Writing Prompt #14
"You foolish, stupid child," Vlad hisses, pinning Danny to the wall. Danny's eyes turn green as he wraps both his fists around the one Vlad has clenched in his collar, his feet dangling in the air. Vlad leans in, his own eyes burning red.
"When, exactly, did you plan on telling me your biological father was Bruce Wayne?" he says furiously.
Danny's hands drop in surprise. "W-What?" he gasps.
Vlad drops him unceremoniously and he lands on the floor in a heap. Vlad claws at the air in frustration.
"Don't lie to me, boy." Vlad says, omitting his often used possessive "my" in front of "boy".
"How do you know that?" Danny asks warily, propping himself up. He watches Vlad push a shaking hand through his hair. The man looks down at him before dropping in an ungainly squat beside him.
"Of all the sperm donors, Bruce Wayne, Daniel? Really?" The man asks, despairingly.
"I didn't exactly choose him, Vlad."
"No, I suppose you didn't."
"Seriously," Danny says, watching the man rock back on his heels as a growing pit forms in his stomach. "How did you know about him?"
Vlad's mouth twists bitterly. "Because he now knows about you."
"What do you—"
"Vladdy! Danno! What are the two of you doing on the floor?" Jack flops down beside them, a tray of freshly prepared fudge in his hands. "We having a heart-to-heart boys? Let me in on this!"
"Jack," Vlad says. "If you truly want to have a heart-to-heart with your son, I suggest you tell him the real reason I've come over today."
Jack's face falls.
"Vlad," Maddie says from behind him. "Thank you for coming. We're grateful for all you've done, but I think we can handle it from here."
"Madeline," Vlad says, rushing to his feet. "I must insist—"
"And I must insist you see yourself out," Maddie smiles tightly. "You know where the door is, don't you?"
"Mads," Jack says gently, looking between the two.
"I can show him out," Danny says, getting up as well.
"That's alright, Danny," Maddie says. "Why don't you go get your sister? We need to have a talk...as a family."
Danny glances at Vlad.
"Now, Danny," Maddie says. Danny heads for the stairs, pit growing ever larger.
--
The next time they meet it is Danny who has Vlad pinned, the gaudy chandelier above him shaking with the force of his rage.
"You should've told me," Danny growls.
"I thought your parents had you informed," Vlad says, utterly unbothered by the teen cracking what is thankfully not a load-bearing wall of his mansion. "Honestly Daniel, we could throw around allegations of deception on both sides, particularly mine as I assume you've known for quite some time now, if not the entire time, about your father hmm?"
Danny's eyes flick away in an obvious tell.
"Yes, I thought as much. But rather than whinging about being blindsided, I suggest we focus our energy on the solution."
Danny drops Vlad, barely biting back a snarl when the man lands gracefully on both feet.
"Which is?" Danny asks.
"First of all, your well-meaning but frankly moronic parents seem to believe that they can make a case for your custody without the assistance of my legal team. It is in both of our best interests to dissuade them of this."
"They don't like feeling indebted, Mom in particular."
"Well, to be crude for a moment Daniel, tough shit. Yes," Vlad says in response to Danny's widening eyes, "I said it. Bruce Wayne has the best of the best on his payroll and your parent's rinky-dink attorney from the local practice won't stand a chance against Friedman & Sons. Especially once he establishes paternity."
"He can do that?" Danny asks. "I mean I'm almost eighteen, can't I just refuse?"
"The keyword here, Daniel, is almost. As in, you are not. The judge can take your wishes into consideration, but I suspect Wayne will make a case for an unsafe living environment alongside his paternity to win his petition for full custody."
"Un-unsafe living environment?" Danny sputters. Vlad eyes the boy dryly before gesturing to all of him, currently clad in silver and black hazmat. Danny drops the transformation with a wince.
"In fact, I suspect that's the main reason the man filed in the first place," Vlad continues. "Lord knows he doesn't need anymore heirs to fight over his fortune once he passes—"
"Jesus, Vlad,"
"—so I believe he did some digging and found your home to be, well, wanting. On paper, Daniel, your parents sound eccentric at best, dangerous at worst. Pull the right strings, and hospital records just fall into laps. He probably thinks he's rescuing you." Vlad sneers. "If only he knew how quick you are to spit in the face of one offering you a comfortable and wealthy home."
"Fuck off," Danny says. "Is that what this is about? If you can't have me, no one can?"
Vlad rolls his eyes. "Come now, Daniel. Are you really intending to keep up this pretense?"
"What are you talking about?"
"We agreed a long time ago that no matter the nature of our quarrel, we would leave the Justice League out of it," Vlad says, taking a menacing step forward. "You think I, running in the circles I do, would have no knowledge of Bruce Wayne's alter-ego?" He takes another step, voice rising. "I have avoided drawing The Batman's attention for years, no matter how often our paths crossed. I stayed under his radar for decades, and now, BECAUSE OF YOU, I AM ABOUT TO BE RUINED."
With a creak and a groan, the chandelier drops, landing between them with a crash. Danny coughs from the dust as Vlad takes a heaving, calming breath.
"Then why get involved at all?" Danny asks, staring at the ground.
Vlad sighs, clapping his hands twice. Several ghosts dressed in service uniforms fly out the woodwork, gathering up bits of chandelier as others begin to mop.
"Because, little badger," Vlad says, walking away from the mess. "If we lose this, he'll have you in the palm of his hands. Which is infinitely worse."
Entering the kitchen, he pulls an open bottle of white out of the kitchen fridge and pours himself a glass, throwing a Fiji water to Danny who takes it for the peace offering it is.
"He won't."
"Won't what, Daniel? Please speak in full sentences."
"Won't have me," Danny says, letting a thin coat of frost spread over the bottle. He tips the freezing cold water into his mouth and wipes his face with his sleeve, mostly to see Vlad grimace.
"Why, because you'll run away if he wins? Until you turn eighteen? I won't have you fail to complete your education because of a cockamamie scheme, Daniel—"
"Because I have a solution, Vlad, one that doesn't involve the courts or running away."
"And what is that, exactly, Daniel?"
--
"You're going to leave my family alone."
"Danny," Mr. Wayne says, blinking in surprise at the boy on his doorstep and miles away from Illinois.
"I mean it," Danny says firmly. "You're going to drop your petition and whatever smear campaign you were planning on and leave the Fentons alone."
"Danny...why don't you come inside?"
Danny takes a step back from the manor's large doors. "You want a relationship with me? Brute force isn't the answer."
Bruce takes in the teenager, lanky but almost to his eye level. His eyes are clear and sharp, his demeanor forcibly calm.
"I debated whether going through the court was the right thing to do," Bruce says slowly, matching calm with calm. "But I wanted to be above board."
"Because my adoption wasn't?" Danny says, arms crossed. "Yeah, I'm aware. Kinda hard to adopt a kid that doesn't legally exist. And I know what you're going to say, the Fentons should've reported me to the system, but they didn't do it because I begged them not to. Because I didn't want my biological parents to find me."
"Danny..."
"You can swing your dick around and get your way, exactly the way I thought you would do things," Danny says, "Or you can have a relationship with me on my terms. A relationship where I don't despise you because you took me away from the people who've loved me no matter their faults."
"You're asking me to choose your happiness over your safety." Bruce says carefully.
"That's bullshit," Danny says. "I had a lab accident when I was fourteen and went directly against my parents' instructions. They trusted me, and I made a mistake."
"It's not a matter of trust. You were a child, Danny, and you almost died." Bruce says, not bothering to feign ignorance. Footsteps echo behind him.
"Bruce?" A voice calls. "Is that..?"
"Your son did die," Danny says. "He took a flight with your credit card to Ethiopia and got blown up. I bet you trusted him too."
Bruce reels back as a hand lands on his shoulder, the other on the door.
"Whoa, whoa, uh, Danny, right? I'm Tim, I'm—"
"I know who you are," Danny says, clenching his fists. Powering through the hurt he is causing. "I didn't come here to point out what a total hypocrite you are. I just want you to back off. And if you give me your number, we can text and I'll come to Gotham for Thanksgiving or the ski chalet in Vermont or your villa in where-the-fuck-ever and you can be Uncle Bruce that I maybe even tolerate being around once in a while. Just leave my family alone."
"Bruce, what is he talking about?" Tim asks. "Back off of what?"
"Your Dad is suing my parents for full custody," Danny says when it becomes clear Bruce isn't answering.
"What?" Tim hisses, turning to Bruce. "That isn't what we talked about!"
"Danny. I..."
"Here," Danny says, thrusting an index card forward that he's scrawled his phone number and email onto. On the other side is the past participle conjugation for 'venir'. "I won't answer until you drop the custody petition. Which I expect you to do by tomorrow morning."
"Done," Tim says, stepping past Bruce and taking the card. "Give me about noon to get it all squared away with the lawyers. Do you have a hotel? A way home? I'd be happy to reimburse your flight and accommodation."
"Overstepping already."
"Fair enough," Tim says coolly, raising his hands. "Our lawyers will reach out when it's settled."
"Great. Bye." Danny says, turning to leave. He waits until he hears the manor door close behind him before pulling out his cell phone.
Ring!
Ring!
"Hello?"
"It's done."
"What's done? Again, little badger, full sentences, I beg of you."
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(part 3 of November Paramedic; part 2 is here.)
When Gareth mentioned a plan to locate Eddie’s paramedic in shining armor, Eddie assumed it'd be him getting into various accidents all over Indianapolis. It's something the little shit would've found funny, okay! But, Gareth's plan is much less hazardous and slightly more logical: lurk around the university until they spot him. Like a pair of drug dealers trying to tempt the goody-two-shoes protagonist into addiction and sin on an 80s Saturday morning cartoon.
It's not the simplest task since they don't know when Steve might be there. Also, other responsibilities mean they can only spare so many hours loitering. So, thirteen days post-hatching plan and nineteen days post-meeting Steve (not that Eddie's been counting or anything), with nothing to show for their ethically questionable behavior, Eddie is ready to give up. Especially since both of them have a rare simultaneous day off. Usually, those are spent jamming, smoking, playing D&D… literally anything other than this.
"This is fucking stupid," he says, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "We're not gonna run into him."
"Sure we are," Gareth says. He drops his butt among the dozens they've chain-smoked and lights another without meeting Eddie's gaze. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."
"The only thing you're feeling is delusional. It's time to give up."
"Eddie, c'mon-"
"Nope." One last drag and Eddie stomps out his cig. "Fuck this; I'm out."
He stalks toward his van at the far end of the parking lot. Gareth curses before running after him.
"Dude!" he exclaims, jogging to keep up with Eddie's longer strides. "You can't just give up! What about what you said-"
"I was being stupid. What was I even imagining? We orchestrate another meeting and, what, I use my freakish wiles and seduce him? And then we'll live happily ever after…" Eddie shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that. He'd probably turn out to be a douche anyhow."
"No, listen!" Gareth seizes Eddie's arm and yanks him to a stop in the middle of the lot. "You always do this. Self-sabotage and cut things short, even when there's potential."
Eddie scoffs. "You know what else always happens? I end up liking them more than they like me. It's not fun."
"You don't know it'll be like that this time. You have to try."
"No."
Eddie takes a step back. He's done; he's out. Gareth reaches for his wrist to pull him back in. He jerks away, almost losing his footing and stumbling into the burgundy car behind him. Gareth's arms shoot out to help, but Eddie steadies himself before crashing. For a second, silence reigns as they assure everyone's on solid ground. Then Eddie opens his mouth to once and for all-
"Eddie? Gareth?"
Their heads snap to the side, eyes landing on… Max? Looking unusually dressy in high-waisted shorts and a fitted top under an oversized jacket, and her hair in a high ponytail. She's got her skateboard under her arm, a messenger bag with a textbook sticking out, and a confused furrow between her eyebrows.
"What are you doing here?" she asks.
Fuck. They can't tell her the truth – she'll never let him live it down. Fortunately, Gareth realizes this too, because he says:
"Uh, I go to school here? What are you doing here? The math building is way over there."
She rolls her eyes and leans on the burgundy car. It's a shiny BMW M5 – the limited anniversary edition. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie almost dented that thing! It's worth more than his life. And Max is slouching against it like it's nothing. He could warn her not to scratch it, but she's unlikely to care; she's always been metal that way.
"Waiting for my friends," she says. "We have dinner on Tuesdays."
Eddie's ears ignite. Dinner? With friends? While wearing what's basically a date outfit?
"Ooohhh…" he says, sharing a grin with Gareth. "And do these friends include someone special?"
She shrugs, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"C'mon, Red! You're killing me! I need to know if he's good enough for you."
His fingers hover over her ponytail, as if to tug at it. She slaps his hand away.
"You're annoying."
He laughs. This terrible day just became infinitely better. He won't rest until he gets what he wants – or until she punches him, which'll probably come first. He's about to tell her so when a voice calls her name. Both turn to look, and…
It's a boy Max's age. He's beaming and waving, quickening his steps toward her. She smiles too, almost shyly, as she waves back. It's the perfect opportunity for teasing, if Eddie's day hadn't just become infinitely better.
His tongue is heavy, his skin is itching, his heart is bruising his ribs from the inside. Sweat is gathering in his pits and it's getting a little hard to breathe. Because walking half a pace behind the boy, carrying a huge duffel with such ease it might actually be stuffed with feathers, is… is…
"Yesssss!" Gareth hisses next to him. He may also be fist-pumping. Eddie isn't looking.
"Hey!" The boy stops in front of Max. "Sorry, practice ran late."
"It's okay," she says, cooler than ice, though her eyes are glittering. "I just got here."
She says something else, or maybe the boy does? It's all background noise, because Steve has caught up. Steve, in jeans and a polo that must've been tailored to his exact measurements because oooooooooohhhh boy. Steve, unshouldering the bag, muscles shifting and straining under his shirt with the movement. Steve, smiling, his golden eyes flying over Eddie.
"Hey! Eddie and Gareth, right?"
Eddie draws a sharp breath. He remembers!
"Y-Yeah!" he squeaks, hands fluttering to either wave or shake hands, ultimately doing neither. "Hi! You're here!"
"I am," Steve says, casual, as if inane conversations with former patients happen on the regular.
(It better not – Eddie doesn't do well in competitive settings.)
Max, keen eyes darting between them, asks, "You know each other?"
"Met at work," Steve says. "Or, I was working and he…"
"Ah." Max taps her temple. "That."
"How do you know them?" the boy asks her.
She points at Eddie. "Neighbor. And that's the guy who dumpster dives outside our apartment building."
Gareth flips her off. Eddie would laugh, but he's busy pretending he doesn't know what Steve looks like shirtless. It's hard (pun slowly growing more relevant) – his gaze keeps dropping to the polo's undone top button. Steve is just as gorgeous out of uniform, and now Eddie's thighs are tingling with want. He could stare at him forever…
Unfortunately, 'forever' is cut short by a woman arriving in a flurry. Wait, no. 'Flurry' implies some sort of graceful whimsy, while this person… she's a hurricane crashing into a house.
"Sorry I'm late! Nielsen wouldn't stop talking and got angry when people started leaving because it's an important lecture so this girl called him out for not keeping time because he goes on all these tangents and he said they're interesting tidbits and she said it's disrespecting our time and-" She pauses for breath. "You don't care, do you?"
Max, Steve, and the boy shake their heads.
"Right. Sorry." The woman turns to Eddie and Gareth. "Hi! I'm Robin. And you are?"
"My neighbor and his friend. Steve treated his concussion," Max rattles off, glaring at them. "You didn't answer my question: why are you here?"
Gareth frowns. "I told you," he says, pointing at the building. "School." He points at himself. "Student."
Max glares harder. "You don't have class on Tuesdays. And Eddie doesn't go here at all."
"I had stuff I needed to drop off."
"Is tagging along a crime? Jesus."
Max doesn't reply, though her glare remains.
Robin hums. "Okay, so this is super-enjoyable, I love just standing around, but I'm starving, so…" She looks at Steve, who nods.
"Yeah, we're going," he says, but neither moves. He glances at Eddie, which makes her glance at Eddie, and then they make a series of eyebrow-movements at each other, ending in a shared smile. Steve asks, "Have you guys eaten yet?"
Eddie shakes his head, pulse racing. Is this going where he thinks it is?
"D'you wanna come with? There's this diner we like…"
Holyshityesitis!
"Yeah!" Fuck, too eager. "I mean, uh, sure, sounds good."
"Cool." Grinning, Steve clicks a remote car key; the burgundy BMW beeps. What the fuck? How high is a paramedic's salary?! "Did you drive here?"
"I, uh…" Eddie falters. Shit, wasn't he supposed to? It's been three weeks and he feels fine – he thought he was in the green!
"Nope! I did!" Gareth says, 'proving' it by hauling his house keys from his pocket and jingling them.
Steve nods. "Should be safe for you to drive again, but the less strain you put on your brain, the better. Even a mild concussion isn't anything to sneeze at."
"Y-Yeah, I've been taking it easy. Basically done nothing. Until now."
Max snorts. Eddie is going to pour coffee through her mail slot.
They decide Eddie and Gareth will follow Steve's car to the diner, since Steve can't fit all of them (the real reason he asked if they drove here, duh). It's good because Eddie gets the chance to panic/gush/collect himself in the privacy of his van. It's bad because Gareth drives, lest their fib be revealed. Gareth spends the ten-minute journey gloating about driving Eddie's beloved girl, interspersed with 'I told you so!'s.
The diner is cozy, all wooden furniture and sepia photographs on the walls. A graying waitress who smells like tobacco directs them to a booth and takes their orders. An awkward silence then falls as they wait for someone to speak.
The boy clears his throat. "My name is Lucas, by the way. I don't think I said." After shaking his hand and introducing themselves, Lucas says to Eddie, "I think Max has mentioned you."
"Oh yeah? I've been dying for her to mention y- Ow!"
Eddie rubs where Max kicked his shin. Her glare is murderous. Lucas is blushing happily, though.
"So, what d'you guys do?" Robin asks.
Right. Time to small-talk like adults. Eddie gets his job as a mechanic out of the way, then gives the word to Gareth, who tells them he's a creative writing major. Robin turns out to be getting a masters in linguistics and Lucas studies biology.
"I don't actually know what I want to do, but biology feels broad enough to give me options, y'know? I can go to med school, or forensics, or, I don't know, paleontology?" he says. Max glows brighter with every word that comes out of his mouth. Cute.
This then segues into talking about their friends, who by the sound of it lead incredibly interesting lives.
"Dustin's at MIT, Mike's at Oxford, Will's in San Francisco…" Lucas says, counting on his fingers.
Max interjects, "El's in Africa building houses and teaching kids English."
"Erica is still at home, finishing high school and drowning in early acceptance letters to, like, every Ivy League there is," Steve says with a look of pure pride.
"Nancy and Jonathan – they're our age – are chasing scoops in Afghanistan… " Robin says.
"... and Argyle is also in California," Lucas finishes.
Eddie whistles. "And here we are, still in Indianapolis."
"Dude, I'm surprised I got this far," Steve says. "Wouldn't've managed without her."
He jerks a thumb in Robin's direction, who preens at the acknowledgment. Robin's cool, Eddie decides. Garrulous but fun and nice… and verrrrrrrrry close to Steve. The kind of close where they're always in each other's space. Where they wordlessly transfer food between their plates. Where Steve unceremoniously wipes a speck of ketchup off Robin's chin after she repeatedly fails to get it. They're comfortable, but not necessarily romantically affectionate. Like they're siblings rather than lovers.
(Dear God, if you are in heaven, let them be siblings.)
Conversation flows. They joke around, tell stories, swap opinions. Robin gets passionate about tonal shifts when stage shows are adapted to film, and Eddie tries not to stare at Steve's mouth as he eats. And then, once their plates are cleaned and they're waiting for dessert, Gareth leans his elbows on the table and fixes Steve with a purposeful look.
"I figured out where I've seen you before."
Eddie stiffens.
Steve blinks. "At campus, right?"
"Thought so, but no. I realized it's actually…" Gareth chuckles. "It's ridiculous, but uh, my mom had this calendar…"
Steve recoils, red flooding his face. Robin, Lucas, and Max shriek in delight, Robin grabbing Steve's arm and shaking it as he hides behind his hands.
"And my mom," Gareth says between bursts of laughter, "she's shameless, all right? She kept it in our kitchen. So during, what was it, November?"
"November," Steve confirms, muffled.
"For 30 days, if I wanted to check the date or make a notation… I saw you."
Tears stream down Robin's face, she's laughing so hard. She and Max have started chanting 'Slut! Slut! Slut!' at the still crimson Steve.
"You don't understand," Lucas says, gesturing for emphasis. "We've been waiting for someone to come up and say 'hey, weren't you…?' for years. Thank you so much!"
"Hey, thank my mom," Gareth says. Eddie's quite stunned he'd throw his own mother under the bus like that. She's a really nice person, too!
"Makes sense," Max says. "Moms love Steve."
"All parents do," Lucas says.
Cackling, Robin pinches Steve's cheek. "Gotta hide your mom and your dad around Steve!"
Steve bats her off, flushed but smiling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You got your wish, now shut it."
That only makes the three restart the chant to ridicule him for his harlotry. Steve's indignant squawk that 'it was for charity!' merely has everyone laugh more.
And Eddie? Well. As he sits beholding this man who works as a paramedic and drives a luxury car, who models for charity and allows his friends to mock him for it, who blushes and giggles when they lovingly call him a whore…
All Eddie can think is that he's in fucking trouble.
Afterward, it only makes sense for Eddie to drive Max home. Steve shakes his hand outside the diner, saying it was nice to see him again. Eddie, not knowing how to ask for Steve's contact info without seeming weird, agrees. He waits until the BMW drives off, then tells Gareth to get the fuck out of his seat. Gareth relocates to the backseat, whining since Max already called shotgun.
The initial minutes, they're quiet. Then Max turns to Gareth and says:
"When were you telling me Eddie is your mom?"
"Huh?"
"You said you knew about the calendar because of your mom. But that's not true."
The warmth drains from Eddie's face; his knuckles crack around the steering wheel. Gareth's expression is the epitome of 'oh shit' when he meets Eddie's gaze in the rear-view mirror.
"Yes, it is," Gareth says.
"It's not," Max says.
"It is!"
"It's not! The calendar was for 2021, and in November '21 you were a freshman and had already moved into the dorms! If your mom kept it in her kitchen, you wouldn't have seen it!"
She scowls at Gareth, mouth pinched and eyes flashing, daring him to contradict her.
Gareth swallows thickly. "It… wasn't for 2021."
"Yes, it was."
"How do you know?"
She puts her hands in her lap and lifts her chin, almost primly. Eddie gasps as the penny drops.
Gareth screams, "WHAT!"
"You have it?" Eddie cries. "Why do you have it?"
She scoffs. "You know why – you've seen his pecs."
"I don't- Okay, how're you so sure it's me?"
"Because you spent all of dinner looking like you wanted to crawl inside his mouth and live there." Her nose wrinkles. "At least I hope it was his mouth you want to crawl into-"
She's cut off by Gareth shouting "I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala-"
Eddie crumples in his seat. He's depleted of blood, air, life, everything. Behind, Gareth is grilling Max for information: are Steve and Robin together? Is Steve single? Is he queer?
Max replies: no, yes, and 'that's not for me to tell, moron'.
Gareth nods, satisfied. "That means he is. If he was straight, you'd say so." He slaps Eddie's arm. "You got a shot, man!"
"You… don't know that…" Eddie wheezes.
Max tuts, shaking her head. "You actually want to hit on my chauffeur."
"He prefers the term 'seduce'," Gareth says.
Eddie smacks his face into the steering wheel at the next red light.
------------------------------
Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @olivethenerd16, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll,
I won't be adding more to the tag list because there are already so many of you. Instead, I'll be tagging the four remaining parts (it'll definitely be seven in total, btw) as #steddie fic: november paramedic. Hopefully, they'll show up in the tags and you'll see them that way.
Thank you for reading 🖤
Part 4
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