#Yes there are three Steves

[incorrect-marvel-because-why-not]

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two--you are here/ Part Three

Hellfire did in fact, have cookies to sell.

More than cookies, which Dustin practically preened over when Eddie dragged himself back to their table. 

The ornaments they had made were still there, but now the centerpiece was an array of baked goods. Spread out in a spiral, it started from the large cake in the center and spun out into miniature cookies held in tiny decorated bags, all while Harrington stood over them like a proud parent. 

It smelled mockingly delicious. 

Eddie glared at the display, resisting the urge to upend the whole thing onto the floor.

Cookies and cakes and (--was that frickin bread pudding?) whatever other treats Harrington had shown up with might look good, but Eddie didn’t trust it. 

Didn’t trust Harrington, even if the bastard had never really done anything himself--but then, he never had to, had he? 

That was the point of all that money, after all. So he could pay other people to do his dirty work while he kept his hands squeaky clean. 

“Inch a bit to the left--there, stop!” Harrington was saying, like the bossy asshole he was.

Like he thought he could just come in and expect everyone to follow his lead. 

“Perfect! Now don’t touch it.” 

God, Eddie had to nip this in the butt, now. Before King Horrorton harassed his sheep all day, and cemented the club's undeserved bad name in the minds of Hawkins.

“Dustin what did I just say--” 

Eddie stepped up to the front of their table, preparing himself for war.

Looked over to his friends knowing they'd likely need a nod of reassurance. A show from him that said he had this handled.

There was no cowering. 

No pleading, helpless, 'What do we do Eddie!?' gazes aimed his direction.

Hellfire wasn’t even looking at him, and not because they were all avoiding Harrington's line of sight.

No, the fucking traiters were flanking the King. Like they were buddies with the bastard instead of mortal enemies. 

“Hey, Ed’s, Harrington brought pies. Cakes too!” Gareth said around a mouthful of cookie when he noticed Eddie standing before him. 

It came out a garbled mess, but years of experience had Eddie understanding him anyway. 

Jeff was busy playing what sounded like twenty fucking questions regarding the setup, and even Grant appeared comfortable, happily letting Harrington order him around as they finished setting up. 

Like this was some kind of cutesy Disney movie where they all held hands and sang songs instead of a hostile takeover situation. 

Eddie’s eye twitched.

Sensing a disturbance in the force, Jeff looked up and immediately interrupted himself to point to a series of red and green cookies placed dead center, delighted. 

“Check it out man, Steve made some shaped like dice!” 

(And he did say ‘Steve.’ 

Not Harrington, or This Asshole, or The Invading Evil Forces of Darkness.

Just Steve, like Steve was someone Jeff hung out with everyday.

Jeff’s cleric was a dead elf walking.) 

Eddie took note of what was in fact, dice cookies. 

He hated how good they looked.

“There’s four flavors.” Steve told him, cocky little grin on his face as he observed his work.  “Chocolate chip, peanut butter, snickerdoodle--and the dice ones are sugar cookies.” 

He licked his lips before finally turning to look at Eddie, hair curling over his face and making him wave a hand to brush them out of his eyes. 

Eddie hated how good he looked too. 

‘Hate, hate, hate, absolutely loathe-’ 

“Great, sure, wonderful.” Eddie managed, though given the look Grant and Jeff both shot him it might have come out as more of a growl. 

Dustin rolled his eyes, and Eddie couldn’t help but notice that Hellfire’s other two youngest hadn’t dared to show their faces yet. 

Likely they knew Eddie was having an absolute meltdown over Steve’s presence and were waiting for his reaction to blow over. 

(Their characters were dead too.) 

“I have two full cakes--one chocolate, on vanilla--and a few individual slices we can sell.” Steve was continuing, as if Eddie wasn’t glaring a hole in his forehead. “Those did really well last year when I made them for the basketball team.” 

Insults fought for space on Eddie’s tongue, but he managed to roll a 20 to pick the best one, opening his mouth to let it fly.

"Harr-" is as far as he got before he was rudely interrupted.

“Steve? Is that you?” A woman Eddie didn’t recognize but was clearly someone's mom came up cautiously to the table, side eyeing the Hellfire banner like a nervous horse. “That can’t be your famous tiramisu, is it?”

Steve beamed at her. “Well hi Miss Carpenter. It is!” 

Eddie was bumped aside by a massive purse, the woman not even glancing in his direction as she stepped up to the table. 

With a sneer, he finally slumped to the back of their little spot as Miss Carpenter looked over all Steve’s (not Hellfire’s and absolutely not Eddie’s) offerings. 

Didn’t care to wipe it off right then, even if he knew he needed to if he wanted to make sales. 

Jeff sent him a look.

The same one he usually aimed Eddie’s way when he thought Eddie’s antics were going to cause problems. 

He ignored it, on grounds that traitors don’t get to be judgy. 

“Oh,” Miss Caprtender tittered, the draw of Harrington’s baked goods clearly overcoming whatever fear she had about Hellfire. “Well I just can’t pass that up. The swim team meets aren’t the same without you!”

Eddie pretended to gag.  

Waited for her to comment on Hellfire--their clothes, their music, hell even the length of Eddie’s hair--and found he was almost disappointed when there wasn't even a single question about why Hawkins precious golden child was slumming it with the weirdos. 

Instead, Miss Carpenter's hand went fishing in her purse for her wallet as she loudly called out over her shoulder, to, presumably another annoying woman; 

“Terry, Steve’s here! He’s been baking!” 

For two terrifying seconds, there was a notable dip in the conversations around them. 

Grant’s eyes went wide as several women responded to the announcement like dogs hearing food hit the floor, and within seconds their table was absolutely swarmed by the mothers of Hawkins.

Even Eddie was taken aback at the sheer number of them. 

“Hold, men, hold.” Dustin cautioned as Jeff and Grant both flinched. “Come on, we need to get our gold!” 

“They’re scary though.” Gareth whispered in horror as four women tried to talk at once, jostling each other so hard they shook the table menacingly. 

“Ladies, ladies there’s enough here for everyone!” Steve laughed, showing off his disgustingly cute dimples as he did, getting several of the mom’s to blush at their own behavior in the process. 

The sheer amount of attention of course, drew in even more people, and Dustin quickly took up directing, planting Jeff and Grant at either end of their table while he and Steve fended off the hoard from the front. 

(Given the way he and Steve were equally ordering Hellfire around, Eddie finally knew where the little shit had picked that attitude up from. He was going to have to cure Dustin of it, ASAP.  ) 

“Here you go Miss Harper.” Steve said sweetly, handing over yet another stack of baked goods.

Without turning his head, and in the tone of voice one used to warn a misbehaving dog, he added; “Gareth don’t think I can’t fucking see you, get back up here.” 

Caught trying to sink under the table with another cookie in his mouth, Gareth found himself hauled back to his feet by his collar, putting a snarl on Eddie’s face immediately. 

“Hey--” He started, defensive and more than ready to intercede, except Gareth wasn’t flinching or cursing or doing that thing he did with his mouth when he was desperately trying to hold in his temper. 

Instead he was giving a sheepish grin and a half-assed apology while he hung in Harrington’s grasp, before doing what the guy told him to do. 

(It did not help that Steve patted him on the shoulder when he released him, before handing Gareth a third fucking cookie.)

Eddie’s eye twitched a second time.

(He told it to knock it off.

It didn’t listen.) 

No one acknowledged Eddie or his outburst, which meant he was just skulking behind the boys while they all worked. 

Arms crossed, rings tapping a rhythm on his forearm, far too keyed up to do anything other than glare at the back of Harrington's skull.

The King seemed perfectly happy to ignore him.

Likewise, Gareth and Grant knew better than to bother him when he was in a snit. 

Henderson made the occasional snappy little comment, but the brat had mostly left him alone now that they were well into the swing of selling, chortling over the increasing stack of cash Steve kept trying to get him to put into a “safe place.” 

Eddie was seconds away from walking up and snatching the cash himself when Jeff decided it was on him to attempt the impossible. 

Get him to help Harrington. 

“More hands would be nice, Eddie!” Jeff called, looking more than a little harassed as the mom he was helping changed her order a second time, snaking out the last single slice of chocolate cake from another mom who was eyeing it. “Steve and I could really use your assistance over here!” 

Eddie’s glare, which had been doing its level best to try and vaporize the King’s brain, switched targets instantly. 

“I’m supervising.” 

Jeff made a face like he was about to argue, but the King beat him to it. 

“It must be tough,” Harrington said, tilting his head to look back towards Eddie, “to supervise people who are working so much harder than you.” 

Which promptly set the mood for the next full hour. 

xXx 

Harrington was matching him tit for tat.

Every shitty, sneered word out of Eddie’s mouth was met with an equally mean toned barb, though given the repeated looks everyone kept shooting him, Eddie was very much considered the aggressor here.

A fact he cannot believe is coming from his own friends.

What happened to comradery? To Eddie stepping in and protecting them, from the likes of people just like Harrington? 

But no, Eddie makes one fucking comment about how the cookies are probably half hair-spray and suddenly he’s the bad guy.

(Nevermind that Steve had fired right back, telling Eddie that any hair-spray taste was probably from all the drugs he did.)

Was somewhat, halfway--okay maybe amazing, Eddie might have snuck a cookie himself--food really all it took to get them all to turn on him like this?

Erase the years of Eddie being their shield? 

Act like Harrington wasn’t just as bitchy and awful as he had been in high school (even if he was, admittedly, being nicer about it all right now? Almost--aloof, like he couldn’t figure out why Eddie hated him so much, but likewise wasn’t going to take even one eye roll sitting down--and no, no, Eddie wasn't derailing this by thinking about Harrington's stupid eyes, he wasn't!) 

Frankly he would have flipped them all the bird and stormed off, if it weren’t for the increasingly weird little comments people were making. 

‘Oh Steve, it's a shock to see you here.’ 

‘Are you doing someone a favor?’ 

‘You know Pastor Jim said something about this game…’

The last one had put Eddie’s teeth on edge, even if Dustin had brushed it off. It hadn’t been aimed at Steve directly but the women saying it had absolutely been looking at the King, as if waiting for his reaction.

Not that Harrington would take the bait this soon, though. 

There were too many people buying fricken…cupcakes and shit, while Horrorton enjoyed the attention of the masses. 

Eventually this tiny crowd would die down though, and that’s when Steve would change his tune. Start answering some of the questions he seemed to be dodging as more and more people got braver about coming up to the table.

This whole thing was a ticking time bomb, and Eddie would be ready when it inevitably blew. 

To defend his table, his club, his friends. 

Even Henderson, who absolutely didn’t deserve it just then. 

“Dude perk up would you? You look like you’re going to stab somebody.” Jeff hissed at him ten minutes later, when there was finally a break in the flood. 

Eddie ignored him in place of taking stock of the table. (And maybe, sneaking another cookie.)

“Hope you brought more than this, Harrington.” He said, knowing he sounded like a stuck up ass and not feeling an iota of guilt about it. “Unless you plan to run home and bake more like a good little housewife.”  

“Dude.” Grant said, casting him a look like King Dick might leave and take the cookies with him.

“Oh I brought more.” Harrington dismissed, with a small flick of his fingers. “And I’ll have you know you’d never find a housewife more perfect than I am, Munson.” 

Then he turned to nail Eddie with the most shit eating grin he’d ever seen the King wear. 

Facing flaming a brilliant red, Eddie sputtered for a second before finally getting ahold of himself and spitting; 

“How delightful. I--” 

“Okay.” Jeff cut in, forever the mediator. “Gary, Dustin can you help Steve pull the extra stuff out from under the tables? While I go talk to Eddie?” 

“Can I try the tiramisu?” Gareth asked, inching hopefully towards the treat while keeping an eye on Harrington’s hands, lest he get smacked again. 

“Only if you’re a good boy.” Harrington told him sarcastically and goddammit why did that make Eddie blush harder!? 

Jeff sighed, before grabbing his arm and hauling Eddie back, away from the table, right as a younger man in some stupid sport’s jacket asked questions about one of the dice cookies.

“Look I get it man, I do,” Jeff started, voice talking in the sort of wheelding, pleading tone it did when he really wanted something and knew Eddie was opposed. “but Steve’s been super cool. We might actually make money off this, and he’s giving us all of it. Can you just… not antagonize him for five minutes?” 

Eddie stared at his best friend in abject horror. 

“You couldn’t have talked to him for more than twenty minutes total. Half of which he spent bitching that you were bagging a cake wrong! At what point was Harrington "being cool!?"

The asterisks were made by his fingers, which Eddie mockingly framed his face with. 

He got a flat, unimpressed stare in return. 

“It was a very informative twenty minutes and he was right about the cake. Now are you going to help or are you going to glower in the corner?” 

Eddie gaped. 

“I cannot believe you right now--”

Jeff didn’t even wait to hear him out.

 “You’ve chosen to glower. I can’t help you man, but we’d all have a much better day if you weren’t at Harrington’s throat every five seconds.” Jeff turned smoothly on his heel.

Over his shoulder he added; “Seriously, don’t come back until you’ve worked your way out of your snit.” 

Shocked, Eddie watched Jeff float back to the front, inserting himself easily between Grant and Steve and immediately striking up a conversation.

With the enemy. 

“I didn’t know you baked.” Jeff told Steve loudly (and very obviously, for Eddie to see.) 

Steve gave a bashful little smile, then shrugged. “It’s a hobby. Got into it back when the basketball team needed to fundraise a few years ago and Tommy’s mom got it in her head we should sell home baked goods. Turns out its kinda fun.” 

“Please never get out of it.” Gareth insisted, a piece of God knows what crammed in his mouth.

“Dude, how many of those have you gotten into!? Stop eating the merchandise!” Dustin commanded, smacking at Gareth’s shoulder. 

“I physically cannot stop man.” Gareth dodged, reaching out for another cookie. “I’m not sorry.” 

Steve just laughed. All charming and buddy-buddy, like it was natural for him to be here. 

Wearing a Hellfire shirt. Making jokes and teasing the guys. 

In Eddie’s fucking place. 

He seethed, fingers twitching, and envisioned the very unsexy murder of one Steve Harrington.  

Cartoon X’s for eyes and all. 

xXx

Trouble didn't hit the table.

It in fact, seemed to stay away as if on purpose, to shove in Eddie's face that he was the one in the wrong here.

Even the questions toned done as the second wave of moms showed up, this round prompted by some former teammate of Steve’s Eddie didn’t recognize yelling about his apple pie.

Instead, Eddie’s wayward sheep finally made their appearance Mike and Lucas trying to sneak in as if Eddie wouldn’t notice during the new rush.

(Eddie himself almost caused trouble when he realized Lucas was wearing a Not-A-Hellfire shirt, which solved the mystery of where Harrington had gotten his.

He was inching his way towards them, a snarky word on his tongue when he saw Sinclair said something about how he was “already on Eddie’s shitlist for joining the basketball team,” in relation to what must have been a question about his Hellfire shirt, that caused Eddie to freeze.

With the air of a sad, wet kitten, Lucas followed it with; “I’m sure it won’t be long before he kicks me out of Hellfire anyway.” 

Like he'd been punched in the gut, all the air left Eddie’s lungs.

Because before Lucas had said that, Eddie had been thinking it. 

Not really--he’d never kick anyone out of Hellfire.

It was more that he'd thought about it in the way one does when you know you're in the right, and are having to resort to underhanded tactics to force the other party to come to their senses.

Like a sort of shitty, angry “I should kick you out, let you see what happens when you don’t have us!” kind of intervention.

The same kind he had heard the jocks sling before, when they were mad at each other and--God he wasn’t--he couldn’t be, like them...could he?

Like fucking Harrington, who oh fuck, was patting Lucas sympathetically on the shoulder and giving him some kind of whispered advice. 

Sonovabitch. 

“I’m going for a smoke.” Eddie bit out, vision tunneling.

He knew he needed to go sit down somewhere, before he fucking lost it in front of Hawkins, Harrington and everyone. 

And wouldn’t that just be a treat for King Steve?

To watch Eddie realize he had turned into the very thing he hated, preached against, even? 

That Steve was, maybe, possibly, doing a better job of following Eddie’s own Munson Doctrine than he was?

Eddie barely saw the room anymore--waived off whatever Grant was trying to say to him as flew past, shaking hands fishing for a desperately needed cigarette.

Maybe a hope and a prayer too, because apparently he needed it.

How long had he been like this? 

Been a douchebag asshole? 

Was it the whole year? More than? Or was it just now, with stupid Steve involved? Could he trace this back to that stupidly cute--no, no, annoying, asshole?

Was this some fucked up way of coping with his growing crush!?

Lost in thought and growing self hatred he nearly careened right into Robin Buckley.

Her slightly bent paper reindeer ears marked her as a memeber of the high school band, who had been absolutely butchering ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ a few minutes earlier. 

Vaguely heard her yell Steve’s name as he ran off (because that’s what Eddie was doing. What he always did.

Run--from himself and his own fucking feelings, like a total cliche.)

--but didn’t take in that she was doing more than saying hi to, oh fuck him sideways--her friend.

Because she and Steve were friends now.

Good ones, if the freshmen were to be believed.

Rather than go outside and catastrophize in the cold, Eddie threw himself threw the doors at the end of the hall, then up the stairwell, to the second floor.

Tucked himself into a corner, right there by the stairs.

Sank down into a crouch, hands scrubbing up his face before tangling in his hair, head dropping between his knees, cigarette shoved into his mouth.

Somehow, Eddie decided, this was Steve’s fault. 

He'd have come up with a reason for that, he was sure. A good one even, except he forgot one of the key features of his life.

He was a Munson, and as a general rule of life, nice neat things did not happen to Munson's--but they did get kicked while they were down.

“Okay, what happened?” Steve fucking Harrington asked, voice loudly echoing up the stairwell from down below, and Eddie threw his head back, nearly slamming it against the wall. 

(Maybe he’d pissed off a witch. His life would make a lot more sense if someone had cursed it.)

“She gave me her number!”

That was Buckley, the shrill timber identifiable even as she whispered the words. 

Eddie can’t really see them without giving himself away--could probably make his escape if he got down and army-crawled past the railing he’s huddled by, but figured this is their fault anyway. 

Not his problem if he overhears a private conversation because they’re both too stupid to check to see if someone was seated literally right up above them.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?" Steve was saying. "That’s what we wanted!” 

“Is it!? What if she’s just, you know, giving it to me?” 

“...I’m not following.” 

“Like in a friend way. Not a--”

“Romantic way?”

Harrington has the smarts to say the words quietly.  So quietly in fact, that had Eddie not been in the exact right position he wouldn’t have heard--but he almost swallowed his unlit (he should have lit it, maybe they'd have smelled the smoke and fucked off) cigarette anyway. 

“Sssshh!” Robin hissed, and Eddie can’t see either of them but he imagined her jamming her hand over Harrington’s big fat mouth. 

“Not so loud, Steve!” 

“Sorry, God.” Sure enough, Harrington’s voice is muffled. “How did she give it to you? Did she say anything?” 

“She asked if I want to hang out after band, but because I have that stupid family thing, I told her I couldn’t today, but I can literally any other day, and she said she’d call me, and I said--” 

“Robs, breathe.” 

“Don’t interrupt me, Dingus!” Robin said, voice shrill again, before she clearly listened to Harrington and took a breath. 

 It was big, and deep, and she blasted it back out loud enough for the fucking birds on the roof to hear. 

In a calmer voice, Robin continued; “I said we never traded phone numbers so I didn’t have hers. She grabbed my arm and wrote her number on it. Look, she added a heart!” 

“Okay, here you go! A hearts a good sign!"  

And Harrington sounded--sounds happy for her, practically ecstatic, which doesn’t make much sense given Robin is talking about a ‘her’ and-

And-and-and--

Eddie’s always been quick to connect the dots. 

It’s something he inherited from his old man. A Munson trait he’s tried to make his own through being an excellent DM (and not by robbing people blind or boosting cars.) 

Here, the dots clearly screamed that Robin Buckley was trying to ask a woman out. 

You know, in a gay way. 

Which Harrington not only knew, but was supportive of. 

Steve Harrington, who famously called Jonathan Byers' a queer before smashing the guy's beloved camera into the ground. 

Eddie’s head exploded. 

Or was in the process of exploding--he’s not entirely sure given the tunnel vision was back and his soul felt like it had exited his body entirely. 

Just knew that his world was being remade for a second time in five minutes, and that he was dealing with it pretty damn poorly.

(Maybe God would be nice for once, and just give him the aneurism he clearly deserved.)

Which was of course, when trouble finally did decide to show face, in the form of Dustin Henderson barging through the doors and into Steve and Robin's little meeting.

Eddie knew, because Eddie could hear him.

“Steve! Steve we have a problem!” 

“I’m busy Dustin--”

“Be busy later, we have an emergency on our hands!” 

“And what, pray tell, do you think is an emergency?” 

Eddie, who had instantly latched onto the conversation by the sheer need to have something distract him from his own thoughts, wondered the very same.

“Jason Carver showed up at the table, with a priest. They’re trying to do some whole kind of crazy sermon--is that a good enough emergency for you!?” 

“Oh shit. ” Steve spat, at the same time Eddie yelled it from up high. 

He sprang up, all thoughts of Robin and Steve knowing he’d eavesdropped vanishing entirely from his head as he lunged for the stairs.

Flew down them, because the thing he'd been waiting all fucking day for had finally happened.

He nearly crashed into Robin once again as he blew through the barely closed doors, Steve and Dustin already far ahead of him.

“Eddie?” Robin asked, voice noticeably nervous. "Were you--"

"Not now Starbuck, but we can talk later." Eddie told her, flying right past.

After he saved Hellfire. 

[stevesbipanic]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 21: Please

"Please."

It's such a simple word. You're taught it so young, to say it to respect people, to ask people, to beg people.

Some people abuse it. They use it knowing how the word can make the strongest men crumble. To tack on the word at the end of a sentence as a final will to the universe to bend to your wants.

"Please."

Steve used it a lot growing up but not out of desire but necessity. He knew full well what would happen if he didn't bow to his parents. His father didn't touch his face at least.

Eddie despised the word, where had please ever gotten him? Did please keep his mother around, did please make his father buy him food? No, please was for the weak.

"Please."

Steve wished the word held power like it did when he was small. He wished the word could stitch together wounds and heal broken bones. He wishes it worked like that.

Eddie thinks the word sounds beautiful coming from Steve's mouth. It sounds like a prayer, begging him for something. Eddie wishes he could give Steve what he wanted, but he knows please doesn't work like that.

"Please."

He begs one last time.

The universe doesn't answer.

Neither does Eddie.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

The Kings Hostage

i decided to listen to my brain and the people about writing a alternate meeting in season three with Steddie.

Eddie sat impatiently in one of the most uncomfortable chairs he has ever sat in. Afraid that if he stood up someone in the waiting room would quickly steal his seat. But his bladder was screaming at him. (Let's just say, anxiety was not the only thing racing through his body.) That being the reason why he started to decline any beverage offered to him.

Random staff members of the hospital had gone around with a pitcher of water and cups to hand out every other hour or so. Giving many cups to numerous children who were sitting with an older family member who were waiting for any news on someone who had been affected by the mall fire. That was the main story going around about so many people being there. Others on the other hand were there in hopes that some of the unidentified patients were their loved ones. Whom they haven't heard from and knew were going to be in the mall around the time it lit up into flames.

Thankfully Eddie wasn't in the same situation as them. His Uncle, Wayne Munson had been nowhere near the fire. In fact, he had been across town working an overnight shift at one of the numerous factories that lived on the outskirts of Hawkins. That had been a short relief for him before he found out from the front desk that the old man nearly cut his entire fucking finger off with one of the saws like an absolute dumbass.

The second Eddie gets a hold of him he was chewing the man's ear off, who by the way had just promised Eddie that he would stay away from the more dangerous equipment and let one of the younger guys handle it. Or literally anyone who was more qualified for the position.

Leaning forward a bit, placing his elbows on his knees he begins to rub his face feeling very stressed out. Thankfully nowhere close to some in the room currently, who were faintly crying on and off as the reality of the situation hit them. Soft little hiccups being heard through the silence that had settled in once midnight hit. Allowing a few of the younger kids to sleep in silence, and some of the old as well. A silent agreement amongst the whole room.

His stomach was growling, growing more upset as he lets a soft agitated sigh out as he stands up. Feeling his back and legs pop from sitting for so long. If he waits any longer, he was for sure going to piss himself. Sure, it would probably distract everyone from the situation at hand, but it wasn't something he wanted to do.

He moves across the floor, the first person to move within the past couple of hours. He gives a bittersweet smile to one of the front desk ladies when their eyes meet, mouthing a soft bathroom to her before the acknowledgement is quickly ignored again.

Moving through the doors, he heads to the bathroom that was a bit out of the way. The set up was weird but he wasn't going to complain if it means getting out of the waiting room and from the small crowd for a few minutes. Taking a right, he moves opening the door to the bathroom. Glancing at the numerous urinals placed across the wall as he doesn't waste time handling his business. Washing his hands before he begins to throw cold water against his face in hope of two things. Waking up, and to get rid of the sweat that was starting to cause his skin to go sticky.

His hands were currently bundling up a paper towel when the door flies open. Banging against the wall pretty hard as someone throws themselves inside like they were on a mission of some sort.

Eddies eyes open a bit more, this person waking him up more than what cold water could. Not missing the frantic way, the person, obviously a guy quickly shuts the door. Eddies exhausted, so it takes a moment for it to click that the same guy was currently in a blue gown. And if Eddie looked further down his back his ass was very much on full display. Eddie was so close in fact that he could see the slight heart shaped mole that was living on the right guy's ass cheek.

His mouth falls open and shut, about to protest something when the other turns around. Breathing heavily with messy hair and a even more messed up face. Eye lid nearly closed from being so swollen. It takes a longer time for Eddie to process that Steve Harrington was currently standing in front of him then processing the heart shaped mole on his ass.

The guy does not look like he's doing okay, that was at least the third observation he catches. Faintly hearing loud footsteps coming from the hall, as if someone were racing after him. Along with a radio cutting in with an even louder voice.

"Patient from room 420 is on the loose, repeat we have a running patient. Names Steven Amir Harrington -" How fitting, Steve Harringtons middle name literally meant prince. "Is 5'11, brunette with blonde highlights. Approach with caution, patient is showcasing signs of PTSD and unusually high levels of paranoia."

Hearing that, Eddie's eyes grow bigger as he opens his mouth to shout. Before he can though the other is quickly throwing himself forward after locking the door. Hand landing over his mouth, dropping the clothes he had been holding under his arm onto the ground. The light shuffle not causing enough noise to catch the attention of the security guard that literally just walked by. Responding to the call on his walkie, unable to be heard as the man in front of Eddie starts to plead like his life depended on it. And for all Eddie could know it does.

"Please, shh - don't. I just need a minute to get changed and then I'm out of your hair Munson. Please just - just don't say anything. Don't want them to find me." His whisper is low, and each word slurs a bit as Eddie takes a shaky breath from the palm of the others hand. Still not believing that he was being pinned up against the wall by Steve fucking Harrington. Who looks like he lost a bar fight against Andre the fucking giant. But there was something in the other's eyes. A sort of desperation that Eddie can't ignore.

Nodding his head carefully, he decides to do whatever the other wanted. there was no way he was winning a fight against the ex king of Hawkins high.

And holy shit, was the freak currently being held hostage by the ex-king of Hawkins high?

still unsure if I'm going to write more to this, but this is the scene that's been lost in my head a bit. I'm exhausted, but who knows I might add more lmao. If you want to see more just let me know.

[meralasan]

look at that they're having a healthy healing conversation

(head out to my twt or patreon for uncropped version 🤫)

[todolist-nothing07]

When you’re left alone for a little over a week and your lizard brain decides fuck it we’re going to rewatch the entirety of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

And you do.

[goggles-mcgee]

Bambino Mio

ST AU where Steve is technically a missing kid in Italy. Richard Harrington had fallen for a women from Italy, Luciana Catalano. Both from well off families, both wanting to see the world before they settled down. It's when they were visiting Luciana's family in Sicily that Luciana was told she couldn't travel and was going to have her baby there. Richard was not happy, to be fair he was not happy before they left to begin with. The two were fighting about anything and everything and her having his son in Italy seemed to make matters worse.

Richard Harrington was not a nice guy and Luciana had learned that a bit too slowly and a bit too late into the relationship. They weren't married, a fact that seemed to make him angry but her oh so happy. She couldn't imagine being tied down to him. He was barely there for her pregnancy and when he was he just made her feel small and inadequate. Then her son was born.

Her beautiful baby Stefano.

Richard was angry enough that his son was born in Sicily and that he would have to do paperwork to make his child have dual citizenship, but then they learned that Luciana was still very weak after the pregnancy and could not travel still. Then it turned out it wasn't just the pregnancy that was making her weak, she was sick. And because she was sick she didn't want to leave her family, plus they were all doing so much to help with Stefano.

Richard just couldn't see that. Or really anything but his own anger and problems. Problems he made for himself. He constantly got mad at her for being sick, for being “weak.” Then there was his desperation, because that was the only word for it, need to take Stefano back to the States to show his parents he had an Heir for the company he told her he didn’t even want. Her family didn't like him but they loved little Stefano who honestly looked so much like her.

They loved having him around and doting on him. He was their precious little Dolcezza! Three years had past and Luciana’s health was slowly getting better, though Richard’s attitude did not help in the slightest. He, of course traveled back to the States from time to time to visit his family, and each time he returned was another time that Luciana questioned what she saw in him. She was fully planning on filing for full-custody as soon as she was back to full health but things changed. 

Richard started acting weird. He didn't pick fights, he started being helpful and Luciana felt stupid to admit she thought maybe just maybe he realized what a blessing her and Stefano were to him. Sure he had to take a lot more business calls, and the calls were very long but she just figured it was a lot of work with him getting more involved in the family business like he said he was doing. Then one day he said he wanted to take Stefano out to the markets for a Father-Son day. Luciana felt stupid about it now but at the time she thought it was nothing more than Richard finally accepting their situation and wanting to integrate himself in her family and Italy more, so she easily agreed. He convinced her he would pack their bags and lunches for the day so she could rest and because he didn’t want to bother any of her family members given the terms they were on at the moment. It made sense to her, maybe if she hadn’t been dosed on so much medication she would have been more clear-headed, but that was the last day she saw her son and Richard. 

Of course she reported it but nothing came of it, he had already fled the country and the biggest shock came when she found out he had lied about his last name their entire relationship. Luciano felt like a fool and fell into a deep depression, but she and the authorities were determined to bring her baby home. 

She had panicked, she had cried, she had raged. Most importantly, she planned.

Every birthday of Stefano’s that passed she cried for her baby boy. She yearned to hold him in her arms and kiss his little nose and just never let him go. Each birthday that past was like a nail in her heart but she and her family did whatever they could based off the information Luciana had of her former lover. They never knew if it was true or not but they did all they could. She got in contact with old friends, who at first refused to talk to her because apparently she was crazy and a stalker and Richard was just oh so scared of what she would do if she found him. ....Yeah. That pissed her off to no end but she stood strong and convinced them of her sanity and credibility, when they found out what Richard had done they were horrified. Each felt betrayed by the man and they made a schedule to message each other on Talkomatic to help Luciana find him and her baby and just to catch up. 

Stefano would have been 10 at that time. Tracking her old friends down took four years, (This was the seventies at the time) then actually getting them to talk to her took three. During that time she was making sure everything was ready for when she traveled back to the States since she knew she would be there for an extended and unknown period of time. 

Stefano was 12 when they found out his father’s name was actually Richard Harrington and not Richard Hartman like he told them all.

He was 12 and a half when they found out Richard Harrington had moved from his family’s home of Indianapolis to the small town of Hawkins. 

It took her no time to fly and settle things so she could stay with a friend that lived in Terre Haute. The move took a lot out of her and unfortunately her health took a small dive again but it was stuff she could manage, but it did take a year before she was up to full health yet again and able to take her case to Hawkins Local Police.

Stefano was 14 when she realized they were doing nothing to help her and had warned Richard and his wife about someone calling to accuse him of child abduction and her sisters Theresa and Chiara joined her. The sisters instead went to the State Police and even sent her case to the FBI just in case she wasn’t treated seriously. Her son turned 15 when she finally got the help she deserved and  he was 17 when the case was solid enough that forces were on the move to track down Richard and Christine Harrington. Luciana and her sisters took that time to buy their own house and apply for their US citizenship because Luciana didn’t want to rip her baby boy from everything he knew despite wanting to take him back to Italy like her heart wanted and her sisters refused to leave them alone. It was a couple months after he turned 17 that everything was set for her to go find her baby boy and explain everything to him. He was practically an adult and that hurt to think about but she was determined to make up the missing years and make it up to him that she and authorities blindsided him with everything.

It was a day in early July that she built up the courage to go find her baby and arrived in Hawkins. She arrived to chaos. She asked what was happening, apparently there was a fire at some mall. Then she asked where she could find Steve Harrington even if the name made her sick, that was not her bambino’s name.

He worked at said mall.

Luciana didn’t even remember stealing that car.

When she arrived it was to the aftermath and she saw many people reuniting with loved ones. Her heart had been in her throat as she barely had even set the car in park before jumping out and running around hoping she would recognize her baby. Then she saw the hair first, just like hers minus the sweat, soot and blood. Oh God blood! She ran and the closer she got she could make out some moles, her Stefano was blessed with many just like his grandfather, but the thing she noticed most was how hurt her son was. He looked awful despite her still thinking he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in a long time. There was nothing stopping her tears and her shout of, “Stefano! Mio Bambino!”

He looked at her and she thought she saw him murmur, “Mama?” But she wasn’t sure, she didn’t stop running until she had her son in her arms, she checked him over while stumbling over her words but he just looked at her in awe with his own tears slipping down his face. It was an eventful reunion and she knew she missed a lot of important things but Luciana had her son back and nothing would take him from her. Not again.

In this AU Steve is the same age as Robin, why? because I wanted him to be in school with the kiddos and with Robin and Eddie >3> The length of time was purely for plot reasons, I have no idea how long that would have taken back then. Richard lied about his name because he was awful and at the time had been dating multiple woman and had given each of them a different last name because he didn’t want anything traced back to him, especially kids. (More so if they ended up being girls.) Basically he was a con artist but things with Luciana were somewhat different. He found out she was having a boy and thought he would finally settle down but he found her too “combative” and not at all like a proper wife. His parents, mainly his father was threatening to cut his allowance and cut him out of his inheritance for his “womanizing” ways but when he admitted his latest tryst was having a boy his father was ready to forgive and forget if he brought the boy into the family to be the heir to the family business so they could carry on the Harrington name. 

The hiccup was they absolutely did not want him marrying Luciana since he was already engaged! Yep! An arranged marriage that his father had planned for him ever since he was a teen but he rebelled by traveling and sleeping with any girl he found attractive. His parents helped him with the paperwork and everything to kidnap Steve and falsify his birth certificate with Christine Harrington nee Peters named as his mother. 

Steve knew Christine wasn’t his birth mother but he learned to pretend very quickly. Though he never forgot how his birth mom smelt of honey, spiced apples and garlic. The garlic was never strong in his memories but it was always subtly there. He remembered lullabies sung to him and a soft voice calling him Stefano, but her face had started fading as he grew and it killed him. Every year that past with his father and Christine was another year that little Stefano prayed and hoped and wished his mother would take him away. That she would save him. He stopped wishing at 14. He was 16 when he started to believe he would always be alone. He was 17 when his Mama found him. He thought maybe it was an after effect of the Russian torture but no, she was actually there and for the first time in a long time, Stefano cried. 

[tickle-bugs]

For the writing thingie, maybe ler!Robin lee!Steve? The phrase could be “Steve, don’t make me sit on you again…”

your honor, they are everything to me. hope u enjoy!! still trying to figure out robin tbh

Under Covers

Robin leans her bike against the garage, careful not to scrape. Steve’s home--his car sits idle in the driveway, waiting patiently to ferry them both to Family Video. They’re already late, technically, but they’re not late late yet. 

An argument could be made that she could simply bike to work, admonishing Steve from the high horse of punctuality, but that’s no fun.

She jiggles her key in the lock and throws the door open, dumping her bag by the door. It’s quiet and dark downstairs, the kitchen unused, neither of which are a good sign. Steve’s usually a morning person, but on the days where he isn’t, he has to be surgically removed from sleep. It’s a coin toss, really, if he’s late over his hair or late for oversleeping and his hair. 

She inhales as much as her lungs can manage, then: “Steeeeeeevvvvveeeeee!”

No response. She scowls. 

She helps herself to a glass of orange juice and promptly rinses the glass, never one to make extra work for Steve when possible. Bothering him, yes, but inconveniencing him? Not if she can help it.

She thumps up the stairs two at a time. Steve’s bedroom door is cracked open when she gets there, exposing the comically lumpy mass of blankets on his bed and the upsetting pile of laundry in not one, but two corners of the room. Robin has half a mind to do a running jump onto the bed, but he’s gotten way too good at convincing her to take pre-work naps. They need this job. Unfortunately. 

“Steve. Steven. Steeb.” Robin leans in the doorframe, biting her lip on an affectionate smile. Steve’s hair pokes out just at the top of the blanket pile. 

“Don’t make me sit on you,” She says a little louder, moving over to the left side of the bed. Steve wrinkles his nose and makes a grumbly noise. 

“Three, two--”

“Bobin?” He mumbles, squinting at her. 

She pounces. He screams, muffled by the blanket, but then he tumbles into wild giggles and flails for purchase. 

“Get up, get up, get up!” She squeezes at his sides through the blanket, feeling around blindly but knowing intimately where to strike. His arms fly free of the blanket and he starts grappling with her, trying to poke at her like the bastard he is, but she’s on a goddamn mission. Either they’re getting to work on time (unlikely) or he’s going to die (still on the table). 

“Get. up.” She starts tickling his ribs, sliding up under his arms every time he tries to swat at her. Steve honest-to-god snorts, which she didn’t know he could do. She catalogues it for later. 

“W-Why--Ah, Robin, nohoho!” Steve whines and covers his face. She starts poking at his stomach, speeding up whenever he tries to grab her. His laughter revs like an engine. He twists away suddenly, curling up on his side and as close to the edge of the bed as he can physically get. Robin chuckles at him and tazers his side. He makes no sense. Only Steve would forfeit all the empty space in his bed rather than use it to escape. 

“We’re late, dingus!” She reaches back and squeezes his thigh. He shrieks like his life depends on it, voice cracking around his laughter in that way she loves. 

“I’m up!” Steve wheezes, lunging forward to grab her wrists. She squeezes again and he crumples into the mattress, throwing his head back against the pillows. He tries to say her name, or possibly curse at her, but all that comes out is a jumble of syllables and frantic, nervous giggles. 

“No, if you were up, you’d be getting ready.”  She pauses, just to prove her point. Steve pushes his hair out of his face and fixes her with the bitchiest look he can manage. She grins. He scowls. 

“I’ll drag you out of bed if I have to.” She crosses her arms. When he wriggles down into the bed like an indignant little worm, he earns her wrath. It’s only natural. She’s given him an out and a half. Robin feels around under the blanket and grabs Steve’s ankle, skittering her nails over the curve of his heel and up. It’s a fast track to a black eye, but she’s gotten quicker lately. 

There’s a screechy peal of laughter, then a thump--a loud one, and not from Steve’s side. Robin peers over the right side of the bed, feeling for the nearest pillow to defend herself from whatever creatures might lurk in here. 

Instead, she finds Eddie Munson. His hair’s a mess, more so than usual, and his face is bright pink. He’s oddly jittery.

“What.” Robin and Eddie blink at each other. She looks down at her hand, clutched around what is decidedly not Steve’s foot, then back up at Eddie. He gives her a sheepish wave. 

“Oh my god.” She drops Eddie’s ankle. Eddie. Here. In Steve’s bed.

“Robin--” Steve holds his hands out soothingly. 

“Oh my god.” She drops her head in her hands.  

“Is that a good ‘oh my god’ or do I need to change my locks?” Eddie asks from somewhere beside her. He climbs back up onto the bed and drops beside her. The mattress dips to accept him. 

“Still deciding,” She groans. Steve rubs her back, murmuring something soft and sickeningly fond in Eddie’s direction. She’s happy for Steve--god, she’s over the fucking moon for him, really. She teases him because someone needs to, but her heart swells knowing there was a resolution to all the yearning passing between the two of them. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I should’ve been the first to know!” Robin smacks Steve’s bare chest. He catches her hand. 

“Well, you’re like the third to know.” Robin glares at him, but Steve throws his hands up in surrender. “Kidding! Third, because me and Eddie. Honestly, Rob, we were gonna tell you.”

“We’re, uhm, still figuring it out.” Eddie nudges her shoulder, but his shmoopy eyes are firmly on Steve. Gross. 

“Alright, well…I have questions. So many questions. But first--” She pokes his chest as aggressively as possible. Eddie copies her, hitting Steve’s stomach instead. 

“Up, yes, I knohow--” Steve’s voice breaks on a giggle. He crumples awkwardly into Robin, twisting away from Eddie. Robin’s tempted to help, but she leans away from Steve to give Eddie more access. Drama’s more fun, anyhow. Steve doesn’t laugh nearly enough. 

“No--” Steve points accusingly at Eddie. Eddie only grins wider in response. 

“You’ve given me a tremendous gift, Buckley!” Eddie cackles, wiggling his fingers into Steve’s sides. Steve yelps and bolts, managing to skid in the bathroom and slam the door before Eddie can vault over the bed. Robin and Eddie both chuckle. 

“Sorry if I helped make you late,” Eddie says, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. A devious little idea grows in the back of her head.

“Yeah, you did.” She lunges at him with an evil laugh. Eddie squeaks and tries to scramble away, but Robin’s on him already, heart growing three sizes at the now-pair of dinguses she’d never choose to live without. 

[yours-etc]

hey how do y’all feel about CEO Steve and Escort Eddie?

(i totally do not have a 6k WIP and 3hr fic inspo playlist…)

[badpancakelol]

“Have a nice day!”

Eddie doesn’t hope he has a nice day. The guy was a dick and tried to short him on credits, despite being so obviously well off. Like, c’mon, man. Not even trying to hide the Nabooian silk robes? Or the Coruscanti accent? Offhandedly mentioning that his girlfriend was a senator? Just because he works in the middle of a shit ship-port on Tatooine doesn’t mean he’s thick. He wipes the grease off his hands onto the already-dirty rag, but there’s no use in using precious water on a midday clean. Instead, Eddie dabs the sweat from his brow, and contemplates buzzing his hair short again.

Nabooian. Silk. Thousand threaded, cool-to-the-touch, Eddie’s-favourite-colour, Nabooian silk. The guy had to be taunting him. Had to be. In this heat? In Eddie’s port? With his favourite colour?

(Does it matter that it wasn’t his favourite colour until a certain someone had shown him in-colour holos of the fields? No. No it does not).

And then he had some wannabe bounty hunter from his block try and threaten him to fix his ship, which? Hello? Does Mr Blonde Mullet really think that threatening Eddie is gonna make him want to fix his shit faster? I’ll break your hand if you so much as put a scratch on her. It’s not like he can even do anything to hurt Eddie. A broken hand slows down the work, as does a fractured leg, or a black eye, or a concussion, or a blaster burn, or a vibro-wound, or a—

Ah. You get the point. All bark and no bite, and, dank farrik did he have a stupid amount of bark. Enough bark to fill the entire four hours it took to fix his hunk of junk. 

So, really, you can’t blame him for the mood that he’s been in all day (or, you could try, but if your engine takes a little bit longer to retune, or your fuel is a little more expensive than normal, well. Have fun trying to trek your way into the shitshow of the other side of town), when he turns to find the stupidly shiny Naboo royal starship spluttering its way in. Because, seriously? What the hell has he done to the people of Naboo to deserve this?

Eddie thumps his head against the makeshift table, shouts before the ramp has even extended to let whoever-the-fuck out of the rich ship, “We’re closed!”

The sharp click of heeled boots grate on Eddie’s brain, and is only dulled when he watches the way they sink slightly into the ground through his curtain of hair. 

“I don’t need any work done.” Rich Naboo Man says, and— 

He knows that voice.

“I just need a place to park for a little while — I’m visiting a friend around here, actually.”

Eddie lifts his head, peeks up at the person in front of him. The person who is very much Naboo royalty, who is wearing those stupid bright red robes, and the stupid headpiece that he said was too heavy and impractical, with makeup that he said highlighted his broken nose too much, is shuffling out of the starship. His head is held high, and there’s a crease in his brow that’s been the same since they were stupid foundlings with Eddie reading out the aurebesh on the flimsi that their teachers handed them.

No. Fucking. Way. 

“Steve?” 

“Eddie?” His head moves so fast that the jewels dangling from the headpiece almost whip him in the face. And then Steve is shuffling forwards, back straight and face smoothed to a soothing smile, before he’s already apologising. “I’m sorry that I didn’t make it on time. There were duties that I had to attend to, and they ran longer than—”

He bolts from his seat, taking long strides in his ratty grey jumpsuit before he’s caught Steve around the middle twirling them around, because he’s waiting fifty-seven rotations for this. Fifty-seven. If Steve says one more damned apology Eddie is quite literally going to explode. The laugh that Steve lets out is so hearty and so full — warmer than both of Tattoooine’s suns — and, Force, if Eddie has to go another almost-two-months without seeing him, he is quite literally going to overthrow Naboo.

“Hey! It’s okay, Hop. You can put the blaster down.” Steve places his hands onto Eddie’s shoulders and— did he hear that right?

“King Harrington—”

“—Please, Hop, not while I’m off-duty—”

“Steve, the guy ran at you and hauled you up.”

Steve turns around, and Eddie feels like, then. His royal robes create a silhouette of patience and strength, and tower over Eddie, if you count in the headpiece. There is a part of Eddie that whispers how he should very much be letting go of Steve, because his guard still has his blaster aimed at the only bits of him that stick out from behind Steve’s ornate dress. But it’s been so long, and there’s a larger part of his soul that says that he never wants to let go.

“Hopper,” Steve says, and Eddie can just feel the commanding tone of voice bleed through his usual casualness. “This is who I was meeting.”

Eddie lifts his head over Steve’s shoulder, and ignores the small huff he gets in return for the grease he undoubtedly just smeared across Steve’s very expensive, thousand thread Nabooian silk robes. Maybe it’ll finally give him a reason to change out of them. Hopper lowers his blaster, shoves it into the holster with too much and too little force without-a-capital-F all at once. If Eddie was a lesser man he would have snorted. Or, if Eddie was a lesser man he would have let the guard hear his snort.

“This is the guy you’re courting?” “Force, you make us sound old.” Eddie sighs at the same time Steve full-heartedly responds “Yes.”

The guard — Hopper — just pinches his brow and adjusts the hat on his head. “Well, I can’t say anything for your taste in men, but at least he has a respectable job. And he gets paid.”

“Stevie’s still dealing with the Naboo’s Royal Pocket Money?”

“Don’t remind me.” Steve says, moving a swift motion so that he holds Eddie’s hand underneath one of the long red sleeves of his gown.

When Eddie turns to look at Steve, he’s already turned. There’s a mellowed out look on his face that Eddie reads as is your work finished? Let’s clean up and lie around and do nothing but be near each other. And who is Eddie to deny such a request?

“Well,” Eddie says, in all the hospitality that a man from Tatooine can muster, “We best not keep you any longer.”

Hop hums in the way that Wayne used to when he knew that Eddie was just trying to weasel his way out of things. Maybe it was just one of those sixth senses that fathers-who-aren’t-biologically-fathers gain when their children start dating. Or maybe Eddie’s just obvious.

“I can give you a rundown of your ship in the morning. I think you’ve dislodged something in your engine — I could hear it rattling before you even landed.”

Steve tugs on Eddie’s arm, lip quirked up at the corners, and crows feet showing through ornate red and white makeup. “Eds, there’s nothing wrong—”

“Stevie, I love you, but you’re terrible at lying.”

[lazybakerart]

your sugar baby Billy tags immediately got me thinking about Mr. Harrington keeping him in a penthouse somewhere where he goes frequently 'for business,' Chicago maybe, and one day college students Steve and Robin are going to a concert there and Steve’s like 'it's fine, my dad's in Atlanta right now, we can use his swanky Chicago crash pad' totally unaware that it is occupied full time by a guy their age.

the horror of what that conversation would be though.

steve on the cusp of a breakdown: wait, who are you? billy already over it: i'm banging your dad. steve now entering his breakdown: w h a t billy microwaving his popcorn: your dad's got a fat bank account and i've got student loans - piece it together, big hair.

[dutchimagine]

pov: Eddie is in Bratz Hell

[inklessletter]

There's no such thing a steddie in the shOoOOoOoOwW!! You're making this UuUuUpPpPpPp!!!1

bitch i'm using a screenshot of the series as reference for this drawing.

[queerofthedagger]

if i had a nickle for every time a character in middle earth had a name that was also a shipname from bbc merlin I'd have two nickles which isn't a lot but etc etc

[sp0o0kylights]

So I’m constantly going back and fourth with who Robin’s gonna end up with in Illustrated, because apparently she wants both Nancy AND Chrissy. 

I am like, this close to letting her have both, anyway here’s a snippet. 

"What if he doesn't want to talk?"

Robin and Nancy both trail off, blinking like stunned little owls.

Chrissy fidgets under their attention, a rosey blush creeping across her cheeks. 

She worries at her nails, picking idly at cuticles, but keeps her gaze up. 

"What if Victor Creel doesn't want to talk?" She asks again, and her voice solidifies a little. 

An awkward pause descends. Normally such a reaction would have Chrissy cringing away, worried she's spoken out of turn. That she's done what Jason and his friends always hate for their girlfriends to do, which is interrupt. 

"It's guy time, Chrissy. You wouldn't get it, so don't worry about it."

Chrissy is over that though.

Over Jason if she's perfectly honest and though the idea of what follows (having to break up with him, deal with the fallout from her parents, the cheer team and no doubt several coaches angry that she's going to mess up both teams seasons) makes her nauseous... 

It won't change her feelings.

Which means come what may, when this is over, she’s breaking up with him. 

"I didn't think of that." Nancy answers at last. She's got a deeply displeased look on her face, one that is expressed by Robin's loud: 

"Well, shit." 

Chrissy steels herself, sitting tall and proud, clenching her fingers together so hard her knuckles go white. "He might blow you guys off and we can't risk that so I'll--" her tongue hesitates on the next words. 

Her mouth is a gate that just doesn't want to open. A door she locked shut long ago and now doesn’t recall how to open itself back up--but she plows ahead anyway. 

Knows in her heart that it's the right thing to do. 

"I'll come with you." She says. 

Then rushes to explain, as Nancy's prim tiny eyebrows rise in surprise and Robin jolts backwards like a startled bird. 

"If I tell him I'm cursed, that he has the only information available to save me, to save Max--he might be more likely to help us. I can be your ace.” 

Robin tilts back forward, eyes sparking with ideas. "Like a secret weapon." She whispers, and Chrissy can't help but smile in her direction. 

Nancy on the other hand takes her time in thinking it over. She bites her lip and taps her socked foot, and Chrissy can practically see the wheels spin in her head.

Finally she nods, a quick jerk of her head. "Alright. Secret weapon. We can't risk you being outed as yourself though."

"Didn't your journalism minions whip us up backup fakes?"

"They're not my minions, Robin-" And the sheer offense in her voice makes Chrissy giggle. 

She tries to hide it by clapping her hand over her mouth, but Robin cuts her a sideways glance, a smile ticking up the corners of her mouth. 

She leans forward gently clasping Chrissy's wrist and pulls it away from her mouth. 

"You have a nice laugh, Cunningham. You should stop hiding it."

[theha1r]

yeah …