just desperate for something to fixate on. “I could’ve helped.” 

Bucky’s smooth, silky tone soothes the aches in your heart and mind. “It was nothing.” He sounds louder, then, as if his mouth is leaning closer to the microphone. “Besides, you told me you wanted to stay out of all this.”

A frown takes over your features. You had said that; it was the entire reason you hadn’t moved to D.C. along with him, and sometimes, you wonder if he thinks you hate him for working in Congress. “It’s still your career. I don’t want to be completely uninvolved.”

“I know."

You’re grateful for the sincerity in his voice. You’re not a fan of most politicians, but you hope he knows that you'll support him, love him, no matter what.

“If I really needed your help, I would’ve called.” He laughs, then, a small sound. “I just didn’t. This time.”

You can picture his small smile on the other end, can envision the lines forming tighter around his eyes. In the near decade since he’s regained his memories, he’s only aged a couple years. Oftentimes, you wonder if you’ll ever catch up to him, if one day, you’ll look older than the man who has lived through more than a century. 

It’s a strange thing to think about. 

“Will you be home soon?” you ask, softly, surprised by how vulnerable your voice sounds. 

The house feels colder without him there, empty. It had been your choice to stay in New York, but sometimes, you wish you would’ve just moved with him.

There is evidence of your life all around — books you love, pictures of friends you still have, and those that are gone. Your favorite restaurants are still just a walk away, memories of your existence on every avenue. 

It’s home — it just feels less like one without Bucky Barnes in it. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe sooner than expected. I don’t think they’ll want to keep me in Congress for much longer, now.” Bucky goes for humor, but you don’t laugh, and neither does he. “Are you okay?”

Things haven’t been bad, lately, but you’re tired. It’s been one thing after another after another, after another, for years. 

The world just won’t let either of you rest.

“I just miss you.” Too much emotion seeps into your voice, and there’s a cloud settling over your heart that makes you want to cry into the phone.

You don’t, though. It would just make him feel bad, and make you feel worse, and you’re more than old enough to handle being alone for another week, even if you don’t want to.  

Still, he sounds even more apologetic on the other end. “I miss you too. So much.” There’s a sound behind him — it’s faint, but it sounds like a groan. One of the hostages is waking up, it seems. “I have to go, sweetheart — I’m sorry.” 

He’ll never stop apologizing, even if these things are out of his control. Sometimes, you feel selfish for wanting so much of his time when he has the heart and the strength to save the world. 

“It’s okay,” you say, even if the words sound a little dull to your ears. “Promise me you’ll call when you get the chance?” 

“I promise. I love you.” 

The words make you smile. It is, perhaps, the first genuine one you’ve had since he answered the phone. You lean your head back in the cushion, settling into it, before repeating the words back to him. 

The line goes dead. 

thank you so much for reading! please consider leaving a or reblog if you enjoyed ❤︎ black divider by k1ssyoursister

[biillys]

was rereading a doc i had (titled christmas!!!!!!!!!) of neil inviting billy back home for christmas after not speaking with him for years cos billy told him he was fucking a dude in a going steady kinda way, but then neil had some health scares (cancer) and susan missed the kids, so next thing u know, neil's begrudgingly on the phone, gritting out a 'we're having christmas day here. if u care. sure. ur fag boyfriend can come too.' and then was like. well what happens BEFORE all that.

and for some reason my brain decided it was gonna be billysteeve but make it shitty. anyway.

steve cheating on billy becos i can. and i love to give billy attention in the form of everyone else.

anyway. warning for cheating and steve//nancy ??? is that a warning?

billy hears them before he sees them, but still can’t stop himself from walking up the stairs and pushing their bedroom door open anyway.

meets the sight of nancy fucking wheeler’s bare back sitting upright on his bed, steve's voice carrying from somewhere underneath her, and turns around and walks straight back out, slamming every single door he touches behind him. 

loses himself at the bar two blocks over before somehow carol’s manhandling him into an uber, her getting in after him, then loses the rest of the night to hers and tommy’s couch, only vaguely aware of where he is. 

he wakes up to a kick to the thigh, then a jab to the ribs.

grabbing the pillow from under his head, he shoves it on top and groans.

“wake up, asshole. it’s 2pm.”

“fuck you,” he mumbles, gripping the pillow tight when carol tries to pull it away.

“fuck you too for waking me up at 1:36am and making me get out of bed. you know how much work your drunk ass is?” carol bitches, resorting to sitting in him and tugging at his hair, before turning gentle, running her fingers through it instead.

billy relaxes into her touch for a moment before her words catch up with him and he remembers what happened the night before, and after his mind flashes him an image of nancy wheeler riding his fiancé’s dick, he shoves himself up and stumbles to the bathroom. 

finds himself on his knees and spewing into the toilet bowl, fighting for his fucking life just to get a breath.

“you wanna talk about it?” carol asks from the doorway, leaning against the frame.

billy spits in the toilet bowl. “not fucking really.”

“steve called,” she says airily, smirking at him when he snaps his head up, only to groan from the way it makes his stomach spin.

billy glares at her, his insides slowly settling. 

out of everyone, carol’s probably the one who doesn’t care for steve’s shit the most. billy wishes she could teach him how to do it. 

wishes he could tell her.

“yeah?” he croaks, pushing himself up to standing so he can brush his teeth. “what’d he want?”

“just wanted to see where you were,” she replies casually, all the power in her fucking hands.

billy brushes his teeth, spits, gargles some fresh water, then spits again, before turning around to face her, his breath squeaky clean. “and what’d you tell him?”

carol shrugs. “said i hadn’t heard from you.”

billy feels his inner growing panic start to recede. at least steve won’t look for him here.

“tommy texted though, said steve turned up at eddie’s place looking for you.”

she’s watching him closely, looking for any give. any weakness. she’s smart like that. 

billy usually loves it about her. right now, though, she can fuck right off.

“yeah, well,” he sighs, done with this entire mess, “he can keep looking.”

she smirks at him again before reaching a hand out and tugging him over, pulling him out of the bathroom. “c’mon, i stocked up on alcohol on sunday. whatever happened, let’s get wasted.”

billy stays at carol’s and tommy’s for two more nights. 

tommy comes home the second day, looking at them both on the couch, completely faded and fucked up; billy three sheets to the wind, carol at least slightly steadier than him on her feet; with worry written all over his face, but he’s a good sport about it and instead of asking questions, he picks up a joint and joins in, lacing his fingers with carol’s when he comes over to sit beside her.

by the time billy makes it home three days later, he’s mostly got his shit in check.

he makes it through the front door, having spotted steve's car in the driveway, and prepares himself for whatever’s about to happen.

gets through the kitchen next, then past the living room, walks up the stairs again, and braces himself.

he finds steve sitting on their bed, the sheets and pillows all done up and neat, like he went to the effort to wash it and make it, but billy’s not actually that stupid or naive, and steve’s never been able to work their stupid fucking washing machine, no matter how many times billy’s told him which dials to turn and what buttons to press. guesses he’s just covering up the evidence.

billy doesn’t say anything. 

steve seems speechless.

billy waits. wants to see where he takes this. 

if he’s even gonna apologise or beg for forgiveness.

if he’s gonna end it.

“listen…” steve starts, and just that one word alone has reality hitting billy like a fist to the face.

whatever he hoped would come of this, if it ever came to a head–whatever fucking unrealistic dreams he had of steve tripping over himself to patch things up, running back to him–disappear before his eyes, and he realises steve’s never gonna give a shit about him enough to care. 

billy’s never gonna be worth it.

he looks at him sitting on the bed, looking like he’s barely slept, except he knows it’s not guilt that’s kept him awake but instead his fucking decade long insomnia, childhood and teenagehood trauma that billy has no hope of fixing taking it's toll, and he can see clearly how this is gonna play out. 

there’s gonna be no i’m sorry’s, no i’ll do better’s; nothing’s gonna fucking change. 

steve’s just gonna excuse his shit life choices, like he always does, and billy’s either gonna accept it and live with it, or he’s gonna be alone, and everyone in the entire goddamn world is gonna know he can’t keep someone interested. that he’s not worth loving. 

“it was just…a one time thing,” steve bullshits, looking at him the same way he always looks at him. like he’s a million miles away. “and i promise, it won’t happen again.”

billy swallows. feels like he’s just swallowed acid and his insides are swimming with it.

“so this only happened the once?” billy checks, his voice flat. he already knows the answer. he’s seen the text messages. has read the business trip itineraries. 

“yeah,” steve promises–lies–eyes so fucking big and brown. 

billy used to love them. 

“yeah, it was only one time, billy. i swear.”

billy lets the few feelings he had left go numb. finds it in his muscle memory to nod his head then turns around and walks straight back out. 

“i need to sort my head out. gonna crash somewhere for a few days.”

steve catches up to him quickly, grabbing him by the arm.

billy flinches.

steve barely notices. 

“you’re coming back, right?” he asks, and this is the most emotion billy’s seen from him in months. since that first year they dated, back in high school, probably. he’s spent just over three years of his life with him and can’t remember the last time steve actually looked at him. “i have a business trip on friday, so you’re gonna like, come back and feed the cat, right?”

billy’s gonna choke. “you have a business trip on friday?”

steve looks cagey. “well, yeah? i still have to work, billy.”

billy’s pretty sure he’s gonna punch something. he clenches his hands into fists instead, letting his nails dig in until he fucking bleeds.

“yeah, steve,” he says, voice as even as he can get it. ”i’m coming back. how about–you leave friday 2pm, and i’ll come back friday 2:05pm, and i’ll feed your damn cat.”

steve nods at him, looking relieved, like the cat he convinced billy into letting him get was his biggest concern about today, and not their entire fucking relationship.

steve comes back on a tuesday.

“how was your trip?” billy asks, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching steve’s every move.

steve shrugs, leaning down to stroke his cat’s back. “fine.”

billy clenches his jaw. nods to himself and pushes himself off the counter, making his way out the back to lounge on one of the backyard chairs, cracking open a beer. 

thinks about walking out. 

stays.

maybe his dad was right, all those times he blamed him for everything in their life going wrong. for his mom leaving. for fucking everything up. 

billy knows, now.

he takes a sip of his beer and thinks, this is as good as it’s ever gonna get.

they’ve been together for 3 years and 4 months when eddie and tommy corner him in an alleyway before a show, looking at him with guilt written all over their faces.

“we need to talk to you, man,” tommy says quietly, looking around and making sure they’re alone.

eddie’s face looks serious. billy feels his stomach drop. 

whatever they’ve got to say, billy doesn’t want to hear it. he’s hanging on by a fucking thread these days as it is.

“listen, man,” eddie steps in close, resting a hand on his shoulder, and billy can’t handle that right now. 

he shrugs him off. 

eddie takes it in his stride and lets his hand drop back to his side, but still stays standing where he is, bowing his head in close. 

billy doesn't know what they've got to say, but can feel it like a lead weight in his stomach already. whatever it is, it’s gonna be fucked, and billy straight up can't handle that right now. 

he thinks about pushing past them and walking away but knows it won’t work. knows he’s not getting out of this little heart-to-heart, no matter what move he pulls. 

raises his stare to meet them both head on and straightens out his shoulders. 

waits for them to spit out whatever it is that they’ve got to say and get it over with.

“it’s about steve,” tommy steps in, looking between them both, hesitating when he looks at him.

shakily pulling out a lighter and a cigarette, billy lights up, shoving the stick in his mouth and taking a deep inhale. “what about steve?” he says, cigarette dangling from his lips.

doesn't think about the million and one different things it could be from that sentence alone, ‘cause if he does, he knows whatever grip he’s got on his life right now will shatter. 

eddie takes a deep breath, and billy clocks the way his face is full of regret. 

“he’s cheating on you, man,” he says quietly.

billy’s ears start ringing. feels his fingertips and toes go numb, his blood run cold. 

no one was meant to know. 

he was meant to live in denial and settle for whatever steve could be bothered to give him, and no one was meant to fucking know that he wasn’t enough.

“what?” he says back numbly, his voice flat. 

can’t show emotion, ‘cause if he does, he’ll break.

“he’s seeing nancy,” tommy says, looking like he regrets every word. “we don’t know how long for, but we caught them together when we played that show in new york last week.”

“seriously, man, we just found out, and we fucking flipped on him, but he’s like, trying to fucking deny it, which–how. we literally caught them fucking–” eddie word vomits, looking at him like he’s waiting for him to fly off the handle.

billy can’t react. can feel the fragile hold he’s had on every single part of his life slowly start to unravel, like someone's pulled the string and let the ball of yarn roll along the floor, and knows he’s got minutes at best to pull himself together. to save face.

doesn’t know how to live in denial, though, when the people closest to him are trying to shove the truth in his face. 

his mind races in a million different directions as he tries to figure out how to play this. how to make it out the other side unscathed, without ripping out his heart and leaving himself a bloody open mess. 

can’t find a single path that doesn’t lead in that direction, or a variation of.

he takes another inhale of nicotine then exhales it out, preparing himself for what comes next. 

they’re gonna know. 

everyone’s gonna know. 

billy’s nothing worth staying for. there’ll always be someone better, someone worth risking it all for, even if for just a weekend, and it’ll never be him.

“you okay, man?” tommy checks, taking a step forward, seeming to realise he’s seconds away from falling apart.

billy sniffs and swipes at his nose, gathering every last bit of strength he can muster and pulls himself together. “fine,” he clips back, voice tight.

“you’re uh–you’re taking this surprisingly well,” eddie points out, and when billy looks at him, he sees the wheels turning in his head, then watches it click into place. 

eddie stares at him, his mouth dropped open slightly. “you knew.”

“it’s fine,” he says back automatically, ‘cause that’s what he’s been telling himself for months. for over a year. for almost two. 

it’s fucking fine.

“it’s not fucking fine, it’s fucking bullshit,” tommy cuts in, and he sounds pissed. 

billy doesn’t know what to make of it. tommy and steve have been best friends since diapers, long before he came on the scene, and if you don’t count their little high school fallout, they’ve been going strong for almost twenty years. 

billy can’t compete with that. 

“how in the world is it fine?” eddie adds as he gives him an disbelieving look, searching his face like he’s waiting for the punchline.

billy closes his eyes. knows in their own twisted way, they're doing this because they care, but it doesn't feel like fucking care right now. it feels like a fucking knife.

opening his eyes again and blinking away the tears, he thinks about how steve and eddie were friends first. how, technically, steve was the one who introduced them, both the guys having teamed up for some random shit billy doesn’t even remember just before he rolled into town, and when he sucked up his pride and went to make peace with steve after the shitshow that was his first week in hawkins, then asked where the best place to get green was around here, steve offered to lead the way, and less than 15 minutes later they were pulling up in front of munson’s trailer, and billy’s never really looked back.

realises only now how fucked it is that the only friends he’s made were actually steve’s first, and at the end of the day, he’s gonna lose them in the break up. 

billy’s been a part of their lives for barely 5 years. he’s got nothing on a lifetime of memories. definitely hasn’t earnt their loyalty.

his chest squeezes painfully and he struggles to take in a breath as he looks out in front of him and forces himself to face facts. 

this might be one of the last times he sees them. 

the bands probably over, billy’s definitely kicked out, and they're never gonna stay up for 34 hours straight because they want to finish recording just one more song again.

when he thinks about it, he probably won’t even miss steve that much when he leaves, but he doesn’t know how he’s gonna cope when he loses the guys. 

the band. 

the girls. 

shudders out a breath and tries not to fucking break down.

chrissy; who runs her hands through his hair whenever he lays his head on her lap, always just as drunk as he is and so goddamn happy to see him, and carol; who stays up ‘til 7am drinking with him and watching real housewives and fucking love island, and is the first person to call whenever billy sends out an sos.

shit, he’s gonna fucking cry.

he clenches his jaw and refuses to make eye contact. “show’s gonna start soon, we should get inside.”

“billy, steve’s fucking his ex,” eddie spells out, sounding pissed.

billy wishes he didn’t flinch.

tommy pushes himself front and center then, standing in front of eddie and getting right up in billy’s space.

resting his hands on billy’s shoulders, he forces eye contact.

“how long?” he asks quietly.

billy tries to look anywhere but straight ahead. feels his eyes watering, the tears he blinked away earlier coming back to the surface. can feel the weight of tommy’s hands on his shoulders grounding him, keeping him tethered.

“bill’s, man. how long?” eddie repeats, and billy’s gotta give him credit. he sounds calmer. gentler.

he sucks in a deep breath before throwing his cigarette on the ground, wishing he didn’t need to be handled gently right now as he stomps it out.

this is exactly why he wasn’t enough for steve.

“how long with nancy?” billy pushes past the lump in his throat, his voice catching and wishing the ground would swallow him whole, “or how long with all the other girls?”

“how many girls was he fucking?” eddie yells, giving up on being calm.

tommy elbows him but says nothing, giving billy space to talk.

billy can’t, so he shrugs. doesn’t know what’s more embarrassing now that he’s been interrogated about it. 

steve cheating, or him letting it happen.

“dude, what the fuck?” tommy asks after a moment, looking at him in disbelief.

the judgement gets too heavy to bear and he feels himself cracking. he looks at their faces, the way they’re waiting patiently for some sort of explanation, like this is all billy’s life dream and he’s completely on track for his 10 year plan, and not stuck on a ride spinning out of control, no one in the driver's seat to guide the way, and feels whatever grip he’s got just–slip.

he can’t take it anymore. can feel his anxiety and humiliation turning to anger, ‘cause it’s the safest place to hide.

“what?” he growls, wiping at his eyes and stepping forward, making himself tall–big–just like neil taught him. “you think i can do better? you think i can fucking ask for more?”

“better than steve–” ”–yes!” they yell simultaneously, eddie sounding just as mad, tommy sounding exasperated.

“jesus, then you’re stupider than me!” billy yells back, throwing his arms out wide. he hopes to god no one comes out anytime soon and witnesses this, ‘cause this is already too much to handle. “yeah, steve cheating fucking sucks, but hey! at least he comes home to me! at least he puts up with my shit. at least he still agreed to marry me!”

“dude, that’s like–” tommy tries, but he doesn’t want to hear it.

“and i know i’m a lot, okay? i know i’m hard to fucking deal with,” he lists, counting off in his fingers, “so, if the best i’m ever gonna get is every other weekend and the occasional christmas, then so be it!” 

he steps back, suddenly exhausted. hears the way his voice cracks and hates himself.

jesus, he’d fucking leave him, too. 

“what–you want me to ask someone to love me for fucking life? you think there’s a single person in the entire goddamn world who could commit to me, and only me, and never stray?” he’s begs, aiming for mean, but he hears how he misses the mark by a mile and just sounds desperate. looks at the guys he’s called his best friends for years now and pathetically wishes they'd answer him, that they’d tell him. that they’d be honest and give him what he needs to hear.

needs somebody, just one person, to tell him he’s worth something.

he pushes that need down deep and lets his voice give out, feeling fucking ruined. “don’t be delusional.”

they stare at him silently for a beat, then another, before eddie breaks the peace.

“jesus, man. what the fuck’s steve done to you?” he asks quietly, and when billy meets his eyes, he’s not mad anymore, instead is just looking at him like he cares.

uhhh and then heather comes back in the picture after drifting away, living her best college life, except it wasn't really her best college life, and that dick boyfriend that billy and carol told her to dump actually turned out to be a real dick, but his brother was worse, and suddenly she's picking up the phone and calling billy, asking if she can hide out at his for the night, and if he can pick her up from hospital, and he's barely been in georgia for a month when he gets the call, so he makes the drive back to california then drives them both back, and they send a selfie to the group chat like 'hoes in georiga do it better' and suddenly carol and chrissy are turning up on his door step like what the fuck? heathers back? after not returning our calls for months? years? let me the fuck in?

and then theyre getting spectacularly drunk and recounting their worst hits, and billy's fessing up his Feelings about everything that went down with steve, trying to be Nice about it cos he's aware who he's in a room with, and carol's like 'you know we chose you, right? like you know you won us in the divorce?' and billy's like. too drunk to process that elequantly, and is like. well obviously you're saying that to make me feel better but i Know steve's always gonna be more important to you. and carol and chrissy are like. we may have known him longer, but we love you better.

carol: who offered to be designated driver to my planned parenthood appointment when we were seventeen and me and tommy were scared shitless of what was gonna happen if we didn't make it. who shoved four weeks worth of pay in my hand as they pushed me out the car door. not fucking steve.

chrissy: you squared up with my dad the day i got kicked out of home while eddie helped me pack and carol caused bodily harm to my mom. you sat with me for every meal i ever ate all through my last year of school, no matter how long i took to eat it.

heather: i never fucking liked him. thank fuck he's out of your life. me and max gonna be poppin the biggest bottles when we see each other next.

tommy and eddie when they find out: bro you literally made this band. if it weren't for you, we'd still hate each other. you changed our lives, bro.

and lots of other stuff but. billy having FRIENDS that love him dearly and he loves dearly back and living his best life.

then like. 4 years later:

billy pulls the phone away from his ear to stare at it in shock before lifting it back up. “i’m sorry–what?” 

neil clears his throat, and billy’s pretty sure there’s a gun pointed at his head. there's no fuckin' way his dad just invited him and daryl home for christmas. 

“i said–he can come, too,” neil says after another minute of silence. he sounds like he’s talking through clenched teeth.

holy fuck. 

so he didn't hear him wrong. he’s officially invited back home, after three years of radio silence. neil didn't even reply to the birthday text he sent him that first year, and now he’s being invited to christmas? daryl, too? something’s fucked.

“you dying?” he blurts out, ‘cause that's probably the only realistic option.

his dad sighs, sounding burdened. tired. billy feels his heart start to race. 

“no, son,” neil responds, letting the silence hang.

“okay, then. what?” he presses, ‘cause shit’s not making sense. why now? why’s he been a homophobic piece of shit his entire life only to suddenly now decide to not care? 

“me and susie just want our kids home for christmas,” neil explains.

billy’s not buying it.

billy eventually tells his dad he’ll get back to him, he’s just gotta discuss holiday plans with his partner first, and neil replies that him and sue would really like them to join them. 

billy feels like he’s talking to a stranger. 

says he’ll text when he knows what the plan is.

texts max to see if she's got any similar phone calls recently, then tries to forget about it.

gets home from work that afternoon and he attempts to start dinner, but doesn't take long to get distracted and burn it, deciding to give up halfway through. 

daryl comes home just as he's throwing the towel in, lydia in tow, and finds him sitting on the kitchen counter eating chocolate from the packet, food burnt on the stove.

“my turn to cook,” billy states, offering lydia some chocolate, eyes focused on daryl. “so, takeaway?”

daryl eyes the mess on the stove and sink and sighs, grabbing the pamphlets from the top drawer.

“don’t care, you’s pick,” he hands them over to lydia, lydia jumping on the counter beside billy. billy looks at their choices over her shoulder before his eyes catch on daryl starting to walk away. “ring and order, i’mma go shower.”

billy nods, focusing back on the task at hand, pushing all thoughts of his dad and christmas out of mind.

lydia holds up the thai food pamphlet.

“fuck yeah,” billy says, picking his phone up from the bench.

while he calls and orders, lydia and daryl switch. her in the shower, and daryl coming out to lean against the kitchen bench.

“you good?” he asks, watching billy try and scrub the pan he burnt.

“what are we doing this christmas?” billy replies, dropping the pan back in the sink and turning to him, completely changing the subject.

daryl shrugs. it’s november, he’s barely thought about christmas beyond trying to figure out what to get lydia. 

“usual, i guess,” he answers, picking up a tea towel and wiping the few dishes billy washed before he got stuck on the pan. “might go to rick’s for lunch, might go there boxing day instead, or the greenes. might just hang out here.”

“so, nothing’s planned,” billy summarises, picking the pan back up. he scrubs a bit before giving up again, putting more hot water in the sink before turning to him. “my dad called.”

daryl snorts. him and billy haven't sat down and painted detailed pictures of their childhoods, but they've shared the broad strokes, and he’s not stupid, or an idiot. has enough experience in the shitty childhood department to fill in the blanks.

neil wasn't good people.

will wasn't a saint either, but something about the way billy talked about neil, especially about the years after he moved out, and the way neil treated him that one time daryl met him, made him more slimy–more manipulative–in his opinion. 

at least will never pretended with him. he always had his own principles and morals, and he stuck with them. daryl always knew where he stood. 

neil, on the other hand, seemed like all his principles and morals depended on public perception, and could change at the drop of the hat. was a wishy-washy bastard, always too busy caring about everyone else's opinion rather than his own, which meant if billy was never good enough to get every single person's approval, he never got neil's.

daryl hates him.

“yeah?” he says, throwing the tea towel down on the bench. “what’d he want?”

billy chews his cheek. 

“invited me home for christmas,” he admits, then corrects, “us. he invited us home for christmas.”

daryl raises an eyebrow at him. 

“he invited us to fuckin’ hawkins?”

billy shrugs this time, testing out the pan again before giving up and letting it soak. “yep.”

daryl stays silent, letting billy get his head straight. the only reason he would be bringing it up is if he had something to say about it.

“asked him if he was dying, he said him and susan just wanted to see their kids for christmas,” he explains, looking at him out of the corner of his eye like he’s too scared to turn to face him properly, but still wants to see his face. daryl gets it.

“what’chu wanna do?” he asks after another few minutes of silence.

billy shrugs.

“going there would be stupid,” he finally says, turning to him properly. “it’d be awkward and rough and it’d be a shit christmas. he’d probably hate you, he definitely hates me, fuck knows lydia doesn't need to be subjected to him, and max probably won't even be there.”

“so we don’t go,” daryl says, then waits.

billy cracks less than a minute later. “but why did he call? why’d he invite us? why now, when for the past few years, i’ve been as good as dead to him?” 

daryl let's him talk it out. knows he’s not asking him anyway.

“surely he must be dying, right? like, cancer or some shit? there's no way he woke up this morning like hey, let’s reach out to my greatest failure and make amends–”

“you ain’t a failure,” he cuts him off.

“no, i’m just his failure,” billy rolls his eyes before rubbing a hand down his face.

daryl knocks his arm into his, nudging him with his shoulder. billy grips the counter behind him tighter.

“i don't even know why i care so fucking much,” he whispers, so fucking confused his head hurts. “if he’s dying, then, like. so what. who gives a shit, right?”

“ain’t that simple,” daryl says back, and billy slides his hand over until their pinkies overlap. daryl knocks his elbow into his again. “it’s fucked up, what parents do to their kids. even more fucked up how we still treat them like parents. expect them to love us, ‘cause we fuckin’ blindly love them.”

billy blinks at him and daryl realises his eyes are wet. 

“ain’t blindly,” billy states, voice firm.

daryl nods. “that's why it’s fucked up.”

and then the idea of them going home for christmas and introducing his boyfriend and kid to neil, finding out about the cancer, and neil being like. it's physically killing me to pretend to be okay with this. and billy being like. cancer's a bitch, huh. bet you never saw this side effect coming, did u, dad? who knew liver cancer said bi rights.

[artficlly]

the art of pretending [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x agent!reader

being mentored by bucky is nothing short of torture; he’s cold, infuriating, and impossible to please. but when a mission gone wrong leaves you stranded in a freezing safehouse together, you start to wonder if all that supposed hatred has just been hiding something else entirely.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, shower sex, unprotected sex, fingering, forced proximity, one bed, kissing, enemies to lovers-ish?, sexual tension, sparring, mentor bucky, bickering, insults, violence, bit of blood/gore/wound descriptions, bucky has issues, protective bucky, slut shaming (not from bucky), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 12.4k

A/N: hi! this is for some requests i received (one and two). i combined two of the requests because they were pretty similar, hope thats okay and i hope you enjoy! this took me... so long to write. i hope it doesn't flop <3 sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

You had two goals for the night: get shitfaced and get railed. So, catching your asshole boyfriend wrist-deep in some girl’s panties, doing the kind of finger work he never even bothered to learn for you, wasn’t part of your itinerary.

You could’ve cried, you could’ve begged, or collapsed into a sad cliché with a tub of ice cream and Sex and the City reruns. But no, you had a mission, and one mission alone. Get so unbelievably drunk on whatever you could get your hands on, so drunk in fact that you wanted to black out before midnight and preferably unconscious until sunset the next day.

Tony’s penthouse parties weren’t usually your scene. Too many sleazy rich men with superiority complexes, trophy wives sipping champagne through botoxed grins, and a carousel of extras that Stark always vehemently denied were hookers. What you did know was that, being an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D., your name was always on the list, and tonight, free top-shelf booze felt like divine intervention.

You just had to get in, get drunk, and avoid eye contact with your co-workers long enough to pull off a quiet mental breakdown and ignore the fact that you were rather underdressed for the type of party Stark was hosting. Scantily clad club clothing clashed hard with the pearls and Prada crowd.

A few raised brows and vague greetings followed you as you slithered through the gathering. 

But you held back a groan when you spotted the trio parked at the bar: Yelena, Steve, and Bucky. Great. The Greek god chorus of shame, in all their sculpted, judgmental glory. They looked just as uncomfortable as you felt, loitering by the bar instead of mingling with Stark’s circus.

You ignored their stares and made a beeline for the shelves behind the bartender—some poor kid who looked far too green for this gig. He gave you a look of dismay as you grabbed a bottle of tequila without asking. Slamming down a shot glass, you poured with shaky hands and knocked it back with the elegance of a car crash.

You barely registered the silence that followed until you glanced up and saw the stunned expressions staring back at you.

Yelena was the first to speak. “What happened to you? You never come to these things.”

You poured another shot. “Free drinks,” you muttered, then downed it, already lining up the next. No salt. No lime. Just pain, raw and unfiltered, sliding down your throat.

“I thought you were going out with your boyfriend?” She continued to press, while Steve looked rather scandalised as he watched you swallow back your third shot in a row with a shudder. 

Yelena reached over and snatched the bottle from your hand before you could pour again. “You should slow down.”

​​You blinked at her, teeth gritted, blood thrumming loud in your ears. She meant well. Of course she did. You’d always gotten along—ever since she’d been assigned as your mentor in your early days at S.H.I.E.L.D. You two had clicked effortlessly. It was all a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s long-term strategy to make field missions run smoother and reduce casualties. Avengers were paired with up-and-coming agents to pass down their experience and training, with the hope that one day, those hard-earned skills would save lives.

But everything changed when they reassigned you.

You’d been told it was to ‘broaden your skillset’, that it was about growth, adaptability, and learning from different leadership styles. What they didn’t say was that it would mean training under James Buchanan Barnes, aka Mr. No-Praise-All-Pain.

You’d tried. Really. At first, you gave it your all. Took his criticism, bit your tongue, pushed harder. But Bucky didn’t bend. He didn’t compliment. Didn’t guide. He just judged, cold and final, like every failure confirmed whatever low expectations he had of you.

Five months of that, and you were drowning. You begged for reassignment—back to Yelena, to Natasha, to anyone—but were denied every time. Some higher-up probably thought your mutual disdain was ‘motivating’, like locking two angry wolves in a cage and expecting them not to rip each other’s throats out.

And now here he was. Bucky Barnes. His suit jacket was slung carelessly over the back of his bar stool, his tie loosened just enough to reveal the sharp line of his collarbone. His dress shirt clung to his muscular frame, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing those unfairly defined forearms and the gleam of vibranium wrapped around a bottle of beer. His expression was stony, but familiar—stern brow, mouth set in a tight line, like he was already displeased with you and you hadn’t even said a word yet.

That look. That look you couldn’t stand.

Disappointment, or maybe pity. You couldn’t tell. Either way, it made your skin itch.

You wanted to punch him in his sullen, pouty face.

Instead, you laughed bitterly and reached for the bottle again, only for Yelena to hold it further away, firm.

“I said slow down,” she warned.

You made a face at Yelena. “Uh, you can’t talk. I saw you do shots out of a candle holder once.”

She didn’t even blink.

“Yes. And you called me messy. So I stopped.” She turned away just long enough to vanish the tequila bottle from sight like some sleight-of-hand magician. “This is me returning the favour. Stop it. You’re being messy.”

You barked out a harsh laugh and rubbed a hand down your face, smearing frustration across your cheeks. “You know what’s messy? My boyfriend. Well—ex-boyfriend.”

Across the bar, Bucky shook his head and muttered something low under his breath. You didn’t catch it, but you were sure it was vile because even Steve glanced over at him in disbelief, his eyebrows climbing high. Great. Judgment from Captain Morality and the Tin Soldier. Just what you needed.

Yelena sighed, already exhausted. “What did he do this time?”

You could tell she was reaching the end of her patience, and honestly, it was fair. She’d been your reluctant witness through the entire tragic saga of your love life. Two and a half years of emotional landmines and loser boyfriends who all somehow managed to be worse than the last. It was impressive, in a bleak kind of way.

You gestured vaguely, your expression somewhere between rage and disbelief. “I was supposed to meet him at some sleazy club downtown, his buddy was DJing—-fucking terrible DJ by the way. I’d barely walked in the door when I caught him in a back booth, fingering some girl who wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it!”

Yelena’s lips pursed. Steve stared like he’d never heard someone use the word ‘fingering’ out loud before.

“What did you do?” Yelena asked, her voice low, careful.

“Oh, the usual,” you said sweetly. “I punched him. Hard. He hit the floor like a sack of shit. Then I stepped on his hand until I felt something snap.”

Steve choked on his beer, coughing violently into his elbow. Bucky just watched you with the world's best poker face, a slight clench in his jaw muscles. 

You smiled at Steve, feral and unbothered. “Don’t worry, Cap. He won’t be playing DJ with anyone’s body parts anytime soon.”

Yelena gave a low whistle, somewhere between impressed and alarmed. “You actually broke his hand?”

“Felt like justice.” You shrugged. “Plus, he was always texting with that hand. Two birds, one stomp.”

“That’s assault,” Steve managed, his voice slightly strangled.

“Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “We’ve all done worse.”

Across the bar, Bucky finally spoke, his voice gravel-edged and unimpressed. “And now you’re here, drinking like a lunatic in front of half the team. Real graceful recovery.”

Your shoulders tensed, that familiar heat creeping up your spine.

“I’m not showing up for training tomorrow,” you said flatly. “Hell, I don’t plan on being conscious tomorrow.”

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. “It’s going on your report.”

Your mid-year report. Just another excuse for Bucky to publicly drag you, whining to the higher-ups about what a terrible mentee you were. How you needed to ‘apply yourself’, ‘show initiative’, or whatever corporate nonsense they lapped up. And of course, those same higher-ups were always looking for a reason to cut dead weight. One misstep, and you were done.

“Of course it is,” you snapped, spinning on your heel. “You miserable, ancient cunt.”

Steve choked on his beer again.

Without another word, you reached behind the overwhelmed bartender, who looked about five seconds from quitting, and grabbed the nearest bottle. You didn’t even look at the label. You stormed off with tequila already burning in your veins and spite lighting the way. 

—

You were leaning casually against the wall outside the gym’s changing rooms, dressed in workout gear that was probably a little more flattering than necessary. Tight enough to flatter your waist, breathable enough to pass as practical. Around you, the low hum of chatter buzzed from a small group of fellow agents. You were killing time before your dreaded one-on-one training session with Barnes.

Theo leaned a shoulder beside yours, towelling sweat from the back of his neck. He’d been an agent about as long as you had—charming, competent, and a little too easy to get along with. The two of you were part of that unofficial after-hours crew: drinks on Fridays, complaints about the job, stumbling home tipsy and hungover texts on Saturday mornings.

“You’re on sparring duty all week too?” Theo asked, glancing at you with mock pity. “I swear Rogers gets off on making me eat mat.”

“I know what you mean. Barnes definitely loves making me suffer,” you replied with a grimace. “That man has a personal vendetta against me.”

Theo grinned, tossing the towel over his shoulder, and he gave you a playful sidelong look. “When I get knocked on my ass, promise you’ll kiss it better?”

You arched a brow, but the smirk tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. “Careful. I’m starting to think you’re flirting with me.”

“Starting to?” he shot back, unfazed. “Let me make it clearer. If I don’t get my ass handed to me by Rogers, I’ll buy you a drink Friday.”

You leaned back against the wall, arms folding over your chest. “And if Rogers wins?”

Theo leaned in, voice low and smooth as his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, lingering just a moment too long. “Then I’ll buy you two,” he murmured.

You opened your mouth to respond. Flattered, a little surprised, already mentally debating whether it was worth shaving your legs, when a voice cut through the hallway like a blade.

“Agent. You’re late.”

You didn’t have to look to know who it was. That gravel-edged tone, sharpened with disapproval, could only belong to one man.

Bucky stood at the end of the corridor, arms crossed, jaw set like granite. His black compression shirt clung to every sculpted line of his chest, joggers slung low on his hips in a way that really shouldn't have been legal. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a combat simulation and into a fitness magazine.

But the expression on his face? Full-on battlefield.

That signature scowl was locked in place, thunderclouds brewing behind his eyes as he stared straight past you, straight at Theo. Typical. You hadn’t even done anything, yet somehow, he already looked pissed.

“Training doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.” You reminded him.

He didn’t seem interested in whatever argument you were about to make, and he turned on his heel without another word.

You sighed, uncrossing your arms as you pushed off the wall and flashed Theo an apologetic smile. 

Jogging to catch up, your boots thudding against the hallway floor, you called after Bucky. “You know, there’s this really neat thing called a schedule. Maybe try sticking to it?”

He didn’t even glance over his shoulder. “You could use the extra time.”

You scoffed in disbelief at his audacity. Classic Barnes, gruelling, joyless, always ready with a critique and never a compliment. He’d made it his mission to grind you down, one scathing remark at a time. And yet, you knew you were one of the top agents. The higher-ups had told you as much in your mid-year review, even going so far as to say that your mentorship with Barnes was working brilliantly. You hadn’t bothered correcting them, though it irritated more than you liked to admit. All your hard work, and somehow, he got the credit.

Bucky didn’t stop until you were both inside one of the gym’s private sparring rooms. The door clicked shut behind you. No audience. No distractions. Just him and you and the electric tension that always seemed to spark the moment you were alone together.

“Seriously, Barnes, what’s your problem today?”

Bucky stepped onto the mat, gesturing for you to follow.

“You’re here to train, not flirt in the hallway.”

You barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Bucky always had a problem whenever your love life even breathed into the conversation. Said it was irrelevant. Unprofessional. A distraction.

Back when Yelena was your partner, the two of you used to spar and gossip at the same time, her dodging your punches while you gave dramatic play-by-plays of whatever your latest fling had done to you in bed the night before. She lived for it. Bucky? Not so much.

He’d cut the conversation short every time. Couldn’t even stand the sight of you laughing a little too long with someone else. He’d yank you away with some bullshit excuse like, ‘distractions on the field will get you killed’, or ‘do I need to report you for slacking off?’ Like you were breaking protocol instead of just being a human being.

You stepped into position across from him, tightening your stance, heat already prickling beneath your skin. From the glare he was giving you, he looked ready to fight. Good. So were you.

“Are you always such an asshole,” you said, voice flat, “or is that just a special little treat you save for me?”

He gave you a look, deadpan and infuriating. “Only when I’m working with someone who’s constantly late, distracted, or hungover.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose and threw a lazy jab, just to shut him up. He deflected it with a flick of his wrist like he could’ve done it in his sleep.

“And yet,” you muttered, circling to your right, “you wrote me a glowing mid-year report.”

His hand faltered for a split second. It was brief, but you caught it, a crack in the armour he hid behind.

“So you read it,” he replied, already shifting back into motion.

“Hard not to. Maria practically quoted it word for word at me in the hallway.”

His mouth flattened. “It was accurate.”

You scoffed and came at him again, this time with more force, a blow aimed at his jaw. He blocked with ease, catching your wrist mid-air and twisting just enough to tip your balance. You staggered, caught yourself, then stepped back with a glare.

“‘Most adaptive mentee in the current program,’” you quoted, circling him again.

A jab. He blocked it.

“‘Performs under pressure.’”

You followed up with a low kick aimed at his calf. He side-stepped like you were moving in slow motion.

“‘Good instincts in the field.’”

Another punch, this one he met palm to palm, stopping your momentum cold. You grit your teeth and shoved him off.

“‘Promising.’” You swept your foot in a feint and then struck at his ribs. He pivoted out of reach, breath barely changed. “‘Capable.’”

He lunged this time, arm out, trying to lock your elbow, but you twisted under it, ducking away, the mat skimming under your feet.

“‘Excellent recall.’” 

You squared off again, eyes locked on his.

“Why the hell,” you asked, low and angry, “are you always such an asshole to my face when you’re singing my praises behind my back?”

He didn’t answer right away, moving like a shadow around you, eyes locked on yours. 

“As much as it pains me,” he finally spoke, tone flat, “you are my best mentee. Even if I dislike you personally, I felt your report should reflect that.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown. That was… probably the most praise you’d ever got from him—buried beneath the usual bullshit, sure, but praise nonetheless. On a good day, you might get a grunted ‘good’ if you were lucky. Most of the time, training with Bucky was just an endless list of everything you were doing wrong, punctuated by a jab to the ribs for emphasis.

“Do you always make your compliments sound like insults?”

“It wasn’t a compliment. Just the truth.”

You threw a kick toward his side, fast and impulsive. He caught your ankle and held it, grip firm around your calf for a second too long. His vibranium fingers were cold, even through the fabric of your leggings. You could’ve sworn they tightened around the muscle just a fraction as your eyes swept up to give him a look of disbelief. But instead of pulling away, you leaned into the moment and used the hold for balance. You pivoted hard on your grounded foot, letting the captured leg swing inward. Then you launched yourself forward, hooking your other leg around his waist, aiming to bring him down with you.

For a half-second, it worked. His balance shifted. Your hips were flush against him, legs locked tight around his torso as you twisted your weight, trying to drag him off his feet.

With a grunt, he straightened, twisted, and you suddenly found yourself airborne.

You hit the mat hard, slamming against it with a thud that knocked the breath out of you. The ceiling lights above blurred for a second as the impact rattled through your spine. His shadow hovered for a beat, chest rising with exertion, jaw clenched.

He didn’t smirk. Didn’t gloat. Just stared down at you, maybe it was the oncoming concussion you probably just suffered, but you could’ve sworn there was a flash of concern in his eyes.

“Next time, I won’t let it slide if you don’t turn up because you’re hungover.” He wiped a forearm across his brow.

“How do you know my heart wasn’t broken?” You asked, shaking off the blow as you rose to your feet once more, feet finding their usual stance.

He arched a brow, unimpressed.

“Don’t you have sympathy for me?” you asked, somewhere between a joke and a challenge.

“I wouldn’t call it sympathy,” he said coolly. “More like pity.”

That stung more than you cared to admit. You rolled your shoulders, stepping in again. Your guard was up, but there was a crack in it now, frustration flaring under your skin.

“I can’t imagine you were actually that sad about it.�� Bucky bit out, not even bothering to hide his annoyance now. “Don’t you have a new fling every other week? Sure sounded like you were lining up another one in the hallway.”

“Oh wow,” you drawled, voice harsh. “Slut shaming? This isn’t the 1940s, Barnes.”

“It’s not my fault who you choose to date.”

You exhaled, long and low. The tension between you had teeth now, gnawing at the air. “Y’know, for someone who hates me, you sure pay a lot of attention.”

He didn’t respond. Just stood there, fists flexing at his sides, poker-faced.

You waited, ready to shoulder any insult he laid on you. You could see irritation simmering under his skin, jaw ticking, knuckles white.

“I think you should take a lap or two around the room.” He huffed finally. “Your blocks are late, your punches are soft, and your stance is a joke. Try warming up before you embarrass both of us.”

You grinned back at him, though it was closer to baring your teeth than a show of amusement. “But I’m still your best mentee, huh?”

“Let’s make it five laps then.”

You gave him a lazy salute and turned for the edge of the mat.

“Whatever you say, Sergeant.”

As you jogged the first lap, footsteps echoing lightly in the private room, you could feel his eyes on you, tracking every movement and watching you like a hawk, like a fuse lit, waiting.

And damn it, you ran a little faster because of it.

—

If you’d known how this mission was going to turn out, you would’ve called in sick. Faked a family emergency. Broken your own damn leg. Anything to avoid being stuck alone with Bucky Barnes in a freezing H.Y.D.R.A. bunker from hell. You’d even considered whispering a desperate prayer to whatever all-seeing god might be listening—or hell, maybe begging Stephen Strange to yank you into an alternate universe where this wasn’t your reality.

Gunfire rattled somewhere outside the cement walls, and you imagined your fellow agents in the middle of all the fun, chucking grenades, dodging bullets, living the dream. Meanwhile, you were practically glued at the hip with Sergeant Sunshine, babysitting an ancient Soviet-era computer that looked like it still ran on dial-up.

You were perched on the edge of a desk, legs swinging, having shoved aside a mountain of dusty files scribbled in Russian. All completely useless to you.

“What is it with H.Y.D.R.A. and brutalist architecture?” you muttered, eyeing the thick ceiling. “Why does concrete get them so hard?”

“I can’t concentrate with all your whining.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s literally the first thing I’ve said in ten minutes, Barnes.”

He didn’t respond. Didn’t even throw you one of his signature grunts. Just kept clicking away like the keyboard had wronged him personally, eyes narrowed at the screen as if trying to decode the goddamn Rosetta Stone.

You groaned and rolled your head back, staring up at the ceiling.

More concrete.

You weren’t usually this unbearable on missions, but this? This whole situation felt like a personal attack. You’d been mid-flirt with Theo on the quinjet (who had been very committed to making bedroom eyes at you) when they’d called out team assignments. The second you heard your name paired with Barnes, tasked with data extraction while everyone else got to blow things up, you’d spun around to glare at him.

He’d been sitting there in his usual cold, statue-like stillness beside Steve, as if this wasn’t a death sentence. You’d stormed over, demanded if he knew anything. He just shrugged and muttered something about ‘higher-ups’.

The walls shook suddenly—another explosion—and dust drifted from the ceiling. You blinked it out of your lashes and slid lazily off the desk, sauntering over to where Bucky hunched at the terminal.

“Can you hurry it up? At this rate, they’re going to bury us alive in here.”

“Give me a second,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

You leaned in slightly, eyeing the screen. A wall of Cyrillic met you, completely unreadable. You couldn’t help the exasperated sigh that left your lips.

“Remind me again why we’re the ones doing this? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to send someone who actually speaks Russian to help you? Or, I don’t know, someone who has the patience to teach you how to use a flash drive?”

He didn’t answer, just kept typing and clicking, as if the keys owed him money.

You crossed your arms, scowling. The only thing more miserable than being stuck in a concrete crypt was being stuck in one with him. When he was distracted, like now, he forgot to wear that usual look of thinly veiled disappointment. His brow furrowed in focus, lips twitching as he muttered to himself in low, clipped Russian. He looked—God help you—human. Not like the cold-hearted pain-in-your-ass who’d spent the last six months tearing you down. But like someone thoughtful. Careful. Quietly brilliant.

And stupidly, stupidly attractive.

You hated how your eyes lingered on the way his rolled-up sleeves hugged his forearms. The way the shadows danced over his cheekbones and the little groove between his brows. The way that little furrow deepened when something didn’t go his way, like he was trying to wrestle the entire world into submission with sheer concentration alone.

It would’ve been easier if he were just awful. Easier if you didn’t catch glimpses of something else beneath the gruffness. Something that made your chest tighten a little when you weren’t focusing. 

You swallowed hard, forcing your eyes to the screen. What was wrong with you?

The download bar finally appeared on the screen, crawling forward at a snail’s pace. You exhaled loudly, half in relief, half in impatience. 

“About time,” you muttered.

He shot you a look, cold and flat. “You wanna do it?”

You turned your back on him, pacing the room. Your nerves were coiled tight, the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions growing louder. The base was a pressure cooker and the damn download bar still hovered at 34%.

While you were busy taking your own turn brooding, the heavy metal door at the far end of the room slammed open with a deafening clang, nearly launching you out of your skin. Three armed H.Y.D.R.A. agents stormed in, rifles raised, eyes locked on target.

So much for the diversion. Clearly, it hadn’t been enough—or worse, H.Y.D.R.A. had seen through it. They must’ve realised it wasn’t a full-blown William-the-Conqueror-style invasion, just a cleverly dressed-up distraction.

“Company,” Bucky muttered, pulling his sidearm in one smooth motion.

You were already moving, instincts kicking in before your brain could catch up. You dove low, sliding across the slick concrete floor as a hail of bullets tore through the room. You grabbed the nearest overturned chair, dragging it into place just in time as metal pinged and sparked against it.

Bucky didn’t hesitate. A single, precise shot rang out, dropping the first H.Y.D.R.A. agent without a flinch. You didn’t stop to think. You surged forward, catching the second agent by surprise, your knee slamming into his gut with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. He doubled over, right into the crack of your gun butt across his temple. He crumpled, unconscious, before he hit the floor.

Then you saw the third.

Rifle up.

Aimed right at you.

“Get down!”

The shout was raw, sharp enough to slice through the chaos. You barely had time to turn your head before a body crashed into yours. His arm slammed into your torso, hurling you sideways just as the trigger was pulled.

The shot cracked like thunder.

Your back hit the ground hard, skidding across the floor. Pain flared along your shoulder, but it was nothing compared to the sound that followed, the harsh, guttural grunt that tore out of Bucky’s throat.

You twisted around.

He was down, gasping, clutching at his side and blood already soaking through the black fabric of his suit.

You scrambled back to him just as the final agent aimed again. Snarling, you fired three quick shots into the bastard’s chest before he collapsed in a heap.

The air went still for only a moment, then the ground trembled violently before you had a chance to assess the damage done to Bucky. Chunks of the ceiling cracked and began to rain down. Concrete groaned like a beast waking from a long sleep.

You turned to the computer, some unreadable symbols flashing across the screen, but you were quick enough to decipher that it meant the download was complete. Snatching the flash drive, you spun back to Bucky, who was trying to sit up, blood spilling between his fingers as he pressed them hard against the wound in his side.

“Get up,” you barked, crouching beside him. “We need to move, Barnes!”

—

The two of you had spent nearly two damn hours stumbling through the snow-blanketed mountainside, following the rough coordinates burned into your mind from the mission briefing. By the time the cabin finally came into view—half-buried in the snow, smoke long gone from the chimney—you were soaked to the bone and one more smart comment away from throttling him.

The escape had been messy, the H.Y.D.R.A base nearly becoming your tomb. You’d been forced to bolt through a collapsing back corridor, dragging the injured super soldier along with the last of your adrenaline. Between the debris, the gunfire, and the growing dark stain across his side, you weren’t sure how either of you had made it out. Worse still, you’d missed the quinjet extraction window by twenty minutes. The skies had turned black with storm clouds, wind howling across the range as ice and snow stung your cheeks. The base had finally picked up your call for aid on the mission-assigned satellite phone, but due to zero visibility and increased H.Y.D.R.A activity in the area, the replacement quinjet wouldn’t arrive until first light.

Which meant you were stuck together. In the cold. For the whole night.

The safehouse, at least, was still intact. A small timber cabin tucked between trees, barely standing but just enough. It had a lounge no bigger than a broom closet, a wood-burning stove long dead and cold, a bathroom you prayed had running water, and a single bedroom with a mattress that looked like it had seen better decades.

Your breath misted in the air as you slammed the door behind you, the wind nearly ripping the handle from your grip. Bucky collapsed onto the torn couch by the stove without a word, letting out a low groan that he probably thought you didn’t hear.

You should’ve made starting the fire your first priority. But one look at the blood soaking through Bucky’s side made that choice for you.

Now, kneeling between his legs with the remnants of the first-aid kit splayed out on the coffee table, whoever had been here last hadn’t restocked it properly. You glared up at Bucky as he shifted under your touch again. “Stop squirming.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” you hissed, dabbing antiseptic across the wound with a gauze pad. “You keep flinching.”

“Because you’re digging in like you’re trying to punish me.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started,” you muttered.

He scoffed, muscles twitching beneath your hands as you pressed down. “Are you always this demanding?”

“Are you always this whiny?”

His glare was instant, eyes narrowed. “Is it your goal to piss everyone off?”

“I’m a fucking delight, and you know that.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “I think you’re mistaken. I definitely don’t like you.”

You lifted your brows, trying to keep your voice light despite the roiling mix of emotions spilling out. “You say that like you didn’t just take a bullet for me.”

You hadn’t even had the time to process it when it happened. The crash of his body slamming into yours, the sound of the gunshot, and the sickening thud of him hitting the ground. But now, with him sitting across from you, shirt dark with blood and a fresh gash still weeping crimson, the weight of it began to settle in.

He took a bullet for you.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Part of you expected him to twist it somehow, to throw it back in your face as some kind of lesson that you were careless. That you’d left an opening. That he had to clean up your mess. You were already bracing for it, the sting of snide remarks spread over weeks like salt in a wound, little digs during training about how you ‘owe him one’ or how ‘distractions get people killed’.

And yet... he hadn’t said any of that.

Instead, he just shrugged, wincing slightly. “I heal faster because of the serum,” he muttered, voice gruff but quieter than usual. “I’ll be back on the field faster than you ever could.”

You stared at him.

At the stubborn line of his jaw, the tight press of his lips as he tried not to show how much pain he was in. The way his hand gripped his side was too tight. The blood beneath his fingernails.

Why had he done that?

You weren’t always the easiest to get along with. You’d spent months pushing each other’s buttons, arguing, fighting, constantly locked in a cold war of insults and bruises. So why? Why would he throw himself into a bullet’s path for you?

It was hard not to feel... something. Flattered, maybe. A little shocked. And, against your better judgment, grateful. You didn’t want to be grateful—not to him, of all people—but your stomach wrenched every time you replayed the moment in your head.

You didn’t ask him to do it. And yet, he did.

And now he was pretending it didn’t matter. Like he hadn’t made a split-second decision to put your life before his own. What if that bullet had hit a little higher? His heart? His throat? His skull?

“Sure,” you drawled, trying to cover for your sudden silence. “Great excuse.”

“It’s the truth.” He muttered. 

He didn’t look at you. Just kept his eyes on the floor and said nothing.

Which, somehow, said everything.

You stared at him for a moment longer, shaking your head as you tossed the bloodied gauze into the small bin beside the couch. The cold was starting to settle into your bones, your fingers stiff with it.

“Whatever. I’m going to try to find some firewood before we freeze to death.”

He glanced toward the boarded-up window, ice clinging to the edges. “You sure there’s any left out there?”

“Nope.” You pulled on your jacket. “But I’d rather get eaten by a bear than stay in here with you.”

You were halfway to the door before you paused, glancing over your shoulder.

“Can you get to that bed yourself, or do you need me to do that for you, too, super soldier?”

His answer came quickly, teeth clenched. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

You couldn’t deny the nausea in your stomach. Not from worry. Definitely not that. Just frustration. That’s all it was.

The wind nearly ripped the door from your hands as you stepped outside. Snow came in sideways, biting at your skin the second you crossed the threshold. You tugged your jacket tighter and trudged into the blizzard, squinting against the blur of white.

The woodshed was exactly where the briefing had said it’d be, about ten feet from the side of the cabin, half-hidden by trees. Or at least, had been. What you found instead was a crooked mess of collapsed timber and broken beams. Snow had settled deep into the heap, and every piece of wood you managed to drag free was soaked, the logs heavy with ice and rot.

You swore, breath clouding in the air.

You searched anyway, fingers numb, arms shaking. You tried the back of the cabin. Nothing. Even the branches scattered beneath the trees were too damp. No kindling, no dry bark, not even a damn pinecone. The cold was sinking deeper now, crawling down your spine and settling like an anchor in your chest. You didn’t want to push further into the wilderness, not in this weather and not with H.Y.D.R.A. agents crawling all over the mountainside. 

By the time you stumbled back inside and forced the door closed again, you could hardly feel your fingers or toes. Every limb ached like they were five seconds away from turning purple and black from frostbite. The cabin felt just as cold as the outside, but it was a momentary relief to be out of the wind that cut through your thick layers.

Bucky was on the bed, half-sitting up against the wall, the blanket pulled low across his hips. His eyes flicked up as you entered, taking in your dripping hair and shaking hands.

"Let me guess," he muttered. "No luck?"

You didn’t answer right away, just peeled your jacket off and dropped it near the door with a wet splat. “Everything’s soaked. The shed’s collapsed.”

He exhaled through his nose, chest deflating with the effort. “You’re freezing.”

You ignored him, stomping the snow off your boots. “I’ll live.”

“Not if you keep acting like a damn idiot.”

You turned to glare at him. “I’m sorry, which one of us got shot again?”

You crouched down, your knees protesting as you bent to untie your boots, but your fingers were too stiff, trembling from the cold. The laces had frozen slightly, the knots tight and uncooperative. You hissed through your teeth, fumbling and cursing under your breath as you tugged uselessly at them.

Bucky watched from the bed, arms crossed over his broad chest. He didn’t move to help, but you could feel his eyes on you. He tilted his head slightly and gave you a look that was half-concerned, half-exasperated, like you did this to yourself.

With a final frustrated yank, you freed your boot and kicked it off, followed quickly by the other. A damp string of muttered profanities trailed from your lips as you scrambled back to your feet, wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin. 

“Which one of us,” Bucky spoke pointedly, breath fogging in the air between you, “went outside to play in a blizzard and came back looking like a drowned rat?”

You were shivering now, teeth on the verge of chattering, but you still squared your shoulders and stared him down, as defiant as ever. A bead of melted snow trailed down your temple. He stared right back.

“Get over here,” he said finally.

“Excuse me?”

“You need to warm up.” His tone was flat, too practical. “And the bed’s the only warm place in this shithole.”

“Oh, now you care about my well-being?”

He didn’t dignify that with a response. Just lifted the edge of the blanket.

You hesitated, eyeing the small mattress like it might bite you. "You’re the worst."

"And you’re still standing in wet clothes. Take them off and get in."

Your mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“Not all of them,” he said, eyes rolling. “Just the top layer before you die of hypothermia. Stop being dramatic.”

With a theatrical sigh for good measure, you peeled off your wet sweater, leaving the thermal shirt beneath and then your pants. You did not check to see if he was watching you shivering in your underwear, cheeks flushed. You padded toward the bed like it was a walk to your own execution, hesitating again at the edge.

You tried—really tried—not to let your eyes linger on the broad plane of his chest, but it was impossible not to. His shirt was rumpled and half-untucked, the hem tugged up where he’d peeled it back to expose the bandage on his side. The white gauze was already marred with deep red, blooming in uneven patches that made you pause with something halfway between guilt and concern. Your gaze drifted to the sharp curve of his waist, the ridge of muscle visible beneath the bloodied wrappings. 

It was distracting. 

He was distracting.

But what you tried hardest not to think about was the bed. Specifically, how absurdly small the mattress looked with him sitting on it, shoulders nearly brushing both edges. There was no way you’d both fit. You’d be pressed against him. Shoulder to shoulder, chest to back, knee to thigh. 

You swallowed hard and told yourself not to think about it.

But you were already thinking about it.

“Don’t make it weird,” Bucky muttered.

“I’m not making it weird.”

He let out a low, tired huff, the kind that told you he was in pain but too stubborn to say it. You rolled your eyes in reply, more at yourself than him, and climbed in carefully, slipping beneath the blanket with a reluctant shiver. The bed was warmer than expected. Or rather, he was. Bucky radiated heat like a furnace, the kind that seeped into your skin and made your limbs relax before your mind could catch up. You hovered near the edge of the mattress, body stiff, spine straight like it might help you keep your distance. But it was a hopeless attempt. The bed was tiny—criminally small, really—and with him taking up so much space, there was nowhere to go but closer. One wrong move and you’d be on the floor.

“God, you’re warm,” you muttered into the pillow, trying not to sound too affected.

“Serum,” he replied shortly, his voice rough with exhaustion.

Slowly, inch by inch, you gave in. The chill in the air made it too easy to justify. You shifted toward him, the blanket tugging between you as your arm brushed against his. Then your hip. Then your thigh. Until, somehow, your bodies were nearly flush. 

He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t say a word.

And that somehow made it worse.

The silence settled between you, heavy and warm and intimate, like the air itself had thickened. You could hear his breathing, steady, but a little too deliberate. You could see his chest rise and fall from the corner of your eye. And worse, you could feel him. Every inch of him. The solid line of muscle at your side. The way your knees had somehow locked together under the blanket. How your forearm grazed his with every breath you took.

You needed a distraction. Desperately.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you snatched up the battered satellite phone, almost too quickly. The cold metal was jarring against your palm. For a moment, you considered activating the self-destruct protocol and blowing both of you up to end your shared misery. You flicked it on, the screen’s pale light casting long shadows across the room and across him.

Your eyes flicked over before you could stop them.

He was already staring at the ceiling, the faint furrow between his brows still present even in rest. His profile was defined in the low light, long lashes, strong nose, and the stubble on his jaw catching just a hint of light.

You forced yourself to look back at the tiny screen to check for any new updates.

Nothing. You were well and truly in for the night.

You scrolled to the mission briefing instead, flicking through the files to pass time, anything to distract you.

And then you saw it.

There, buried under the pre-mission notes, weather expectations, and extraction protocol, was a small addendum in the personnel request section.

Operation HARVEST: Agent Barnes, James B.Requested field partner: Agent 00149. Request approved.

You stared at it, the room suddenly quieter than it had been all night. 

That was your agent number.

He asked for you.

The same man who had spent the last six months grunting his way through every interaction, who seemed perpetually annoyed by your existence, who had made a point never to give you more than an ounce of credit, had explicitly asked to be paired with you.

You felt your throat tighten.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, as if he could sense your world shattering around you. His voice was low, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion 

You didn’t answer right away. You sat there, still curled under the heavy covers. The warmth of his body was helping, yes—but your blood was starting to simmer for a very different reason.

You turned slowly, holding the satellite phone up between your fingers.

“You want to tell me why it says on the briefing notes that you requested me as your partner for this mission?”

Bucky blinked once. His mouth parted slightly, but no sound came out.

“I asked you on the quinjet if you knew anything,” you went on, voice harsh now. “You told me it was a higher-up’s decision. You lied to my face.”

Bucky sighed through his nose, already bracing himself as he sat up straighter against the headboard. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t matter?” you scoffed, pushing yourself to your knees to face him, ignoring the goosebumps that rose as the blankets fell from your shoulders. “You picked me. You had me assigned to a mission with you, just the two of us, didn’t tell me, and then lied about it.”

“I didn’t lie—”

“You did lie.”

He dragged a hand down his face, slow and weary, but there was tension in the movement, an edge of frustration barely restrained. “I didn’t want you partnered with the other guys, alright?”

You faltered, unsure if you heard him right. “Excuse me?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“No, you can’t just say that and not explain—”

“Fine!” He groaned, exasperated. His eyes dropped away from yours, fixing instead on a knot in the cabin’s dark wood wall. “I heard them talking. Theo and a few of the other agents.”

“What?” you asked, voice tight. “What were they saying about me?”

He didn’t answer. The silence stretched, heavy and awful.

“Just say it,” you bit out.

He looked at you then. Really looked at you. And it hit you square in the chest, something dark and protective burning behind his eyes. But it was reluctant, too, as if he hated that he was about to say it out loud.

His voice was low and rough when it came. “That you’re easy. That it’d be simple to get you into bed because you’re always asking for it. That you’re a slut. I gave them a piece of my mind and reported them, but I still don’t want you around them.”

You felt it like a punch to the gut.

Your breath caught, the sting behind your eyes immediate and hot. You blinked once. Twice. The words echoed, raw and ugly, and for a second, all you could do was try not to let them settle too deep. Not to let them stick.

You weren’t naïve. You knew you didn’t sleep around any more than anyone else your age. You knew that if the situation were flipped, if you were a man, no one would bat an eye. And still, the weight of it settled heavy in your gut, all twisted up with something darker. Dread. Shame. Fury. And under it all… that sick, crawling feeling that maybe Bucky had said something. Given them reason to think they could say it. That maybe he thought the same thing deep down.

That, maybe, to him, you were just some mess he had to clean up.

The words came fast, your voice shaking. “And what, you thought you’d ride in and defend me like some white knight? You know I could easily drop Theo, I could easily drop any of those assholes!” Bucky blinked, caught off guard, but you were already going, bitter heat rising in your throat like bile.

“You thought that would make it better?” you snapped. “You think that helps? They’re probably all laughing behind my back about how I can’t defend myself—”

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let them talk about you like that!”

“Why?” you demanded. “Because you didn’t want to hear it? Or because you’ve thought the same fucking thing?”

His eyes flared with disbelief, maybe even insult.

“I would never think of you that way,” he barked, and his voice cracked like thunder. “Let alone say it out loud. Because I’m not an asshole. Not like those guys you date.”

You laughed, blunt and hollow. “Why do you care who I date?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t come up with any words, but to your surprise, he exploded before you. “Maybe because you deserve better!” he shouted, the words ripping out of him before he could take them back.

The silence after that was suffocating.

You stared at him, heart hammering in your chest, a strange cocktail of feelings in your stomach that you didn’t care to identify. He sat there, breathing hard, his hands clenched at his sides like he didn’t trust himself to speak again.

“Jesus,” you muttered. You weren’t foolish enough to believe him, to fall victim to whatever joke he was trying to play. “Give me a break.”

“I’m serious,” he mumbled this time. 

You turned your face away. “Oh yeah? Like you could do any better? Don’t be ridiculous.”

His breath hitched, like you’d slapped him. You could feel him shift beside you under the covers.

“You really think that?” Bucky asked in disbelief.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But Bucky didn’t let it stay quiet.

“You want to know the truth?” he asked, voice low and rough, as if the words had been caged for too long in his throat. “Fine.”

You turned back toward him, uncertain what expression you were even wearing anymore.

“I’ve liked you since the first damn time I saw you,” he said. “Group training. You were paired with some agent twice your size, and you still knocked him on his ass.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

“I thought you were… brilliant. And sharp. And confident. And yeah, beautiful too. You had this way of looking right through people—through me—and it scared the shit out of me. When they assigned me to mentor you, I panicked,” he said, with a dry, bitter laugh. “I thought if I pretended, if I was distant, if I acted cold, I could make it go away. Trick myself out of it.”

“But it just got worse,” he went on. “Every time I saw you smiling at some sleaze who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, every time I had to watch you flirt with some smug asshole agents, I wanted to break something. Because it should’ve been me.”

You shook your head slowly, stunned. “Bucky…”

“I hated watching you get your heart broken over and over again,” he said. “Hated seeing you walk into training after pretending like nothing happened. You didn’t deserve that. Not when I knew I could treat you better if I just had the fucking guts to say something.”

Your ribs felt suddenly too small for your body, bones pressing into your lungs.

“And now we’re stuck on a mountainside,” he said, his voice softer, hoarser, “and I’m here bleeding in a bed with you, still lying to you, still trying to act like it doesn’t kill me every time you look at me like I’m just your mentor who you hate.”

You gaped in stunned silence, heartbeat pounding in your ears. Bucky watched you expectantly.

No. No, that couldn’t be what he meant. Not really.

“I don’t know what kind of cruel joke you’re playing on me,” you finally said, voice shaking, fingers knotted in the sheets. “I don’t get it. You’ve spent this whole time being…”

“I’m being serious,” he said, eyes locked on you. “I don’t expect you to believe me. I’ve fucked this up too many times. But I swear on my life, I’m not playing a game.”

You stared at him, blinking hard. “So what, this entire time you’ve been an asshole because you were what, pretending? Pretending that you didn’t like me, pretending that you weren’t jealous, when you could’ve just talked to me?”

His silence was immediate. Heavy. It told you everything you needed to know.

Your chest rose and fell too fast. Your mind was spinning, flipping through every memory like a film reel: his cold shoulder, his clipped instructions, the scowls when you joked with someone else, the way he always hovered a few steps too close in combat zones. The way he always caught you when you fell. There had been moments. Tiny fractures in his mask. The way his gaze lingered when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The time he bandaged your hand without a word, but so gently it had made your throat tighten. The night you caught him staring at you across the gym like he was in pain.

How had you missed it?

“I need to…” You whispered, slumping back under the sheets, pulling the blanket higher around yourself as if it might guard you from the ache in your ribs. “We should sleep. It’s late. Evac’s coming once the sun is up.”

He didn’t protest. He just nodded once, jaw tight.

Neither of you said another word.

Sleep didn’t come easily.

—

You hadn’t seen much of Bucky since you were both airlifted off the mountain.

He’d been recovering from his wound, officially. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was avoiding you. No texts. No nods in the hallway. No eye contact across the cafeteria. Just cold silence.

Coward.

You’d spent the past week half-waiting for him to come to his senses. The other half had been consumed wondering what the hell you’d do if he did. Because yes, you found him infuriating. Yes, he was emotionally constipated and moody and had the charm of a brick wall. But he was also gorgeous in that tortured-soul, sharp-jawed, arms-too-big-for-his-shirts kind of way. He cared about you, in his own twisted Bucky way. He’d taken a bullet for you. Defended you. Chose you.

And now he was just… gone.

You were leaning against the wall at the edge of the main gym, arms crossed, purposefully not looking at Theo and the other assholes you had suspected Bucky had been right about, when you heard footsteps and someone cleared their throat beside you.

Yelena stood beside you, her smirk suspiciously wider than usual.

You turned, brows knitting in apprehension. “Hey.”

“Congratulations,” 

“For what?” You replied hesitantly, watching as her brows lifted in delighted surprise. 

“You haven’t heard?” Her voice was alarmingly gleeful, like she was especially thrilled to be the bearer of whatever news she was about to lay upon you. “Barnes finally accepted your mentor transfer request.”

Your heart flatlined for a second. 

“What?”

Yelena, oblivious to your distress, continued to dig further. “I don’t know what you did to him up on that mountain, but… damn. I didn’t think he’d actually do it.”

“I didn’t ask for a mentor transfer,” you muttered, dread settling in your chest.

Yelena’s expression faltered. “Oh. Well, you have one now. You’re with Thor. They tried to pawn you off onto me, but you know, got my hands busy with the new group coming in—”

“Thor?!” You snapped, interrupting her spiel, “He’s a drunk! And he’s not even here half the time, too busy in Asgard—”

Yelena gave you a helpless shrug, and that’s when the doors to the gym opened and in walked the ghost of your week-long frustration.

Bucky was in full training gear, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, compression shirt clinging to him like a second skin. His hair was ruffled, pushed back half-heartedly like he couldn’t be bothered to fix it, a few strands falling into his eyes. The corded muscles of his arms were on full display, the glint of his vibranium arm catching the light with every step. He looked unfairly good, carved from grief and sleepless nights. But it was the way he wouldn’t look at you that struck harder than anything else. His jaw was tight, lips set in a permanent pout, that brooding scowl etched so deep it felt deliberate. He looked everywhere but at you, like you weren’t even there. 

Your blood boiled.

Without a word, you peeled yourself from the wall and marched toward him. He spotted you mid-stride, his posture tensing like he was preparing for impact.

“Hey—” he started.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, voice low and venom-laced.

“Not here,” he muttered, eyes flicking toward the other agents filtering in behind you. A few of them had already glanced over curiously, settling in for whatever show was about to unfold.

“Too late,” you hissed. “You requested a mentor transfer for me without even telling me?”

“I thought it was what you wanted.” You both knew he was lying, and he refused to meet your eye. This wasn’t about what you wanted. It was about him feeling embarrassed after his outburst on the mountain. 

“Oh, really?” You stepped closer. “Because I don’t remember asking you to make my career decisions for me.”

“I was doing you a favour.”

“Yeah? Maybe try talking to me like a normal fucking person, and then I’ll tell you what I want.”

His eyes flickered up, stormy blues locking onto your face. “And what is it you want?”

You stared him down, tilting your head slightly, weighing the war going on inside you.

You.

I want you.

The thought was immediate, impulsive, and so painfully real it made your chest ache. But you shoved it down, crushed it before it could breathe. No. That was stupid. Why the hell would you want him—this man-child who’d ghosted you for a week, who’d spent the last six months acting like every word out of your mouth was a personal offence, who seemed to find joy in making you feel like nothing?

But then again… maybe you both had been trying so hard to deny the truth, burying something under six months of thinly veiled insults and sparring matches that got too rough. Maybe he was pushing you away because he didn’t trust himself to keep it professional. And maybe you were just as bad, biting back, rising to the bait, pretending you didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered or the way his voice softened when you were actually hurt.

You had to know if it was real.

The shuffle of movement and muffled chatter around you signalled the start of group training, slicing through your heated stand-off. Agents around you began to pair off, leaving you and Bucky still locked in place, face to face, breath mingling.

You lifted your chin. “Be my sparring partner?” you asked, voice loud enough for the others to hear, but eyes fixed solely on him.

He didn’t argue. Didn’t flinch. Just nodded once, tight-lipped, like he’d been waiting for the invitation all along.

You squared off on the mat, bouncing on your toes, adrenaline already coiling in your veins. Bucky moved like a soldier, controlled, fluid, annoyingly graceful.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” he muttered as you circled.

“I’m not,” you said, “Just testing a theory.”

He raised a brow. “What theory?”

You lunged, caught his arm, and twisted into a low grapple—just enough to draw him in.

His chest brushed yours. His breath hitched.

Then you kissed him.

Hard.

Your lips crashed against his mid-motion, stealing the next move right off his tongue. You felt him freeze, just for a heartbeat, before his hands twitched at your waist like he didn’t know whether to shove you away or pull you in. You felt the tension roll off him in waves. The way his body reacted was instinct. Shock. Hunger. 

His movements hesitated, and to your delight, despite the entire gym watching, he began to kiss you back. 

And that hesitation?

It was all you needed.

You shifted fast, breaking the kiss, then ducking low, hooking your leg behind his knee as you spun. In one fluid motion, you swept his legs out from under him and used the twist of your momentum to pull him down with you. He stumbled, off-balance, and you moved like lightning, hips snapping around his waist, thighs locking tight. You rotated with the drop, forcing him onto his back as you rolled with the momentum.

He hit the mat hard.

You were straddling him, thighs clamped around his ribs, palms flat on his chest. You smirked down at him, panting. 

Bucky stared up at you, winded, stunned, and very, very pinned. “That was dirty.”

You leaned down, your face just inches from his again. “So was your little mentor stunt. Call it even.”

Throughout the room, the entire gym was dead silent, staring. You gracefully dismounted him and marched off the mat, but Bucky scrambled up and followed you.

“Oh, now you want to talk?” you snapped as he caught up beside you.

“You can’t just kiss me and then walk away like that!”

“Why not?”

“You kissed me to mess with me.”

“I kissed you to see if you meant what you said on the mountain.”

The two of you burst through the gym doors and into the hallway. You didn’t look back. You didn’t have to. Bucky’s heavy footsteps were right behind you, his presence unmistakable, all coiled frustration and breathless anger.

A few agents stood frozen near the water station, others lingering by the mission board, all of them caught mid-conversation as they turned to witness the fallout. You were aware of the eyes on you, the awkward silence that followed, but you didn’t care. Let them stare. Let them gossip.

You stormed past them without pause as Bucky chased you like a dog on a leash that was just about to snap.

“You just kissed me in the middle of sparring,” he shouted after you, voice ragged and accusing. “In front of everyone. Is this a joke to you?” 

You didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. The elevator was too slow, too exposed. Instead, you veered to the stairwell and shoved the door open with enough force that it bounced off the wall. The clanging echo followed you as you started up, two steps at a time.

“Oh my god, would you just shut up already?” you snapped over your shoulder, breath catching as your hand slid along the metal railing, spiralling up the concrete stairwell. 

Behind you, Bucky cursed under his breath. “It was unfair.”

He reached for you and just missed your wrist. You yanked it away before he could try again, your skin buzzing with the ghost of contact.

“Isn’t that what you taught me to do? Use anything to my advantage?” you bit out, pushing through the next door as you reached your floor. The hall here was quieter and dimmer. You passed rows of familiar doors. Your apartment was at the end of the corridor, and every step toward it made your pulse throb louder in your ears. “What, you have a problem with me using my assets against you?

“Assets, huh? You know, you really are unbelievable—”

You let out an exasperated groan, cutting him back. “You kissed me back.”

That stopped him.

His boots scraped the floor as he slowed a few paces behind you, chest heaving, eyes wide with shock.

“What?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned your key in the door. The metal clicked, and you pushed it open with a little more care this time.

“You kissed me back,” you repeated softly, almost to yourself this time and stepped inside. 

Bucky barged in after you.

“You don’t understand—I’m… I’m trying to protect you!” His voice followed you into the room, desperate. 

You kicked off your shoes without looking at him. “I don’t need protecting.”

“Would you just listen for once—” he snapped, shutting the door behind him. 

You rolled your eyes and started pulling off your shirt, tossing it onto your bed and turned to face him, arms crossed. “I am listening, you’re the one not listening to me.”

Bucky stood just inside the door, like he hadn’t decided whether to walk out or burn the whole damn building down. 

“I shouldn’t have told you that on the mountain, it was unprofessional of me.” His voice cracked as his words poured out faster than it seemed he could stop them, emotion thick in every syllable. “I requested the mentor switch because I don’t trust myself to keep pretending. I can’t control myself around you!”

You padded barefoot across the room to the small bathroom.

“How am I supposed to go on training you?” He muttered, gesturing vaguely in your direction. He was repeating himself now, rambling like a crazed man completely oblivious to your actions. “You pull that stunt in the middle of training, humiliate both of us in front of the others, and then act like it meant nothing? Jesus, I can’t even think straight when you—”

You peeled your leggings off and let it fall to the floor behind you.

“—and don’t even get me started on that assets comment! What the hell does that even mean? You can’t just go around weaponising your—”

You unclasped your bra and bent to turn on the shower. The hiss of water filled the room, steam already curling up the mirror.

“—I mean, are you even hearing yourself? You just, what? Decided to tackle and kiss me like it was some kind of training tactic?! That’s not even…Are you using my confession against me? God, you’re impossible, I swear—”

He looked up.

And stopped.

Mid-sentence. Mid-breath.

There you were, back turned, steam catching on the bare curve of your spine and trailing over the lines of your thighs, standing in nothing but your underwear.

His words died in his throat like a car slamming into a wall.

Mouth slightly open. Eyes locked. 

You glanced at him over your shoulder, saw the exact moment it hit him and raised a brow, feigning casual curiosity as you stepped toward the open shower door, letting the foggy heat billow around your legs.

“You joining me?” you asked sweetly. “Sure sounds like you need to cool off.”

He said nothing.

Just stared.

Like you’d just knocked the wind out of him for the second time that day. Just that haunted, hungry look in his eyes like he was trying to figure out if he’d died and gone to hell. Or heaven.

His mouth opened, like he had something to say, some half-assed rebuttal, some snarky comeback.

But no words came out.

Only a low, helpless breath.

“I wasn’t using it against you.” You clarified as you dragged your underwear down your legs, tossing them somewhere across the room. “I was seeing if you meant what you said.”

You stepped nto the shower, leaving him stood stunned in the bathroom doorway. A soft sigh slipped from your lips as warm water poured down your shoulders and back, washing away the dull ache in your muscles. For a moment, you simply stood there, facing the stream, eyes closed, the patter of droplets against your scalp soothing like white noise in a storm.

Then came the soft rattle of the shower door behind you. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was him.

The subtle swish of movement was followed by the cool press of metal against your waist, his vibranium arm snaking around you, cool against the heat of the water and your flushed skin. Goosebumps prickled instantly across your stomach, nipples peaking at the contrast.

You turned slowly, steam swirling around you in thick waves as you met Bucky’s eyes. His wet hair was slicked against his neck, droplets clinging to the dark strands and sliding down his jawline. Beads of water traced the line of his throat and the rise of his Adam’s apple, disappearing over the muscle of his chest. His hands found your hips, warm and solid, the grip almost possessive.

You tried not to look down, tried not to let your eyes drift to the answer to a question you’d been too proud to ask. Instead, a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you stepped into him, letting your palms slide up the hard planes of his chest, past his dogtags and looped around the back of his neck.

“I think this is going to do the opposite of cooling me down,” he muttered, voice husky, half-lost beneath the steady rhythm of water hitting tile.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, and then you kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle.

Your mouths crashed together like you’d both been holding back for too long. Hungry. Desperate. Sloppy. The water only made it messier, lips sliding, catching, breath hissing as teeth grazed. He kissed like he needed to claim this moment before the world snapped back into place. You returned the kiss with equal urgency, fingers threading into his wet hair, tugging, needing more.

His hands slid down your back, firm, sure, guiding you until your spine pressed against the slick wall of the shower. You wrapped a leg around his hip, instinctive, needy, and he growled softly into your mouth as his hand dropped to support your thigh, holding you steady. You ground your hips into him, once, twice. His grip tightened, and the next thing you knew, he was lifting you, hands firm on your ass as he carried you effortlessly from the shower. The bathroom was thick with steam, fog curling along the edges of the mirror and dripping from the ceiling. Water trailed down both of you, soaking the tiles as he strode across the room.

Your back met the edge of the counter with a soft thud, followed by the chill of the fogged-up mirror behind you. The coolness shocked your skin and made your spine arch sharply, drawing a low noise from your throat. Bucky didn’t miss a beat. He was still kissing you, still swallowing your gasp as his hands ran down your thighs and urged them further apart.

He stepped in, slotting himself between your legs, his body flush against yours. The sensation of him made your head spin. Water from the still-running shower continued to hiss in the background, steam billowing out and filling the room like a cocoon. You were both soaked, skin slick and glistening, lips swollen, breaths short. Your fingers found the back of his neck again, anchoring yourself as he kissed you deeper, slower now, like he was savouring every second.

His hands slid down your hips and tugged you forward until your thighs bracketed his waist. You felt his cock, solid and insistent, pulsing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and your breath caught.

“I think I’ve dreamt of this moment.” He confessed between kisses, before consuming you again.

It took little resistance for him to push into you in one smooth motion. You weren’t just drenched from the shower. Your whole body sang from the shock of it, a strangled sound tearing from your throat as your fingers fisted in his wet hair. His mouth tore from yours with a ragged gasp, trailing down your jaw, your neck, leaving fire in his wake. Bucky braced a hand behind you on the counter, the other gripping your thigh, steadying you as his hips began to move precise and relentless.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he muttered into the curve of your neck, voice wrecked. His lips brushed against your pulse, the edge of his teeth grazing the skin like he was half a second from losing control. “How many nights I told myself I couldn’t touch you... shouldn’t want you, couldn’t have you.”

You let out a breathless laugh that quickly turned into a gasp as his hips snapped forward again. 

“Keep going,” you rasped, one hand clawing up the curve of his back, the other buried in his hair. “Don’t stop.”

His only reply was a low, broken groan against your skin, like he was coming apart just from the feel of you wrapped around him. You locked your ankles behind him and rocked your hips forward, drawing him deeper. A spark of pleasure flared up your spine, making your head fall back against the fogged-up mirror..

“I tried so fucking hard to keep my distance.” He chuckled low against your collarbone, though the sound was strained, caught between shallow pants and a raw groan of need. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His vibranium hand slid between your bodies. His fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling with gentle strokes, and your body jolted in response. An uncontrollable whimper left you as your thighs trembled around him.

“I’ve been dying to hear those sounds from you.” Bucky panted against your ear. 

You pressed closer to him, shaking legs tightening around his waist as you pursued his fingers. He chuckled at your poorly hidden desperation, chest vibrating from the sound. As his fingers swirled, cock pumping in and out, you felt your body clench involuntarily around him, drawing a moan from him. 

“Fuck, Bucky, ” you breathed, barely able to form the word as your pleasure surged, unrelenting and dizzying. “If I’d known this was what you were holding back, I would’ve pushed harder.”

Bucky’s rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming uneven and desperate, chasing the high he could feel coiling tighter in both of you. Your raw moans echoed around the small bathroom, rising above the hiss of the shower and the frantic beat of the slap of wet skin. Your climax broke over you like a wave crashing against the shore. Your entire body arched, legs trembling as you whimpered, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut. Pleasure tore through you like lightning, leaving your nerves sparking in its wake.

With a guttural groan muffled against your neck, Bucky followed you over the edge. You felt him twitch inside you, warmth spreading as he spilt into you, his hips stuttering erratically as he buried himself as deep as he could go. His arms tightened around you, as though he needed to hold you close to keep himself grounded.

For a long, breathless moment, you stayed like that. Tangled together, trembling, the heat of the afterglow. The water still rained behind you, forgotten, as you both came down slowly, limbs heavy and slick with sweat and steam. Then, slowly, Bucky lifted his head to look at you. His hair was plastered to his forehead in wet strands, water trailing down the lines of his cheekbones and along his jaw. His eyes, dark and hungry, searched yours with a mix of dazed satisfaction and something else. A flicker of awe, maybe. Or disbelief.

You gave him a slow, wicked smirk and reached up to brush a dripping lock of hair off his brow, your fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“I need you to pull that transfer request, by the way,” you murmured, voice low and rough with breath. “There is no way in hell I’m training with Thor.”

His lips twitched, a hoarse laugh escaping him, short and surprised. But the fire in his gaze didn’t fade. If anything, it darkened.

“I’ll pull it…” he said, voice thick with promise as his hands slid back down to your waist, “…when I’m done with you.”

From the way his fingers gripped your hips, you had a feeling that wouldn’t be anytime soon. 

---

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[cosycryptid]

Steve slowly realises way more customers end up actually renting something when he flirts a little with them. So for the sake of making sure he gets the Christmas bonus him and Robin were promised if they hit a certain target, he stops being picky about who he flirts with and starts turning his charm on for literally every adult who walks into the store.

It works surprisingly well. At first he's worried that some of the guys who come in might try to punch him, but he's mastered the art of being subtle with his smiles and compliments. So they mostly just have a pleasant chat with him and leave feeling conflicting emotions and carrying a movie they hadn't planned to rent, but somehow felt compelled to. When Steve and Robin get good feedback from the manager for their consistently improved rental figures, Robin starts encouraging Steve to keep it up.

The only issue is because he's spending pretty much every day flirting with people at work, it becomes second nature to him and he does it in his personal life. Most of the time he does it without even realising, but there are the rare embarrassing occasions where he catches himself saying or doing something that would not be interpreted the way he meant it to be.

One of the worst was when he dropped the kids off at the Byers' place for a sleepover and when Joyce thanked him for getting them there safe, he said, "Anything for you, Joyce," in an unintentionally suggestive tone and winked at her.

He got about half way down the driveway before practically running back to her with a bright red face, apologising profusely. "I'm so sorry, that came out really weird. I just meant that like I think of you as a mom and - no wait, shit, that makes it sound weirder." He had to take a breath to find the words and it came out stiff and unnatural when he said, "I appreciate everything you've done for us all and if you ever need help with anything you can always ask me."

The party witnessed the entire interaction and relentlessly tease him about it and mimic what he said while making kissy faces every time he's scolding them for doing or saying something stupid. They only stop when Will tells them to because that's his mom and he doesn't want to relive that weird, uncomfortable moment where Steve sounded like he was trying to proposition her.

An even worse occurrence happened not long after, when Hopper saw Steve standing around by his car, waiting for the kids to get their shit together and get out of the arcade. Hopper was on patrol, so he called over to him jokingly, "Loitering is a criminal offence, you know."

And Steve, before he could stop it, put one hand on his hip, brushed the other through his hair and said, "Are you gonna cuff me for it, Hop?"

Steve's blood ran cold in the deafening silence that followed where they looked at each other with horrified expressions, but Hopper managed to collect himself quickly. "I'm going to forget you just said that because I know that's not how you meant it to come out."

Steve couldn't look him in the eye when he quietly responded, "That would be really great, thank you."

He also had a weird moment with Jonathan, when he and Nancy walked into Family Video - which to be fair is Steve's main flirting ground - one afternoon later that week.

"So I heard you tried to flirt with both my parents?" Jonathan opened with.

And instead of more blushing and apologising, something unhinged in Steve's brain made him lean forward and say, "You jealous, Jonathan?" and even more wild is the fact that his body thought it would be a great idea to press his index finger to the middle of Jonathan's chest as he said it.

Jonathan looked at him, wide eyed, and only found himself able to let out a blank sounding, "Um."

Nancy, however, stared him down and said, "He's taken, Steve."

Steve pulled his hand away like he'd been burnt as soon as he caught on to what she meant.

And because Steve is a disaster, what was meant to be an assurance that he would never go for Nancy's partner, comes out entirely different.

“Relax, I’m not after your boyfriend. I have much better taste. Like… you, for example." It dawned on him that his tone had been way off as both Nancy and Jonathan stared at him like he had grown an extra head. "That sounded better in my brain. I've moved on, I swear. I meant my past relationships show that my type is not Jonathan. No offence, Jonathan, you are a good looking guy, like you're unconventionally handsome and it's kind of charming... I need to shut up."

He heard himself digging a deeper hole but couldn't make it stop.

"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?" Robin said, slapping him on the shoulder. "You're supposed to flirt with customers, not everyone."

"I'm sorry, I was going for reassuring this time. Why does everything I say sound wrong lately?" Steve groaned with his face pressed to his hands.

"If it makes it any better, it totally would have worked on me if I was single and into guys," Jonathan shrugged.

"No, Jonathan. That doesn't make it better." Steve snapped in response.

Eddie is blissfully unaware of this new development, until he invites Steve and Robin to one of Corroded Coffin's shows.

Steve can't keep his eyes off Eddie the entire time, and it seems as if Eddie notices and thinks it's weird because Robin definitely notices and announces to Steve that he's being weird. Also, Eddie's eyes keep flitting over to him and he definitely messed up a note or two at some point, which must mean Steve's weird behaviour is throwing Eddie off. Steve tries his best to stop but he keeps doing it so in the end he just lets himself stare and decides he'll explain it to Eddie later.

Then someone tries to approach Eddie at the side of the stage after their set, looking at him with an expression Steve recognises as one that says 'come home with me'. And he feels awful about it because he should let Eddie have that with someone, especially after all the shit he's been though, but his traitorous feet carry him through the crowd to steal Eddie's attention before the person can get there. Robin's left to follow after Steve like a parent chasing a toddler who's running with a sharp object.

Eddie's got no clue that Steve just ruined some potential action for him as he downs a bottle of water so quickly some of it drips down his shirt. Steve's brain suddenly goes 'wow I wish I was that bottle of water', which he will admit catches him off guard because where the fuck did that thought come from? All the other times he'd behaved like this, it was without any thought at all until after the fact. He's also weirdly satisfied when he notices the person who was coming over to talk to Eddie is walking away dejectedly.

"Hey, you guys made it!" Eddie says, his face lighting up as he notices Steve and Robin standing there.

"Of course we did," Robin smiles.

Eddie gives both of them a hug, but Steve's seems to linger a little longer and Steve has to fight himself not to lean in closer and smell Eddie's hair because that's a really fucking weird impulse, especially since Eddie is all sweaty from performing.

"So, what did you think?" Eddie asks, a slightly nervous tone in his voice.

"You were awesome," Steve says, and mentally pats himself on the back for saying something that sounds normal.

"Really?" Eddie asks hopefully.

Something about the look in his eyes makes Steve's chest feel strange. Which is the only explanation he has for immediately demolishing his winning streak against his flirty tendencies.

He means to compliment Eddie on how talented he is at playing guitar. That's what he tells himself anyway.

What actually comes out of his mouth is, "Yeah, you're really good with your hands, Eddie," and it sounds absolutely filthy with the low tone of Steve's voice and the little lip bite he does after, all while leaning in close and making eye contact. There is no room for interpretation at all, but Steve doesn't feel the usual panic and embarrassment that comes when he accidentally does something flirtatious. Huh.

Even more surprising, when Eddie closes the gap even further, raises an eyebrow at him and says, "You should see what they can do when there isn't a guitar in the way, sweetheart," it doesn't throw Steve off one bit, he only feels a spark of excitement at the challenge.

"Maybe I will," he replies, his gaze darting between Eddie's lips and his eyes. And yeah, he's pretty much realised that he's just intentionally flirting with Eddie at this point. He's hoping he'll leave with him because they can't exactly kiss in front of a bar full of people.

"Oh my God," Robin groans, exasperated, and both boys break apart. "Could you take me home before I have to witness anymore of this? It's bad enough watching you flirt when you don't know you're doing it, Steve."

"Shit, sorry, Robin," Steve apologises. "Yeah, I'll drive you home." Robin thanks him, says goodbye to Eddie and starts walking towards the exit. Steve turns back to look at Eddie. "See you later," he smiles, but when he's about to turn to follow Robin, he feels ringed fingers wrap firmly around his wrist.

"Yeah, you will," Eddie responds, his tone still flirty and his eyes watching Steve with purpose. "Your place or mine, big boy?"

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Mary Harrington finally gives up one day, boards a plane home alone knowing that her husband is likely already in bed with a woman ten years younger than her. For the first time in her life, she doesn't feel hurt. Only mildly disgusted, maybe with herself too.

She arrives in Hawkins to ruins that are slowly getting rebuilt, smoke almost cleared, and weird whispers about her son and his new friend, the trailer trash Eddie Munson. Something about being too close, too intimate for two men. She feels the familiar disdain, the words "what would your father think" - and then exhales and lets them go. She is past caring about Richard Harrington.

Instead, she sits down with them. She is honest, she was in love once and she knows those eyes - Steve's look like her own, after all. Behind the adoration, she sees the darkness in Steve's face, the pain, and thinks - I couldn't fix my husband, but I can fix this. She gently asks them both if anyone has been giving them trouble. When she hears several familiar names of local God-fearing women, she laughs for the first time in what feels like forever. "Leave them to me," she says.

She stops by for coffee. Chats a little. Gently opens the topic of the rumors about her son. And then: "I understand, Linda. Homosexuality is a sin. What a funny thing, one could say the same about fucking my husband last spring. Of course, it's been so long...I'm sure your husband knows?" One by one, the rumors quiet down and Mary's smile grows into its old radiance.

The first evening back, she summons all the remaining rage, disappointment and sadness over wasted years, poking at old wounds until she's sobbing. And like that, she calls Richard and wails into the phone how everything is destroyed, their house almost gone, and gently guides Richard to the brilliant idea of signing over the small flat in the center he's been renting to Steve. She knows Richard has no patience for her emotions, and she sobs out how Steve has been fixing the town, how he'd become everything Richard had ever wanted, a true pillar of the community, but he has nowhere to sleep, oh how it's breaking her heart, what would the town think-

He promises to send over his lawyer the next day. She thanks him through the tears, says one last "I love you" and with the click of the ended call, dries her tears and pours herself a glass of wine. "How did I do?" she asks.

Steve just laughs and hands her a cheese plate he's been preparing in the kitchen. He nudges Eddie who is staring with wide eyes. "What?" asks Steve with a smirk. "You've always admired my bitchiness and pragmatism. Where do you think I got it from?"

The flat is signed over the next day. Mary kisses her son and Eddie goodbye - she would go back to her parents for a while, she says, just to get the divorce finalized. Plus, one of her old friends still seems interested, her being the one that got away and all that, and Mary intends to test that theory. She will keep in touch, she says. And for the first time, Steve believes her.

[harrington-stevie]

never have i ever

Summary: You're playing the game "Never have I ever" at Dustin's birthday party and it surprises you when Eddie reveals a secret of his personal life.

Warning: 18+ MDNI, masturbation, oral (m receiving)

Word count: 3.1k

You're only at this party because it's Dusin Henderson's 18th birthday. He thinks he's old enough to drink, so he makes sure all of his friends are drinking too. Except, he's only adept at drinking beer. Not like you, though. You like anything strong. You can drink beer, cocktails, tequila, anything alcoholic.

As you sip on your piña colada, one made especially by Jonathan, you watch as the younger boys play D&D at the bar. On the other side of the table, Eddie is smoking weed with his friends as they watch their friends playing. You try not to be obvious with your glances that are being directed at the metalhead, but you might be failing doing so because of the drinks you had.

Steve is trying to get your attention as he talks about his date, and Robin can't seem to listen to him because she's too busy checking Vickie out. They've been going on dates, but she's too invested and doesn't hide it. He's babbling and rambling, not hiding his excitement, and you feel bad you're not exactly listening to him.

The Hideout was rented just for Dustin's birthday, so you're allowed to listen to whatever you guys felt like. You and your friends are old enough to drink, and you're all taking care of the younger group in front of you. Will doesn't drink and Eleven isn't fond of it. Max is the one along with Mike who likes to try on cocktails and Jonathan makes sure he adds enough ounces of alcohol.

"Okay, you know what? If they're going to play a boring game, let's just play our own game!" Robin says as soon as Steve shuts his mouth

You both ask her what game it is and she seems excited about it. "Never have I ever"

Steve rolls his eyes and mumbles something and you just snort.

It's not like it's a forbidden game, but it sure can be fun.

She gathers every adult, including Eddie, who clearly couldn't be bothered by the idea. His friends decided to stay and watch the youngsters playing. As you all sit around a bigger table, Robin and Nancy spread shot glasses to each one of you, placing a good amount of tequila on each glass.

You don't protest, you like the idea of playing something like that. And it's funny how some of them, like Eddie and Steve, look like they're afraid of doing it.

You nudge the curly haired man beside you and whisper "You seem pretty worried"

He nudges you back and mocks you, shaking his head softly "Nah, just not the biggest fan of these games"

"Okay! Listen. I'll start and the round goes on to the right. Don't bullshit us and don't be soft" Robin shouts from the other side of the table, preparing herself before starting it.

They're all telling off things based on their own experiences, until Argyle decides to be the greatest menace ever. He started saying specific stuff that weren't related to him, rather to find out if people have ever done anything. The tequila shots were smaller so you all wouldn't die from alcohol poisoning.

You started to feel giddy, your cheeks were burning red and every time Eddie would bump his arm against yours, you would feel squirmy in your seat.

"Never have I ever been given a blowjob" Jonathan said and the guys took their shots. Argyle wouldn't stop laughing at this point, but mostly because he was drunk and high on weed.

It took a few seconds for you all to notice the fact that Eddie didn't take his shot and all eyes were pointed at him. He was leaning against his chair with a bandana over his head, so he wouldn't feel hot from drinking. His t-shirt was wet from the drink he missed and spilled over it. From your point of view, he looked hot as fuck.

"What? Yeah, I've never been sucked before and I'm not ashamed. I've barely hooked up with girls before" He seemed unbothered from saying the truth and it took them by surprise.

At least Steve and Jonathan were. Argyle, not so much. They've been friends for a while and they've shared experiences before. Meaning they didn't have many, but the fact no one ever wanted to give Eddie a blowjob seemed kinda off to you somehow.

"Huh, it's their loss" You murmured but loud enough for him to hear you

"What's that?" He rested his elbow over the table and leaned his head against his hand, having your full attention.

Eddie was holding a smug on his face and his lips were curved upwards. He pretended he didn't listen to you, but he knows what he heard.

"Uh– I mean" You blew through your closed mouth, trying to disguise your temptation of complimenting him. "Ah, they're all just stupid for not doing that"

"Really?" He pushes, biting his inner lower lip as he still muses towards you.

As you cross your arms in front of you, Eddie laughs at the way you react to his teasing and sits back straight on his chair. The game doesn't take too long to end, especially when Nancy says she's feeling kind of sick, and Vickie is about to throw up on the table.

You all scatter around, getting up and collecting the shot glasses. You don't feel sick, but you sure feel funny and like you're about to float from the amount of tequila you just had.

As soon as you turn on your heels to go back to the table, Eddie is standing there in front of you, holding a bottle of water. He's still wearing the bandana and it makes him look gorgeous from how the lights are hitting him. Without his bangs, you can see him more clearly. How his eyes are blown from the weed he smoked, the way his eyebrows are perfectly shaped, just like the shape of his plump lips.

You don't think he wouldn't notice, but he tilted his head to the side and gave you a sided smile. The kind of smile you give someone when you're about to mess with them, when you want to taunt them.

"Why are you looking at me that way, sunshine? Something wrong with my face?"

He follows you as you start to walk towards the table and you shake your head, hiding your thoughts as you drink your water. Eddie doesn't even let you sit without pulling a chair for you. He sits next to you, facing you. He crosses his arms and slumps back.

When he does that, your eyes literally drop a few inches to watch how he just sits there with his legs spread open, almost an invitation to what you've been thinking about.

You almost choke on the water from drinking it too fast. He takes the bottle off your hand and closes it, keeping his previous demeanor.

"Okay, now you're just acting weird. What the hell happened?" He sounds a little concerned, but the fact he's sitting like that in front of you doesn't help it.

You shrug, taking a deep breath. You cross your legs and lick your lips playfully before opening your mouth to speak. This small action sends a shock wave through his own body but it lasts a fraction of time.

You pull your chair closer to his, your legs standing in the middle of his. Eddie shifts his eyes to your legs and the way you are looking at him.

"You wouldn't wanna know what it's like to get a blowjob, Eddie?" You try not to sound like you're enticing him, or even provoking him. But the context says otherwise.

He laughs nervously, diverting his eyes from you. He looks at the ceiling and sighs. You see him taking a deep breath, looking back at you.

"What is this conversation about, really? None of the girls I've gone out with would wanna suck a freak off. They just wanted to hook up because I'm sort of famous in town. And I've had sex like two times. So really, don't bother with the subject"

He played defensive, like he was offended. You didn't intend to sound as if you're joking and making fun of him for not having much sex.

"No– Eddie, I'm not trying to make fun of you. You're such a grumpy little man! Come here" You quickly get up and pull him by his hand, following to the back of the bar.

You knew the whole place. You've been at the bar a hundred times and he talked about the back of the bar where he and his band use as backstage. They had set up a few furniture including one couch.

One you pushed him to after you closed the door and locked it. He looked at you terrified but amused at the same time, because he had no idea what was happening.

You sat beside him, resting your arm on the back of the couch. His brows were furrowed and when you noticed how pretty his lips were you couldn't hold it back.

"We're friends, right? You trust me?" You ask, your voice a little shy and your tone a little lower.

He nodded and tilted his head, again. "Yeah, sunshine. If we weren't, you know I wouldn't let you fucking kidnap me and bring me here" He jokes.

It's the way he calls you sunshine. The way he looks tenderly at his friends and how he treats everyone. It's so fucking cute. It's not even the alcohol talking and you know that.

You also know sometimes he throws glances at you, but you know he wouldn't do shit about that. He's too afraid of committing, too afraid of being heartbroken. He just doesn't know what he's actually missing.

And then you laugh like you're embarrassed, your head is hanging low because you can't seem to face him right now. But he pinches your chin carefully, looking right at you. His fingertips aren't that soft and you know it's from playing guitar. They also smell like smoke.

"What is it?" He asks again, pleading chocolate brown eyes staring into your soul. You look back at him and move your face until you're just a few inches away from him. "Oh?"

At first, he seems confused and kind of lost. But it's only a matter of seconds until he's the one taking you in and kissing you softly. He tastes like tequila and cherry from the gum he was chewing. It's intoxicating, it's a mix of feelings for you. He's still holding your chin. He uses the other one as leverage and holds your neck. You're anxious to taste him, literally.

The euphoria hits you like a train wreck when he lets you pull his hair a bit. He tries not to gasp from the touch, and he instinctively bites a small bit of your lower lip. It sends you to a frenzy and your other hand flies up to his crotch. Obviously, he's hard. Not just from the touch, but from the kiss. From how you hold his hair.

Eddie never had a girl hold his hair like that, he barely had a girl that interested in him. And he likes the feeling of being desired, it's different. And knowing you, he feels like he can trust you.

So he lets you touch him. Both your mouths never leave, only adding more fuel to his fire. You notice his behavior and try to unzip his jeans without being concerned about breaking the kiss.

He helps you out lifting his hips so you can get rid of it, trying to focus on kissing him and touching him. You love the feeling of having someone this horny for you. You feel his hardness grow through the fabric and you can feel the dampness already.

"You're so hard for me, Eds" You whisper hovering your lips over Eddie's and he grunts in response.

Your little evil laugh makes him more turned on for you, and his first instinct is to pull your hair, but not with force. He pulls you back a little, enough for him to have a look at you, the way you stare back at him with lust in your eyes.

"You're so gorgeous" He mumbles, his eyes sparkly. When you grip his hard cock tight, he hisses at the touch and closes his eyes forcefully.

He's still holding your hair and when you do that again, he grips it tighter. He's playing your game. Only he's the one getting something out of it. At least today.

You hold his underwear and pull it down, watching as his dick springs free from the fabric. Red tip, already leaking and begging for more of your attention. Eddie doesn't let go of you, only enough for you to start sliding down the couch, kneeling in front of him. You look at him before looking at his cock, it's trimmed and it looks gorgeous. It's already begging for your attention.

The alcohol in your system seems to evaporate immediately. Eddie glances down at you with concerned eyes, like he's afraid you won't do it. But you glance up and nod, reassuring him you will do it, smiling just before you start giving him the pleasure he deserves.

You lick a stripe through his shaft, tasting him for the first time. He didn't know the feeling until then, and it made him pulse like he never did before. One hand holding your hair back and the other one gripping tightly on the edge of the couch.

Your tongue savors his precum until you reach the tip and give it a small kiss. You look at him again, he's trying to hold back his whimpers. You know it's hard for him to handle the touch as it is his first time. Usually something this provocative causes a man to last only a few minutes.

But you take your time, taking his cock inside your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. It's not your first time, so you don't gag anymore.

You bob your head up and down a few times, sucking him and the liquid coming off of him. You use one hand to grip his balls, and the other one you leave resting over his stomach. He seems to love it.

He watches you carefully, he looks at how your tongue roams up and down his length, reaching the tip again, swallowing thickly. You feel it pulsing every now and then, precum spreading all over it until you suck it in again.

"Jesus fuck" Eddie moans. He lets out a loud, unsteady breath. His hand is gripping your hair carefully and if you didn't know any better, he's just being gentle when you know he would pull it harder. He was almost melting from the feeling of your mouth. 

You take him back and forth, rolling your tongue around it. You lick his cock down and reach his balls, sucking it until your mouth is full and he struggles to keep his eyes open because he wants to watch it all.

You hold his shaft with your delicate hand and pump him, your mouth helping out with the job. You sank back down lower, taking every inch of him, looking up at him. Your lips slid perfectly around his skin and it made him even harder. He starts to buckle his hip when he glances at you, seeing lust in your eyes again.

Your eyes are blown from pleasure and Eddie wonders if you’re feeling the heat between your legs as well. He wants to know if your pussy is wet from doing all this with him and he can’t help but thrust against your mouth. He starts slowly, until you’re feeling comfortable having his entire length in the back of your throat. 

Eddie watches when you let him fuck your mouth mercilessly, feeling his tip hitting your throat. He can't hold back his grunts, letting his head fall back to the couch. His eyes are now closed and he's in a bliss of pleasure.

The quiet room is filled with the sound of his cock in your mouth, Eddie moaning huskily and you whimpering from your own pleasure. No one cares you're both there, no one even knows you're there. He holds your head and hits his length in a perfect spot that makes him shiver.

He stops his thrusts because he wants you to finish for him. You grip the base of his cock and grip it tightly, letting the blood rush to the tip, and you suck him hard. You hollow your cheeks and suck him hard enough for him to feel lightheaded.

“Godfuckingdamn” Eddie pleads.

It's how it makes his heartbeat fasten quickly and his cock is almost exploding from the pleasure. You know he's going to cum because his legs start to falter and shake. His hand is gripping your hair tighter than before and he's buckling his hips upwards.

It comes with the loudest grunt he lets out. He fills in your mouth and the warm liquid washes over your throat as you swallow all of it. His dick pulses incessantly and you don't let go of him for a second.

Eddie feels kind of drained, but in a very good way. He's still on a high, but he feels relieved. His entire body is shaking, his legs are weak and his hands fall on top of the couch. You take the last bit of his cum and let go of him.

You think it's cute to see his cheeks flushed, painted in red. He's breathing heavily and you can't quite describe how hot he looks right now. His dick is still a little hardened but less than before. You get yourself up and help him get his pants done and sit back on the couch.

Eddie looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's seen. And it's not just because of what happened. He likes the thought of kissing you, of having you blowing him. He kissed you without any hesitation, tasting a bit of himself in your mouth.

"That was mind-blowing" He heaves, resting his forehead against yours and you laugh softly.

"You wanna go back to the party?" You ask, getting up from the couch, ready to open the door. But he pulls you back and holds your hand.

He shakes his head, showing off a little bit of shyness in his features. "I wanna take you home and kindly fuck you"

It makes you laugh at how much he can still manage to be such a gentleman when saying something dirty. But you agree to that and you both leave, driving to his apartment.

[geeeemmmmmmm]

serenity

Summary:Bucky being his clingy self doesn't want you leave in the morning

A/N:Sorry it's so short fam but ugh dare I say I need Bucky anyways as always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy!

WC:1.1k(short n sweet) Warnings:Fluff, implications of freakiness

All your fellow avengers knew how Bucky hated physical touch, They noticed how he would grimace being enveloped in Steve's arms for a hug, they saw how he would always move away from any touch given. You saw a side of Bucky no one knew about - he is the most touch starved man you know. The same man who everyone thinks hates physical touch leaves trails of kisses down your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder holding his arms securely around your waist while whispering sweet nothings onto your neck, smiling against you hearing you laugh. The same man will also beg you to stay in bed just for a little longer as he loves holding you in his arms, inhaling your scent. Mornings are your favourite time with Bucky, waking up slowly in the most loving embrace feeling his strong metal arm cage you onto his chest like he's scared you will leave if his grip lessens. 

Sunlight gently beams in through the curtains illuminating the softened features on Bucky's face as he sleeps. His arms cradling you with his legs entangled with yours as you have all your weight atop of him. It was the only weight Bucky ever wanted on him, not the mental weight he carries everyday from hydra and not the weight the avengers have on him just the comforting weight of you.

Soft breaths escape his lips as he stirs a little from not having your head nestled under his chin anymore. Your arms were resting behind his neck so you could only lift your head up and admire the man you love sleeping peacefully for once. It took everything in you not to cup his face in your hands. You glanced over to your alarm clock 6:35am you couldn't help it a groan escaped your lips as you dropped your head back onto Bucky's chest hearing his heartbeat beat softly. You had to be in the training rooms at 7:20am to help the new recruits Tony hired and of course you being you volunteered to help thinking it wouldn't be that bad to wake up earlier to help - it is. Slowly trying to wriggle out of your boyfriend's hold you felt how his grip only got tighter, even in sleep Bucky always wants you. "Buck I have to get ready" you whispered attempting to escape his grasp again "Mmm stay, I need m'girl" he mumbled back his voice heavily laced with sleep, his grip did not ease up on you instead he pulled you up to rest your head under his chin again "Baby I have to go" you tried to reason, slowly giving up your battle of escaping from his embrace. "I'll be lonely please stay" he whined in return cracking his eyes open slowly 

"I won't be long but I can't be late" "mmm fine but I'll miss you" he whined again loosening his arms around you. "Go back to sleep baby" you whispered, giving him a quick kiss on his soft lips as you slowly climbed out of bed, already missing the secureness of his embrace. The warmth you had lying on Bucky quickly subsided as your legs ached from last night's activities. You stumbled over to your dresser underestimating how sore Bucky accidentally made you and threw on some panties and a bra before deciding what outfit to wear. A couple of minutes of thinking you landed on some leggings and a flattering tank top. "Do you really have to gooo, I can't sleep without m'girl" Bucky groaned from the bedroom "I have to, Wanda couldn't volunteer so I offered to do it for her" you replied back from the bathroom about to brush your teeth and wash your face. 

You could hear Bucky moving around in bed, you just hoped he was going back to sleep - you already felt bad enough for leaving your boyfriend alone, you knew he'd be fine but this was the first night in a while where he hasn't had a nightmare. Slowly opening the bathroom door you expected the sight of Bucky back asleep but you instead saw him sitting on the edge of the bed texting someone "Who ya texting Buck?" you asked coming over to sit on the bed next to him "Your off duties today" he replied casually setting his phone back down moving his head to look at you again "What? How?" you asked surprised he could even find a way to get you out "a magician never reveals his magic" he replied cheekily with a smile on his face watching you just huff out a laugh "Guess I'll get my pjs on then" "Or you don't even need to wear anything" he said mischievously "Barnes you dirty dog" you exclaimed giving him a dramatic gasp, reaching for the pyjamas scattered along the floor thanks to last night. 

You heard Bucky mumble "Worth a shot" "Try your luck tonight huh" you said lightly pinching his cheek Bucky just laughed letting himself fully admire the grin you had plastered on your face. You managed to change back into some little shorts and an even smaller tank top carelessly throwing the clothes you had changed out of onto the ground "Can we go back to bed" The puppy eyes your boyfriend had displayed for you immediately made you burst out laughing "I'd like that" you giggled letting Bucky pull you back down onto his chest. You sighed in bliss threading your hands through Bucky's soft hair looking into his sapphire eyes while he ran patterns along your lower back letting himself get lost in your gaze "Thank you for getting me out of today" carefully moving your hands to finally cup his face relishing how his stubble tickled your hands "It's fine doll" he whispered leaning into your palms "if anyone asks you have a really sore throat" he told you "righty-o then" you replied giving him a mock salute like clockwork Bucky gave you a salute back with a bright smile. You moved your hands back down onto his broad chest and rested your head down onto them taking a big breath in letting your senses be overloaded by Bucky's scent that just felt like home. Bucky's body seemed to be moulded for you to fit, he nuzzled into your head just like you he inhaled letting your scent wrap his senses in a warm hug that felt like home and once again entangled his legs with yours and cradled you in his arms. Sleep pulled you back in as you matched your breathing to his letting the warmth he provided envelop you as your body was slightly rocked by him. Bucky rocked you in his arms slowly like you are the most delicate thing in the world, he only lets sleep take him over once he knows you're in a peaceful sleep. He knew sleep was waiting for him once soft snores started being emitted from you and the rest of the morning was spent in absolute serenity as you both slept soundly.

A/N:I love fics with clingy Bucky lowkey this wasn't even too clingy so I gotta step up my game🫡

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I 2.1k I different first meeting I modern au I one sided enemies to lovers I rated T

“I mean, if looking like a dyke is the goal, you're nailing it,” Steve tells Robin as she holds the phone back to showcase her date outfit. “Change the belt, I think-”

He hears a throat clear behind him and spins around to find Eddie the bar manager standing behind him, a blank face and closed off body language.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Rob, I have to go. I'll text you after work.” He hangs up on her and stuffs his phone into his back pocket. “Sorry about that. Hi, you must be Eddie.” He holds out his hand to shake but Eddie just looks at it. He lowers it, the sting of rejection biting low in his stomach. “Um. Harvey said you just got back from a tour? That's cool.”

“Mmhmm.” He sniffs. “You're on garnish duty,” he says, cold and succinct, before turning away.

It's only Steve's third day behind the bar but he'd been slinging drinks with Rachel the night before. Barback duties are beneath him, he's got six years bartending experience. He doesn't want to complain though, not to Eddie who hated him on sight, and not during his first week.

They stay out of each other's way for the first half of the night, Steve relegated to the back, slicing limes and making the pre-mixes.

He's not used to being hated so thoroughly like this. Eddie hasn't uttered a word directly to Steve since sending him to the back, but he catches Eddie's eye a few times and it's like ice water down his back. The people-pleasing little boy in him wants to cry but he's a grown fucking man, he's not going to let this bother him. Just because he was looking forward to meeting Eddie, wanted to make a friend here, wanted to get to know the guy who managed the bar when he wasn't shredding across the country. Maybe if the owner hadn't talked Eddie up like he was the next Chris Martin…or whoever the metal equivalent of that would be. And, yeah, he'd seen the photos of Eddie, the Polaroids behind the bar of him with staff and guests, and thought he was stupid hot, with his tangled curls and the dimples, and maybe he'd had some inappropriate thoughts about his in absentia boss, and maybe he'd fantasized about flirting at the end of the night, and maybe-

Anyway, it's all good. Eddie doesn't owe him kindness or friendship or a single dimpled smile. Sometimes people just don't get along and that's okay.

“Your Fernet,” he mumbles as he sets the bottle at Eddie's elbow, head down like a dog that's used to booted feet. He feels like an idiot but Eddie's frosty demeanor feels like it's balanced on a knife's edge, like he could tip over into a blazing explosion if Steve says or does the wrong thing.

Eddie doesn't thank him, just snatches the bottle and walks away.

“You're welcome,” he snarks under his breath after Eddie's well away.

“Can I get a rum and coke?” A guy asks over the counter.

Steve hesitates. He's not welcome at the bar, Eddie has made that abundantly clear, but he wasn't hired as a barback, he's a bartender, so he smiles at the guy and starts making the drink. Eddie is busy at the other end of the bar anyway.

“You're new,” the guy says, making conversation as Steve works.

“Yeah, it's my first week.”

“You liking it so far?”

Steve glances down the bar, watching Eddie shake a cocktail like he's fucking Tom Cruise or something. His face lights up at something the woman he's talking to says and the crack of his laugh travels the length of the bar, punching Steve right in the stomach. His dimples are really something to see in motion.

“Jesus Christ, I wanna wrap you in tinsel.”

Steve whips his head back around. “Huh?”

The guy chuckles. “Because you're pining so hard. Get it? Pine-ing.”

Well shit. He deflates. “That obvious, huh?”

The guy accepts his drink with a shrug. “Maybe not to everyone but to a…certain demographic…” He gives Steve a little limp wristed wave, which makes Steve crack a laugh.

“I'm Steve, by the way,” he holds out his hand, which the guy takes easily, unlike some people.

“Cary, like Cary Grant.”

“Or Cary Elwes.”

“Exactly.” He leans a ways over the bar and mumbles, “Don't look but your boy is watching us.”

Steve forces his body to not stiffen up. “Does he look mad?”

“No. Confused if anything. Pretend like I just said the funniest thing you've ever heard.”

Steve, always down for shenanigans, tips his head back and fakes the loudest howl he can without being too over the top.

“Oh, you're good. He's got his eye on you, doll. Make the most of it.”

Steve leans into the shared space, eyes half-lidded. “I hope he's seething with jealousy. He could've had me six ways from Sunday but instead he decided to hate my guts at first sight.”

“What an absolute dumbass.” Cary reaches up and taps Steve's collarbone. “If I wasn't already taken, and you weren't pining like a Christmas tree, we could've ridden into the sunset together.”

“If only,” Steve agrees with a soft laugh.

“We're out of Matcha.”

Steve jumps out of his skin. Eddie is standing three inches from Steve's side, eyes burning into him like he just caught Steve keying his car.

“Make your own Matcha,” Cary snarks, “Steve and I are getting to know one another.”

Without breaking eye contact with Steve, he growls, “I think Tony, your fiance, would prefer it if Steve made the Matcha.”

Chills run down Steve's back and arms but he maintains composure. “On it, boss.”

He slips out from under Eddie's gaze, finger waving to Cary on his way back to the kitchen. He can hear Eddie chastising but he chooses to ignore him in favor of hyperventilating in the walk-in.

“What the fuck.”

Eyes like black flames, licking up the side of Steve's neck. Collarbones raising and lowering in the light of the bar as his chest moved with each breath. Hands clenched at his sides, white knuckled.

That wasn't cold at all.

He moves on autopilot for the rest of his shift. Eddie doesn't talk to him again but Steve can feel his eyes on the back of his neck, raising the hairs and keeping him from forgetting Eddie’s existence.

Towards the end of his shift, just before midnight, he hears Robin calling his name from the bar. He comes out of the kitchen, happy to see her waving him over, excited to introduce her date. He probably shouldn't encourage this behavior, it's his first week after all, but the restaurant is closing and the bar is empty.

“Hey, you must be Chrissy,” he greets the petite woman at Robin's side, takes her tiny hand in his and gives it a firm shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Same! I couldn't believe it when Robin said you'd just started here. Like, it's a crazy coincidence.”

He cocks his head but before he can ask, Eddie comes bounding over from the other side of the bar and lifts Chrissy up off her stool, swinging her in a circle while she shrieks with laughter.

“Apparently Eddie is her best friend,” Rob fills him in, sort of unnecessary at this point. Steve wouldn't have been able to imagine Eddie looking so happy, he'd been so sour faced all night. Even when he'd been laughing with the customer earlier, it was only a fraction of this.

“Tell me everything,” Chrissy is saying after he puts her down. “Last I heard you loved Cleveland and hated Boston, which I maintain is insane.”

“And I maintain you didn't have to navigate the Boston roadways with Boston drivers,” Eddie argues, still grinning. “But it was great. Exhausting but…yeah, fucking awesome.”

“I'm so proud of you, Eds. You deserve it.”

He actually fucking blushes, which is devastating to Steve's crush. Just devastating.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “Oh, sorry, you must be Robin. Thanks for bringing Chris to see me.” He shakes her hand, not hating her on sight, Steve notes.

“No problem, but I didn't, she brought me here to see the Dingus.” At Eddie's confused look she throws a thumb back at Steve, who waves.

“Yeah, hi. Your best friend is dating my best friend. Sorry. Guess that means you're stuck with me.”

His frown doesn't abate with this explanation.

“Because they're lesbians. She's gonna have me helping her move into Chrissy’s place in, like, a week.”

“Shut up!” Robin reaches across the bar to slap the shit out of his arm and then tosses a lemon wedge at him when he jumps back out of swinging range. Chrissy giggles at them.

“Knock it off, I worked hard on those.” He picks the wedge up off the floor and tosses it into the trash. Three points.

When he looks back up, Eddie is staring at him, wide eyed.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Steve questions.

“Ohhh.” He presses his wrists into his eye sockets.

Steve looks at Robin and Chrissy in confusion but they're both as lost as him.

“I'm an asshole.” He hasn't removed his hands yet.

“Yes,” Chrissy agrees immediately, “what did you do, Eddie?”

He finally looks up at Steve, who takes a step back, involuntarily. They stare at one another for thirty seconds. Or two days. He's not sure.

“Eddie?” Chrissy prompts again.

“I-” He turns around and walks away.

Chrissy rushes after him and yanks him back. They get into a tug match, which Chrissy wins, somehow.

“I love her,” Robin mumbles.

“I fucking said. Less than a week.”

She slides a look his way, one that reads ‘Like you're any better.’ He shouldn't have told her about his plan to seduce his boss, who he hadn't even met yet.

“Whatever you did, you apologize right now,” Chrissy commands to a pouting Eddie.

Steve stands there, eyebrows up, as Eddie grumbles an apology that would do an eleven year old Dustin proud.

“What is happening right now?” He wonders aloud.

Eddie folds his arms across his chest, his black button down stretching across his shoulders beautifully. “I heard your conversation with Robin earlier. You said something about her looking like a dyke and…I made an assumption on the kind of person you were. And I was an asshole to you because of it. I'm sorry.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers in understanding. A weight lifts off his chest. “Fuck. That's hilarious.” He can't stop the giggles from erupting.

“Okay, in my defense, most straight guys don’t get a pass.”

Steve and Robin look at each other and crack up. He wants to ask what Eddie thinks was going on with Cary if he assumed Steve was straight but Robin shrieks, “You think I would hang out with a straight man!”

“Hey! You did hang out with me when I thought I was straight!”

She shakes her head like a smug asshole. “Debatable. You've always been a lil fruity. Tommy H? Whatever that was with Billy? C'mon.”

Steve takes a turn at slapping her. When he looks back up, he finds Eddie looking at him like a kid who just found coal in his stocking, dark eyes wet and bottom lip desperately trying not to pout.

“Holy shit, stop making that face,” Steve begs.

“I can't.”

Chrissy leans up on her knees, wobbling precariously on the stool, to physically push his lip back where it belongs. He smacks her hand away and then puts his own back up to his eyes, pushing hard.

“This is divine punishment. The universe sensed I was too happy so they sent you to test me. Big fat F, just like always,” he mumbles, nonsensically.

Steve looks to Chrissy to translate.

She puts a finger to her chin, looks between the two of them, and then concludes, “He thinks you're hot and that he ruined his chances by being a prick.”

“Chrissy!” Eddie's shriek puts Robin's to shame.

But he's not denying it.

Steve makes extremely pointed eye contact with Robin and says, “It's getting late. Eddie and I have to close the bar. You should see Chrissy home.”

She nods, slow and then quick, as the message lands.

“Yes! Yes, let's get going. Leave these guys to…close the bar.”

Smooth.

They giggle the entire way out the door but Steve ignores them. Eddie is staring again, dark eyes pinning him to the mirror behind the bar.

“I was going to ask earlier but I didn't think it was appropriate…”

Eddie swallows, throat bobbing. “Ask what?”

“What's the company policy on fraternization?”

As a former jock, Steve is thoroughly impressed by Eddie's form as he vaults the bar.

[hairmetal666]

"Is this always how they act?" Jonathan asks. He has to lean close and yell a little for Robin to hear him over the noise of the house party.

"Yup," she says.

She, Jonathan, and Argyle continue to stare at Eddie, sitting in an easy chair, Steve perched happily on his lap. Eddie has a whole bowl of bbq Lay's, and Steve will lean back for a chip, which Eddie feeds him with a smile.

"And they're definitely not dating?" Argyle asks when Steve leans back to whisper in Eddie's ear, mouth pressed close. It's deeply gratifying that they just got in from California and already they see it.

"Steve says no."

"You think he's lying?" Jonathan asks.

"I think he doesn't realize he likes Eddie yet."

Eddie tugs at Steve's hair, and Steve turns back, gives him a smile that's so intimate Robin can't stare directly at it. Instead, she turns to her friends, but Argyle is still watching Eddie and Steve. He's drumming his fingers against his chin, expression what Robin could only call mischievous.

"What are you planning?" Jonathan asks.

"Just helping some bros find true love."

Jonathan looks mildly concerned but before he can say anything, Nancy makes her appearance. And they're something, becoming something, and she cares about Eddie and Steve getting their shit together, but Nancy is smiling and she's so, so pretty. It's easy to get lost in the blue of her eyes and the sweep of her hair and forget about everything else.

---

A few hours later and they're all sitting around a coffee table in the basement, just the six of them. It's sort of funny, she thinks, how it always ends up being the six of them.

They're crossfaded already, but that hasn't stopped Eddie and Argyle from lighting another joint. Her thoughts have gone light and floaty, all that's holding her to earth the press Steve's leg and Nancy's hand against hers.

Argyle is sort of monologuing and she doesn't think any of them are paying much mind, but then he stops mid-sentence, grips Jonathan's shoulder tight enough that his knuckles go white. "Dudes. What if we played Truth or Dare?"

Nancy snorts. "Not on your life."

"I don't think I can move?" She says. She leans into Steve, sighing with contentment.

"I, for one, would love to see Buckley complete a dare," Eddie says.

She sticks her tongue out at him. "I've done plenty. Band kid, remember?"

"Ugh, curse the horny trumpeters." Eddie slumps on the coffee table in defeat.

"I'll have you know, they were very wholesome games."

Steve squints at her. "Wasn't there an orgy in someone's pool?"

She sniffs, looks away instead of answering, which makes everyone laugh.

"Speaking of sex," Argyle says. "No one catch your eye tonight, Harrington?"

"Wasn't really looking."

"That's new," Jonathan says.

Steve laughs. "I'm tired of hooking up."

He's told her that too, countless times. She thinks the real reason he hasn't dated in months is sitting right next to him, drumming his fingers on the coffee table.

"Maybe you've just lost your touch," Argyle says.

"I have not!" Steve clutches a hand over his heart. "If I wanted to, I could pull any girl upstairs."

"C'mon, my dude, no way you're that good."

"I was!" He looks to Robin, Nancy, Jonathan. "I was, back me up!"

"I don't know, Scoops wasn't your best work," she says.

"No, no, we said Scoops doesn't count! It was the hat. The outfit! I did fine after!"

"I happened to think the sailor costume was very cute," Eddie says.

"Thank you," Steve preens. He shifts away from her to lean into Eddie, who grins.

"I don't think we can trust Eddie's judgement here," Nancy says.

Steve points at her. "Yes, and I remember you being totally uninterested."

She squeaks in indignation, Robin smothering her own giggles behind her hand. "It was--it was hormones!"

"Yeah, very uninterested in me." Jonathan chimes in. There's a little second where no one reacts--the fact that Nancy was technically still with Steve when that happened ringing unspoken between them--before Nancy and Steve start to giggle.

"I've hooked up with everyone I've ever tried to," Argyle chimes in, nonchalant.

"No way," the whole group says.

"I've got the touch."

"C'mon, that literally can't be true just by like...stats," Steve says.

"Don't know what to tell you, my dude." Argyle's smile is smug. "I'm really good."

"You're just jealous," she tells him. She nudges his shoulder so he knows she's joking.

"No! Jealousy has nothing to do with it."

They erupt at that, calling out the obvious lie.

"I'm not upset!" Steve shouts over them. "I'm just saying, it didn't happen. Sorry, Argyle. You have bizzaro charm, but there's no way it has a 100% success rate."

"Sounds like jealousy to me, Stevie." Eddie cocks his head with a smirk.

"Harrington, you're so cute when you're competitive," Argyle says. "Anyway, it worked on--"

"Don't say Jonathan," Nancy, Steve, and Robin all say.

"Hey! Why not me?'

"Well, it's just--" Nancy waves her hand in the air. "You're. I mean. It's not hard."

Jonathan groans, hides his face in his hands as they laugh.

"I'll prove it to you," Argyle says to Steve. "100% success rate."

"What?"

"I'm going to seduce you."

"Oh, shit," she says.

She knows what's going to happen even before Steve puts his hands on his hips, awkwardly cause they're sitting, cocks an eyebrow, and says, "Okay."

Eddie grumbles something she can't make out, but Steve shakes his head, laughs. "Nah, it's just for fun, right?"

"Until it works." Argyle tosses his hair.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Gimme your best shot."

They rearrange around the table, Eddie and Argyle swapping places.

Everyone is quiet for a second, Steve reaches for his drink. "You got great hands, Harrington," Argyle says.

"I--oh, what?" Steve splutters. He goes a little pink, and Robin thinks it's the first time she's seen him this flustered by a compliment.

"Yeah." Argyle takes his hand, traces along his palm and knuckles. "Big. Strong. Like you could really take care of someone."

Eddie kicks the table, sending it rocking, scattering empty cups and chip bags. Steve is crimson, totally oblivious to Eddie's flailing.

"Thanks," he mumbles. He doesn't pull his hand away. Robin, everyone, is riveted.

"No one's ever told you that?"

"No. No one."

"That's too bad. It's probably all about your hair and your eyes and your body."

Steve smiles and it's one she recognizes, flirty and a little wicked. "You noticed my body?"

Argyle laughs. "Oh, c'mon, you know everyone notices that."

"Would you believe it if I told you I don't get enough compliments?"

"Not on your life."

Steve leans into him, giggles. "Well, worth a shot, right?"

"Always. You wanna know the first thing I noticed about you?"

"Ass, right?"

"It was how much you love your friends but you hide it behind a facade of disapproval. Made me think maybe you weren't used to the love you want to give being reciprocated."

They're all locked in on Argyle and Steve, but she notices Eddie flinch, move like he's about to stand, Nancy reaching out to stop him. She thinks, then, for the first time, that maybe this is mean to him. He doesn't know it's not real.

"Oh," Steve says. His voice breaks, a little, and her heart breaks for him. "I--oh."

"Your ass was the second thing I noticed," Argyle quips and the tension around the table breaks, Steve giggling.

With smooth confidence she never would have expected him to possess, Argyle cards his fingers through Steve's hair. "Just had to touch it for myself." His voice is soft.

"That all you want to touch?"

Argyle grins. "Not even a little bit."

She watches, stunned, as Steve leans in, face almost touching Argyle's. Eddie makes a noise, a pained cough, and Steve leaps to his feet.

"I can't kiss you!" He half-yells, stumbling.

"And why not?" Argyle asks. He's got a wild smile on his face.

"I'm in love with Eddie!" Steve's eyes are wide, panicked.

"I'm sorry," Steve says to him. "Eddie, I--"

But before he can get the words out, Eddie's climbing over the coffee table, sending drinks and snacks flying, the calls for him to get down ignored as he trips into Steve's arms.

"You love me?" Eddie asks.

"I'm sorry I couldn't say it before. I--got in my head about it and I--I hoped it didn't seem like I was leading you on because my words kept getting stuck, and--"

"Sweetheart." Eddie stops him. "I--" He breaks off, notices that the rest of them are raptly listening to the confession. "Do you want to go somewhere we can talk?"

They disappear upstairs, and she turns to Argyle in awe. "I can't believe that actually worked."

"What can I say, I'm a miracle worker. Are there more Doritos?"

---

Early in the morning, they're piled in Nancy's station wagon, Jonathan driving them home. She and Nancy are in the middle seat, Steve and Eddie in the back. Steve's curled against him, face pressed to his neck, hidden by a cloud of hair. She wants to ask what happened, how their conversation went, if they're official and how long Steve's known he's in love, but Nancy moves closer, head dropping to Robin's shoulder. Their fingers entwine and Robin closes her eyes, smiles.

"Tomorrow?" Nancy asks.

She nods. "Tomorrow."

[steddiealltheway]

As soon as Steve hears the phone ring, he sighs.

Robin is away visiting her family in Kentucky for the holidays, and the only other person to ever call would be...

"Dustin," Steve says, his free hand coming up to rest on his hip, "why are you calling?"

There's a pause on the other line before Dustin whines, "How do you always know when it's me."

"Because your irritating energy bleeds through the phone."

Another pause. "You got that from Robin, didn't you?"

Yes. He did. Sue him for wanting to be witty and taking a few notes from Robin. "What do you want?"

"Okay, so..." Oh boy. "I've been meaning to talk to Suzie for a while now, and we made plans not to talk on Christmas because she would be with her family all day, and I knew my mom wouldn't want me to be away for too long so-"

"The point, Dustin."

Dustin mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like multiple curse words before continuing, "The point is that I'm taking Cerebro to that hill, but I'm going to need a ride."

Steve frowns, walking toward the nearest window until the phone cord is fully stretched so he can pull a curtain open. He winces a bit at the bright light. "Dustin, it's freezing out, and the hill will be covered in snow."

"You would've done the same for Nancy!"

Steve's eyebrows raise. "Not the best approach if you want a ride, dude."

"I'm not trying to approach the whole you and Nancy thing. I'm trying to make a point," Dustin emphasizes a little too loudly into the phone. "You would do anything if you were in love! Even sit out in the snow for a few hours just so you can talk to the person you love."

"Have you ever heard of the phone?"

"Have you heard the number of siblings she has that would jump at the opportunity to listen in on our call? Plus, Cerebro is our thing."

Steve really wishes Dustin were in front of him, so he could see the way his cheeks are flushing during this exact moment. "You just like using your Cebro thing because it makes it feel like your love is forbidden."

"I do not!"

"Alright, Romeo," Steve says with a laugh, "I'll give you a ride. If you promise to only be there for an hour."

"Not including the time it takes to get there, set it up, and leave."

Steve sighs and knocks the phone against his head for a second before reluctantly agreeing, "Yes, but you better be bundled up so much that you're sweating out there. I don't want to hear you complain." He also secretly worries about the kid getting frostbite or something, but he'd never admit to it.

"Fine I'll see you in an hour?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then," Steve says as Dustin hangs up. "A thank you would've been nice..."

He really hopes he doesn't regret this.

-:-:-:-:-:-

When Dustin climbs in the car, he's bundled from head to toe but still manages to laugh at Steve who is wearing the same amount of layers as him. "Look in the mirror," Steve comments dryly before driving off.

The drive there isn't too long, and although Steve saw Dustin a few days ago - after Claudia insisted he spend Christmas with them instead of home alone - he's kind of glad to hang out with Dustin again. It's not often he gets a lot of one-on-one time with the kid anymore.

Which is why Steve is particularly bitchy when he pulls up to the familar area below the hill and find a familar van there.

"Dustin..."

"I didn't think you would agree to take me here and stay! So, I asked Eddie to give me a ride back this morning-"

"This morning?"

"And he said he was already going to be in the area and wanted to briefly meet Suzie and my Cerebro, so he's here now! And if you want, you can just drop me off. Think of it as a late Christmas gift."

Steve shakes his head. "And leave you in Munson's capable hands only to find out you two froze to death? No thanks." He gets out of the car with thoughts of a mourning Claudia Henderson on his mind.

"We wouldn't freeze to death!" Dustin practically shouts as he climbs out.

At that same moment, Eddie exits from his van, wearing his usual attire, only with maybe an extra added layer - a leather jacket.

Steve turns to Dustin, raising his eyebrows and gesturing toward Munson. Dustin sighs before going to the trunk to dig out all the different Cerebro parts.

Before Steve can join him, Eddie approaches him with a big smile. "Steve Harrington. Looking awfully toasty."

Steve rolls his eyes in response before openning his car door and reaching toward the back, grabbing the spare pair of gloves and a hat that he keeps whenever Robin forgets the extra layers - which is often. He hands them to Eddie without a word then helps Dustin grab his things before heading to their snow covered destination.

Eddie only lasts a few minutes up the hill before he manages to push into Steve's space while Dustin hurries ahead of them. "So, you look happy to see me."

"Just peachy, Munson."

Eddie snorts. "I'm guessing Dustin didn't tell you I would be tagging along when you got here?"

"And I'm guessing Dustin didn't tell you I was planning on staying."

"Actually," Eddie says, nudging Steve's shoulder, "I told him you would jump at the opportunity to hang out with him, and there was no way you would drop him off to freeze to death."

Steve narrows his eyes as he looks at Eddie.

Eddie shifts things around in his arms to grab his shirt and jacket and lift them up enough to show off some of his scarred skin. "Our matching battle scars will forever bound us, Steve. I wonder if the bats gave us telepathic abilities," he says, way too cheery for Steve's liking.

"If it did, then I would teleport up to the top of the hill right now."

"Telepathic means the ability to read each other's minds. The word you're thinking of is 'teleportation.'" Eddie corrects him without judgement - something Steve's always found surprising.

"Oh. Then guess what I'm thinking about right now."

Eddie hums before leaning in to mumble in his ear. "You're thinking about getting a piece of this."

Steve laughs and shoves him away. He's glad it's cold out so he blame his blush on the cold. For some reason, he's still not entirely immune to Eddie's flirting. "Definitely not what I was thinking about."

"You are now," Eddie teases.

Steve swallows heavily, pressing down those thoughts and many... many.... images. "I think you're confusing my thoughts for your own thoughts."

"Tell me about it," Eddie sighs dramatically.

Steve is relieved when he sees they've reached the top of the hill. He's even more relieved when Dustin doesn't ask for his help to put Cerebro together, but Eddie is all too happy to help while calling Dustin a genius - in various annoying, dramatic ways.

It's not long before Dustin is awaiting Suzie's response while Eddie bounces on his feet. Steve's not sure if it's from excitement or being cold - probably both.

"Dusty bun?"

Dustin's face lights up in a way that is entirely too endearing for Steve's heart to handle. The jedi has learned the art of love from the master - or something like that. "Suzie poo! I'm here with Steve and Eddie for the next few moments. Eddie wants to say hello."

Steve frowns and raises his voice, "I want to say hello, too! Eddie just wants to be dramatic about it."

"Because I haven't had the pleasure of meeting the lady," Eddie argues before turning up the charm. "Suzie, it's a pleasure. I'm sure you've heard nothing but wonderful things about me just like I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you. Unlike Steve over here who you've probably never heard a good thing about."

"Hi, Eddie, it's nice to meet you," Suzie replies, giggling. "And hi Steve!"

"Hey, Suze. Don't let Eddie win you over with his charm just yet. It's bad for his ego."

"You think I'm charming?" Eddie asks, batting his eyelashes.

Steve makes a see? gesture before realizing Suzie can't see him.

"Alright," Dustin says, "Now they're going to leave us alone for the next hour."

"Hour? It's already been at least five minutes," Steve complains.

Eddie grabs him by the shoulders and steers him away. "Don't worry, Suzie! I'll make sure you get the fulll hour!"

Steve lets Eddie guide him a little down the hill, ignoring when Suzie asks, "Do they always bicker like an old married couple?"

When they get a comfortable distance away, where they're out of earshot but Steve can still see Dustin to make sure he doesn't freeze to death, Steve sits on the ground. He glances up after he gets as comfortable as he can get on the side of a hill, only to find Eddie frowning down at him.

"What?" Steve asks.

Eddie shrugs. "Doesn't seem fair that you get to sit on the ground, and I can't."

Steve's eyes scan over Eddie's body. "Not my fault that you didn't wear a long enough jacket to cover your ass when you sit."

"Not my fault that I wasn't born into a wealthy family that can afford those jackets."

Steve's stomach flips, but he knows Eddie isn't looking for an apology. "Why don't you sit in your van then?"

"Wouldn't want to miss my chance to hang out alone with Steve Harrington," Eddie says with a wink.

Steve nearly scoffs and gives him a snarky reply, but his thoughts go out the window when he notices Eddie's teeth chattering. "Shit," he mutters.

"What was that?"

Steve groans and stands up before unzipping his large jacket.

"Am I in a dream?" Eddie jokes, but his voice shakes a bit.

"You're about to be living one," Steve says dryly as he stands in front of Eddie and opens his coat. Eddie just stares at him. Steve huffs out a breath that becomes visible in the cold air between them. "Come here."

"What?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at Eddie before tugging at his coat. But Eddie continues to stare at him with wide wandering eyes. "I'm not letting you freeze to death up here, so come here before I tell Dustin to pack it up because you're cold."

Eddie crosses his arms a little tighter. "I'm f-fine." A shiver visibly runs through Eddie's body.

Steve rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundreth time this day and wraps Eddie in his jacket before he can protest.

He's stiff for a moment, then Eddie relaxes enough to wrap his arms around Steve who is able to close the jacket around them. They linger in each other's arms long enough that Eddie stops shivering and Steve wonders how much time Dustin has left with Suzie.

"Better?" Steve asks to break the silence.

He feels Eddie nod over his shoulder before he pulls back enough to look him in the eye, nose brushing against Steve's as he whispers, "I know something we could do to keep ourselves warm."

Steve's heart beats a little faster in his chest.

Eddie laughs and tucks his head into Steve neck, his lips far away enough from Steve's that it's no longer the only thing on Steve's mind. With the new brain space, he can feel Eddie drum a nervous rhythm onto his back and bounce a little on his face. He wonders if maybe Eddie was onto the whole scars making them read each other's minds thing because he swears he knows the first part of what Eddie's about to say before he says it.

"Sorry if that was too much. No guy has ever let me flirt at them the way you do."

Steve gets stuck on flirt at and, "No guy?"

Eddie lets out a short humorless laugh. "No guy."

And for some reason, Steve has to ask, "Has any guy let you kiss them before?"

Eddie pulls back to look at him with a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "What are you getting at, Steve?"

Steve glances at Eddie's lips, slightly chapped but they've never looked more inviting. Maybe it's time to listen to Robin's knowing looks whenever Eddie is around and Steve finds himself simultaneously drawn to him while also wanting to run to the bathroom with Robin to have another floor talk. "What if one guy let you kiss them?"

"Steve..." Eddie whispers, his eyes flicking over his shoulder.

Steve turns to find Dustin, facing away from them. Still he loosens his hold on Eddie and says, "Wrap your arms around my neck instead of my back."

Eddie does as he's told, and Steve gives him no warning before saying, "Hopefully this goes alright." Then, he slightly picks up Eddie before falling back, letting the snow break their fall as he lays back with Eddie on top of him.

"That went better than I thought it would," Steve says with a big smile then asks, "Can Dustin see us?"

Eddie glances up and shakes his head.

"Perfect," Steve says, heart practically beating out of his chest when Eddie looks down at him. When he doesn't make a move, Steve can't help but tease, "So you really are all bark, no bite."

"Shut up, Harrington," Eddie says before finally kissing him.

For only a moment, Steve nearly laughs at the fact that Eddie Munson told him to shut up. But then his brain goes nearly haywire yet completely silent when Eddie's lips meet his in what he thinks might be the single most transformative kiss of his life.

His arms tighten around Eddie's back, and Eddie's hands move to cup the back of his head as they deepen the kiss. Somehow, laying in snow, Steve has never felt warmer.

They eventually break the first kiss reluctantly, both of them going back to steal more as they catch their breath, which turns into laughter and giggles between more kisses. Then, Eddie breaks away long enough to say, "You know, the van is seeming like a really great option at the moment."

"And Dustin's a smart kid. He knows how to not freeze to death," Steve says, kissing Eddie every chance he gets.

"You're right. No need to stay here in the snow," Eddie replies.

"Right."

Neither of them make a move to get up, but they both move to kiss again.

It's only a little while later before they hear Dustin yell out, "Guys?" And that's when they finally break away.

Eddie pops up first and calls out, "Yeah?"

"Let's pack up! It's been over an hour! Come on!"

Steve pulls Eddie back down into the snow one more time for a kiss before stomping up the hill. "Alright, alright. We thought you'd be happier that we gave you more time and that we both waited for you."

"it's cold," Dustin complains.

Steve nods, but he still feels warm.

Eddie joins a few moments later, stealing glances at Steve before asking Dustin what they're doing next.

"I'm thinking we change out of our snow clothes and get food somewhere maybe..." Dustin trails off and frowns at Eddie. "Why are you covered in snow?"

"We were making a snow angel?" Eddie hurriedly says.

Steve tries not to laugh.

"One?" Dustin asks.

Eddie nods. "You'll see it on the way down."

Sure enough, on the way down, they all see one horribly disfigured snow angel.

While Steve laughs and Eddie smiles proudly, Dustin shakes his head and mutters something like more curses to himself. In a volume that's able to be picked up by the other boys, he asks, "Eddie, you'll drop me off at my house, and we'll meet back up in an hour at my house?"

"Hour and a half," Steve says. When Dustin opens his mouth to complain, Steve explains, "I need to take a shower so I don't get pnemonia. Plus, I'm not letting my hair freeze on my way to your house."

"Fine," Dustin sighs. "See you then."

"See you then," Eddie echoes to Steve, winking at him once.

Soon after Steve gets home, he hears a knock on the front door, and when it's Eddie on the other side, Steve pulls him in and says, "Maybe you were right about the telek- tele-"

"Telekentic abilities?"

Steve nods as he closes the door behind Eddie and traps him against it. "I definitely know what you're thinking about now."

Eddie cocks his head to the side and wraps his arms around Steve's neck. "Yeah? What am I thinking about?"

"Kissing me again," Steve says, leaning in.

"Actually," Eddie says turning his head away, "I was thinking about a lemon."

"Crazy. I happen to have lemon scented body wash," Steve comments as he grabs Eddie's hands and tugs him up the stairs.

They're both a little late to Dustin's house. And maybe their hair freezes a bit.

But Dustin was right. There's a lot of things Steve would do for love.

[angrythingstarlight]

Ok hear me out… Bee learning Bucky’s name and calling him Bucky instead of papa to sound like the grown ups. Bucky hates it. But luckily it doesn’t last long.

Bee tried it one day.

It starts with a little g'morning Bucky. Everyone thinks it's cute. Except Bucky. His eyes narrow as he stares down at her trying to process why his baby is calling him that. It only makes her giggle. Bee has never been afraid of him so his infamously lethal glares don't work on her.

In fact she gets more emboldened throughout the day.

You look so pwetty Bucky.

Bucky you wanna watch Moana with me?

You wants me and Mr. Tato to helps you with business Bucky?

Bucky me and Mr. Tato want dino nuggies for lunch. You wants some Bucky?

You gots three more seconds of work Bucky.

By the afternoon, Bucky is at his wit's end. He's her Papa damn it. This is worse than when you call him James. He blames Steve for this. Bucky can't prove that this was his doing but Bucky knows he's behind it.

Bucky decides the best way to handle this is to treat the situation like he does one of his negotiations. Take control and show how ruthless he can be if his terms aren't met.

Bucky leaves the contracts for the casino behind and strides into Bee's office across the hallway. Knocking on her open door, Bucky waits until she stops coloring and then he says her name.

Bee's face drops, disconcertion drawing her brows in. Bucky deliberately repeats her name asking if she's ready for lunch. Her head tilts back, her hand flying to the front of her teddy bear onesie. "Oh no, no Papa I not—no I Bumblebee."

A grin, relieved yet smug, spreads across his face. She doesn't realize that she reverted back to Papa but he does. That sounds better and it makes him happier than he'll ever admit. "Are you my sweet Bee?"

Bee nods emphatically. "Yes and I weady for dino nuggies."

She takes his hand and they start down the hallway. They're almost at the kitchen when Bee peers up at him. "Bucky can we has apple juice? My tummy needs it."

Bucky bites back a sigh. Normally he appreciates her stubborn nature but not today. Not with this. A beat passes as they cross the doorway and step into the sun-streaked kitchen.

Bucky stoops down and as he picks her up, he says, "of course you can." He casually tacks on her name, ignoring her offended gasp.

Lunch continues like this. Her calling him Bucky, him tossing her full name back at her. By the time her small, colorful plate is nearly clean, Bee is waving her macaroni and cheese covered spoon at the pakhan. "No I Bumblebee."

"And I'm your Papa." He retorts, stealing a berry off her plate.

You find them staring at each other, locked in a battle of wills. It's impossible to figure out who will concede first, you thought Bucky would cave the way he usually does but he has a determined glint in his eyes. It matches Bee's.

You'll never stop being entertained by these two.

Then Bee decides she's had enough of this game, she wants to be his Bumblebee again. She lifts her chubby arms, gazing up at him. Her voice soft and sweet. "Papa I sleepy."

Bucky smiles, reaching over to pick her up, gently patting her back. "Alright, sweet Bee. Why don't you take a nap and when you're done you can help me with some work. I need your help picking which one of Uncle Steve's restaurants I'm going to take over."

"Oh the one with the 'sgana." She yawns, snuggling closer, her eyelids drooping. "It's my favorites."

"Now it's yours." The lasagna and the restaurant.

Bucky's going to have her make Steve a thank you card and he's going to personally deliver it tomorrow.

Your mouth falls open, a chuckle spills out. "Bucky you can't just take—"

Bucky slows down, stopping in front of you. He peers down at you, blatantly stating your name. His deep voice rolls over you as his words land at your feet like a brick. "Are you sure you want to take his side?"

Oh.

Oh, you don't like that. It sounds wrong and unnatural on his tongue. "Lasagna is my favorite too."

Bucky wraps his arm around you, his lips brushing over yours. "I know it is, Malyshka."

[steddiehyperfixation]

@steddiebingo prompts: college au + crush + bandana | 1.1k words | T |

“Steeeveennnn,” Robin complains, poking Steve's shoulder with her pencil. “This was not the deal.”

Steve blinks and startles as if shaken out of a trance and grudgingly drags his glance over to Robin. “What?”

“You're only supposed to zone out when I'm paying attention and I can only zone out when you're paying attention.” That's their standard deal for any class they share that they're both only taking to knock out some credits and isn't relevant to either of their majors.

“Okay,” he says, “so pay attention.”

“I have been, dingus,” she argues. While this semester's History of Rock course is actually kind of interesting, Robin would still appreciate being able to use some of the precious daydreaming time she’d been promised. “I've been giving you my notes for the last month, at least! It's my turn to zone out now, slacker.”

“Alright, alright. I'm paying attention.” Steve makes a big show of picking up his pencil and writing down what's on the lecture slides, even leaning forward a little to emphasize his focus. “You're free to zone out to your heart’s content.”

Robin doesn't trust him in the slightest.

She enjoys about five whole minutes of spacing out before one Eddie Munson inevitably interrupts the professor to challenge some point and any hope of Steve's ability to continue taking notes for her is lost completely. His attention is stolen the second that ringed hand goes up, focus returning undividedly to the loud, scraggly man who is now standing up in his vehemence to counter the teacher. Steve instantly becomes enraptured by this argument, though Robin doubts he’s really comprehending a single word of it. He even gets this dopey little smile on his face as he watches.

“Oh my god,” Robin groans, rolling her eyes and dropping her chin into her palm in resignation to her fate. Steve is utterly useless when he has a crush. It would be pointless, Sisyphean even, for her to keep trying to snap him out of it; no matter how many times she diverts his attention, it always rolls right back to Eddie.

Robin doesn't know what Steve sees in him. Personally, she finds Eddie kind of obnoxious and thinks he looks a bit like a stray dog that's been left outside in a thunderstorm. But for some reason he has her best friend totally captivated. Even when Eddie sits back down, conceding the tangential debate and letting the professor continue, Steve's gaze still lingers as it always does for the remainder of class, his eyes all dreamy and far away and the very epitome of yearning.

“This is getting pathetic,” Robin tells him when class is dismissed and she looks over to find him still staring. “Just go talk to him already. Make a move. I’m sick of watching you sit here and pine.”

“He might not even be queer, Rob.”

“He wears a black bandana in his back pocket.”

“So? He's all metal and shit, it could just be, like, a style thing. Doesn't mean it's hanky code.”

“Okay, so ask him.”

Steve looks at her like she's gone insane. “I can't just go up to him and ask him if he's flagging.”

“Fine, then I will.”

“What- No, Robin-!”

But Robin is already standing up and marching through the crowd of students leaving the classroom to catch up to Eddie. “Hey, are you flagging?”

Eddie stops short and turns sharply around to face her. “Excuse me?”

“That bandana you've always got in your pocket - is that just a fashion statement or are you flagging?” she repeats bluntly.

Eddie's eyes narrow, halfway between distrustful confusion and a sneer. “What's it to you?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Robin says. “I couldn't care less. I'm asking for my friend, Steve.” She points a thumb over her shoulder, fairly certain Steve isn't too far behind her. “He's the one who's been staring at you like an idiot all semester, and he's just dying to know if-”

“Oh my god-” Steve interrupts, shoulder checking her as he comes up beside her, his face flushed and slightly out of breath like he fought his way here desperately. “I’m so sorry about her.” He gives Eddie an apologetic smile and cuts Robin a sideways glare. “She was dropped on the head a few too many times as a baby and it left her incapable of comprehending boundaries.”

Robin scoffs. “Oh, like watching creepily from afar is so much more respectful,” she retorts.

“I’m not a creep-” Steve rushes to protest, looking hastily back to Eddie. “I’m not a creep. She's making it sound like I'm some sort of stalker or something. I’m not, I swear.”

Eddie laughs, and Steve looks whipped. “It's alright, I don't mind.”

Eddie's wary hostility seems to have faded into something more amused and definitely not uninterested, if the way he's looking Steve over is any indication. Robin subtly nudges Steve with her arm. Time to turn on the charm, dingus, he likes you.

“You just catch my eye, is all,” Steve recovers, regaining his composure and quickly attempting to school his flustered, lovesick expression into a smoother, more intentional smile. “You stand out, you know - in a good way. I like your style, how outspoken you are. You seem really passionate about this music stuff; it's cool to watch.”

Eddie's interest only sharpens, slow grin growing. He considers him for another moment. “Your friend says you're curious about my bandana.”

“Yeah, uh-” A little bit of that flusteredness slips out again, just enough that it could possibly be intentional (or maybe not; Robin’s really not giving him that much credit). Steve chews at his lip, eyes flicking Eddie up and down. “That too.”

Eddie's about to say something in response, but he's cut off by someone shouting his name. There's some blond guy at the end of the hall gesturing impatiently at him.

“Shit, sorry, I gotta run, my band’s got practice right now. But, um.” Eddie searches his pockets and grabs a pen out of his leather jacket. “Here.” He takes Steve's arm, scribbling a phone number onto his skin. “Why don't you call me later and we can talk more, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. He looks mildly starstruck, smiling stupidly at the number on his arm like it's a celebrity autograph or something. “Yeah, for sure.”

Robin snickers. “Oh, he's never washing that arm again.”

“Shut up, Robin,” Steve hisses, his cheeks tingeing pink again. Eddie laughs and Steve manages a sheepish smile. “I-I’ll call you,” he confirms again as he turns to leave, grabbing Robin by the arm and dragging her with him before she can embarrass him any further.

“You better,” Eddie calls after him, and Steve looks over his shoulder just in time to catch his smirk and farewell salute before he too turns and bounds off in the opposite direction.

Robin digs her elbow into Steve’s ribs, grinning smugly at him. “You're fucking welcome,” she says.

[ashwhowrites]

“eddie munson would be the type of guy who would say “oooo you wanna kiss me so bad” in the middle of an argument” PLEASE MAKE THIS A FIC🙏🙏🙏🙏🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

This is hilarious! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting ❤️

You wanna kiss me

Being somewhat friends with Eddie could be tiring. He never ran out of energy and he enjoyed getting on everyone's last nerve. He liked jokes, pranks, and teasing. He never had a dull moment.

Y/N was introduced to Eddie through Steve, and it was hard to ignore he was attractive. The worst part is that he seemed to know she thought it. That from the first look, she was smitten and he loved it.

But some days she wanted to strangle him.

"Eddie! Quit flicking me!" She growled as she scribbled down on her homework. His fingers continued to flick her arm, enjoying the way she glared at him.

The lunchroom was busy and loud as she tried to focus. The hellfire table all caught up in conversations, leaving Y/N as Eddie target.

"You know if you did that last night, you wouldn't be so stressed," he smirked, popping a pretzel in his mouth as he leaned back in his chair.

Her head snapped to cuss him out, slightly stopping as his legs spread and his hands went behind his head. The stupid smirk made her stomach flutter.

"I was trying to! You kept taking it away! Seriously leave me alone for the next ten minutes or I'm going to kill you," she threatened.

Eddie chuckled as she went back to her paper. But it was noticeable that she kept side-eyeing him as he shifted. He placed his arms on the table, leaning down to whisper near her.

"Kill me? That sounds mean," he teased. He smiled as her pencil snapped and a growl left her throat. Her eyes were blazing as she looked at him. She barely noticed his face was inches away from hers as she fumed.

"Edward," she said through clenched teeth.

"Ooo you wanna kiss me so bad!"

All the anger vanished from her body as she sat frozen. Her eyes wide as she stared at him. Her heart raced at the thought of her crush being known. She couldn't let him have the upper hand with everything.

Seeing her shocked and scared face, Eddie smirked and leaned back. "Go on, finish that homework," he had the nerve to wink.

She quickly looked back at the piece of paper, trying to distract her mind with the words in front of her.

~~~

Neither said anything about his comment. She didn't want to bring it up and he didn't mention it. She thought maybe she was in the clear as a few days passed. But she should have known Eddie doesn't stop once he's made progress in pissing someone off.

Y/N hoped it wasn't noticeable that she put extra time into her appearance for a movie night with Eddie. He was on his way and she was running around cleaning everything. She made sure nothing embarrassing was in her room and prepared the movie.

The second he walked in, her nerves were all over the place.

"Now I know it's your turn to pick the movie. But did you at least pick something good?" He asked as he slipped off his shoes.

"You'll find out," she shrugged with a smile. She led him upstairs, no idea he was checking her ass out on the way up. Once they made it to her room, he made himself comfortable. Throwing himself on her bed as he took all the room.

"Now where do I sit? The floor?" Her arms crossed as she looked at him.

"You'd look even hotter if you popped your hip out to the side," she rolled her eyes at his smirk. That damn smirk that never seemed to leave his lips.

"Just move over," she scoffed as she walked to her bed. But he didn't budge. "Eddie, seriously!"

"Make me," he challenged. She let out a loud sigh. She was tempted to try, see if she can yank his arm out of his damn socket but she knew he was stronger. And he'd win again and again.

"I'm not playing around," she said as a warning. Her voice annoyed as he laughed. He held his hands up in surrender, moving an inch over.

"You can fit right here," he said as he patted the spot next to him. She'd fit, but she'd be pressed up right against him.

"You know what? Fine!" She smiled, finally knocking him off his high horse as he truly looked shocked. She grabbed the remote and held her breath as she got on the bed. She tried to ignore him watching as she rested on her side, letting her breath go as he was behind her. At least this way she couldn't see his face and might have a chance at making it through the night.

She jumped when his hand landed on her hip. She was frozen as she stared straight ahead. Her breathing uneven as his body moved even closer. Her face flushed as she felt his hard chest right against her back.

"You gonna hit play?" He whispered in her ear, noticing the goosebumps that were raised on her neck. "Or just waiting to see if you feel something else touching you?"

Just like that, she was back to being annoyed. "You're disgusting!" She gasped as she turned around to shove him. He laughed as he rolled to his back, giving her more space. She quickly took the room, smiling in victory.

"Ha! I won!" She cheered, but her breath caught in her throat as she looked at him. He was already staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face. "Eddie?"

He snapped out of whatever he was thinking, that stupid teasing smile on his face. She rolled her eyes, preparing to roll over before he could even start, but she couldn't help but stare back at him. She tried to move her body but it stayed put.

"Stop looking at me like that!" She said as she shoved his shoulder. The look made her stomach erupt in butterflies and made her heart race. She knew liking Eddie wasn't a smart idea. He lived to tease and flirt with everyone and she couldn't take any of it seriously.

"Why?"

She looked down at his lips but quickly caught herself. But he already saw it, his lips moving into a shit eating grin.

"You wanna kiss me so bad," he whispered, moving his face closer to hers. "Just do it. It's obvious you want to."

Y/N debated it but she knew if she did, he'd brag about winning because that's all it would be.

"Keep dreaming," she scoffed, turning around and pressing play.

Eddie tried not to seem disappointed as he settled down. His hands itching to touch her again but he kept to himself.

~~~

Y/N truly never planned to admit her feelings but the more time she spent with him and the more he teased her, the harder it was.

All those times he teased about them kissing made her want it even more. What if she did it? Would he be shocked? Would it shut him up? What would happen after?

There were too many questions and she was terrified of the consequences. She enjoyed it when his attention was on her, but as she looked across the hideout with his attention on another girl she wished she made the move.

He invited her, and yet she was left at the table alone. He was supposed to be getting drinks but it seemed he was getting a date instead. After ten minutes of waiting, she got up. This was exactly why she never said anything.

She walked over to the couple, tapping his shoulder. He stopped mid conversation, turning to see who it was. He smiled as he saw her.

"What's up?" He asked. Truthfully, he had the hots for Y/N since Steve brought her around. And Eddie didn't have the best track record when it came to girls. He had a feeling she liked him but he was too chicken to make the move and look like an idiot. He also didn't know how to communicate his feelings so he went for the teasing and flirting route. All of which lead him to nothing. She never caved in.

"Look I'm not going to sit around and wait for whatever you are hoping to get from her so I'll just see you at school," she said, giving the girl a look over before she walked away.

"Y/N! Wait!" He said, not saying a word to the other girl as he walked after her. He grabbed her hand as they made it outside.

She didn't want to seem jealous or annoyed. She wanted to seem like she was completely fine.

"Yes?" She sighed, turning around to look at him. He dropped her hand and she was quick to slip it in her jacket pocket.

"I wasn't trying to get anywhere with that girl"

"Eddie, I really don't care if you were or not. I'm tired and want to go home"

"You don't care? Really?" He asked, turning his head to the side like he could x-ray through her lie.

"Really," she smiled, "do you want me to care?"

"Maybe I do," he said honestly. "I kinda thought something was building here."

She scoffed at his words, laughing quietly to herself. "Oh you mean all the teasing and pissing me off? Is that the only form of flirting you have?"

"At least I can admit to feeling something," he snapped. "I know what you're doing. You refuse to give in."

"Give in? Eddie, you were two seconds away from fucking a random girl at a bar you invited me to! So yeah, god forbid I'm smart and can see a shitty guy who will only play with my feelings for his entertainment," feeling pissed, she turned around and began to walk off.

But now he was pissed and annoyed, following her.

"A shitty guy? I'm not a shitty guy. And I told you I wasn't doing anything with her!"

"I don't care, Eddie," she sang, she tried to walk faster but in seconds he appeared in front of her. He blocked her from leaving as he moved in front of her anytime she moved.

"I think you do care otherwise you wouldn't be jealous," he smirked. "Because If we were just friends, I don't think your mind would be racing about me and that girl."

"Wipe that smug look off your face," she rolled her eyes. "Go right ahead and get her number," she said as she patted him on the shoulder.

"Yeah? Should I?" He pressed, his head moving closer to her. But she didn't back down, letting him lean in.

"Yeah, go for it. Hope she says yes so you don't get embarrassed," this time the teasing smirk on her face.

He chuckled at her, both staring at each other as their faces grew closer. It was almost like they didn't know it was happening until they were nose to nose.

"Ooo you wanna kis-" this time she cut him off. Her hands on his face as she smashed her lips against his.

He finally got it, wasting no time as he kissed her back. All the tension they had was adding heat to the kiss as he walked her up against the wall.

Moaning into each other's mouths as they gripped each other desperately. The kiss was better than either of them imagined. She wasn't surprised that he was a good kisser. His lips moved perfectly against hers and her head spun when his tongue slipped inside her mouth.

Safe to say, Eddie got exactly what he was hoping for.