Batfamily Powerpoint Night! (Part 9: Barbara)
<<Part 8: Duke | Part 10: Alfred >>
[Masterlist]
Barbara: Alright, my turn!
Tim: Frankly I’m terrified for what’s about to happen
Dick: Oh Babs will be nice, don’t worry :)
Dick: I stand corrected
Steph: Oh god
Bruce: [sighs and puts his head in his hands]
Barbara: I organized it roughly from newest vigilantes to oldest, since more patrolling means more room for spectacular failures
Duke: It was a bad day for me
Jason: HA
Steph: Been there, done that. Not on TV though that really sucks man.
Steph: NOOOOOO
Tim: ONE SQUARED?
Steph: I GOT CONFUSED
Jason: [Hysterical laughter]
Damian: One multiplied by one?!
Steph: I THOUGHT IT MADE TWO I UNDERSTAND MY MISTAKE
Duke: From this mask view footage Batman is just watching this go down
Bruce: He said he didn’t want help. Felt like a teaching moment.
Damian: (muttering) I was fine.
Dick: Damian we were not going to drive you to 5th grade with a knife in your liver.
Steph: You’ve had this footage for four years?!
Barbara: I keep a file for blackmail. Cass doesn’t really have much, though.
Cass: (signing) I did learn the dance. Eventually.
Tim: WILL THIS TORMENT EVER END
Jason: YOU CRASHED THE BATMOBILE INTO A WALMART, TIMMY.
Steph: You deserve every joke we make about this
Damian: Your idiocy must be remembered
Dick: Yeah Tim this is pretty bad
Jason: Can I have that mask view footage
Barbara: I got ya
Tim: I hate it here
Jason: I really can’t defend this one
Dick: Why...? Did you shoot the trashcan?
Jason: I thought it was looking at me funny
Damian: The trashcan?
Jason: I was up for 52 hours give me a break.
Barbara: Do you want to tell them why you pulled two all-nighters in a row? Or should I?
Jason: You are an evil, evil woman. How do you even- nevermind. Of course you know everything, why do I even wonder. And for the record, the first night I stayed up for a case.
Barbara: And the second night was for Animal Crossing.
Jason: ...perhaps.
Duke: Oh my god.
Steph: And you laughed at me?
Bruce: (sighs)
Steph: Stop you were adorable in high school
Barbara: Thank you, but the braces? The acne? The bangs? 15 year old Barbara had no idea what she was doing.
Dick: I for one thought you were very cute in high school.
Jason: Stop flirting or I will leave
Bruce: Why were you both on a roof at night in your school uniforms?
Dick: I think let’s move on
Dick: Nevermind nevermind go back
Tim: Oh my god, Dick.
Duke: ”Purposely” ?!
Dick: I was nine
Damian: I knew better by age 9.
Bruce: Lessons were learned. I hope.
Jason: I’m starting to think I was one of the better Robins
Dick: I felt like I see sounds for three days...
Bruce: All traces of this were wiped from the internet.
Barbara: Oh Bruce, you know I’m better than that.
Dick: Hold on, hold on, we need an explanation.
Alfred: (as he walks by) A little too much to drink goes a long way...
Tim: YOU WERE DRUNK? ON PATROL?
Jason: No way. Even I haven’t been that stupid.
Duke: What did you buy at CVS
Bruce: ...apparently... I bought lollipops.
Steph: “Apparently” as in the next morning you didn’t remember putting on the Batsuit, going to CVS, buying lollipops, and talking to a guy with an audio recording device?
Bruce: ...yes.
Cass: (signing) Very bad. Very funny, but very bad.
Damian: Also an ineffective use of a smoke bomb if this civilian saw you walk away...
Bruce: Barbara, you have made your point.
<<Part 8: Duke | Part 10: Alfred >>
[Masterlist]
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Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.
He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.
More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.
Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.
He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.
"Harrington?"
The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"
"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.
Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.
Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."
"Just needed some air. Clear my head."
"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.
"One or two,"
"Dozen?"
Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"
Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."
"Yeah, big news."
"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.
Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.
He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"
The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).
Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.
With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."
He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.
---
Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?
That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.
The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.
Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.
It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.
The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.
A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.
Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.
---
The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.
When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.
"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.
Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.
"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.
"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.
"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"
Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.
"It was you? Leaving the--?"
Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"
"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."
"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.
"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."
Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"
"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."
Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.
"Didn't want me to think what?"
"That you weren't loved, Stevie."
The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.
"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.
"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"
"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.
Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."
The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"
"Yeah, Stevie?"
"You wanna hangout some time?"
Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."
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new hs history teacher(/basketball coach ofc) steve who is being shown around the school by gym teacher chrissy.
she takes him around the building to show him where the teacher's lounge is, the cafeteria, what bathrooms to avoid at all costs, and to where her office is if he ever needs anything.
"If I'm not here, I'm probably in Robbie's class over in the language department."
"Robbie?"
"Robin, my partner. She officially teaches ASL, but she likes to join in on the others' lessons whenever she has downtime."
Finally, once they've covered the whole length of the school, she brings him to his room. "So this is you, and right next door is Eddie, our Criminalistics teacher." gesturing to the still-dark window of the door directly across from his in the alcove.
There's polaroids covering nearly every inch of the outside of the door, pictures of what he can only assume are students with the same dark-haired man.
"Criminalistics?"
"It's a science elective," she explains, "It focuses on the basics of forensic science!"
"Wow that’s…really?"
She nods enthusiastically, "It’s super interesting,” she nods, moving to unlock the empty what-will-be history classroom. “Eddie’s here on even days, and in the music room on odd days for the guitar elective classes."
"Anything I should know about my wall neighbor?" he asks as she pushes the door open.
It looks like she's going to say no, but something flickers across her face and she winces minutely.
"Oh god, what is it?"
She looks at him sheepishly, "How do you feel about metal music?"
--
Since his tour in mid June, Steve's completely overhauled his classroom.
The only room available to him was the one down here in the science hall, but he made do, plastering removable whiteboard contact paper to the tops of the lab tables and a little reminder at each spot for the students about his less-than-stellar hearing, to make sure they speak up when answering a question from the back of the room.
And ever since he got his room, he'd been waiting for the day he finally meets his neighbor.
He met Chrissy's Robbie the same day he had the tour, and they clicked instantly (No seriously, how did he ever function before Robin?). Chrissy had made the comment about them being platonic soulmates one night in August when they'd gone out for one too many drinks, and it's stuck ever since.
Speaking of: "What are you still doing here, dingus? It's almost five."
"Yeah, I know, I know," he says, waving her off.
Robin comes in from the hall and plops herself down on one of the table tops instead of helping him hang a map behind his desk. "You're still adding stuff to your walls?"
"Well, I haven't been here for a couple years already, Bobs," he grits out as he stretches up on his toes to hang the far corner of his map. Finally, the eyelet hooks over the many-times-painted-over hook embedded in the concrete wall. "So yes."
"Well you can finish up tomorrow, we," she emphasizes the word by dramatically waving the same sign with her hand between them, "Have a burger date to get to."
--
The following day, the day before the school year officially starts, Steve arrives early to his classroom, only to find his neighbor's classroom lit up as well.
The be-polaroided door is propped open all the way, the sound of heavy drums and guitar streaming out the door along with the faint smell of moth balls and a spicy incense.
His own room forgotten, Steve steps through Mr. Munson's doorway.
Eddie is standing behind his desk at the front of the room, but hunched over it scribbling onto something.
When Steve's shoe squeaks against the tile floor, Eddie says "Hey, what do you think, identifying skeletal remains, or blood spatter first?" without looking up at him.
"Skeletons, of course." Eddie's head snaps up to look at him. His huge dark eyes are much more striking in person than in a photo. "Much more interesting, yeah?"
Eddie blinks at him. "You're not Chrissy."
"You're correct."
Eddie blinks again, "Who're you?"
"Oh, sorry, hi. I'm Steve. I'm your new neighbor." he gives the other man an awkward wave when he still doesn't move. "Sorry, should I--" he says, gesturing over his shoulder with a thumb.
"No!" Eddie interrupts, standing straight and hurrying out from around his desk.
He extends a hand and jogs lightly up to Steve. His pen is still laced into his fingers, the end of it chewed flat. "Oh shit, sorry, sorry," he tucks the pen behind his ear, "I'm Eddie. Munson."
"I know," Steve smirks, taking Eddie's hand. "I've been waiting to meet you."
"Oh have you?" he smirks.
"Yeah, Chrissy told me you're her best friend and I wanted your advice on maybe asking her out."
Eddie's face hardens immediately, the warm milk chocolate of his eyes curing into a solid dark, the easy smirk morphing into a cringe as he looks Steve up and down.
He opens his mouth to say something particularly scathing, Steve's sure, but he cuts him off before he can. "I'm kidding, man, I know she's with Robin."
His expression softens just a bit.
"Plus, she's not really my type anyway, even if I were hers."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I'm more into brunettes." Steve winks, finally releasing Eddie's hand. "I still have a bit more to get done, but I'll check in with you later?"
"Oh--yeah, for sure, I'll be here." Eddie stammers out, his cheeks tinged pink.
Steve fist pumps in his head as he heads to his door, You still got it, Harrington.
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