Eddie loves the idea that Steve Harrington fucking bridal carried him out of the Upside Down. So once Eddie is all healed up, he starts dropping in front of Steve and groaning.
"Help! Steve! I have fallen and can not get up. I need a strong strapping man to carry me out of hell!"
Steve would scoff, step over him, and leave him pouting on the floor. Did that deter Eddie? No. So he kept doing it. Steve started complaining about it to Robin.
"You know he thinks you're not going to do it again. It's why he keeps doing it," Robin said.
"I feel like you're trying to challenge me," Steve said.
"I would never," Robin said.
"If I find out you have a bet going on with him. . ."
It finally happens when Steve throws a pool party. Steve and Eddie were about to head back outside when Eddie dropped in front of him. He opened his mouth to say something when he felt Steve's hands sliding underneath him, picking him up and cradling him to his chest. They were both shirtless, a fact that Eddie was completely focused on, completely aware of Steve's skin against his. Did the temperature outside suddenly go up? His skin felt like he was on fire as he gazed into Steve’s pretty eyes, a smirk gracing his perfect lips. God, Eddie wanted to bite them. Steve grinned and threw Eddie. The metalhead screamed as he was tossed into the pool with a loud splash. Eddie resurfaced to the sound of laughter to find Steve standing above the pool, his hands on his hips, and a cocky smile on his face.
"I hate you," Eddie growled.
"No, you don't," Steve replied, a twinkle in his eye and winked at him.
That motherfucker threw him into the pool and winked at him. Son of a bitch. Okay, yeah, Eddie was definitely in love. Damn it, he owed Robin money.
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If you’re interested dear writer, a protag who used to be beholden to something powerful, but fled and found safety in someone else, a powerful mentor figure of some sort, only to find out that years later the villain has gained the ability of possession—not because they’ve possessed the protag, but the mentor they thought so strong
"No." They were torn, ravaged, between sick horror and an even more nauseating relief. Their mentor hadn't betrayed them, hadn't been playing them. But their mentor... "Get out of him." The protagonist's voice shook. "You can't - they're -"
Their mentor was supposed to be too powerful for anyone to take, to hurt. He was supposed to be untouchable. He wasn't supposed to be yet another puppet for the villain's insidious designs.
Their mentor's head tilted and it was - it was still such a them gesture that the protagonist had to take several large steps back to lean against the opposite wall before their legs gave out.
"Get," the protagonist said again, "out."
As if commands would work, as if their relationship with the villain had ever been of the sort where they gave the orders. As if it was all as simple as no, and don't, and please.
The protagonist summoned power to their fingertips. It felt like waving a candle in the face of an avalanche. Pathetic.
"I'm not going to hurt you," the villain said. "I would never hurt you."
The villain's voice still sounded like their mentor's voice. Gruff and reassuring. The protagonist would have preferred the eerie strain of vocal chords stolen, of something forcibly taken, because hearing the villain's words in their mentor's voice was so much worse.
"How long?" the protagonist demanded, a rancid taste in their mouth. "How long have you been possessing him?"
It felt like they should know. It felt like the worst treachery that they didn't know, that they hadn't noticed. They prayed it was a matter of hours, days, even a week or two.
They tried not to think what the hell they were going to do, when the one person they thought would - could - protect them had been taken.
"You don't want to make a guess?"
"How. Long."
The villain wet their lips. A hungry gesture, something dark and insatiable creeping out beneath the familiar veneer of safety.
The power in the hero's hands flickered and snuffed.
"A little over a year," the villain said.
"No." The protagonist shook their head, a lump in their throat. "You're lying - no."
"I have never lied to hurt you."
"Possessing someone is lying." And it hurt. It hurt like the world was falling down.
"Possessing him didn't hurt you." The villain moved closer, as if they had every right to do so, and squeezed the nape of the protagonist's neck like their mentor so often did. It should have been grounding. It felt like a greater violation that it still felt grounding. Like the villain had stolen all of their mentor's tricks, hijacked muscle memory and instinct for their own purpose. "It gave you the time you needed, kept you safe."
"He kept me safe."
The villain smirked, a slip of a cruel intoxicating thing. "Not for the past year, he didn't."
The protagonist recoiled.
The villain's hand moved, lightning-quick, cupping the back of their head and stopping them from smacking it against the wall.
The protagonist froze. They peered up at their mentor's face, searching for the monster beneath the surface. The thing that they had run from. The thing that had, for the last year...
"Besides," their villain said, voice low. "You basically just ran to another version of me. It's actually quite sweet."
"He's nothing like you."
"You couldn't tell the difference."
The protagonist flinched. "I-"
"You ran to something powerful, something greater than you." The villain squeezed again, harder, even as their voice softened to something more like their own. "Because you're not strong enough to protect yourself. You've never been strong enough on your own. What if he'd hurt you, hm?"
"He's not you. He wouldn't-"
"-When have I ever hurt you?"
"You'd swallow me whole." It came out a whisper, as pathetic as their power compared to the villain.
The villain smiled, a terribly gentle thing. "And wouldn't that be my right?"
"He'd say no."
"That's because he wants you all to himself."
"Yes." The villain stepped back, but it didn't make the protagonist feel any less crowded in, any less smothered, any less like they were wrapped in the coils of a serpent about to be devoured. "And if you wanted otherwise, you would have noticed far earlier that he wasn't running the show. It was always going to be us. It's always us. You and me."
Maybe the villain was right. The protagonist hadn't noticed, had they? And - as they'd grown closer to their mentor in the last year, they'd felt so safe and so wanted. Maybe their mentor didn't want them at all. Maybe that was the possession.
No. No.
The protagonist squeezed their eyes shut, pressing their trembling hands over their face. That wasn't the point. It couldn't be the point.
"He's in there?"
"Come home," the villain said. "And don't run away again, and I won't need his body anymore."
"I want to talk to him. I want - I need to know that he's okay."
The villain stared at them for a beat.
"Please." The protagonist tried it anyway. "I can't leave without knowing he's okay. He was - you can appreciate that he kept me safe, right? When I was an idiot. Safe for you."
A shudder ran through the villain, and then something else crept into their mentor's eyes. Fear. Fury. Protectiveness.
"Don't go with them. It's not your fault," their mentor said, rushed. "I wanted to protect you, so I told them what to say, how to behave. It was better than-"
In an instant, the villain was back in control.
The protagonist stared, wide-eyed. Everything slid towards horror.
The villain's breathing was a little heavy. Their hands flexed at their sides.
"You're mine." The villain turned away. "And he can't protect you from anything, let alone me. Come home. It will be your chance to protect someone else for once, won't it?"
The protagonist went back to the place they would never, ever, call home again.
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metalhoops · 13 hours
// Read Part 1 Here // Read Part 2 Here //
“Can you believe that bullshit, Stevie?” Eddie questioned, from his spot in Steve’s lap. 
The two were together on the Munsons’ beaten-up couch. Steve’s day had dragged on like bare feet in river mud. As far as he could gather, Eddie’s had been the same. The room was hot with the ghost of summer, despite it being mid-March. Eddie’s hair between Steve’s fingers was soft and fizzed. 
“Can I believe that Lucas refused to ditch the championship game for your fantasy club, that could be rescheduled? Yeah,” Steve paraphrased, feeling Eddie sit slightly as he craned his head to get a better look at Steve.
“You’re on his side, aren’t you?” Eddie mumbled, discontent clear in his voice. Steve didn’t like it. He hummed and leaned down to place a chased kiss on Eddie’s lips. 
“You’re not meant to be on his side,” Eddie grumbled, laying back down. 
It was rare that the two disagreed. The disagreement had to be big enough to get a rise out of Steve, but if the situation called for it, he’d put his foot down. 
“It’s a big deal for him,” Steve reasoned, watching Eddie’s jaw clench. 
He’d gotten to know the boy well enough over the past few months. He knew what would come next. If he didn’t act soon, he’d have to sit through a monologue on the sanctity of the game and Lucas’ betrayal at having chosen sports over his friends. Steve didn’t mind the rants. He liked that Eddie was passionate. He did, but Eddie was right. Steve was on Lucas’ side. 
“I know this is a big deal for you, too. Getting to the end of the game or whatever, but can’t you just do it another day? It’d mean the world to the kid,” Steve reasoned. 
He knew by the rounding of Eddie’s shoulders and the elongated groan that escaped his lips that he’d won. 
“Fine, I’ll postpone a week, but you owe me big time. Next date you’re paying.” 
Steve didn’t argue. Hell, he liked paying for Eddie. The guy normally wouldn’t have a bar of it. 
“Wipe that smug smile off your face, Harrington. I get to pick what we do. I’m going to drag you to the loudest concert this side of the Mississippi the first chance I get.” 
Steve nodded, twisting Eddie’s fraying curl between his fingertips.
“In the meantime, I was thinking of heading to the game,” Steve proposed. 
Eddie groaned. He knew Steve too well. He knew what was coming next. 
“You’re going to drag my ass to the basketball game, aren’t you?” 
Eddie sat, switching to the far side of the couch to show his displeasure at the idea. However, he threw his feet in Steve’s lap, so he knew they were okay. 
He thought they were okay. 
“Lucas will want you to be there.”
“You know we can’t actually go together without people talking,” Eddie noted as Steve drove his thumb into the heel of the boy’s foot absentmindedly. 
“I don’t care,” Steve stated. 
He meant it. He’d given up on trying to be Hawkins’ golden boy years before. He just wanted to be the type of person he could live with. 
“Maybe I do,” Eddie spoke, stopping Steve cold. 
Steve worried. He always goddamn worried. Yes, he was waiting for the day he lost someone he cared about to the hell dimension, but it was more than that. He also worried about mundane stuff, like Eddie waking up and deciding they were bullshit. He’d been so sure he and Nancy were in love up until the second she told him they weren’t. That was a blow he wasn’t sure he’d ever heal from. 
He must have gone too quiet, sat stock, still in the growing silence. Eddie sat up and tugged at the hem of Steve’s shirt until he lay down beside him. The two were crushed uncomfortably close, side by side. Eddie’s knee was tucked between Steve’s legs. Eddie touched Steve’s face. It was something only he could get away with. If it were anyone else, he would hate it. 
“Not what I meant,” Eddie spoke, implicitly knowing where Steve’s train of thought had headed. 
“I just meant, I care because I know if any dick head in town had enough brain cells to put two and two together, we’d be screwed,” Eddie began, taking a deep breath. Steve settled back, bracing himself for the monologue. 
“Your parents would kick you out. Then the town would try to run me out with pitchforks. I’m not saying we’ll never... you know. I’m just saying we’ve gotta be smart about it. When I’m done with high school and we save up enough money to have an escape plan for when things go to shit, then we can toss around the idea of going to stupid basketball games together.” Steve sighed but nodded, understanding Eddie’s point of view.
Sometimes Steve got sick of being cautious. He got sick of waiting for other people to change their minds about something that didn’t have anything to do with them. He’d had some good goddamn sense knocked into him. He wished someone would do the same for everyone else. 
“We can hang out after the game. I’ve got something to do first, but I’ll swing around your place after ten.” Eddie proposed. 
Steve didn’t ask what Eddie was doing. If Eddie wanted him to know, he would’ve told him, and despite Steve’s many hang-ups, he trusted Eddie as much as he could trust anyone. 
“Ten works,” Steve agreed. 
The afternoon faded. Steve left Eddie to go to the game. He watched with his gaggle of kids by his side, glancing down at Robin in the marching band when her high school crush took to the stage with a shit-eating grin. He wanted to be there with Eddie, but this was a good consolation. He was sure he’d have bruises on his side by morning from Dustin constantly elbowing him in the side every time Lucas got the ball.
He was so damn proud of Lucas for scoring the winning point. Though Steve would admit, he’d have been proud of the kid if they’d lost by a mile. He was learning what love was about, love without contingencies. Eddie, Robin and the kids were teaching him the lessons he’d never picked up from his parents. 
He got back to his place around nine, took a shower and switched on a mindless T.V. re-run to fill the silence while he waited for Eddie. He was two episodes deep when he felt the familiar sensation of dread begin to well in the pit of his stomach. 
Eddie was two hours late when Steve’s worry shifted to full-blown panic. He tried to tell himself everything was fine, that Eddie got caught up and he’d walk through the door any minute. He picked up his bat from beneath his bed and paced the halls like an animal in an enclosure. 
It was three in the morning when Steve resigned himself to the fact that Eddie wasn’t coming. He called the Munsons at the god-awful hour of the night, hoping beyond hope that Eddie would pick up. He’d be pissed off at Steve for waking him up, but then he’d let him know what was going on. 
He didn’t answer. 
Maybe Steve had read things wrong. Maybe he and Eddie had a fight. They were fighting. That’s why Eddie hadn’t shown up.
He lay in bed until the light of morning thawed his bones and set him free from his wide-eyed, paralytic state of unrest. Instead of heading to work, he drove to the trailer park, swerving the Beamer off the dirt track as the blue lights painted the horizon. There was a swarm of cop cars parked outside Eddie’s trailer. Steve’s body moved of its own accord, rushing through the swarm of cops to find Wayne Munson smoking at the picnic benches, a nearly imperceptible tremor to his fingers. 
Steve didn’t ask what happened. Not right away. His mind was full of worst-case scenarios, none of which could be true until they were spoken into existence. For now, everything was unknown. For now, there was a chance Eddie was safe. He let his legs buckle beneath him as he sat beside Wayne, wondering when he’d made a habit of having panic attacks with Munson men near picnic benches. 
“Was Eddie with you last night?” Wayne asked between drags of the cigarette. 
Steve shook his head. 
Eddie had told Wayne about them. Steve had sat across the breakfast table from the man half a dozen times, but they’d never really talked without Eddie in the room. 
“Was he meant to be?” With a defeated sigh, Steve nodded. 
“What happened?” He asked, at last, tired of drawing out the inevitable. 
“I came home from my shift and there was a body.” All the colour fell from Steve’s face. 
“Not Eddie’s. Some girl. Cops are sayin’ they think he killed her. I reckon we both know that ain’t true.” Steve didn’t know what to do with that information. Eddie was alive. 
He listened to Wayne describe the scene with a growing feeling of dread. He’d seen enough of the Upside Down to understand that an eyeless girl, broken and bent like a marionette puppet and a missing boy seemed like part of its M.O. He was late for work. 
He needed to let Robin and the kids know what was going on. He skirted past the police and drove to the video store. His body was working on autopilot. To his surprise, Dustin and Max were already there. 
He watched as a disgruntled Robin tried to shoo them from behind the register. Steve cleared his throat, hoping beyond hope that the kids didn’t notice the red rim of his eyes as he placed his hands on his hips. 
“What the hell are you two doing? Shouldn’t you be at school?” He tried to play it off like it was any other day, as though he was fine. Robin’s watchful eyes let him know she saw right through him. 
“We’re looking for places Eddie could hide.” Dustin breathed, stopping Steve in his tracks. He shut up and let them explain. 
“We were thinking he could be at Reefer Rick’s place,” Max supplied after Dustin finished his tangent. Steve remained uncharacteristically quiet. 
“Alright, well, quick. Get your shit, if we’re doing this.” Steve grumbled, sliding off his video store vest and leaving it on the counter. Eddie wasn’t dead. That was something.
“That’s great and all, Steve, but we still don’t know where the hell we’re going,” Dustin argued at Steve’s heels as the four rushed out into the parking lot. 
“I know where he lives,” Steve supplied, catching the disbelieving look shared between Max and Dustin. He hadn’t told the kids about him and Eddie. 
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was complicated. Everything about him and Eddie felt complicated. He didn’t want them to be a secret, but it was a necessity to keep them both safe, to keep Eddie safe. He’d told Robin because he knew she was safe. She was an extension of himself. He couldn’t not tell Robin, but the rest of the party was still in the dark. 
“I didn’t think you did drugs, Steve,” Dustin spoke sceptically as they piled into the car. 
“I don’t do drugs... Put on your seatbelt, Henderson.” 
“Then why do you know where a notorious drug dealer lives?” Dustin pushed. 
“Seriously, kid. I’m not backing out until you’re buckled in,” Steve warned. Now was not the time to get a D.A.R.E. presentation. 
“Steve, should I be worried?” Dustin asked as Max spoke up,
“Of course he does drugs. He’s at Eddie’s place all the time.” 
Both Steve and Robin turned back to look at the girl with wide eyes. Of course, Steve should’ve realised Max saw his BMW parked outside the Munsons’ trailer. He hadn’t been thinking. 
“What? I wasn’t going to say anything because we’re all going through shit,” Max elaborated as Dustin shot her a look of utter betrayal. 
“I didn’t think you guys were... friendly. I didn’t think you liked him,” Dustin gaped, finally buckling up. 
Steve tried to drive carefully, keeping his eyes on the road and the car under the speed limit, only sometimes succeeding. 
“What makes you think I don’t like Eddie?” Steve asked, trying to keep his mind off the very real potential that Eddie had just been dragged into the world he’d never wanted him to be a part of. 
Eddie kept trying to push for answers about what happened to Steve. He kept promising he’d give them to him when the time was right, but he could never bring himself to do it. Sometimes the best thing was to remain ignorant. All the same, Steve couldn’t lie to him either, so they’d remained in limbo. 
“You always drop me off at Hellfire, but you never say ‘hi’ to the guy." 
“I wave at him,” Steve reasoned. 
“From the car, Steve. It’s antisocial.” 
It wasn’t long before the group pulled up outside of Rick’s. Steve knew where Eddie would hide if he were there. He led the group to the boathouse, searching the place for any sign of the boy. That led to Steve blindly poking around in the dark with an ore and an odd sense of hope. All of which was thrown out the window the second a body sprung up from the darkness to shove him against a wall. 
It happened too quickly for Steve to process. There was a weight holding him in place and a sharp pressure at his throat. It wasn’t until Dustin’s calls that Steve made out Eddie’s body in the dim light. 
“Woah, Eddie. It’s me. It’s Dustin,” the kid called from behind them. 
The rest of the world fell away as he met Eddie’s wide, panicked eyes. He was safe. Scared as hell, but safe. The broken bottle Eddie held at his throat dropped from his hand in an instant, as did the ore from Steve’s grasp. 
“It’s Steve, Eddie.” 
Recognition flashed across Eddie’s face and suddenly Steve was being crushed again, this time under the weight of Eddie’s arms. The boy clung onto Steve as a drowning man would cling to driftwood. He buried his face into the nape of Steve’s neck and inhaled deeply. Steve could feel Eddie’s heart pounding against his chest. He snaked a hand around to hold the back of Eddie’s neck, forcing the boy to look at him. 
“Hey. You’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, alright?” Steve spoke, echoing Eddie’s words from the first night the two had gotten together. He watched as the rapid rise and fall of Eddie’s chest slowed. 
“That’s it,” Steve soothed. 
“Stevie,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. 
“M’sorry I didn’t... I couldn’t go to your place, Steve. I wanted to,” Eddie continued, his hand having moved to grasp the fabric of Steve’s shirt. 
“I didn’t... I didn’t know if it’d follow me. I don’t know what the hell happened, I... you won’t believe me,” He finished at last, resting his forehead against Steve’s. 
It was slick with sweat but Steve didn’t care. The others in the room had fallen away entirely. There was only Eddie. 
“I think I should probably talk to you about that thing we keep meaning to talk about,” Steve breathed, drawing circles in Eddie’s skin. 
“Why now?” The boy asked, disbelievingly, a hysterical laugh slipping from his lips.
“Because no matter how crazy what you’re going to tell me sounds, I believe you.” 
“Alright, anyone care to tell me what the hell is going on? I thought you two hated each other,” Dustin called, shattering the moment between them. 
They pulled apart, though Eddie still kept his hand laced in Steve’s shirt while his hand migrated to the middle of Eddie’s back. 
“Why would I hate my boyfriend?” Eddie breathed, clearly not thinking, hopped up on adrenaline. 
“You’re what?” Dustin spoke, gawking open-mouthed at the boys. 
Steve inhaled deeply, squeezed Eddie’s hip and levelled Dustin with his best, unimpressed glare, practically daring him to push on. 
“That makes more sense,” Max muttered to herself as Dustin’s eyes continued to flicker between the two. 
“Shut your mouth, Henderson. You’ll catch flies. We’ve got more pressing issues here,” Steve muttered, trying to work out how exactly he could explain everything to Eddie. 
“I thought you were secretly dating Robin, not Eddie. What the hell, man? Neither of you told me,” Dustin pushed forward while Robin snorted, her nose scrunching at the idea. 
“Really not the time, Henderson,” Eddie confirmed, his fingers worrying away at Steve’s shirt. 
“That’s not fair. You’re not meant to be on his side, dude,” Dustin remarked. 
“Can we all just focus for two seconds? Eddie, what happened last night at your trailer?” Steve questioned, somehow managing to wrangle the group back to the task at hand. 
Steve knew by Eddie’s deep breath and trembling fingers what he was about to say. The world Steve had tried to protect the boy from had come to find him anyway. Now all Steve would do was be there to hold his hand as they walked through whatever hell the Upside Down had to offer.
Steve would keep him safe. Steve would always keep Eddie safe, no matter what.  
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hairmetal666 · 2 days
Early Summer 1987
Steve's hosting a going away party. For everyone. Nancy going to Emerson, Jonathan and Argyle back to California, Steve and Robin moving to Indy, Eddie going off to find his fortune, wherever it may lie.
They've been at it all day, drinking and smoking and loving each other in the way you do when you've subverted several apocalypses together. And Steve is happy. He is. Truly. They're getting out of Hawkins, starting their lives, and he'll be with Robin, his other half, his sister, the platonic love of his life.
But as the night continues and Steve looks around his living room, at all these people he loves--at half of the family they built out of tragedy and fear--his joy turns to melancholy. They're spreading in the wind, chasing the dreams they put on hold to save the world. It's a bittersweet end, and suddenly Steve can't be in the house anymore.
He slips out the sliding door, fully expecting to be alone, but Eddie stands at the edge of the pool, glow of a cigarette illuminating his face. Steve's stomach flips, skitters with butterfly wings, like it always does when he and Eddie are together.
Eddie turns at the sound of the door thumping softly shut, face creasing into a brilliant smile when he spots Steve. It's a smile so beautiful, so genuine, that it makes Steve hurt when it's directed at him. Hasn't been able to help noticing that usually it is, that Eddie--even in full theatrical Eddie-mode--only smiles like this, all dimples and affection, for Steve.
"Okay, Stevie?" Eddie asks.
"Just needed some air."
Eddie offers the cigarette, so Steve sidles up next to him, lining his toes up with the pool edge so they match.
With a nudge, Eddie settles closer, wrapping his arm around Steve's waist. It's not the first time they've embraced like this, not the first time the proximity makes Steve think he'll burst into flame, but it is the first time Steve leans in, rests his head at the join of Eddie's neck and shoulder. They're of a height, and it's just enough that the position is comfortable, easy. Though, everything with Eddie is now.
They smoke in silence for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts before Steve speaks, not even sure if he means to, but the words are tumbling out. "Everything's changing."
"It's a good thing," Eddie says. "Right?"
"Yeah, yeah, totally." Steve runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back. "It's just. Thinking about how nothing will ever be the same after this, you know?"
"Maybe," Eddie agrees. "But--I don't know--You think Dustin isn't going to demand visits to all of us? Cross-country roadtrips every summer?"
Eddie offers the cigarette back to Steve, only this time, he moves to place it between his lips and Steve adjusts to let him. Maybe it's an accident, maybe not, but Eddie's thumb strokes the corner of Steve's mouth. Their eyes meet, something hot, wanting passes between them.
"I'm going to do something," Eddie whispers. His eyes drop to Steve's lips. "Don't kill me, okay? Please."
Steve doesn't get a chance to say he'd never hurt Eddie, not in a million years, because the other man is stomping out the cigarette, slotting their mouths together.
There's no hesitation, no questioning, Steve kisses back and it's so soft, so sweet, gentle in a way that he's never been kissed, not even once. And when Eddie licks at the seam of Steve's lips, he opens without thought, because of course he wants Eddie to taste his mouth, to nip at his lips, to slide their tongues together. He fists his hand into the fabric of Eddie's shirt, pulling them closer together. They moan and sigh, swallowing each other's noises, reveling in sensation.
The sliding door pops open, runners scraping, and Robin's voice singsongs, "Steeeve, we're loooooking for you."
Eddie breaks the kiss, turning away, and Steve stumbles towards the door. Doesn't wonder what Robin knows because he sees it in her face, but she's yanking him into the house and everyone is shouting, Argyle hands him a joint, and he lets himself be pulled along, lets himself forget, doesn't notice when Eddie doesn't come back right away.
And the next morning, when they say their goodbyes and Eddie pulls him into a tight, bone-crushing hug, neither of them mentions it. Eddie says, "don't be a stranger," throws him a smile, and he's gone.
Steve can't explain why it hurts so much.
Winter 1991
The invitation--cream and gold, embossed lettering--sits on Eddie's kitchen counter. He knew it was coming, of course, of course, but it hadn't really prepared him to see it. "The families of Steve Harrington and Rebecca Alsworthy cordially invite you to celebrate their nuptials..." burns itself into his brain.
He's in the wedding. Steve asked months ago if Eddie would be a groomsmen, and he said yes; yes because Steve is his best friend, yes because in the moment it didn't hurt so bad, yes because Steve could ask him for anything and he'd give no other answer.
They never talked about what happened the night before they both left Hawkins. It's fine. Truly. Better this way. Steve is straight. So straight he's getting married, and that's good. What he's always wanted, six little nuggets, etc. Eddie is happy for him. He's happy for Steve, but it eats him up inside; the kiss, the love he harbors for his best friend. He should end it, he knows, but ending it is so final and Steve is--everything.
Before he can talk himself out of it, he picks up the phone, makes the call. Tells Steve he can't make it, book deadline, and Steve is disappointed. He is. But they're best friends, saved the world together, so he understands.
When the call is done, his heart hanging together by a thread, he balls up the invite and throws it in the trash.
Summer 1991
Steve's wedding is in 12 hours and Eddie has to go. Can't believe he ever thought he could miss it. He can't not be there when Steve, his Steve, gets married. It doesn't matter how much it'll hurt to watch, because it will make Steve happy and Eddie will always default to making his best friend happy.
Somehow, through the grace of clear summer weather and light Indiana traffic, he makes it to the church with ten minutes to spare. He practically trips through the carved wood front doors, which would be embarrassing, except his eyes fall immediately to Steve standing at the alter and he forgets everything else. He's wearing a navy blue suit, silver accenting, and he's gorgeous. Will never not be. Their eyes meet, and Eddie's heart stops, because it always does. Steve smiles, gives a little wave, but he's pulled away by the minister, and Eddie makes his feet move down the aisle.
He spots Nancy, El, Max, and Erica in a pew, makes his way towards them. They all hug, scream about being back together, but it's Nancy whose eyes are soft, whose smile doesn't quite manage to be happy.
"You okay?" she asks. She wraps her little fingers around his.
His smile doesn't manage to be happy either. "I will be."
The ceremony starts, and he's fine, really, until Rebecca starts walking out to Steve, and he watches his best friend's face light up brighter than a cloudless day. He lets his attention go, then. In the moment where it truly counts, he can't stand to witness the man he loves marry someone else.
And Rebecca is fine, she is, but it's not about her. It's about a kiss in the middle of the night after they saved the world for the last time, and hope, and a love so sweet Eddie's entire chest is rotten with it.
He's out of it until Steve's voice manages to pull him back. He's saying, "I, Steve," and his eyes are locked to Rebecca's, and he's in the middle of repeating after the minister, who's saying "take thee, Rebecca."
Steve smiles, soft and gentle and fond, and he says--the words that come out of his mouth are, "take thee, Eddie--"
His loving smile evaporates, face going rigid with shock.
It's a punch, a kick to the groin, a knife in the gut, all the air in Eddie's lungs snaps out of his body. Nancy squeezes his hand, her nails digging into his skin, and he can't look at anyone else, can't see the reaction, because he's looking at Steve, and Steve is looking at him, abject panic on his handsome face.
Steve stumbles back, Rebecca's hands fallen from his, and Robin grabs him around the shoulders. She bends forward, whispering something in his ear, but it's too late. Steve's eyes are glassy, his body trembling.
"S-sorry, I need to--I have to--Sorry," the man says. He runs.
Eddie makes to stand, but Nancy, El, Max, and Erica force him to stay seated, and Robin's already running after her platonic soulmate, anyway.
"It didn't mean anything," Eddie says. "It was just--he was just. He's marrying Rebecca. It didn't mean anything."
It means everything.
Post inspired by @antithetical-dream-girl 's coney island au, except this is when Ross says Rachel
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iamthecomet · 1 day
Hey hi I've been thinking about the ghouls (Rain most likely, and either Dew or Mountain) and sharing a shower just for platonic intimacy and taking care of each other 🥺
Here's everyone's daily dose of extra soft Dew/Rain. Because I love them.
It's become an after-show ritual. Rain refuses to shower at the venues. Citing a myriad of reasons starting with the water smells bad and ending with it makes my skin feel weird. And Dew does the same, only his reasons are more the water pressure sucks and why would I want to shower with all of you? Rain presses himself to Dew as soon as they're back on the bus. He smells like sweat and the venue, rubbery, plasticine in a way that makes Dew's nose twitch. Dew can't be much better. He can feel the film of sweat drying on his body, stiff and sticky. He can smell the cigarette and stale beer scene clinging to his jacket. Rain doesn't seem to care though, he just nuzzles closer, resting his head on Dew's boney shoulder, nuzzling his nose into Dew's hair and neck. "Clingy," Dew whispers as he tips his head to the side to rest his cheek against Rain's temple. Rain only hums in response.
Dew feels his exhaustion in his bones. The adrenaline of the show trickles from his body with every minute that passes. He's spent the last six weeks exhausted, it's nothing new. Touring is not conducive to being rested. He's surviving on too much caffeine and nicotine and a few hours of sleep in whatever lumpy hotel bed he's shoved toward. Dew wishes he was like Swiss, able to fall asleep anywhere. Even now, Swiss is curled up into the side of his seat, his head smushed up against the window, pillowed by the hood of his sweatshirt--asleep, mouth open, drool gathering in the corner. They've only been on the road for five minutes. Instead, Dew has trouble sleeping through the night in his own bed. Never mind hotel beds that are somehow always wrong. Too hard. Too soft. They all feel like they've been crafted out of rocks and feathers. He laces his fingers with Rain, pulls their joined hands onto his thigh, rubbing his calloused thumb over the space between Rain's thumb and forefinger. It's a short drive to the hotel. Dew untangles himself from Rain as soon as the bus stops moving, he shoulders his overnight bag and is the first one off of the bus. It's a sticky, humid, summer night. It makes his skin itch. He leads the way into the hotel and waits, impatiently by the elevator for Copia to get their keys. Copia has a system for how he rooms the ghouls together. Dew imagines that it's the product of some behavioral spreadsheet that Sister crafted up. It doesn't matter. It's rare that they actually follow it, hopping between rooms like musical chairs--treating their floor of the hotel the same way they do the Abbey. Doors open half of the night to the chagrin of any other unlucky hotel guests. Dew is always paired with Aether. Rain's always with Mountain. Swiss gets paired up with Cumulus. Sunshine with Cirrus. Each agent of chaos paired with someone who Sister thinks is supposed to keep them in line. It rarely works. Mountain and Dew trade keycards as soon as Copia hands them out. Rain seals himself back to Dew's side as soon as they get back in the elevator. Dew slides his hand up into the sweat-damp curls on the back of Rain's head. He scratches his nails against his scalp. "You smell," Dew says. "Better than you." Rain counters, digging his nose into the juncture between Dew's neck and shoulder and inhaling sharply. By the time they reach their floor, Dew's holding onto his human glamor with white knuckles. His skin feels too tight, his joints ache. He drops the glamor as soon as the door snicks shut behind them. Sighing bodily as the weight of it lifts off of him. Rain's already making a b-line for the shower, his own glamor fading. Tail uncoiling as he strips his jeans off. Dew follows him, pulling his shirt over his head, trying, and failing, to keep it from catching on his horns. Rain's already in the shower when Dew gets there. Steam filling the comedically small bathroom. Dew strips down the rest of the way and slips into the shower with Rain.
They're lucky they're both small. Mountain and Aether are definitely not going to fit in one of these showers together. As it is, when Dew turns to let the water spray on his back, he rubs up against Rain. Rain's already purring, back pressed against the cool tile, eyes closed as water that isn't quite hot enough for Dew rains down on them. Dew taps the knob up a few notches and Rain hisses at he temperature spike but doesn't complain. His tail curls around Dew's leg, the broad spade of it resting against the side of his knee. "Can I wash your hair?" Rain asks, hands already trailing up Dew's back. Dew nods. The hotel shampoo smells like chemicals. Whatever flowers it's meant to smell like don't actually exist in nature. Dew wrinkles his nose at it, but still groans when Rain sinks his fingers into the hair at the crown of Dew's head. Scratching, rubbing. Dew tips his head back just enough to keep soap from running into his eyes. He closes them. He feels every muscle in his body relax one by one as Rain shuffles him a little to rinse his hair. Rain works conditioner into the ends methodically. Dew doesn't let many people do this--they never get it right. But Rain has mastered the technique, and Dew is all too happy to let him. When it's Rain's turn, he has to crouch a little so Dew can reach. Digging his fingers into Rain's scalp until the water ghoul gasps and sighs and his knees go a little soft. Dew runs his fingers through Rain's curls as he rinses his hair, untangling small knots and rubbing slow circles over the base of his skull until Rain is knocking his hands away. "You're going to put me to sleep if you don't stop." "Good." "You really want to drag me to the bed?" Rain turns his head, raising a dark eyebrow at Dew. Dew shakes his head. "Who said anything about that? If you fall asleep here, you're staying here. I'm not going to complain about having the bed to myself." "Liar," Rain says, shifting them again so he can pull Dew's back flush to his front, pressing his face against Dew's hair. He kisses the side of one of his horns fondly. Dew doesn't argue. There's no point. Rain grabs the bar of soap and smoothes it over Dew's back, pressing his thumbs into Dew's constantly tense shoulder blades as he does. "You'd miss me," Rain presses. "Yeah," Dew agrees, "I would."
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“I just don’t see why you go to all of the trouble.”
Dustin leans into the counter, notebook flipped open at an angle so he can pretend to write in it. Claudia allowed him to come over on the condition that Steve makes sure he gets his calculus homework done, and he plans to keep his promise.
Even if every time he taps Dustin’s textbook, he merely gets an eye roll in response.
“It’s no trouble,” Steve says. Ladles some pancake mix onto the griddle and lets it sizzle for a few moments. “I like doing things like this.”
“I’m just saying, when does he ever do stuff like this for you? I’ve never even seen him make you a cup of coffee.”
“I don’t like coffee.”
“That’s not my point.”
Dustin gives him a pensive look, and Steve just shakes his head. Elects to ignore when Dustin shoves his books further down the counter away from him.
“Whatever. I don’t need to justify making breakfast for my boyfriend,” Steve huffs.
He flips the pancake. Dustin glares at him.
“Don’t whatever me.” Dustin’s pencil gets tossed on the open notebook and he crosses his arms. “I’d expect you to tell me if my relationship was going nowhere. I’m just showing you the same courtesy.”
For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen is the sizzle of batter. Steve snorts. Shoves the spatula under the pancake and slides it on top of the growing stack to his side, ladling more mix onto the griddle afterward.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but Bill and I are fine.”
“Just fine?”
“Well, considering I bought a ring last week, I might even go as far as saying things are good.”
Dustin’s face practically explodes out of his head. He glances back and forth from Steve to the bedroom door behind him before leaning closer.
“Seriously?” he whispers.
“Yeah.” Steve flips the newly-forming pancake. “That’s kinda why I asked you over on such short notice, I wanted to see if you’d have any ideas on how to propose.”
Steve sputters out a laugh.
“Fuck no,” he says. “I just wanted to let you know before I went ahead and did it. Figured that’d be best, y’know, since you shit your pants when I didn’t immediately tell you when Bill and I first got together.”
“But you’re serious about proposing, though?”
The last pancake is set on top of the stack, and Steve shuts the griddle off.
“Sure. I’ve always wanted to be a husband.”
“Well, it sure doesn’t sound like you’re serious,” Dustin mumbles.
Steve smacks his arm with the flat of the spatula, earning a hiss as Dustin scrubs the oil away from his skin and onto his shirt.
“Keep it up with the bad attitude and I won’t ask you to be my best man.”
A smile finds its way onto Steve’s face, but the thought itself makes him feel a little more like frowning.
There’s not going to be a wedding. Obviously.
Dustin still looks offended at the statement. Steve doesn’t feel like explaining to him why it doesn’t matter either way.
“I’m just saying,” Dustin begins. He furrows his brows and stares Steve down while he begins to chop strawberries. “Are you sure this is an I’m in love thing and not just an any excuse to get hitched thing?”
Steve has wondered the same thing himself, but his question has been closer to is this another Nancy thing than anything else. He sees when he looks into Dustin’s eyes that that’s the next question he’ll ask, too.
He might be offended if he hadn’t considered it so much already.
“I love him.”
“Clearly, because all you do is dote over him for nothing in return.”
Steve tsks.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh yeah, Harrington? Every time I come over, I see you being all lovey dovey while he just stands there. You’re like the overbearing housewife to the husband that has no personality other than being useless.”
Like the Wheelers goes unsaid, but Steve hears it all the same. He shakes his head. Huffs a laugh and shakes his head again.
“He knows that you don’t like him,” Steve says, quietly as though he’s in church. “He knows you don’t like that I’m with him, so when you’re around, he doesn’t kiss or hug me back like he usually does.”
That stumps Dustin. His face is blank for a moment, and Steve returns his attention to the cutting board. Chops the strawberries into fourths how he knows his partner likes.
Dustin slumps in his seat.
“Am I an asshole?” he asks no one in particular.
“No,” Steve says anyway. “It’s really hard to change your perception of someone when you already have an idea of them in your head. I know that better than anyone.”
The strawberries, sliced and free of their stems, get scattered over the stack of still-steaming pancakes. Steve reaches for the syrup next and douses the whole thing.
“I do kind of expect you to try, though,” he adds.
Dustin nods, slowly and only once. Like the task is too daunting for him to commit to.
“Am I still invited to the wedding?”
“Yeah, bud, you’re still invited.” Stave nabs the can of whipped cream and gives it a shake. “You got demoted, though. Robin’s gonna be my maid of honor.”
“I thought only the brides could have those.”
“Well, there’s no bride, so someone has to have a maid of honor.”
Dustin snickers, watching as the whipped cream swirls into a lopsided mountain on top of the pancakes.
“Does that mean you’re gonna wear the dress? And throw the bouquet?”
“No, Bill’s gonna do that stuff. I don’t have the figure for it.”
“I’m gonna do what now?”
From the now open doorway behind Steve, a mass of shadow emerges like a freshly-woken grizzly from the mouth of a cave. Billy yawns and pads into the kitchen, eyes bleary from sleep, and stops just short of a foot away from the counter.
Normally he’d drape himself over the brunet from behind, but even in his sleepy haze, he doesn’t so much as touch.
“You’re gonna eat this breakfast that I made for you,” Steve says.
He slides the finished plate over on the counter so that it’s right in front of Billy, and he stares down at it for a second before he sighs.
“Oh.” A lazy smile spreads on his face after a moment. “Thanks, Stevie.”
“You’re welcome.”
Billy picks a slice of strawberry and pops it in his mouth, not paying Steve any mind when he brushes his hair away from his shoulder. The loose collar of his shirt reveals the edges of a bite mark, red and stamped into his skin like a brand. Steve adjusts his collar so that it’s hidden before he presses a kiss to his shoulder.
“You wanna share?” Billy asks through a full mouth.
He tucks his fork into the stack and Steve chuckles at the size of it. Laces his arms around Billy’s waist and presses flush against him.
“No, baby, it’s all yours.”
On the other side of the table, Dustin has returned to pretending to do his calculus. Steve eyes him for a moment, surprised that for once, when he looks at them, there isn’t a glare on his face.
Billy must notice it too, because he leans his weight back against Steve.
“You spoil me, Harrington,” Billy muses. “Dunno what I do to deserve it.”
They’ve had a great many conversations about Billy’s self worth. This doesn’t strike the same as when he used to push Steve away, when he used to sabotage himself any time there was a looming threat of happiness around the corner.
Steve can tell by the way that he smiles when he says it, he’s not opposed to happiness.
“Hmm, let’s see,” Steve wonders aloud. Sets his chin on Billy’s shoulder and sighs dramatically. “You’re an angel, obviously. My perfect pookie baby num-nums, and I’d be purposeless if I didn’t give you the princess treatment constantly.”
Billy snorts. Steve grins as he presses a kiss to his jaw.
“God, the shit you say sometimes,” Billy teases.
“Oh, man, you’re one to talk.“
“What do I ever do to you, Harrington?”
He clicks his tongue, all but purrs when Steve gets a frustrated look on his face.
“You walk around looking like you know that you’re hot shit and that I’m obsessed with you. Because I am obsessed with you, you know.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Billy tilts their heads together. Intertwines their fingers with his free hand. “Just ‘cause I’m pretty, huh?”
They’ve played this game before, and luckily this time around, Steve knows the right answers.
He curls around Billy and squeezes him. Brushes his lips over the concealed bite mark, gentle enough to not irritate, but with enough pressure to remind the blond of its presence.
“Yeah. Definitely not because you’re smart and kind or ‘cause you make me laugh. I’m just in it for your looks.” Steve chews his lip when Billy snickers. “You don’t know what you put me through on a day-to-day basis, blondie. I’d level mountain ranges just to get you a bag of your favorite beef jerky from the corner store.”
Billy hums. Spears another section of pancake on the end of his fork, catching a strawberry on the prongs. He toys with one of Steve’s fingers almost subconsciously.
“Do we have any jerky?”
“Mhm, picked some up this morning after I grabbed Henderson.”
The blond chuckles. Turns so that he can kiss Steve’s temple.
“You really do love me.”
Steve gets this huge, dopey, lovestruck smile on his face, and he clears his throat when he catches Dustin looking at him again. Decides that maybe he’ll give the big brother routine a rest for today and not scold him for not doing his homework.
They can schmooze Claudia later with vegetables from the garden or something.
“I really do.”
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miserablekingsteve · 2 days
I have had this thought in my head since June; have it.
Steve and Eddie get together after the events of Vecna. Was it strenuous and confusing for a while? Yes, god yes it was but at the end of the day Steve was happy, even if during the will they won’t they, he’d wanted to take Eddie by the shoulders and scream in his face;
But that’s just how Eddie was he came to learn, even Wayne would have to stop and look at his nephew, obviously it happened frequently enough that the older man wouldn’t say a word—with one brow arched and mouth open in question— Eddie would wave him off and translate what he’d rattled off unclearly before.
So, now that Steve knew he was able to actually ask Eddie for clarification he felt relaxed and safe. And for a while there he thought that he’d never have to ask for Eddie to shed light on some strange thing he said or did—that was until the other night.
Domestically Steve and Eddie stood in his bathroom, there was now a spare toothbrush in the cup that lived in Steve’s personal bathroom for Eddie. Steve loved when Eddie’s quiet hums filled the silence at any moment; always fidgeting his hands on imaginary guitar strings, figuring out certain songs he wanted to learn for practice. He smiled at their reflection in the mirror, just as Eddie tucked the toothbrush to the side and opened his mouth, drooling toothpaste all down his chin.
“You know, Mike was being such a, argh, I wanted to smack his empty pubescent head. Just kept going on and on about Will Byers and how “things had changed” blah blah,” Eddie wiped some of the dripping foam, Steve hummed in acknowledgement and spat his own toothpaste into the sink.
“How is he so, just, unaware?” Eddie followed his action and spat into the sink.
Steve snorted at that, then looked at Eddie with sympathy, “don’t be so hard on him, I know someone who was just like him. Just, oblivious.”
Eddie quirked an eyebrow at him, “Ahh, yes. Steve the unobservant.”
What? Him, the oblivious one? Eddie’s got to be kidding, “me?! I wasn’t the one jumping foot to foot and then high tailing it out of Family Video for months. Even though,” Steve held up a finger to shush his boyfriend, “I had been flirting with you nonstop for months.”
“You, were not flirting,” Eddie stated, splashing water on his face and rubbing at his eyes thoroughly. Strange habit, Steve noticed.
Scoffing at him, Steve found a face cloth and handed it off blindly, “I so was, you were just too hung up on “King Steve, suave lady killer,””
Eddie wrinkled his nose at the nickname, then leaned in real close. The mint mixed with cigarette smell intoxicated Steve, eyes flickering to Eddie’s wicked grin, “and now look, you’re the one screaming my name into your pillows, Loch Nora neighbours be damned.”
“Yeah yeah. Anyway, all I’m saying is give the kid a break, or, a little nudge. Lord knows Mike could use it,” Steve followed Eddie’s retreating form into the hall, “and top it all off he looks up to you, big time.”
Eddie blushed and turned back to Steve with a look of pure adoration, “see this is why I keep you around, maybe you should be a motivational speaker.”
“Ha. Ha, maybe you should kiss me?” Steve grinned, Eddie leaned in and gave him a quick peck.
“Alright, we’ve got a greased up sigourney Weaver waiting for us downstairs, let’s go get her big boy.”
Before Steve could fully express his annoyance about the movie cockblocking him, a searing pain ran up from his groin and into his lower abdomen. The breath in his lungs punched out, “What the fuck,” he wheezed, throwing a hand on the wall for support.
Eddie’s eyes were wide and hands were flailing everywhere.
“Dude did you just sack tap me?”
“Yes, no? I don’t know?” Eddie yelled, his face flush with embarrassment.
“Why did you do that?” Steve hissed, squeezing his eyes shut and willing away the awkward pain.
“I’m so sorry, oh my god,” Eddie floundered, “I swear it’s just a force of habit.”
“You can’t sack tap your boyfriend, man.”
“Okay. Dude.”
“Touché,” and with the pain finally lifting Steve slotted his arm around Eddie’s waist, leading them both to the couch so they could watch Alien.
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stevesbipanic · 14 hours
Boy For All Seasons
Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 Ao3
On the final night of 1985, Steve hosted a party. Well, less of a party and more just Steve, Eddie, Robin, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byer,s and Jonathan's strangely chill friend Argyle who had followed him to Hawkins for the holidays. When Steve had told Eddie of the little get-together Eddie was a bit excited, a chance for a Harrington party experience without the fear of getting beat up or having to sell.
He and Nancy had actually gotten along great at the Christmas party and she had insisted that she would help tutor Eddie once school returned so that they could all graduate this year. Steve was supplying the beer and Eddie was going to bring along some joints until Steve had told him Argyle was bringing some good shit from the coast and he wasn't going to pass up free weed.
Eddie had loved 1985, an almost perfect year thanks to the beautiful boy beside him that was now passing him the joint. Maybe next year would be even better if Eddie got up the courage to tell Steve how he was feeling. He was going to go for it, one last holiday tradition to seal the deal, a kiss at midnight.
"What no costume for this technically a holiday, Eds?"
"I did brainstorm one, sweetheart but I decided probably wasn't the best to cover myself in fireworks and then smoke weed."
Steve giggled at this, the beer and weed allowing him to relax for once. Steve had told Eddie a lot about his nightmares, no specifics, something always seemed to stop him, a lot were about the fire or some dogs that tried to attack him and the kids. It didn't happen every night but some nights Eddie would wake up to Steve's side of the bed empty or muffled cries beside him. Eddie hated those nights, and wished he could take all of Steve's hurt away. At least in the daytime, he could give Steve this, a distraction.
"What's your new year's resolution, Stevie?"
Steve laughed, "Does anyone really mean those?"
"No, but they're fun, c'mon I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."
"Be braver," Steve says gazing softly at Eddie, Eddie wishes he would look that way forever.
"Now Stevie, who's telling you you're not brave, hmm?"
"Robs, says I'm a wuss, don't go for things right in front of me."
"Is that so, well, I'll have to talk to our little birdie, get her to get you some slack, bravest boy I know, baby." Steve blushed and ducked his head away, Eddie took this as a win, maybe he'd be brave tonight too.
"Alright, what's yours Eds?"
"I think being braver sounds like a good one," Eddie said smirking. Steve gasped at this shoving Eddie playfully.
"You can't steal mine that's cheating!"
"Why can't we share! Sharing is caring Stevie!" Eddie yelled shoving Steve back, the two boys tussled playfully ultimately Steve getting the upper hand, hovering over Eddie.
"C'mon Eds, what do you want to do next year?" Steve said softly, eyes sparkling.
The word was on the tip of his tongue, he wanted to say "you", that he wants Steve next year, not just as a best friend or a bed warmer or someone to tease on holidays but someone to love with his whole being, someone to chase the nightmares away. He almost was brave enough to say it before Robin interrupted him.
"Steve! Where are the party poppers? It's gonna be midnight soon!"
For a moment Steve hesitated before climbing off Eddie and heading into the kitchen to help her. Shortly after the radio started calling that it was five minutes til midnight.
"Eddie can I have your lighter for the sparklers and could you go grab those two from the kitchen, don't know what's taking them so long."
"Sure, Nance, here," Eddie replied handing her the lighter before heading inside.
Eddie wished someone else had come to grab them, or that he'd been a bit louder as he came inside, maybe then he wouldn't have heard them.
"What Robs, you think a guy like me and a guy like Eddie would ever work, we're too different?" Eddie thought Steve liked that Eddie was different, that he wasn't like those assholes Steve used to hang around with.
"Steve if you jus-"
"No Robin, it's not happening it'll never happen ok." Eddie felt his heart break in two, he knew he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, he knew he shouldn't have let himself fall in love.
Eddie heard Robin sigh, "Ok Steve, we'll talk about this later let's just go outside for the countdown." It was then Eddie made himself known.
"Hey guys, Nance wants us all outside."
"Yeah, yeah we're coming Eddie." Eddie couldn't remember the last time Steve had used his full name, it felt like the end of whatever this year had been building.
The three of them joined the others outside and counted down the last seconds of what was almost the perfect year for Eddie Munson. They gazed at the fireworks and Eddie tried not to think about how beautiful Steve looked under their colours. There was no need to be brave, no kiss at midnight.
Eddie had a new resolution, getting over Steve.
Guess 1985 wasn't his year after all.
Tags: @zerokrox-blog @smallfrogpleasedtomeetyou @eboyawstenn @sharingisntkaren @goodolefashionedloverboi @the-redthread @steddie-there @questionablequeeries @liorereshkigal @mightbeasleep @carlyv @my2amgaythoughts @gregre369 @space-invading-pigeon @bisexualdisastersworld @epiclazershark @sherrylyn628 @raisedbylibrarians @swaghettoni @lololol-1234
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forlorn-crows · 19 hours
Sunny/Dew. You can decide the scenario. Just give me the wild chaos twins fucking each other silly.
dew is such a mess. im not sorry.
Dew moans around a mouthful of Sunshine’s dick, thighs already quivering where they bracket her face. Sunshine grabs his asscheeks and spreads them roughly, tonguing into the entrance of Dew’s dripping cunt with filthy accuracy. Dew keens with every press of her nails into his skin, every lick against his sex, every pulse of her length against his lips. 
"Mm, bet I could make you cum like this,” Sunshine mutters against him. It’s a completely true statement, one Dew would like to vehemently deny despite it all. But he can’t. He’s happy as a clam to be perched on top of her, taken apart by her skillful tongue. 
Instead, he begs.
"Oh, Sunny,” he whines against the side of her length.  “No, please.” It's a token protest, especially when he clenches around nothing and squeezes another drop of slick onto Sunshine’s lips. 
He can feel her smirk. "Why not, baby?" She peppers little kisses to his folds, skirting where he wants it most. Dew digs his toes into the sheets.
"Want you inside—want you to—ah—” He’s cut off as she once again sucks his clit into her hot mouth. She bucks her hips against his face, wordlessly teasing him for dissolving into panting and whining against her cock. 
She pulls off with a wet plop. Dew groans into her skin. "But this is much more fun," she purrs, running a manicured finger softly around his entrance. 
“Please,” Dew begs again, high and reedy. 
“You do look pretty empty,” Sunshine muses. She teases his clit with the pad of her finger before dipping back into his folds, pushing the digit inside his cunt just up to the second knuckle. 
Dew moans so light and airy he has to clamp his hand over his mouth at how embarrassingly feminine it sounds. 
“I should fuck you with just my fingers if you’re gonna make pretty noises like that. What do you think?” She pushes her finger all the way in and strokes along his slick walls. 
“Mm hhmm,” Dew moans through his palm.
“What was that?” Sunshine pushes a second finger in next to the first, the sound of it lewd and wet. 
Dew lets his hand fall away, grinding against her hand. “Fuck.”
“That’s it,” she smirks. “Gonna cum on Mommy’s hand, just like this?”
It’s a punch to the gut with a white-hot hand of pleasure, like her words are the ones physically fucking into him. “Oh oh S-Sunny noo,” he whines, hips twitching, seeking friction. Again, it’s a token protest with the heat coiling rapidly in his belly, a string pulled taught by her clever fingers. 
“I think you are,” she sing-songs. He’s eagerly and shamelessly doing half the work for her now, thrusting himself onto her fingers. “You still look a bit empty to me though. Think you could take more?”
“More,” he parrots. 
“More what?”
“More, please . .  . m-mommy.”
“Since you asked so nicely.” Her tone is devious, scheming even. Dew barely has time to register it before she’s leaning up to spit on his hole, pulling her drenched fingers from his cunt and sinking one of them into his ass. Dew makes a choked off noise in the back of his throat, immediately clenching around her. His next moan can’t even be properly vocalized either, because she’s sinking the remaining three fingers back into his cunt with the same enthusiasm. And, in the middle of Dew’s wrecked and wordless gasp, she’s sneaking her free hand down to press on his clit. 
“Oh fuck oh fucking hell—” is all he can say before he’s spasming against her, orgasm ripping through him like a freight train. And Sunshine, bastard as she is, scissors her fingers just so and presses right above his mound with the other hand, on that spot that makes his brain go immediately offline. 
“Sun—ng—uh—” His eyes unfocus and he’s squeezing his thighs against Sunshine’s ears, gasping as he gushes warm liquid over her hands. 
“That’s a good boy,” she coos, working him through it. She can’t help the way her cock kicks at the sight, all wet, warm, and throbbing. She runs her fingers through it, over his clit, over his folds, over her own chin, before planting it wetly back on his ass. The moderate force sends Dew flat on his chest against her with a groan, completely boneless. 
“Sunnyyy,” he whines, slightly muffled by the meat of Sunshine’s thigh. 
“Don’t get too comfortable,” she warns. “I’m not done with you yet, droplet.”
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imfinereallyy · 8 hours
Father Figures, pt. 2
I swear it was a one-shot. But then my hand slipped and "oh oops there's Wayne". You can access part 1 here. This is rated m btw. The full version will be available on ao3 (my first time posting on there...) which is linked here. Anyway, enjoy :)
The first time Wayne Allen Munson meets Steve Harrington is in a hospital room. Sure, he has seen and heard about the kid in passing. It was hard not to in a town like Hawkins. With the kind of money his old man has and the pretty face his mother parades around, the Harringtons become a sort of household name. Especially in Wayne's household.
See, Wayne may not be much of a talker, but his nephew sure is. Especially when he gets angry about something. And boy did Steve Harrington make his Eddie mad. During Eddie's first time around with Senior Year, Steve's name comes out of that boy's mouth so often that if not for that tone of his, he would have thought the kid had a crush on him.
Actually, Wayne regretfully asks at one point if he does have a crush. Wayne finds out pretty quickly that Eddie doesn't, which isn't the problem nor why he regrets asking. The problem is apparently at that very moment in time, Eddie hasn't exactly come out to Wayne. The boy shakes so much that Wayne is afraid that Eddie might cause an earthquake. Wayne has to calm Eddie down and explain very carefully he doesn't care, he's his kid no matter what. Eddie cries, and asks "Dad, what made you think to just casually bring that up?"
Wayne shrugs and simply says "Didn't think it was a secret."
Eddie lets out a wet laugh. Wayne doesn't mention how it's the first time since Eddie showed up on his doorstep that he calls him Dad.
His heart swells.
So, with absolutely no crush in sight god Wayne he's an asshole, Steve's name is brought up quite often.
"Steve Harrington just parades himself around like he's a king."
"Steve Harrington just stands there while Tommy continues to be a piece of shit. Worse, he acts like he's bored."
"Girls just hang off of Harrington, he's even got Nancy Wheeler on his arm now. What a prick, thought she was smarter than that."
"Looks like Harrington got the shit kicked out of him by Byer's. You gotta love Karma sometimes."
Wayne watches Eddie frown at the last one before saying, "Kinda gotta back Steve up on the pictures though. That was creepy."
Eddie shakes his head then continues to rant "But smashing his camera? Dick move. Doesn't understand what it's like to be poor."
Wayne is still not completely convinced it's not a crush.
Wayne Allen Munson seems to know all about Steve Harrington before he actually has the chance to meet him. None of which he has learned makes Steve seem all that good.
Imagine Wayne's surprise when he finds the Harrington boy next to his son's hospital bed.
"What're you doin' here?" Wayne asks, startling Steve from his chair. Wayne watches as he hops up from the ground, straightening himself out.
"Sorry sir, I was just uh, keeping him company. The kid's families won't let them out of their sight and Dustin wanted him to have a familiar face with him if, sorry when he wakes up. Because we weren't sure we were allowed to grab you yet. So I volunteered to stay with him, seeing as I don't have a job anymore, and well I sort of feel responsible for Eddie now. And, god I am hanging out with Robin too much because I am rambling. Sorry, Sir. "
Wayne raises an eyebrow at him. He has seen Steve around town before, hard not to in a small place like Hawkins. Eddie points him out once, scoffing at his perfect hair and holier-than-thou attitude. Wayne originally is prepared to yell at him. The sight of a boy who looks very much like the very ones who hunted his Eddie down just a few days ago ignites something protective within him. Hearing this boy ramble though, flustered and making himself hopelessly small in front of Wayne, makes him hesitate.
"Boy, I don't know half-em names you're sayin' right now. I do recognize that kid Dustin though, ya know him?"
Steve nods his head up and down, "He's like my brother sir. Our brother." He looks down towards Eddie's bed.
Wayne avoids looking at his boy and chooses to look directly at Steve. "Well, he's a good kid. Came to me when Ed was missing, at the school. Told me he was a hero, and that he'll be missed. Guess now it was probably cause he wasn't sure if he was gonna make it and didn't want to get my hopes up. Don't know what made him change his mind either when he found me again today, told me they had him here."
Steve's face softens as Wayne talks about Dustin. Wayne pushes on, "If that kid trusts you, I don't got a reason not to trust you either. Well, until Eds here wakes up at least. He can tell me otherwise."
"Okay, Sir." Steve makes his way to move around Wayne and leave. Wayne grabs him by the wrist to stop him, and Steve flinches. Wayne decides to file that away for later and lets him go.
"No need to leave kid. And stop calling me sir. I'm not your old man. "
Steve's lips lift a little bit like Wayne just brought up an inside joke he isn't a part of. "Okay, sir—I mean Wayne. Okay, Wayne."
Steve and Wayne sit side by side next to Eddie. It's then Wayne finally looks down at his kid. He can't help but the rush of tears that come up at the sight of him. He is paler than usual, curls flat and dirty, tubes coming out of every part of him.
"My boy." He chokes.
Steve thankfully stays silent as Wayne weeps. They sit for a while in silence before Wayne asks, "You gonna tell me what happened?"
Steve, who Wayne doesn't point out has bloodshot eyes, says "You going to believe me?"
Wayne simply returns "I'm willing to try."
So Steve tells him. Tells him everything that has happened over the last week. Tells him of monsters and other worlds. How it isn't the first time, how it is hopefully the last. How scary it is for them. How Eddie is stupid but incredibly brave. How Eddie barely makes it. How Steve will be the first to yell at him when he wakes up.
Wayne listens carefully through the whole thing and can't help but think of how fond Steve sounds when Eddie's name comes up. This isn't the boy Eddie once spoke of. Albeit, it has been a long time since Eddie's spoken his name. Wayne isn't used to tigers changing their stripes though. It's a pleasant surprise he doesn't comment on.
Wayne rubs his thumb across Eddie's hand. "How did he get out? If he was practically dead?"
"Oh, I carried him Sir."
Wayne's head snaps to Steve. "What?"
Steve shrinks a bit, "Sorry I mean Wayne. Sorry I didn't mean to disrepe—"
Wayne cuts him off, "Dammit kid, I'm not mad at that. I'm not mad at all. It's just—you saved him. You carried him out of what I can only understand is what I think hell is, and you didn't think to mention that when I first saw you?" Wayne looks at Steve for a moment. Really looks at him. He's in clean jeans and a polo, but that's where his old persona ends. When Wayne looks at him closely, he can see the dark bags under his eyes, the purple bruising all over his body, and the angry red scar around his neck. Steve looks exhausted, physically and emotionally. Steve looks like a boy, desperately trying to be a man. He looks like a soldier after war.
"It's not a big deal. I did what anyone else would do."
Wayne shakes his head. "Steve. That's just the thing, I'm pretty sure no one else woulda done that. And even if they would, it doesn't make what you did any less important. So, thank you."
Steve's eyes mist a bit when Wayne says "it doesn't make what you did any less important." He looks away from Wayne and just nods.
"Okay, Sir. Okay, Wayne."
When Eddie wakes a few days later, after a night of breathing on his own without the tubes, he interrupts Steve and Wayne's conversation on the Chicago Cubs, and says "Dad?"
Wayne is up in an instant, crowding his boy's face. "Oh, Eds. I am so glad yer alright. You scared me."
"Mmm sorry," Eddie mumbles nuzzling Wayne's chest. He then looks up towards Steve, who is watching the interaction between the two men. "Harrington?"
Steve leans forward on his elbows, and chokes out "I told you not to be cute."
Eddie giggles, his tears reflecting Steve's "Sorry big boy, can't help what you're born with."
Steve looks up at the ceiling with a wet laugh. It eventually turns into a deep sob. The only other time Wayne witnesses Steve break like this over the past few days is when he's reunited with Hopper. "You shithead, you're not allowed to be funny right now. Don't. Don't do that again. Okay? You really scared us." Wayne can hear Steve's unspoken you really scared me.
Eddie's tears are rushing down his face now. "I'm sorry Steve. I'm so sorry."
"You didn't do anything wrong. Just—next time, don't let there be a next time. Okay?" Steve's not making much sense to Wayne as he leans his head on Eddie's bed face down.
Eddie seems to get it though. He hesitantly strokes Steve's head with his fingers. "Okay, Stevie. I promise. Now, get some sleep. It's your turn, I've had enough."
Steve's shoulders sag as he gives in. Wayne shares a look with Eddie, and Wayne knows right there they have the same thought.
They've collected another stray.
When Eddie is home, Steve becomes a regular occurrence in their newly acquired government-funded house. He helps a lot the first month especially. Takes Eddie and the Mayfield girl to and from physical therapy. Cooks dinner on the nights Wayne works (which is most nights) and makes sure to have leftovers specifically labeled for Wayne. Keeps both Wayne and Eddie company when one of their stress becomes too much for the other. Steve's even there on the nights the nightmares get bad. Spends his time on the couch until Eddie wakes up screaming, and calms him back to sleep so Wayne doesn't worry about him at work. Or so Wayne can get a full night when he's off.
Steve's there so often enough, that when one night he isn't, Wayne's concerned.
"You're going to pace a hole into the floor boy." Wayne looks at Eddie in their living room from the couch. Wayne doesn't tell Eddie he's concerned too. Doesn't think it would help much.
"I'm sure he's just held up, or got plans Eds. Not like he was plannin' on coming here tonight."
Eddie stops and faces Wayne, biting his thumbnail instead. "Sure we didn't have plans. But Steve's been here every day for the past month Wayne. And when he hasn't he's called. I haven't heard from him in like 22 hours—" Wayne doesn't point out that Eddie did the actual math "—and that's weird. He doesn't do that. We don't do that."
Eddie's anxiety starts to seep into Wayne's. He can't help but think of the worst-case scenario. Car accident. A run-in with that Andy kid. His mind even jumps to when Eddie was in the hospital, and his stomach sinks. Wayne can't help it, he has grown attached to Steve.
"Why don't we call some of yer friends, yeah? Maybe they've seen your boy."
Eddie is so incredibly distressed and doesn't even rebuke Wayne calling Steve his like he usually does. "Yeah okay, good idea."
As Eddie reaches for the phone though, there is a light knock on the door. Eddie rushes to answer it.
"Steve thank god I was wondering—Oh my god sweetheart what happened?" Eddie drags Steve in and places him on the couch. It's then that Wayne sees him.
There on Steve's jaw, is a bruise the size of Indiana. Steve's eye is swollen, and he is breathing heavily while clutching his ribs. Wayne remains frozen and Eddie frets over Steve.
"Stevie, who did this? Where does it hurt? What can I do?"
"Eds I'm fine."
Eddie looks like he's about to yell but restrains himself. "You are most certainly not fine. Do not give me that look Harrington—"
"Oh I'm Harrington now."
"—Yes you are Harrington right now because only a Harrington would be this stubborn and ridiculous. Now tell me what happened and tell me what hurts."
Steve's resolve loosens slightly, and his head falls onto Eddie's shoulder. He lets out a painful whine, "My stomach. It—fuck—it hurts so bad Eds."
Eddie brushes his fingers through his hair and whispers to him gently. "It's okay baby, I got you."
Wayne realizes three things at once.
One, Wayne isn't sure Eddie has called Steve that before. He calls him names across the board. But baby isn't one of them. Wayne knows for a fact the two aren't together yet. They have been dancing along the line for a few weeks now. Wayne thinks about pushing the timeline along, but the boys don't seem to be there quite yet. This seems like a step in the right direction.
Two, in the past month and a half Wayne has gotten to know Steve, he realizes that the boy doesn't do well around older men. He flinches at every sudden movement Wayne makes, and won't even let him give him a pat on the back let alone a hug. Also in that time, Steve has barely gone home. Knows his parents didn't visit him at the hospital, but did come home two weeks later to make sure nothing is damaged from the earthquake. Assholes.
And three, Steve avoids the question as to what happened. Eddie seems to let it slide. Wayne doesn't give the same courtesy.
"Who did this?" Wayne says abruptly, startling Steve who seems to realize Wayne's presence only now.
"Wh-what?" Steve shakes.
"I'm not mad boy. But I'm not stupid. I know this ain't a what but a who. And I think we can both conclude who. But I'm going to ask you anyway. Who. Did. This?"
The last of Steve's resolve crumbles as Wayne puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. It is as if he hadn't known a gentle touch from a father before. Maybe he hasn't.
"My dad. He uh, we got into a fight last night. Found out how much time I was spending here, with Eddie, with the kids. He started saying how I was spending time with the wrong people. I tried to just nod and go upstairs because it was just easier to ignore him than fight him sometimes. Like what's he going to do right? He's only here a couple of days a year. But then he mentioned Robin and he called her a slur, and that said her kind was an abomination. And oh god I don't even know how he found that out Robs is going to be pissed she's been so careful—"
"Babe." Eddie squeezes Steve's hand.
"Right sorry, he just was going off about Robin. And it just set me off, I just lost it on him. How dare he talk about her that way? And I just told him that if he's got a problem with her, then he's got a problem with me too. And God Wayne, the silence that came after. It was like all the words had been sucked out of the room. Next thing I know he's grabbing me by the jaw and throwing me on the floor. And he just starts kicking me, screaming about how I am no son of his. I didn't know what to do. My mom just watched it all. I just laid there... I should have fought back—I—" Steve trails off trying to collect himself.
"When he was done he sent me to my room and told me to think about what I'm doing to this family. I just laid there all night and all day, just waiting for them to leave. I had to wait til they left for dinner tonight to get out. I can't—I can't go back there. Me and Robs were planning on moving in together next week, we made a deposit on this two-bedroom downtown, but I don't think I can spend another week there, and oh god, all my stuff is there. What have I done." Steve puts his head in his hands.
Eddie is crying with Steve by the end of it. Neither he nor Wayne comments on how Steve just came out to the both of them. It doesn't seem important at that moment. Wayne crouches down to eye level with Steve.
"You did nothing wrong. There is nothing wrong with you. You did what you had to do to survive, and even if you didn't it still wouldn't be your fault."
Wayne stands back to his full height. "Now, you can stay here until you and the bird girl have your place. Do not fight me on it. Anyway Steve, I know it's difficult right now. But I'm going to need you to let me know what you need from your house."
"What, why?"
Wayne just sighs, "I know you ain't stupid. Just tell me."
Steve seems hesitant but tells Wayne anyway.
He nods at both his boys when he speaks next. "You two stay put. I'll be back soon."
Steve and Eddie both look like they want to fight Wayne on it. Steve wants to stop him from leaving at all, and Eddie probably wants to stop him from going without him. They both smartly stay silent.
"Okay, Uncle Wayne."
"Okay, Wayne."
Later, Wayne comes back with three duffle bags and bruised knuckles.
Steve hugs him without a second thought.
A few days pass and the three of them are in the kitchen when Eddie asks. "Did ya tell hop?"
Steve snorts in his coffee. "Hell no."
Wayne can't help his curiosity as he watches the both of them across the table.
"Steve, you have to tell Hop. He's going to find out anyway." Eddie pushes as he puts an ungodly amount of sugar in his coffee.
"No I don't. He'll just flip out, there is no good reason to tell him."
Eddie puts his hands on his hips. It reminds Wayne of Steve the past couple of times he's seen him around the kids. "I can think of one good reason. He's practically your dad. And I'm pretty sure your Dad would want to know what your old man did to ya."
Wayne can't help but hum in agreement. He knows if Eddie's old man comes around, he wants to be the first to find out.
Steve looks at Wayne briefly before saying, "No he's not. He's just like that with everyone."
"No, he's not. With El? Yea, that's his daughter. Maybe even Will. But not with anyone else. Except you. Why do you think I'm afraid of him?"
Steve gives him a look, "Cause he's an ex-cop Eds."
"Please that doesn't scare me. Didn't scare me when he was an actual cop either."
Wayne isn't sure that's entirely true. He remembers a very specific incident of Eddie tripping over his laces to get away from Jim.
Eddie carries on, "No, he scares me 'cause he's your dad, and I know he'll hang me by my toenails if I so much as make you cry. So yea, I think you should let him know. Besides, we both know he's going to be way more pissed when he finds out from literally anyone else. And we both know he will because you told Robin, who definitely told Nancy, who probably told Joyce, and you can see where I am heading with this."
Steve throws his head back and groans. "He's going to full government name me when he finds out."
Eddie lets out a manic giggle, "Ooo, you never told me what your full name is. Now you gotta tell me, Stevie."
Steve gives Eddie an exasperated look, "It's Steven James Harrington."
It's now Eddie's turn to groan. "Of course, you have his name. Well, I guess it's better than Richard. Hop must love that. Was kinda hoping you had my name or something."
Wayne makes a mental note to talk to Jim himself. Knows Steve will avoid it. But Wayne's got to make sure someone is looking after Steve when he can't. Wayne's been meaning to thank the man anyway. For all his done for Eddie. And now, for all he's done for Steve.
"Want me to make you feel better Eds?" Steve says with a smirk.
"Please. I'm not sure if I can go on any further with the torture of knowledge that contains your middle name."
"Hopper's middle name is Edward."
The scream of joy Eddie lets out nearly punctures what's left of Wayne's hearing.
By midsummer, the boys are an item. They haven't said anything to Wayne but he can tell. One day, the boys come back from their friend's weekly dinner holding hands. So they didn't have to tell Wayne. Not really.
It is just that, Wayne has gotten to know Steve Harrington over the past few months. He has gotten to know him as "Friend Steve" and "Brother Steve", and even after one intense game night, "King Steve". Wayne has a feeling though that "Boyfriend Steve" is different. As much as he likes the boy, his kid comes first. Wayne feels he needs to give Steve a talk.
The problem is he can't really give him a talk if neither of them has really told him. He has made that mistake once with Eddie, assuming, he won't be making it again.
So Wayne waits. And waits. And waits. And just as he is thinking he might never get the verbal confirmation from the two, he gets the image clear as day of what the two are on a Tuesday when he gets to go home early from work.
It's just not in the way he expects or wants.
Wayne can't really blame the boys. They didn't know Wayne would be coming home early, it was a surprise to Wayne himself. So they probably didn't think that anyone would be coming around the Munson household on Tuesday at midnight.
That doesn't make the situation any less scarring.
See, Wayne Allen Munson wasn't a god-fearing man. He can't be with what his Eddie had been through. But he can't help but think this is some sort of cosmic punishment when he gets home and hears moaning.
Wayne stands there in the foyer as a loud, "Yes baby just like that" and "Oh god, harder" and even the unfortunate "You're so tight, it's like you were made for me."
Wayne thinks god might be laughing at him. Wayne can't really go upstairs and stop them. They are both adults and he feels that having an image of what they are doing would be substantially worse than the noises.
Wayne decides to put some earplugs in (which thankfully cut off the noise, since his age made him half deaf anyway), sat in his armchair, and waits it out.
About an hour later (jesus an hour later) Steve comes downstairs to the kitchen in only his boxers. He doesn't seem to notice Wayne. His head is in the freezer when Wayne decides to clear his throat loudly.
Steve slams his head in fright and whips around with an icepack in his hand. "Oh shit."
"Oh shit is right."
All the color drains from Steve's face. "How much did you hear?"
Wayne appreciates that Steve cuts right to the chase. "Enough." He knows he can explain to the boy that he didn't really hear that much, and the earplugs are firmly in his hands as evidence, but he decides to torture Steve.
Just a little bit, can't have him too comfortable.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Munson, I—"
Wayne cuts him off. "No need to apologize, just as long as you boys are being safe that's all I care about. No that ain't what I want to talk to you about."
Steve visibly swallows as he sits across the counter from Wayne. "What about then?"
"Look, I'm awfully happy for the two of you. It's about time you boys got your shit together—"
Steve lets out a small laugh at the comment. Wayne continues. "—but I need to make things clear with you Steve. You hurt my kid, I hurt you. Eds has been through a lot. Not just with the whole spring break situation. I mean his whole life. He bounced around from place to place until he landed on my doorstep. He's used to giving his all, and not getting much in return. Eddie loves with his whole chest, and he doesn't know how to do it any other way. You better make sure you're worthy of it because I am not sure anyone is...including me. You're pretty damn close though, I know it. I can see it. You're a good person. But that boy is my whole world. I know where to hide a body if need be."
Wayne expects Steve to cower in fear, but instead, he smiles softly at him. "Don't worry. I'll dig the grave myself. I'll try my best not to hurt him, sir. I can't promise much, but I can promise I'll love him every day without fail."
"You tell him that yet kid?"
Steve shakes his head, "No. I think soon though sir."
Wayne nods feeling satisfied. "Good, and enough of this sir crap I thought we've been over this."
"Okay, Wayne."
"Better. Now, who's the ice pack for? You or him, because I don't want to have to grab the shovel outta the shed tonight."
Steve's blush spreads from his cheeks all the way down to his chest. "Uuuh, for me sir. I mean Wayne."
"Good. Go grab my son for me now will ya?"
Steve stutters, "Wh-what? Why?"
"Just go grab 'em."
Steve runs upstairs and brings down a smug-looking Eddie. Wayne's sure Steve gave him the rundown of what he heard, and Eddie doesn't appear to be ashamed like Steve had the smarts to do.
Little shit.
"Sorry Wayne didn't know you were home. Was that what you wanted to talk about?"
Wayne looks from Steve to Eddie, before narrowing his eyes at the latter. "Nope. It's your turn."
"My turn?" Eddie's confident face turns confused while Steve's flashes surprise.
"Yea kid your turn." Wayne contemplates for a second what to say, but knows in the end that Eddie will get the message loud and clear from one sentence alone.
"You hurt him—" Wayne turns to point at Steve, before facing Eddie again "—I hurt you. Got it?"
All the color drains from Eddie's face. That's the reaction he is looking for.
"Got it." Eddie grabs Steve's hand to make his way back upstairs. Before they are completely out of sight, Steve catches Wayne's eye. The boy looks softer than he did before. He looks like he wants to say something but settles on,
"Goodnight Wayne."
"Goodnight Steve."
Steve doesn't ask Wayne about that night until months later in October. Wayne is on the couch with a beer when Steve walks in (he has the key Eddie gave him in September). "Eddie's not here right now. Think he's running late with band practice."
"Oh I'm sorry. I can come back later." Steve stands awkwardly in the doorway.
"Don't be silly come sit. I'm just watching the game. It's no cubs considering they didn't make it far, but it's still a good game."
Steve nods and makes himself comfortable on the couch. Since spring break, Wayne and Steve have built a friendship of sorts. Steve still shows signs of apprehension in the first few seconds, but the conversation becomes an easy flow after a while. They usually talk about sports, cars, or cooking. All stuff Wayne enjoys but Eds won't show the slightest interest in. It's nice, to have someone to share this stuff with.
Today they mostly talk about the game on tv and Eddie's habit of running late. It's after a particularly funny joke about Eddie being late to his own birth that Steve asks, "Hey Wayne, can I ask you something?"
"Ya just did kid."
"God, you sound like Eddie."
Wayne chuckles, "Sure Steve. Shoot."
"Why did you talk to Eddie too? About the whole, hurting each other stuff? I mean Eddie's your kid, and I'm just the guy who gets to spend time with him." Steve waves his hands around, it reminds Wayne of Ed.
"Well, I love ya both," Wayne says easily while he takes a sip of his beer, like it isn't hard to say. And it isn't really. It was quite simple to Wayne. Just like Eddie, Steve might not be his kid by blood but he is close as he can come.
"Oh." Steve takes a deep breath, as if he is holding back tears, and says "Thanks, Wayne. I love you too."
Wayne almost mistakes the pain as Steve's voice as reluctance. The happiness that shines in his eyes says something else. Says he doesn't hear that from fathers very often. Says he hopes Wayne means it.
He does mean it.
Eddie walks in the doorway to find the two men silently staring at each other, and Steve close to tears. "Well hello there my lovely family how are—Wayne what did you do to Steve? Did you yell at him? I promise the bruise on my face was from dropping a wrench while trying to fix the van. Nothing else." Eddie pulls Steve up and squishes his face between his hands. "What did he say to you, baby?"
Steve shakes his head and laughs lightly at Eddie's antics. "Nothing bad. Promise. Happy tears."
"Happy tears?"
"Happy tears."
Eddie stares at him for long moment before deciding he believes him. "Okay. Okay. I relent." He grabs Steve's hand and throws a wave at Wayne. "Let's go upstairs though, I have to tell you about practice and how Gareth brought a boy with him! And you'll never believe what boy it was! It was our little baby Byers himself..."
Wayne hears Steve's gasp and Eddie's giggle as he continues on up the stairs. Wayne can't help the warmth that settles in his chest.
Because Wayne Allen Munson is lucky to have two wonderful boys. And he is even luckier that his two boys love each other. Because they deserve that and so much more.
Okay, it’s a lot I know. I just couldn’t resist. I wanted to write Steve and Wayne too. I think this one is less sad and more funny but I think that kind of speaks for the kind of relationship the two of them would have. Also it contains much more steddie than the last one. I’m thinking about maybe writing a part 3 with Steve’s relationship with the kids and how he’s their father figure? But for now it ends here. Also this took me like two days to write? I’m sorry for any mistakes or rushed parts. I am one woman show. Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)
Also I have finally posted on ao3!!! Can’t believe it, I’ve been so nervous about it especially because I am still without a beta. But this felt long enough to put there and I wanted to be able to share with more people.
access part. 1 here and ao3 here
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ditch-lily · 3 days
What's a fun work story involving Kim and P'Mod?
omg apparently you get a whole ficlet :) enjoy! I wrote this instead of making my dinner lol
Kim leans in close, lips grazing the mic.
"A knife."
He's not sure how the mic works, he's not used to this set up. This is only maybe his second proper interview. But his answer seems like it came across strong and clear.
The host is looking at him.
"...a knife?"
Well yeah. It's a deserted island.
"What would you use it for?" The host is trying to sound upbeat and chirpy.
Kim raises a brow. "For hunting." Maybe other things, who knows. He's good with a knife.
"Uhhh okay, very useful! What else would you bring? Remember it's a deserted island! Maybe your phone? A guitar?”
"A lighter. Fire's good. Useful." He explains it this time, this host seems to need that. Kim thinks maybe he's a bit dense.
"Ahhh. Okay sure, I get it! You're a survivalist! Do you watch any survivalist shows? Any tips?"
What? No he doesn't. Kim scowls. But fine, he can be chatty. P’Mod told him to be chatty. He leans close to the mic again. “My tip would be, make sure the knife you bring is a good one. Balanced, good for throwing. You might need it for multiple uses."
The host is a bit big eyed. He nods at Kim, a little shakily.
Okay, Kim nods back. This is working, he's being chatty. "Here." Kim reaches into his pocket and brings out his favorite switchblade. Snicks it out. "This one's good-  it's my favorite brand, and the tip is strong. Resists a lot of throwing. Keeps its point well."
There's an almost soundless noise from the host, a weird little rasp. He's nodding his head again, scooting his chair back, fast.
A movement catches his eye. P’Mod is waving frantically through the glass, hand viciously jerking through the air in a fast motion. Kim squints.
He doesn’t know what exactly she means. It looks like she's motioning…a throwing movement? Huh? Okay, he could throw it, maybe a demonstration would be good.
After, with the host wide eyed and saying, a little high pitched and nasally, oh don’t worry - the wall’s easily repaired and wow. That knife sure got in there deep, huh?
Well after that, and after P’Mod shaking their head, apologizing to the staff, she grabs Kim and drags him out of the room, down to the break room.
"Holy shit kid, what the fuck. You are so lucky that was radio."
She pinches her brow, sighing heavily, a little bit in shock. "New rule. And I can't believe I have to say this- but from now on? No knives on set.”
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inklessletter · 2 days
I think I've seen this film before (and I didn't like the ending)
Both Robin and Steve know that Dustin shipped them. Hard. He was the first one to actually acknowledge how awesome Steve was, and how much of a badass Robin was, so obviously, he was the most insistent on getting them together. The fact that Robin and Steve spent all of their time together, had internal jokes, teased each other constantly, Steve drove her around, had dinner at Robin's a few times a week and, practically shared the same braincell, hadn't definitely helped for Dustin's annoying dynamic to spread to the party. Soon, everyone else was dropping hints about when they were going to publicly announce that they were a couple.
It's something Robin dealt with also at home. Steve didn't lie when he proudly said "parents love me, I'm a catch," because Robin's parents actually do love him. They also seemed eager for their daughter to tell them that they were dating.
Her parents are something she can deal with on her own, but after two apocalypses together, and frankly quite bored of the same joke over and over again, Robin started noticing something in Steve. And see, Robin has a lot of great qualities, but if there's something above all that, it's that she's wicked smart.
So, she started paying attention to their tease, trying to understand why this dynamic was now affecting his very much platonic soulmate out of the sudden, and she fully understood a new layer of Steve.
And fucking hated it.
Although they shared almost everything, she didn't go straight to Steve to talk about it; she knew him well enough to know beforehand not to press him into talking about something he wasn't ready to share yet, even with her.
So the next time they teased them (soon enough, because, c'mon, get new material, bozos) she dropped the smile and asked them, begged them to just stop. It wasn't funny anymore, if it ever was.
And their stupid kids were, well, kids, and also stupid, and didn't pick up. So they continued to tease them, and Robin's patience started to grow thin. But she kept repeating to herself: they're kids, they're just kids, they're dumb by default. So she kept asking them to please, please, drop it.
And see, she can deal with stupid kids, but she drew the line on inconsiderate shitheads (and after two years of saying no, Robin reconsidered their idiocy; they were being plain mean now). So, when Dustin pried about how boring it was that they kept their relationship a secret, in front of the whole gang, again, Robin snapped.
"Who is it, Dustin?" Robin asked, curious expression.
"Who is what?"
"Who are you crushing on, me or Steve?"
"What the hell, Robin? I don't have a crush on any of you!" Dustin said, almost offended. "What's wrong with you?"
"You see, Dusty-bun, after a year and a half of prying non-stop about how crazy is that we are not sucking face and absolutely not believing it, my guesses are that you consider that one of us is so painfully irresistible that we must be obviously lying when we tell you that we are not together. So, cut the jealous crap and please tell me whose name you whisper at night, huh? Is it me or Steve? I'm dying of curiosity here."
Dustin's cheeks went bright pink almost instantly. There was a brief silence in which Robin appreciated their faces with a smug smirk. Some of them were gapping, some holding a laughter. Nancy looked away with a tight smile. Eddie's face was priceless, he stopped whatever he was doing to attentively watch the upcoming scene. Only Steve looked really annoyed.
"What? Ew, gross. I don't whisper your name at night-"
"Steve's, then?"
"No! Robin, what's wrong with you!"
"Oh my god, look at you, you're blushing! You must definitely like him! Oh, is it both?"
"I don't like him , or you! I've got a girlfriend!"
"You're so red, Dustin. I just—I guess I just don't believe you."
Robin's smile grew wider when the rest of the party started picking on Dustin, too.
"I am just saying that you two are really close, there's obviously a vibe between you two, and it's fine! I don't know why you keep denying it. Even I can feel your electricity!" Dustin looked at Steve, who raised his eyebrows, clearly upset. "Is it because his ex is here? Nancy's over it—"
"Please, don't drag me into this."
"—and what you just implied is disgusting!"
And at this point of Dustin's rambling, her smile went off.
"Which part is disgusting, exactly?"
"That—That I think of you at night or whatever!" Dustin shouted, all dramatic.
"I mean, that's pretty disgusting," Lucas added.
"So, you don't have dirty thoughts, like, ever," Eddie muted, holding a mischievous smile.
"Why would I have dirty thoughts about them?"
"I don't know, why would we have dirty thoughts about each other?"
"Can we just stop saying 'dirty thoughts'?" Mike asked, grossed out.
"Because it's a cliché!" Dustin yelled, standing in front of her, suddenly, and completely ignoring Mike. "It's bound to happen! You're always in Steve's orbit, and you're getting pretty defensive about this, you must have a reason to—"
"To what? To not be jumping on his dick right now?"
At the mention of Steve's dick, the whole gang reacted. The youngest pulled disgusting faces, but clearly amused by the turn of this conversation. Eddie was no longer hiding how much fun this was, and he was giving his full attention. Nancy looked around, cheeks pink, not really knowing how to react. Steve, though, was mortified.
After the fuzz of complaints and comments stopped, Robin spoke again.
"I have a reason, though."
Steve looked at her.
"And the reason is I don't like him that way, and he doesn't like me that way, and that should be enough. And begging you to stop just once should be also enough for you to be respectful about it, but you're not. It's beyond annoying now, it's hurtful, Dustin."
She spoke softer now, and stood from her spot.
Steve muttered "fuck this," and left the room. Eddie followed him. There was a charged silence after that.
"I know you maybe don't see it, but you are implying all the time that there's no other reason for us to be friends if it is not to get in each other's pants, like we have nothing else to offer. And maybe it is not my place to say, but Steve has spent the last few years trying to prove himself right all the time, and he cares about what you think because he loves you. So much. And he's not gonna tell you this, like, in a million years, and I'm breaking an unspoken vow of best friend here telling you, and I'll atone for it later, but if you keep going on with this crap he won't ever stop feeling worthless of being anyone's friend if there's nothing to get out of it."
"Robin, you know that's not what I mean." Dustin's voice was apologetic, sad.
"I know, but we asked you to stop, and you're not letting this go. This is not a riddle you have to figure out, this is just—"
Robin thought that maybe it was the moment for her to come out. If she told everyone now that she was a lesbian, they would drop it for good. She'd been thinking about it for a while now, but she didn't want to do it like this. It just didn't feel right. It wasn't.
Nancy was gazing at her with a knowing look, lips pursed. Robin didn't really tell Nancy about herself, but she seemed to understand. She was smart like that.
"Besides, I am—"
"Right. You're right," Nance stepped in. They shared a look, and Robin briefly smiled. "I think you owe them an apology."
Dustin looked bewildered. The kids were silent. Robin could read in their faces that they never thought about it this way. It took a few seconds for Dustin to recover, and Robin could swear she saw his eyes getting glassy.
"I'm sorry," Dustin said, low voice. "I'm going to—I'm going to talk to Steve."
Dustin left. Shortly after, the rest of the kids followed him, leaving Robin and Nancy alone.
"Steve is lucky to have you," Nancy said, with a soft smile, looking her straight in the eye. Robin felt her cheeks flush red. She looked down.
"I'm the lucky one, here," Robin said. "Thank you. For... for stopping me."
And then Robin's world crashed, because Nancy cupped her cheek, softly, and pressed a small kiss on the cheek.
"I've got your back."
With a smile and candid eyes, Nancy left the room, and Robin let herself fall where she was previously sitting, sighing dramatically.
She needed to talk to Steve.
Right now.
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
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cha-melodius · 3 days
FirstPrince kiss #13!!
13. …discreetly.
It becomes a bit of a game.
It's not as if there aren't plenty of photos of them kissing out there at this point. Alex delights in pressing kisses to Henry's cheek or the side of his head when he knows the paparazzi are watching, because as much as the rest of the world can fuck right off when it comes to its opinion on their relationship, there's something utterly delightful about not hiding. About showing everyone that true love can look like them.
There are some times when public displays of affection are particularly frowned up on, though—usually some sober official event where they're supposed to stand around in suits and keep their hands off each other.
Ugh. Boring.
More fun is sneaking kisses when no one is looking, especially if he can manage to make Henry splutter and turn pink around the ears as he tries not to let on that anything's happened. At first it's just a brush of lips against the back Henry's hand when everyone's backs are turned, but Alex gets more adventurous, emboldened when he doesn't get caught. A kiss to the side of Henry's shoulder as he leans in to take his seat next to him. A press of lips at the corner of his jaw after leaning in on the pretense of saying something sotto voce.
At one particularly mind-numbing diplomatic event, Alex delivers a less-than-discreet peck on the tip of Henry's nose next to the dessert table when he's sure that all the other attendees' attentions are focused elsewhere. But then someone clears their throat next to them, and they spring apart like teenagers caught by their parents.
At least the Spanish ambassador, who also happens to be their host, looks more amused than anything else.
(Read all my kiss ficlets)
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Relationship: Luis Serra x Leon Kennedy
Summary: There was time for one kiss. (drabble)
Rating: PG (fluff and angst, implied violence)
Somehow, in the middle of everything, there had been time for one kiss.
Just the one.
They stood back to back, panting and covered in splatters of blood and ichor, shoulders against shoulders.
"Nice shooting, cowboy." Luis grabbed Leon's hand and pulled him to face him, grinning that handsome, easy grin.
"Not so bad yourself," Leon admitted dryly.
There was a beat of hesitation.
Luis threw an arm around him, and pulled him roughly in, lips against lips.
Beneath the smell of gore and panic that cling to them both, Leon would always remember the scent of Luis' musky cologne.
AO3 link
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iamthecomet · 3 days
What if i said on this fine Mountain Monday that i thought ol' Mounty might be secretly harbouring a thing for being embarassed and debased hidden behind his stoic visage? He LOVES the feeling of the heat in his cheeks spreading to the tips of his ears and way down his chest when one of his packmates spends a while just breaking him into tiwgs pieces. Especially when everyones favourite kinky meanie Rain makes him hold his bladder until he can't, only to chide and chastise him for the results. Ffs the way i never even thought about piss for a second until i got into the ghost fandom. Now look at me now lmao.
It's the last Mountain Monday of Mountain March. And that calls for blushy, embarrassed, shame-filled, Mountain.
and also piss.
@miasmaghoul and @forlorn-crows this one's for you two. The pissboy club gets a little bigger every day. ♥
Mountain can't think. He's trying. He's trying to compute the words Rain is saying--the orders he's being given. But they aren't landing. He squeezes his eyes shut. He bends over his dresser, hands braced on the edge.
Sharp bright pain blows through his scalp. It's almost enough to counter the ache in his stomach. Rain pulls his head around, and forces Mountain to look at him.
"Are you listening?"
"Rain," Mountain whines his name, pathetic and broken, desperate. He feels heat flash over his cheeks. He'd look away if Rain would let him, but Rain's grip is firm. Mountain can't look away.
"You aren't."
"Rainy, I don't...I don't know." Mountain bows his head, strands of brown hair falling into his eyes. He sucks air in through his nose, breathes out through his mouth. He wills himself not to lose it right now. He tells himself he's gone longer. He's done better. He doesn't know if that's actually true.
"I'm trying."
Rain sneers at him. He drags a hand down Mountain's torso, slipping his hand up and under his t-shirt. He dips his fingers under the waistband of his jeans, behind his belt. He presses those fingers down and Mountain bows inward, his whole body caving in on itself. His breath catches in his lungs. He thinks his knees might buckle. The pressure is unbearable. A painful ache that he's starting to feel in his legs. His stomach flips. Mountain groans low, gut-punched.
Rain laughs, cruel, dark. "Full?"
Mountain would speak if he could find the words, he can't. His mind is locked on the searching press of Rain's fingers. He wants Rain to take his hand away--he wants him to push down harder. He nods when he realizes Rain wants him to answer. Rains' fingers loosen in his hair.
"I bet you can hold it a little longer, can't you?"
Mountain whines. Rain's fingers retreat, dragging softly up over his happy trail raising goosebumps in their wake.
Rain slips his fingers back down to Mountain's belt. He undoes the buckle. Mountain sighs in momentary relief before Rain cinches it, fastening it a notch tighter than before.
Mountain feels like he might cry. Another five minutes and he swears he's going to start tasting it. At this point he's starting to picture his entire body filled with piss. He wants to think about something else, anything else.
"Kneel for me, Sunflower," Rain orders.
He is focused, entirely, on not pissing himself until Rain tells him to, on holding it until he can't anymore. His face is hot, he can feel the blush spreading down his throat, up to the tips of his ears.
Mountain listens. He sinks to his knees without hesitation. The new position doesn't offer him much relief. He can at least clamp his cock between his thighs like this, that makes him feel a little more in control. The new position gives him something else to think about. Namely Rain's tented zipper right in front of his face.
"You can hold it until I'm finished."
It's not a question. Rain unzips his pants. He shoves them down just far enough for his cock to spring free. Already pink and leaking. Mountain's mouth waters as Rain strokes himself from root to tip, a spurt of pre dribbling over his knuckles.
"Give me your mouth," Rain orders. Mountain opens his mouth. He tries to stay still. It's hard. He wants to widen his legs, wants to lean back. Wants to do anything he can to take pressure off of his bladder. He stays still, digging his fingers into his knees.
"That's right. Let me feed it to you." Rain says, guiding his cock into Mountain's waiting mouth. Mountain closes his eyes. He focuses on the weight of Rain's cock on his tongue. On the steady stream of precum drooling onto his tongue, the heady sea-water taste of Rain.
Rain pushes in until Mountain chokes. Then Rain grabs the back of Mountain's head and pushes him down the rest of the way, nestling his nose against the soft skin at the base of his cock.
Rain groans. "Swallow."
Mountain does, and Rain moans low and loud, his fingers tightening in Mountain's hair. Rain holds him tight as he fucks into his mouth. Mountain focuses on it. On each rough thrust of Rain's cock into his throat. He keeps his eyes closed. He tries not to think about the ever growing need in his stomach. He drags his tongue along the underside of Rains' cock just to hear the noise he makes, but that's all he can manage.
His thighs shake under his hands.
"Spread your legs," Rain pants. Mountain does, dragging his knees apart. Without the pressure on his cock everything is so much worse. He shudders. He feels spread open, like one wrong breath will break him down.
The toe of Rain's boot digs into his stomach. He presses just enough that Mountain feels the urgency in his bones. Mountain's eyes snap open. He mewls around Rains' cock.
He pulls off, desperate, panicked. Breath coming in harsh pants. Eyes wide, and wild. It's too much. He can't take it. He can't breathe. He can't think. Rain digs his toe in a little harder and Mountain heaves out a sob. His head dips. His fingers clench and release on his thighs.
"I didn't tell you to stop." Rain almost sounds bored when he says it. Mountain wants to scream.
"Rain--oh fuck--Rain. I can't. You can't--"
"I can't?" Rain asks, incredulous. He shifts his grip on Mountain's hair to put his head where he wants it. He presses the head of his cock against Mountain's lips. He chuckles a little as he pushes a little harder and Mountain opens his mouth for him. "I can do whatever I want, remember? You said: whatever you want, Raincloud. Is it too much for you now? Can't handle it anymore?"
Rain shoves his cock in until Mountain gags on it. Tears spill down Mountain's pinked cheeks, but he shakes his head.
He can handle it. He will. He needs to.
Mountain feels drool drip passed his lips and down his chin, trailing down his throat as Rain starts to thrust again. The head of his cock bumps against the back of Mountain's throat roughly.
Rain grinds his toe down harder and Mountain's brain shorts out. His eyes roll up. He's not aware of the release, the sudden warm wetness seeping into his jeans, until it's too late. He can't stop it once it starts. It feels too good to finally let go. He shudders from the relief of it, sobbing around Rain's cock. As it soaks through his jeans and drips onto the floor.
"Pathetic," Rain snaps. "Couldn't even hold it until I came."
Mountain whines. He's really crying now, tears rolling down the column of his throat to soak into the collar of his shirt. He's beet red. He wants to bury his face, to hide, to curl up, but Rain keeps his hand on the back of his head and holds him in place as he chases his orgasm with Moutain's mouth.
Rain cums hard, with a pained groan. He shoves himself as far into Mountain's mouth as he can, smashing Mountain's nose against his pubic bone and holding him there as he spills down Mountain's throat.
When Rain pulls away Mountain folds in on himself with a harsh sob. Rain steps between his spread knees, heedless of the mess. He puts his fingers under Mountain's chin, tipping his head up with much gentler fingers than before.
"Hey," Rain says softly. He thumbs tears away from Mountain's overheated cheeks. "You ok? You did so good."
Mountain hiccups on a sob, but nods. His eyes are glazed over, he sighs, it sounds happy, blissed out. Rain smooths his hand over Mountain's hair.
"Good." Rain reaches for one of Mountain's hands, still balled into fists. "Come on then. Let's get you cleaned up."
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“Y’know, when I was little, I had hair down to my ass.”
Billy digs down at the bottom of the bag, inspecting the orange dust that coats his knuckles before he crunches on another chip. He knows that Steve is doing his customary nod to show that he’s listening even though he can’t even see him.
Fingers gently rake through his roots, massaging at his scalp, and Billy lolls his head against one of Steve’s thighs. Scrapes down at the bottom of the bag with his dust-caked fingers and huffs when he comes up empty-handed.
“I bet it was untamable,” Steve says fondly. Chuckles as he watches Billy suck a cluster of orange away from the pad of one of his fingers. “I wish I could’ve met you when you were a kid. If you were anything like how you are now, I bet we would’ve been inseparable.”
“You would’ve gotten sick of me in about ten minutes.”
Steve tsks, but keeps toying with Billy’s hair where it spills into his lap. Starts gathering sections to fasten it into a braid for about the tenth time since they’ve been sitting here.
Ever since Robin showed him how a few nights ago, he’s been fixated on becoming a pro for whatever reason.
Probably so he can braid his daughter’s hair someday.
The thought makes Billy’s face flush with a familiar heat. It’s not the first time he’s thought about Steve’s — their future — like that. Their furniture together. It’s not even the first time today that he’s thought about it.
“I mean, I could tolerate Tommy, so I think we’d have been fine,” Steve says. “He was a crier. Could never take hits even when he was the first to start shit, and then he’d go tell, and I’d always get the ass-whooping.”
Steve shakes his head. Sighs to himself and tucks a stray curl behind Billy’s ear.
“Dunno if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly stoic,” Billy muses.
“You get what I mean, though. We would’ve had a fucking blast together as kids.” As soon as Steve finishes the braid, he unwinds it gently from the tail up. Combs his fingers through it thereafter and brushes one of his hands over Billy’s cheek. “What made you cut it?”
Billy tilts his head back, staring upside down at Steve while another hand comes to swipe his bangs away from his face. There’s an easy smile playing on the brunet’s lips.
“My old man took me to a barber shop a little bit before my fifth birthday.”
Steve’s smile falters.
“Mm.” Billy’s eyes slip shut, and he focuses on the warm palms touching his skin. Careful enough to be handling porcelain. “Got in trouble, so he dragged me there and had it all buzzed off.”
“That’s… drastic. What did you do?”
“You don’t remember?”
Billy huffs. He kind of wants to laugh, because everything his dad has ever done is hilarious when set in the past tense. The screaming, the veins popping out in his neck, the look on his face.
But then something else wells in his chest at the thought, and it isn’t funny.
“All I remember is crying my eyes out in that chair. Probably got into my mom’s lipstick or some shit, it didn’t take much to set him off.”
“He was probably just jealous of your pretty curls,” Steve says softly. It brings a small smile to Billy’s face. “Seriously though, I’m sorry he… I’m sorry you had to experience that. You don’t cut a kid’s hair as punishment.”
Near the end, his voice gets a bit stern, and Billy feels the sun simmering under his skin. Burning through his pores and shining light up into Steve’s face like rays of sunshine through parted clouds.
You’d make a good dad.
Billy wants more than anything to say it, but his lips form around something else when he parts them.
“We would’ve been fast friends if we met as kids,” he says.
“I don’t need another friend.” Steve’s face flushes with pink realization when Billy opens his eyes, and he quickly shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have needed— I had lots of friends, so I would’ve—” Steve cuts himself off with a sigh and pinches his eyes shut for a moment. “We would have held hands, y’know? Had sleepovers up in my treehouse, just the two of us.”
Billy can’t even begin to suppress the blossoming grin on his face.
“I never considered that little Stevie was a player too.”
“Shut up, you know what I mean.”
“Well, in that case, I’m glad we didn’t meet as kids. Neil would’ve just taken that from me too.”
The brunet sobers. Rubs his thumb over the apple of Billy’s cheek.
“You don’t know that.”
“Sure I do.” Billy turns his face towards his partner’s open hand, smiling as he presses a kiss to the soft skin of his palm. “Just like I know that in every universe, every hypothetical situation, Neil will be an asshole, I know that there’s no timeline where I don’t love you at first sight.”
Steve, ever the romantic, presses his lips together as a chapped red overtakes his cheeks. Billy sits up on his knees and turns around to lean into Steve’s lap at the first sign of tears.
He hugs his torso. Buries his face into Steve’s t-shirt and squeezes him when he sniffles.
“I’m glad we met when we did,” Billy adds. “When we both really needed it.”
Slender arms wrap around him, cradling him closer, and Steve’s chest echoes with a chuckle.
“When I needed another ass-kicking.”
“No— you know what I mean, you dork.”
“I do.” Steve strokes his hair, and Billy melts further into him. Feels, for a moment, like he’s five years old again and hugging his mother at the beach. “I’m just happy we met at all,” he says. “But I’m confident that it had to happen no matter what. Even if we were ninety and using walkers.”
Billy chuckles at that. Imagines, instead, the two of them growing old together. Here in this home that they’ve made for themselves, with their latest set of grandchildren running a muck.
He thinks he’d be willing to learn to like kids for that.
“As if either of us will make it to ninety,” he muses.
“Hey, shut up, we’re both living to a hundred and twenty because I said so.”
Steve tugs gently on his hair, prompting him to tilt his head back and look up. The brunet has the fondest look on his face, like he’s found spiritual enlightenment in Billy’s eyes.
Billy thinks he knows the feeling.
“Kay,” he says.
“It’s nice out right now.”
Fuck if either of them know if that’s true. All they know right now, all that exists in this moment, is each other.
“Mm, you wanna go for a walk?” Billy hums.
A huge smile blossoms over Steve’s face. He pushes his fingers through Billy’s hair one last time, cupping his cheek and letting the blond lean into his touch.
“Sure. I have to go change my shirt, though, because I’m pretty sure you got Dorito dust all over it.”
Billy snorts. Sure enough, when he raises his hand into view, his fingertips are still stained orange. Steve just smiles at him before they both get overwhelmed by giggles.
I’m glad I met you.
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