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sesamestreep · 8 months

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30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 4

Write about your MC’s personal style (from this list) ➸ set in the Bakeoff AU, before the events of summer came like cinnamon, so sweet and referencing an event from the first chapter of @firstelevens original fic in the series (sugar pie, honey bunch) and yes, I'm aware this is a huuuuge stretch for this prompt, don't worry about it!

Karen’s just left them to go get another round from the bar when Foggy’s phone starts ringing. On the screen, a photo of Daisy looking comically crestfallen while holding a ruined sufflé pops up and Foggy swipes to accept the call immediately.

“Hey, Daisy, what’s up?” he asks, aiming for casual but…well, Daisy’s roughly his age and avoids talking on the phone as much as anyone of their generation does, if not more. He’s slightly concerned that something must be wrong. Across from him, Matt’s expression turns pinched, probably because he’s thinking the same thing or he can hear the worry in Foggy’s voice.

“Did you watch the episode last night?” Daisy asks, without preamble or greeting.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, me and Karen did. Matt fell asleep like ten minutes in.”

Daisy scoffs over the line at the same time as Matt says, “I already apologized like five times for that!”

Pulling the phone away from his mouth slightly, Foggy says, “I know you did. And I forgive you. I know how important your beauty sleep is to you.”

Matt rolls his eyes, looking vaguely embarrassed at the same time. Foggy’s not sure if the extended time away during the show has made old things he’d gotten used to before new again or if this really is something new, but Matt’s easier to fluster than he remembered. Foggy could have sworn he made lots of jokes about Matt’s good looks and Matt always just brushed them off. This new shyness about it is surprising.

“Anyway,” Foggy says, turning his attention back to Daisy, “I saw the episode. Why do you ask?”

“Have you been online at all today?”

“You mean, have I been connected to the Internet at all? Yes, of course, Daisy, come on!”

“No, I mean, on social media,” Daisy says, impatiently.

“I don’t really use social media. You know that.”

“I know you have your finsta,” she replies. “I didn’t know if anyone had tagged you in anything there. Or if you have a dummy twitter account to lurk sometimes.”

Foggy laughs. “God, no!”

“Don’t say it like it’s totally ludicrous! People do it!”

“Yeah, but not me,” Foggy says, still laughing. “I’m just a simple country lawyer. What need have I of your twitters and your algorithms?”

He feels like he can hear Daisy roll her eyes on the other end of the call. “You’re such a dork!”

“Sorry. What’s so important that you needed to call me on the phone to ask if I have a secret Twitter account?”

“The Internet is freaking out about you, Foggy Nelson.”

Foggy’s stomach sinks. “It is?” he asks. “What did I do?”

“You looked too damn hot in this week’s episode, apparently.”

“I—what?” Foggy asks, feeling so utterly stupid. None of those words made any sense to him, which is troubling because most of them were pretty simple. “Wait, did I look really sweaty or something?”

“No, dumbass,” Daisy says, “I mean ‘hot’ like ‘god, he’s so hot, I want to have his babies,’ which, by the way, is a real tweet I read about you not fifteen minutes ago.”

“What?!” Foggy basically shouts, which makes Matt lean forward in his seat and give him a questioning look.

“Your humility is really beyond the pale, Franklin. It’s like you don’t know you’re hot!”

“I don’t know that,” he says, still freaking out slightly. “I’ve been called that by three, maybe four people in my whole life before today! It’s not a common occurrence.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Daisy says, because she’s fundamentally loyal and it makes her confused sometimes.

“Well, if it’s happening a lot, it must be behind my back, then.”

Matt, apparently done with being out of the loop, reaches across the table to poke Foggy’s wrist with his index finger. Foggy replies in turn by patting Matt’s hand with his twice, hoping that conveys that there’s no emergency.

“Well, it’s happening a lot on Twitter right now,” Daisy replies. “Which, I guess is still behind your back, technically.”

“That’s…great, I guess…”

“I thought you’d be happier,” she says, sounding worried. “You seem upset.”

“It’s just weird to think about,” Foggy says, keeping his tone mild. He’s not mad at Daisy by any stretch, but having people outside of the neighborhood know who he is and have strong opinions about him has proven to be a tougher concept to reckon with than he originally anticipated. “It’s that thing of being perceived in a way that I have no control over.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Daisy replies, thoughtfully. “I just…I thought you should know you’re the Internet’s reigning boyfriend at the moment.”

Foggy laughs, still feeling weird but in a warmer, cozier way than before. “Well, it’s an honor to be somebody’s boyfriend, I suppose.”

Matt’s head perks up at that, like a dog who’s heard a strange noise, and Foggy resists the urge to laugh at him for it. Karen returns with their next round at that precise moment, too, and makes a face at this pronouncement as she slides Foggy’s beer across the table to him. He also sees her look over at Matt, as if he’ll have more answers somehow.

“I’m guessing based on your blasé reaction to this news that I shouldn’t send you a curated collection of mine and Colleen’s favorite tweets about how gorgeous you are?” Daisy asks, innocently.

“For the sake of my mental health, you probably shouldn’t,” Foggy replies, “but honestly, today’s been a weird one and we had a miserable time in court, so it might cheer me up.”

Daisy squeals excitedly, which is not a noise Foggy knew she made before this very moment. She didn’t even make that noise when she won Bake-Off, not that he’s allowed to tell anyone that yet. “That’s what I like to hear,” she exclaims. “Alright, well, get ready for some screenshots. And also sorry in advance for any psychological damage I may cause.”

“Thanks,” Foggy laughs. “Both for the apologies in advance and for making sure I knew about this.”

“What are friends for?” Daisy sighs happily, and then hangs up without a goodbye.

“What’s going on?” Karen asks as she takes a sip from her beer.

“Have you been on Twitter today?” he asks, in response.

“I’m a journalist, Foggy. Unfortunately, most of my life is spent on Twitter.”

“Do you follow any Bake-Off people there?”

“I might follow the official twitter for the show itself, but I’m not sure. Why?”

“Apparently, Twitter is freaking out about me in last night’s episode.”

“Really? What do they have to freak out about?” Matt asks, frowning.

Foggy shrugs. “I don’t know. Just me, I guess? I looked good or something.”

“I told you that you looked good last night,” Karen says, gesturing broadly to convey her annoyance. “You didn’t believe me.”

“You’re one of my best friends, Karen. You have to lie to me about that kind of thing!”

“No, I don’t! And I wasn’t!”

“Well, you’re about to be vindicated,” Foggy says. “Daisy and Colleen are sending me screenshots.”

As if on cue, Foggy’s phone lights up with several messages being sent to his and Colleen and Daisy’s group chat and the notifications don’t slow down at all for another full minute.

“God,” Foggy says, just looking at the new messages pouring in. “She wasn’t kidding.”

“You want to read them,” Karen asks, with a bright, dangerous look in her eye, “or shall I?”

Foggy hands over his phone without a second thought. “Probably better if you do it,” he says, feeling genuine panic and terror at the idea. It’s too late to go back now, though. He’s gotten her hopes up.

“Oh my god,” Karen says, after he’s gotten his phone unlocked for her. She puts her hand to her mouth to disguise her…horror? Amusement? Both? It’s hard to tell.

“What?” Foggy asks, anxiously, and Matt turns over his hand underneath Foggy’s palm so he can give it a quick squeeze, which…that shouldn’t be as soothing as it actually is. It’s, frankly, ridiculous that it helps so much.

“Foggy,” Karen says, excitedly, “you’re a sensation!”

guy with no problems • juliachildsplay

um… hello?? Foggy coming into the tent with those little braids??? I’m experiencing symptoms????

the hateful nate • nateorade

I’ve been online too long because the minute I saw Foggy Nelson with his hair in braids, I just shouted OOOHHH GENDER!! at the top of my lungs. my gf and my cat both left the room in protest.

kelly nguyen • gaygrenadine

me normally: it’s so embarrassing when cis dudes get so much credit for the mildest defiance of gender norms… me seeing foggy’s braids in GABO: yasss queen thank you for my rights 🌈🙌 gender is sooo over!!

brynn it to wynn it • flibbertigibbety

I did not actually think Foggy could get hotter to me than when he responded to people ridiculing his French pronunciation by revealing he speaks fluent Punjabi, but I was WRONG!!

Ezekiel (he/they) • ezeydoesitt

how is anyone getting any baking done right now when foggy is there looking so so good?? couldn’t be me!!!

world’s #1 trilla apologist • eldritchedeelite

lord, I am not one of your strongest soldiers… foggy in that salmon colored t-shirt and those braids… I am WEAK

dinah (derogatory) • surelytemple

my two cents is that Ava deserves star baker this week because she is somehow still baking with foggy nelson’s whole beautiful self directly in her eye line. talk about performing under pressure.

bram (not stoker) • bramblinnmann

I am watching bakeoff with my family right now and it’s getting very difficult to pretend to be straight in front of them when Foggy’s out here looking this hot

your future canceled wife • thecouturevulture

THEM: hey how was bakeoff this week? what did everyone make? was it good? ME: FOGGY NELSON WORE HIS HAIR IN BRAIDS!!!

citizen paddington • genderemporia

I literally couldn’t tell you a single thing that happened in this episode of GABO. Foggy appeared onscreen and my brain shut off for the next hour. I came to and I was googling wedding venues, idk man

Kira Iris • villainesque

I don’t condone people getting obsessed with public figures and violating their privacy but if some of yall wanted to be weird and find out if Foggy’s “partner” he references is a business thing or a romantic thing, I would look the other way just this once

Default Username, Esq. • shrimpheavencanwait

thank god foggy nelson isn’t on social media or I would be embarrassing myself I would be in those DMs like cheese filling in a danish I would be bringing shame upon my ancestors for that man I promise you

Helena Bee 🐝♿️ • bananabreadcrumbs

that part of the episode where Colleen walked behind Foggy and pulled one of his braids to say hello and he smiled at her??? It just hurts to see other people live your dreams???

spy x savage x fenty • coolnormalchill

foggy deserves star baker because he cured my depression and my gender dysphoria in one fell swoop and that’s that on that

Lindy the SEO bitch • easilysearchablebrandname

other bakers: [make the snack] Foggy Nelson: [is the snack]

sayid’s secret account! • sayidsayless

I didn’t hear who won star baker, I didn’t see who got sent home, l learned nothing about sweet dough, I was busy googling foggy nelson Instagram foggy nelson partner foggy nelson star sign

hb lovecraft • hazelbleu

I've already decided to call out sick from work tomorrow so I can spend the whole day watching the inevitable Foggy fancams that will come from this week’s GABO. It’s my duty as an American.

go gert go • yorkestown

if there’s any uneven bakes this week, we all know it’s because Foggy was simply too hot to handle and it threw off everyone’s baking times

SORRY 4 PARTY BROCKIN’ • attackthebrock

foggy saying that one thing he loves about bakeoff is never having a shortage of people to share his bakes with, because normally it’s just up to his partner to finish them. ME AND WHO TBH????

nora mcclain 👻🥀🖤 • themostest

Foggy explaining the hot cross bun recipe he’s making prompted my (allegedly) straight husband to say, out of nowhere, “I’d let him put a bun in MY oven!” Like, sir??? I’m right here???

stardew valley girl • wooloolemon

it’s crazy how many babies are going to be born nine months from the airing of Great American Bake-Off Season 3 Episode 6

Tolkien Straightguy • helmsdeepthroat

it’s pretty normal for me to end an episode of bake-off hungrier than I was before, but I’ve never finished one this THIRSTY my god

maddie📍grad school hell • doctorwormphd

seeing foggy with those french braids made me crazy y’all!! I almost redownloaded tinder I was so lost in the sauce

blandine montpetit ☮️💟 • peaceandloafs

Ava’s star baker moment was so deserved, I’m just sorry we were all too distracted by Foggy being the cutest human alive to really appreciate it. But not sorry enough that it won’t happen again.

“We’ve strayed very far from the light of god, I think,” Foggy says, with his face pressed into the sticky surface of the table, which…yeah, bad idea, but one of many he’s had tonight. Matt pats the back of his neck with a hand that was maybe supposed to be more in the direction of his head and ended up somewhere more weirdly intimate by accident. Foggy lifts his head to put an end to it, not because it didn’t feel nice but precisely because it did and that in turn makes him feel a bunch of messy emotions he doesn’t like. “Karen, what are you doing? Are there more?”

“Yes, but they’re getting a little redundant, honestly,” she says, squinting at his phone’s screen. “Everybody wants you to impregnate them, apparently.”

Matt chokes on air at the same time as Foggy chokes on his beer, so it takes both of them a few seconds to recover and respond.

“They what?” Matt asks, looking pale.

“The power of a new hairstyle,” Karen says, with a self-satisfied smile, though she directs it at Matt, for some reason. They have a lot more meaningful looks and mysterious half-conversations these days than they used to before Foggy went away to film the show. At least, that’s how it feels to him and if Karen didn’t have a boyfriend that she seemed to love a lot, he’d be worried that she and Matt were going to try dating again, for all it was a disaster the (admittedly brief) first time. Instead, it feels like they developed a shorthand while he was away and, granted he also made a bunch of close friends who he essentially talks to in baking-themed twin speak, it still makes him feel strange. He didn’t think him being away for the time that he was would change so much, but apparently it did. Matt and Karen speak in code now, and the Internet wants to fuck him. Life is strange.

“Do you really talk about me on the show that much?” Matt asks, apropos of nothing, it feels like.

“What? What do you mean?”

“A lot of those tweets referenced you talking about your partner,” Matt replies, looking thoughtful. “That’s me, I assume.”

“Yes, obviously,” Foggy says as his face heats. “Why shouldn’t I talk about you?”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t. I just didn’t realize it was enough to be noticeable.”

“One thing I’ve learned about the Bake-Off viewers is that they notice everything,” Foggy says. “And I don’t mean to talk about you a lot, but you’re important to me and you’re in most of my stories and…all that…”

Matt seems to be thinking hard about that, while Karen is sitting with her chin resting in the palm of her hand, still scrolling through Foggy’s phone.

“What are you doing over there, Page?” Foggy asks, in the hopes of distracting everyone from the corny admission he just made that got met with silence.

“Just sending a few of these to my phone,” she says, with a sheepish look. “I want to show Frank.”

“God, no!” Foggy yelps as he reaches out to snatch his phone back. “I don’t need Frank knowing about these! It’s bad enough Matt had to hear them!”

“Why is it bad for me to know?” Matt asks, startled out of his reverie by the mention of his name.

“Because you think all of this is stupid!”

“All of what? Twitter?”

“No,” Foggy sighs, and then thinks it over. “I mean, I assume you do think Twitter is largely stupid, actually—”

“And you’d be right,” Karen adds.

“What I meant was you think all this stuff about the show is stupid.”

“No, I don’t,” Matt says, frowning. “I mean, I confess I don’t understand half the stuff you say on the show or about it, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s stupid. If anything, it makes me think I’m stupid.”

“Well, you certainly can’t be impressed by everything Karen just read us,” Foggy replies, gesturing with his phone. He’s aware, in the back of his mind, that he’s doing that thing you’re never supposed to do and negotiating against himself, but he can’t really stop it, for some reason. “It makes the fans of the show sound insane!”

“I understood even less of that than I do of the baking terminology, honestly,” Matt admits, “but I think most of those people have the right idea.”

“You mean, hitting on Foggy via Twitter? You think that’s the right move in this situation?” Karen asks, and there’s some kind of play acting going on in her tone, like she’s goading Matt about something that Foggy doesn’t have the context for.

“I’m saying Foggy’s loveable,” Matt replies to her with an unexpected amount of heat. “I don’t know why he acts like he isn’t.”

Foggy blinks at them, feeling like he’s stepped into the middle of an old argument he didn’t know about. “Am I still a part of this conversation, or…?”

Karen’s expression clears first and she turns to Foggy with a reluctantly amused expression, like she doesn’t know what to do with him, he’s so silly. “Of course you are! Matt and I were just agreeing about how great we think you are! That’s all!”

“Yeah, sure,” Foggy replies. It sure as hell didn’t sound like two people agreeing on anything, but he’s willing to let it go. “Well, if I’ve learned anything from this uncomfortable incident, it’s that I should braid my hair more often.”

“And that you look good in that salmon-colored shirt,” Karen adds, helpfully.

“Which is too bad, because I spilled ink all over it a few weeks ago.”

“Writing with a quill again?” Matt asks, innocently.

“No, I was helping Ruthie,” Foggy says, rolling his eyes when Matt’s smiles stupidly at his own joke. “Her newest hobby is calligraphy.”

“I thought she was into knitting now?” Karen says.

“Old news,” Foggy replies. “I’m just praying her next kick is baking so it can be something I’m even remotely good at.”

“I suppose it’s too much to ask that she gets really interested in reading up on legal precedent, huh?” Matt asks, thoughtfully.

“Yeah, probably,” Foggy laughs. “The point is, my magical salmon shirt that apparently makes me irresistible to random people on the Internet is out of commission.”

“Oh, well,” Karen sighs. “You’ll just have to subsist on the attentions of your local admirers.”

Foggy takes a sip of his beer. “I wasn’t aware I had any of those,” he says.

“Probably a lot more than you think,” she says, and she’s giving Matt another one of those weird looks again. Foggy decides it’s probably safer not to ask, and resolves to change the subject instead.

#i don't know what this is but it's done i tell youuu hwhat #it does not work that well for the prompt but what can you do #hws30days #homelywenchsociety #that's my writing tag! don't worry about it!#bakeoff au #the gbbo au #mattfoggy #daredevil #foggy nelson #matt murdock #karen page #writing challenge #series: how sweet it is

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stevebabey · 1 year

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you thought it would be all sweetness??? nooo u got to have a little miscommunication angst before anyone gets any hickies. but they will. in time >:) part one. part two. this is a part three :)

Steve blames it all on the clock.

That stupid cuckoo clock on the wall of the Munson trailer. It's an absolute horror of interior design that would make Steve’s mom shiver if she ever laid eyes on it. It’s probably why Eddie loves it — and the god-awful cuckoo! noise it makes when it goes off.

Because the moment Eddie utters that delightful question, asking for a hickie, the nerve of him, Steve loves it — and Steve is more than ready to oblige him — the stupid clock goes off.

It gives them both a fright, Steve more than Eddie. He gives a whole-body twitch that shifts them both, his head snapping to the wall, a breath forced out of his lungs at the sight of the mustard-coloured bird. Shit. Stupid fuckin’ clock, Steve thinks.

But it seems to break the trance over the room. The sweet tension of their shared closeness is sucked out of the room in an instant. Steve is suddenly aware of the time the popping out bird is announcing. It’s late. Far later than Steve intended to stay over, especially considering work tomorrow.

Without meaning to, the prickle under Steve’s skin rolls through his body. It steals away the comfort that he usually feels with Eddie, tenseness filling his body. Steve hates it — hates how he can’t stop himself from tensing up beneath Eddie.

Eddie notices. He's quick to to retract himself from Steve, pushing up and back, giving Steve his space. He sits beside Steve on the couch, still close. Not close enough to touch.

It helps. The rigidness of Steve's body relaxes just a bit but Steve doesn’t want that. He wants Eddie back on him. Wants his hands gripping Steve’s side. His breath fanning over Steve’s face, cheeks cherry red and pupils blown wide. Steve doesn’t say any of that and he sure is shit isn't brave enough to ask for it.

Instead, he croaks, “It’s late.”

Steve reluctantly pushes himself up from his slumped position, eyes already searching for his scattered shoes. He misses the way Eddie’s face falls, the way he tries to tug his hair in front of his face to hide the hurt. It takes another second to school his expression.

Steve hears a cough and then Eddie agrees with a murmur. “Yeah, sure.”

The words ache. No part of Steve is relieved to have Eddie agree with him. He’s not sure what he wanted; for Eddie to egg him to stay just a little while longer? To prove that their kisses hadn’t been a heat of the moment impulsivity? There's nothing to prove they weren't.

No, it was Steve who said he had to go. It is late. But then again maybe, Eddie wanted him to leave. But, no— Eddie just asked for a hickie, he wouldn’t—

“Don’t you have work early tomorrow?” Steve’s spiral cuts short at Eddie’s voice, tinged with… irritation?

O-kay. Now Steve’s not sure what to think. What had been the source of immense joy because Steve had asked for a kiss and Eddie said yes is suddenly… tilted.

The beginnings of embarrassment begin to cling to Steve like a thick fog. He’s done it again. Been overly eager. Asked for too much, too soon— fuck, that had been Eddie’s first kiss too.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, standing and shoving his foot into the one shoe he can find. He spies the other one under the table and wiggles it out with his toe. He can’t find in it to look at Eddie, not just yet. “Yeah, uh, I should get going.”

It’s all wrong. Steve shouldn’t be leaving — not on these terms. Not when he can’t look at Eddie for fear of what he’ll find. Regret? Steve’s not sure if he could face Eddie again, not if there’s even a trace of it on his face. It would feel like Halloween all over again, a bludgeon on Steve’s too-soft heart. It’ll crumble, he just knows it.

Steve wants to stay. He really wants to. He wants to ask for another kiss, ask for a dozen more kisses. Wants to give the hickie Eddie asked so nicely for and receive one back; matching love bites, like a gentler version of their matching twisted scars adorning their sides.

But he’s always asking for more. Steve always needs more. It’s greedy. It’s embarrassing how much he wants it, how he’s already gotten patient touches from Eddie but it’s not enough. Eddie had sounded a pinch annoyed — even aggravated at Steve.

It doesn't cross his mind that it might be for any other reason. Really, Steve thinks he’s doing Eddie a favour.

“Um,” Steve clears his throat, takes the wobble out of his words. Nods to himself and chances a glimpse at Eddie. The older is staring down at his lap, locks of hair trapped between twitchy fingers. They should talk about it. Steve’s not brave enough to risk his heart tonight.

“Well, g’night.” He says quietly, letting himself out the trailer door. He closes it behind him gently, shoes tapping against the stairs on the way down. It feels wrong, it feels wrong — but it would be selfish to turn back.

He repeats the sentiment over and over, raspy whispers beneath his breath as he climbs into his car. It would be selfish. The engine turns over and he hesitates for just a moment, hoping to catch a silhouette in the kitchen window. It’s empty. Of course, it’s empty.

Of course, Eddie is not chancing for a glance at him on his way out because Steve just asked for more and more and more, and he took Eddie’s first kiss and then— He whispers it to himself again. It would be selfish to turn back.

When he thinks about it on the drive home, Steve’s sure it all comes back to that stupid fucking clock.

Eddie stares in the mirror.

He’s not sure why he was so convinced there would be some radical change in him upon popping his make-out cherry but… well, here he was. Staring in the mirror like he had this morning. Except 10 hours earlier, he had been unkissed.

Tonight, the difference shows. His lips are rosier than usual, a swell to them given by hasty sweet kisses. It’s the only evidence of his spit-sharing moment of passion with Steve on the couch. The rosy colour is already beginning to fade.

Eddie sinks his teeth in. He doesn’t want the only physical proof that he even got to kiss Steve to be gone so soon. Even if that fact seems terribly bitter now.

“What the shit did you do, Munson?” He murmurs to himself in the tiny bathroom mirror.

It’s got toothpaste specks splayed across it. Eddie stares past them. Stares into his own face, reading every change in his features as emotions inside him churn. It’s heading for a distraught expression, the upturn of his brows and quiver in his lips giving him away. He always was a crier. Eddie really wishes he wasn’t.

“Idiot!” He pairs the word with a bang on the wall beside the mirror, frustration leaking out. The toothbrush on the sink shudders in its cup with a clink.

Eddie hates the welling in his eyes. He hates that he ruined the first fuckin’ good thing to happen to him in this town. Loathes that he drives away the first person who actually knows him and still wants to kiss him.

Well, wanted to kiss him.

Eddie’s pretty sure Steve scampering out of the trailer is more than a big enough sign. It’s a blazingly bright neon sign — light up words that say ‘This was a mistake!’

Except, it hadn’t felt at all like a mistake to Eddie. It had felt wonderful, better than anything he had thought, the soft curve of Steve’s lips, the grip on his hands on Eddie’s face, the heat in his face, the— Eddie growls, wiping his hand down his face to shake the thoughts. Too good to be true was what it was.

It’s because of what he said. Of what he asked for. It had to be that. But— but Steve had looked eager and almost excited and then the stupid clock had gone off, scaring the shit out of them both. Maybe it was then that Eddie’s words had sunk in and Steve realised what he’d gotten into— and who he’d gotten into it with.

“You had to ask for more, huh?” Eddie scolds himself angrily, wiping his cheeks harshly when a tear streaks free. Another follows, just as fast. Eddie wipes roughly at his face to clear them. Doesn’t care about the streaks of red he leaves on his cheeks. Another trembling reprimand comes out. “You just had to push it, huh? You fuckin’ idiot.”

Eddie can’t stand his reflection anymore. He tears his gaze away as he spins and heads straight for his room.

The button on his stereo is sticky and it takes a few forceful clicks to turn it on, but when he does, he cranks it. It’s loud enough he’ll surely wake some neighbours. Eddie can’t find it in him to care, not even when the neighbours dog starts off with its incessant barking. Anything to stop hearing himself cry.

“Something’s up with Eddie.” is the first thing Robin says when she comes in the front door.

Steve’s mid-yawn when she does, a result of a night of tossing and turning, and he somehow manages a strange choke at her words. In a haste to shut his mouth, he chomps on his fingers covering his mouth — then hisses, pulling it away from his face. He ignores Robin’s perplexed expression, shoving the hand deep in his pocket. His ears feel a tad hotter.

“What? Why? What makes you think that?” Steve asks the questions in rapid succession. Very chill, he chides himself. At this rate, Robin would have him all figured out 10 minutes into their shift.

And it’s not like— well, Robin’s advice is usually great. A bit cut-throat, sure. She doesn’t have a problem trodding on his feelings on her way to tell him the hard truth. Usually, it’s fine. Steve could probably do with a bit of ego-bruising.

Today, he’s… It’s different. That’s what Steve tells himself. This thing with Eddie, he wants to fix it himself. And with too much meddling from Robin’s advice, even if it was with the best intentions, might mix things up too much. It’s hard enough keeping his half-baked apology that’s been brewing since last night in proper order in his mind.

Thankfully, Robin doesn’t comment on his odd demeanor. She just bustles into the back room — there are a couple sounds of her dumping her stuff. When she comes back out the front, she’s fixing her Family Video vest. It looks perfectly straight to Steve.

He checks his own — it’s sitting askew, part of the collar flipped over. He hastily fixes it, running his hands down the front to smooth it a bit.

“Just,” Robin starts, talking as she sits in front of the computer, beginning to take a crack at the admin she managed. She likes doing things as she talks, Steve knows. Helps keep her from letting words run away from her.

Steve’s thankful for it now because she isn’t looking at him when she says, “I think he might have had a bad nightmare last night, or something of that sort. I don’t know. Maybe I’m way off — you know how I am with trying to read people, Steve. I’m not good at it! But when I saw him, he just seemed…”

Robin seems to take an extra moment to deliberate her word choice. Steve’s really glad she’s still facing the computer so she can’t see the myriad of emotions that show on his face.

“…Off.” is the word she decides on.

Which means bad. Steve feels like he’s swallowed a stone. It sinks deep into his stomach. It burns, sour and scorned, twisting up his gut. It means Eddie is bad — it means disappointment, means he regretted it. That Steve had been right; that he’d been too eager, too soon. Too much.

Right. Of course, this happens again. Really, Steve had brought it on himself by asking for so much. It had been one thing to ask for a hug — who actually has to do that? — and then to expect he might get Eddie to kiss him too? What a overstep. Christ, he's an idiot.

“That’s not…” He hears himself say, still lost in his thoughts. It's only when Robin turns on the stool, brows raised, that Steve realises he hasn’t finished his sentence. “Good. That’s not good. To hear.”

Steve turns and starts shuffling around the films on the returns cart, picking them up at random. He stares at a copy of ‘The Princess Bride’ in his hands, a new release, and forces out a causal question.

“What made you think that?” He asks, shoving the film into an empty slot, like he was arranging them. He’s relieved when Robin’s clicking on the keyboard resumes, along with a dramatic sigh.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can be trusted to read anyone’s emotions correctly at any given time, honestly. Remember that old lady? I thought she was being sweet that whole time and then you told me she was being rude! And I couldn’t even tell…”

Robin’s ramble is comforting and helpful to Steve in a way he didn’t know they could be. He presses the cart out, finally getting a move on with it, but delivers a quick nod to Robin when she’s looking to let her know he’s still tuned in. He listens to her get distracted by another topic and leaves Eddie’s name in the dust. It’s a silent relief.

It’s a task to multi-task, listening and devising a plan, but Steve has all shift to find the balance. It’s sometime between finishing re-stocking the action section and starting the romance that Steve decides he should apologise. He should go over today and apologise.

Eddie’s a big boy but Steve’s fairly certain now, if he regretted it, Eddie had probably felt obliged to kiss him back. Probably hadn’t minded the first kiss but- but— Something sticks in his brain; it was Eddie’s first kiss.

It makes Steve feel worse. It doesn’t matter, really, Steve should say sorry for all of it. God, he’s such an idiot.

By the time he’s clocked out, it’s all set in place. He’s got a dozen different apologies running in a loop in his head, reciting the words in time with his anxious tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not a long drive out to Forest Hills Trailer Park. The drive is well-known now. Steve tries hard not to wallow in what he might be losing today. What he lost because he’d been too greedy with want.

The sight of a brown van parked roadside yanks him from his thoughts. Eddie’s van. Steve’s stomach turns, nerves gnawing faster. He slows, trying to catch eye of the other boy as he rolls to a stop behind the van. The sun is beginning to dip closer to the horizon, the temperature going with it.

At the same time, they see each other; Eddie’s head popping around the raised hood to see who had stopped, right as Steve pops his door. Eddie retreats in an instant. Steve's chest grows a bit tighter.

Gravel crunches underfoot as Steve takes a few wary steps closer. It doesn’t take more than a couple before Eddie calls out. He doesn’t bother poking his head out again.

“Go away, Steve.”

Steve swallows thickly. Yeah, okay, he deserves that. He deserves probably worse than that. But more importantly than that, Eddie deserves to hear this. And Steve... needs to not lose Eddie.

“Can I… can we talk?” Steve asks, taking a couple steps closer. A car whizzes by on the road, hidden from Steve's view behind the van. He still keeps his distance, hovering. His hands clench nervously at his sides. Steve shoves them deep in his jean pockets, wiping the sweat off them as he goes.

“What part of ‘Go away’ isn’t clear enough for you?” Eddie snarks back. He still doesn't stick his head out, still won’t look at Steve. It stings.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve starts, another instinctive step forward taken. “I-I just, I shouldn’t have left like I did last night. I wanted to apologise.”

There’s a clattering from behind the hood like Eddie’s dropped a tool. He swears. Steve wants to take another step, wants to see Eddie — wants to read every emotion and apologise for causing any of the ugly ones.

“Well, apology accepted,” Eddie responds. There’s a bite in his words. His next words are grumblier, quieter. “And message fuckin’ received.”

What? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That—” Finally, Eddie steps away from the van, rounding the hood to march up to Steve. His arms cross over his chest, a wrinkle set between his brows that pull his face into a glare. Robin was right; he is off. This isn’t normal Eddie. Fuck, Steve had fucked up bad.

“That means message received, Steve.” Eddie seethes. He uncrosses his arms to gesture wildly. Steve misses the wobble in his bottom lip. “Message received loud and clear! I get it!”

And all Steve wants to ask is: get what? He doesn’t ask that. He should know what. That would be an idiotic question, would make Eddie more irritated. Lord knows, Steve has been enough of a fool in the last day. So, he doesn’t ask.

“Look, I just…” Steve starts, words a bit weak. They die in his throat as he tries to recall a single apology he had practiced all day and comes up empty. “I’m just- I just wanted—look, I’m sorry I took your first kiss!”

It’s not exactly what he means to say, but Steve certainly is sorry for it. Eddie’s expression wavers, some anger slipping away. Confusion takes its place.

“What?” Eddie says with a tone of bafflement. “What are you talking about?”

“And I’m sorry I kept… kept asking for more.” Steve continues on, pulling on the thread inside him, connected to the terrible stone he swallowed earlier. He tugs it. Hopes pulling it will unravel the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach.

Steve scrunches his eyes shut and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I know, okay? I know that I can be a lot.” He sighs and drops his hands.

“But I didn’t mean to… shit,” He wrenches his eyes open. Eddie’s a bit wide-eyed now, brown eyes watching him intently. Steve doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, can’t tell if it’s good or worse. He continues, soft words scraping out his throat.

“I didn’t mean to be like that with you.”

Eddie searches Steve’s face, eyes darting and wild. He licks his lips. His hands are in motion, fingers twisting rings, quick and fast. It’s a nervous action.

“What do you mean by ‘like that?’” Eddie asks, voice gentler. It's lost its snarl from before.

Steve blinks, a scrape of teeth worrying his bottom lip. He murmurs his admittance lowly, just one word, “Selfish.”

Eddie doesn’t try to hide his surprise; it ripples across his face in a wave. Confusion melts away into something closer to, Steve hopes desperately, relief. Steve can feel his own heart thudding hard inside his chest — can feel the beat it skips when Eddie steps closer.

“Steve?” Eddie says, sounding unlike himself. Steve’s never heard his voice that small. He nods, wordlessly. Eddie searches his face once more — wide brown eyes scanning and devouring. Steve can’t help but do the same.

He drinks in the details of Eddie’s face; the soft scruff along his top lip, the darkness of his lashes and the way they kiss in the corner that Steve adores. The pink of his lips. The familiar ache to kiss Eddie surges up within him, still as violent and strong as it had been the night before.

Steve should really stop looking at Eddie’s lips. He’s supposed to be apologising. He drags his eyes up and meets Eddie’s gaze full-on, prepared for whatever he might say. Except, he’s not expecting him at all to say;

“Can I... try this again?” It comes out a ragged breath, Eddie's scared eyes conveying the weight behind his words.

And this time Steve doesn't even need to ask what because he knows. Because Eddie's hands are reaching up and holding either side of Steve's face so gently. Steve can't recall a time he's ever been held so softly. His own hands come up slowly, draping around Eddie's wrists to hold them, to keep them there.

Eddie's thumb traces. It draws a sweet line of that familiar fire beneath Steve's skin along til it's settled on Steve's bottom lip, resting. The blood under Eddie's thumb thrums, gloriously warm, aching with want. Yes. Steve thinks. Yes, yes, yes.

"Yes, please." Steve breathes, so sincere the words comes out as a kiss against Eddie's thumb.

So, Eddie kisses him.

now with a part four !

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