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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 9 months

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Okay? Okay.

You end up needing to run a few errands at the same time Aegon has his weekly therapist's appointment, so you decide to drop him off and pick him up. But when he gets back in the car, he's desperate for affirmation. It seems the topic of his appointment was his parent's marriage

Pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Reader (2nd person)

Warnings: kissing, car sex, semi-public sex, discussions of Vizzy T x Alicent, Aegon is actually pretty tame here suprisingly

This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.

My Masterlist

Okay? Okay.

Prompt: Reassurance & Car Sex

It was a dreary day, the skies a light gray that seemed to suck the color out of everything. You knew it would only get grayer and drearier as the snowstorm grew closer and closer. But you had a few hours before it hit. Which meant you had to go to the grocery store to grab as much as you could amongst the chaos of every person in town trying to do the same thing you were.

And also, that you had to drive your boyfriend, Aegon, to his weekly therapy appointment, as he didn’t have a car equipped to handle winter road conditions.

He would never risk his precious wrapped BMW M8, which he called “Sunfyre,” like that. It wouldn’t leave the garage attached to your small rental if there was even a one percent chance of rain. Which meant it pretty much never left the garage.

Your 24-year-old Mazda5 – aka “Zoomie” – however, could handle anything.

Indeed, she made it to the therapy office without issue. You were about to gloat to Aegon when you saw the glum look on his face. “Hey,” you said softly, reaching to pat his shoulder. “You alright?”

Aegon looked at you, obviously not alright, but he shrugged and gave you a half-hearted smile. “Fine. Just rather be back at home, you know? I’m almost done with my Dark Urge run, so…”

You nodded, assuring him he’d have plenty of time to finish up once the storm blew in. He seemed to cheer up slightly at that and opened his door.

“Want anything from the store?” You asked as he was halfway out of the car.

Aegon thought for a moment, his eyes narrowing and one corner of his mouth curling up. Then, his entire face brightened. “Cosmic brownies?”

You laughed a little, leaning over the center console to kiss him one more time. “I’ll get two boxes, just to be safe.”

You’d nearly had to fight a woman to get the last two boxes of cosmic brownies, but when you pulled up to the therapy office again, they were sitting safely in the front seat. But when Aegon pushed off the wall and got back in the car, he just tossed them into the backseat with the rest of the groceries.

It threw you off for a second. Then you saw that Aegon’s eyes were distant and red-rimmed, and he staunchly refused your gaze.

“Aeg? What’s wrong?” You were instantly in protective girlfriend mode. Therapy was supposed to help him, and you’d never seen him come home in such a state before.

He shook his head, “I just…” you watched him sniffle and rub at his nose. “Hard session today, that’s all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The left side of his lips quirked up for only a second. “That’s what the therapy is for, babe.”

This wasn’t his usual humor – that usually had some hint of suggestiveness or immaturity. He was only this witty, or at least nearly so, when he was upset. Very upset.

“Aegon, please,” you said softly. He understood what was left unspoken – be serious.

He finally turned to you, his usually bright, joyful face drawn and tired. “Babe,” his hand tentatively reached out to yours. “Can we go somewhere else for this?”

You nodded and put the car in drive. “Yeah, we should go home anyway, the storm – ”

“Not home, either. Somewhere like, random.”

Though you weren’t sure what ‘random’ meant, you just started driving. Aegon never spoke, never commented on the winding path you drove through town. You heard a few sniffles and sharp breaths, but you never looked his way. He felt so fragile, like even a wrong look could shatter him. What the hell had that therapist talked about?

Eventually, you found yourself at a relatively secluded park, utterly abandoned in anticipation of the storm. You pulled the car into a parking spot, and waited.

By the time Aegon began, the first few snow flurries had started to fall.

“We talked about my parents today,” he started. “Not about my dad or any of his bullshit, but about both of them. Their relationship.”

That was a subject you hadn’t heard much about. You knew about his mother’s overbearing nature and the pressure she’d put on him his whole life, and about the distance that had always existed between him and his father. The favoritism Viserys always showed his elder half-sister. You could count on one hand the number of stories Aegon had told you where his father actually spoke to him.

But their relationship was never something he talked about. You were under the impression that there wasn’t one at all, really.

“My mom…” a glint of reluctant affection shone in his eyes. “She’s a lot younger than my dad. I don’t remember exactly, but I know it’s something like twenty-five, thirty years or so.”

You had always just assumed his dad looked so much older because he was so sick. This was just gross.

Aegon took your hand and squeezed. “Before they got married, my mom was Rhaenyra’s best friend.”

Super gross.

“That’s why they don’t get along. Rhaenyra thinks my mom seduced her father, and my mom felt abandoned by her best friend. But it’s more than that, I think… I think my dad did love my mom, at least at first. I can see it in their wedding photos. He even looked at me like he loved me, in pictures from when I was a baby.

“But after Helaena was born, he looked different. Like he was only with her at the hospital because he had to be, or that he was only at my third birthday party because someone had forced him to. I’m not sure what changed, but it did. My mom still cared about him, but to him, the rest of us were just like, a job or something.”

You grabbed his hand and brought it up to your lips to kiss. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

He shook your hand a little before continuing. “I don’t get why they stayed together. It only ever made the rest of us miserable. How Aemond and Daeron happened is honestly a mystery.”

Everything he was telling you sucked, sure. But he hadn’t started tearing up like he did when you first asked him what was wrong. So when he again went silent, you nudged him on. “Aegon?”

He took a deep breath and turned to you. “Are you going to get bored of me? Decide you don’t actually love me and just… treat me like he did?” Tears ran down his face faster than the snow falling outside your little car.

“Oh, Aegon,” you set your hands on his cheeks and pulled him close so you could kiss his forehead. “Never. I will never treat you like that. I will never get bored of you. I love you so much, Aegon.”

A sob escaped him at your words, and he draped his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck as he cried. “I love you, too.”

You continued kissing all over his face as you whispered your reassurance repeatedly. Once he’d calmed, he started kissing you back. And since Aegon was Aegon, kissing could never just be kissing.

When he pulled you over the center console, you were very glad no one else was around – you weren’t graceful at all. But your embarrassment faded as Aegon's hands slipped beneath your leggings, one hand teasing your entrance while the other settled on your ass, guiding you in rolling against the harness growing in his pants.

“Can we get arrested for this?” He asked as he pushed your leggings down and frantically lowered his own sweatpants.

You sighed in delight as you sank onto his cock, savoring the stretch. He wasn’t the longest you’ve ever had, but he was thick, and it was wonderful. “We can, but only if someone sees us.”

He laughed, taking your bottom lip gently between his teeth and pulling slightly as he brought his hands to your waist to support you as you began to ride him slowly. “Thank the gods for the snowstorm, then.”

Words were quickly abandoned. At first, you’d wanted to take this slowly, to show him exactly how much you loved him. But Aegon wasn’t patient, and soon began thrusting into you as fast as he could, the car rocking beneath you.

Aegon came first, biting down on his shoulder to stop his screams. One of his hands dropped to your pearl and began rubbing furiously, until you screamed yourself and clamped down on his length, pulling a pitiful whine from him.

“You okay?” you whispered, holding him as close as you could.

Aegon smiled slightly. “I’m okay.”

Thanks to your activities, the car windows had fogged. You leaned over to wipe away the condensation and saw the snow falling harder now, the ground completely covered. “Okay, help me back up,” you commanded. “We’ve gotta get home quick.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, leaning back down to kiss your neck. “We can stay a little longer. Zoomie’ll plow through the snow to get us home.”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon x oc #aegon ii fic #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x oc #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii #hotd #hotd fanfic #modern hotd #modern aegon

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jeypawlik · 8 months

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January 2024 Lupin Weekly Art Prompts

I started hosting the weekly art prompts over on lupiniii.club which has been really fun! I’ll post them weekly over there, then make a compilation post to post every where else. January 15th: The gang gets the wrong rental car Okay if you haven't seen the pea car, you need to see the pea car! Also excited to really do all the weekly prompts in a similar way to how I did all my advent calendar ones. January 22nd: Zenigata’s favourite pen I went with a fountain pen because, like I said, I'm a big pen nerd! I did some looking in to old Japanese pens. It was tough to pick between Zenigata having a really shitty pen, or a stupid expensive one. In the end I went with this one.

#fanart #lupiniiiclub #lupin the third #lupin iii #lupin #jigen #jigen daisuke #goemon ishikawa #zenigata #prompts #loopzoop #luzeni

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idsb · 1 month

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Fave 13 TTPD lyrics this week?

idk if I could rank them like this on a changing week-to-weekly basis but! this is fun, I'm gonna put the 13 that have resonated with me the most recently / I consider favorites right now:

what a valiant roar, a bland goodbye; the coward claimed he was a lion (I think this is my absolute favorite lyric on the whole album; it's really stood out to me since, like, May)

blood's thick, but nothing like a payroll, no they never spared a prayer for my soul (again my other absolute favorite and has been for months; this one's quite specific and relatable to me so it hits like crazy but anyway)

a greater woman wouldn't beg, but I look to the sky and say, "please...."

I felt more when we played pretend than with all the Kens 'cause he took me out of my box (the demo just made this stick out to me in a different type of way for some reason)

you knew what you wanted and BOY you got her!!!

move to Florida, buy the car you want, but it won't start up till I touch you (I connected like, what exactly they were saying here a few months ago and I just LOVE this lyric it's an overall standout to me)

your good lord doesn't need to lift a finger, I can fix him

our field of dreams, engulfed in fire, your arson's match, your somber eyes (another standout on the whole record; it's just SO vivid and gorgeous)

ended with the slam of the door, but she's got the best stories, you can be sure

you crashed my party and your rental car

I'm his lady, and oh my god you should see your faces (Idk what the "truth" of it is, this so vividly describes everyone reacting to her at football games and I love love love it for that)

had a good run; a moment of warm sun

I howl like a wolf at the moon and I look unstable, gathered with a coven round a sorceress' table

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sweetdreamsjeff · 4 months

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Northern Light

Thirty-six hours before Jeff Buckley died, I saw him standing on a quiet Memphis street corner. A sheriff's car had pulled over, and the beige-suited federale stood towering above him. Jeff was my neighbor and friend, so I turned my car around to see if I could extract him from his tangle.

The incident had ended by the time I got there. It began raining. I pulled up next to Jeff. He didn't like strangers stopping him, and he kept his face forward as I drove beside him. He didn't look up until I spoke, then he stormed into the car, furious that the deputy had stopped to ask who he was; Jeff thought the lawman recognized him from his videos. I tried telling him their paths happened to cross at a corner that was known for drug activity, but he wouldn't hear it.

At the corner, instead of turning toward our street to go home--he lived a few doors from us in a rental house--I turned away. An anger I didn't know flared up. He demanded to be let out and opened the door while we were moving. The rain was hard and heavy, a dark rain. He did not want to know that I was only going one block out of the way. To calm him I told him I would take him home directly. F---it, if he wanted to act like a rock star, I'd indulge his fame, don my chauffeur's hat, take his assholiness home, and then do my errand.

If he'd not died, the incident would have meant nothing.

I see my happening onto him right after the cop as proof--if he was seeking proof--that he could not take a walk and be alone. He had owned Manhattan and walked away for a place he could be alone.

He leapt out of my car and was immediatelly soaked. "I'll walk," he said. "It's nice out." It was not nice out. Is that what he had to say to be alone?

Jeff rang our doorbell at six sharp. "Look at this," he told my wife, leading Mr. Clean into the kitchen. He wore a frilly green three-piece thrift-store suit, two-tone black and white shoes, and a wide-brimmed hat tilted forward over his face. I assumed a matching green Cadillac with a fake fur steering wheel was parked out front. He said, "I like to dress for dinner."

He and I drank red wine outside in the pre-summer heat. My four-month-old daughter cooed at him, he cooed back, and they laughed. After dinner he wanted to retrieve a notebook he'd left at the downtown club where he had a weekly gig. "Sure they're open," he said, "live bands seven nights a week." We walked to his house, where he got the keys to his rental car. Before leaving the house, he put on a Dead Kennedys CD and left it at top volume. One the street I could hear every thudding syllable. An Avon lady lived next door to him. I didn't ask questions.

He drove like his verbal riffs: all over the place. The club was, of course, closed. But his outfit was glowing, we were half-lit, and we hit a Beale Street beer hall that had a pool table. He put down two quarters in line for a game and steadily pumped the jukebox.

In Memphis Jeff could play at anonymity: a dangerous, green-suited pool hustler running Beale. The bartender found his Grifters selection too noisy and pulled the plug. Jeff leapt onto the pool table and demanded not only that the machine be turned back on, but that he be given his money back so he could play the song again. A pretty girl recognized him and between pool shots she handed him a menu and asked him for an autograph. He was polite; I think the occasional recognition was enough to sate his ego, but not so much that it interfered with his daily affairs.

My wife and I fed him a couple of times, hung out a bit. Usually his blinds were drawn, and we mostly left him to his work. One evening I stopped by on my way to the neighborhood bar. He talked about his dad that night, also a singer with a clarion voice. Tim Buckley was twenty-eight when he found a packet of powder and, mistaking the heroine for cocaine, laid out a fat line, inhaled, and died. Jeff was eight at the time. He lived with his mother, her husband, and his half brothers, and back then his name was Scott J. Moorhead. Then he'd entered his old man's business, and though he didn't know him (he'd only spent a week with his dad), he was feeling the weight of his father's shadow. Dead at such an early age, Tim Buckley would be forever young. "The only way I can rebel against him," Jeff told me, "is to live."

You don't go swimming in your boots without some kind of intent somewhere. Jeff was thirty when he drowned in the Mississippi River. I don't imagine that his father's specter ever left him, but I do believe life must have refracted through the ghost differently during Jeff's last couple of years. My wife's father died accidentally when she was a child, and she speaks of the mixed feelings she had when she passed her father's age. Survivors' guilt tinged with survivors' triumph: "It didn't happen to me" becomes "it couldn't."

People like me who write about musicians have a relationship with celebrity that is either symbiotic or parasitic, depending on the perspective. Jeff and I had met accidentally, laughed a lot at that first meeting but were never introduced, and I left thinking he was just some new guy in town. It took an effort by me to supress the opportunism presented by his fame and maintain that purity in our friendship. We never discussed doing an interview, though I took notes for one. He had recorded an Alex Chilton song on his first EP; Chilton plays a significant role in my first book, It Came From Memphis, but we never discussed that either. He'd never played his fame card before, and offering to drive him a mile home that day it rained, when I was a block from doing that anyway, made me painfully aware of the shared natures of fan and servant.

Fame is a buoy that raises you up and a weight that brings you down. Jeff Buckley was beautiful to behold, a blast to be around, a singular talent. He seemed strong enough for fame. His core bubbled with energy, an excitement that sometimes overpowered him. Talking about his dad in the bar, he bent to his drink and gnawed on the glass with his teeth. Though he could wrangle his power, like when he made music, he seemed most at ease letting it pour fourth: A rush of comic routines. Impulsive actions. His wardrobe. Swimming in the river.

The day after the rain, I saw a furniture rental truck unloading beds at his house; Jeff's band was arriving. When a British magazine editor called the next morning asking me to confirm that Jeff had died of a drug overdose, I reamed the guy. "Let him work!" I said. "He wants to be alone." The editor assured me that this news was based in fact, that someone from Microsoft News had--but I cut him off and told him to leave the guy alone. Ten minutes later a friend at Jeff's label called to say that reports were that Jeff had drowned, and what did I know about it? Geez, I thought, can't anyone let this guy work?

My wife said if I'd been called about another of my neighbors having an accident, I'd have run to their door and knocked, made sure everything was okay. I did walk down to Jeff's house and stood in front of it dumbly--his house looked like his house--but I wasn't about to disturb him with rumors of himself. An hour later, back home, I glanced out front and an image of his bandmates--their stooped backs, the shade of the magnolia tree, red Converse high-tops on asphalt--seared into my brain. Death. I'd never seen them before, but their dyed hair and disheveled look announced them as Jeff's guests, and their dazed walk and stupefied manner instantly confirmed the worst. It rained for four days after that.

The first daylight hours passed as we waited for the phone to ring--for Jeff to tell us that the current had swept him away and deposited him, tired and delirious, in a foresaken corner of a cotton field, and he walked for hours between rows to dirt paths to gravel and was finally calling from a gas station near a stupid Tunica casino, could someone please come pick him up right away and bring dry clothes, he was miserable. But that call didn't come. His mother came, his girlfriend, an aunt, a lawyer, and some record company people.

When Jeff Buckley immersed himself in that inlet of the the Mississippi River, he swam out on his back, looking at the stars, singing a Led Zeppelin song. A tugboat passed and left a wake. He swallowed water. The shadow was heavy. The refraction was blinding. His boots were full.

It's said about the blues singer Robert Johnson that he lived a compartmentalized life. That to some he was Robert Dusty, to others Robert Spencer, and that his personae were as varied and as independent as the people to whom each was known. Jeff had a life in New York I knew little about, and his family was in California. But his absence broke down those partitions, and we survivors clung to each other in his house, surrounded by his belongings, waiting for him.

The undercurrents in Memphis swelled in Jeff's absence. This city reveres obscurity, is hostile toward success. Beneath the reverence for the celebrated--here or anywhere--is a mean-spirited envy, a rooting for the lions over the gladiator. The tide of gossip rose: He staged his death for publicity. Or for solitude. He was on drugs. Suicide. Black magic.

On the fourth day, before his body floated up, his mother called his friends to his house for a wake. His beautiful photograph was propped on the table, along with a candle and maybe a flower. She wanted to celebrate her son's life and she made a toast, reminding me how little we can each know of even the ones we call friends. She raised her glass, and we raised ours. Her words startled me: "To Scotty."

His singing was magisterial, like a pipe organ, natural like the northern lights. Jeff's voice made me want to build shrines--though now I see Jeff Buckley was the shrine to his voice. His sudden end has seeped into my memories of his passion and vitality, and I can't seperate the purity of his tone from the tragedy of his fate.

My child is drifting off to sleep in my arms. She has learned to crawl, is beginning to understand spacial relations. The puzzle that is everything she sees is beginning to have pieces, and the pieces are beginning to fit. Her dreams have become more lifelike, and as she is momentarily disturbed into consciousness, her eyes open. She can't tell the worlds apart, and since the dream feels so much nicer than the coldness of reality, she doesn't fight the return. She drifts off.

Source: Robert Gordon

#jeff buckley #jeffbuckley #Robert Gordon #Northern Light #fan story

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thisapplepielife · 10 months

Text

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Yours for the Weekend

Prompt Day 4: Winter-Themed Songs | Word Count: 8340 | Rating: M | CW: Mild Sexual Content | Tags: AU, No Upside Down, Future Fic, Going Home, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Eddie POV

Also available right here on A03.

Eddie steps out of the car, right between the Methodist church and the Hawkins High School building. It's changed. A new building, new paint scheme, a freshly paved parking lot. They've remodeled, and dozed down the memories, good and bad, that clung to this place.

The cafeteria is gone, moved somewhere new, he supposes.

Eddie isn't sentimental for school. He hated school, the three tries he had at his senior year are enough to prove that. But he misses that time, all the same. He misses Hellfire Club. He misses playing music in Gareth's garage. He misses their weekly Tuesday gig at The Hideout.

He misses his unlikely, and tentative friendship with Steve Harrington, that grew into their love that followed.

He doesn't miss his hometown, except for when he does.

"Since when do you miss this goddamn place?" Gareth asks, leaning over towards the driver's side from the passenger seat of the rental car. Stretching, trying to see Eddie's face as he stands outside the car.

He doesn't miss it. Not really.

"It's just changed. That's all," Eddie says, ducking down to look at Gareth. They've all changed.

"Come on, Eddie, it's fucking cold!" Goodie yells from the backseat, and Eddie hears Jeff shushing him.

Jeff's trying to give him a minute, even if the other two don't understand it. Eddie appreciates it. He doesn't really understand it himself. But driving by this place, and seeing it looking so different, did something to him he hadn't expected.

He escaped this place, and everything, everyone, in it.

That's all he ever wanted, and now…

Now, there's a lump in his throat that's hard to swallow around. He doesn't understand.

They're working in L.A., playing music every night. They aren't big, not really. Eddie sincerely doubts they'll ever be big. But they can afford to make music for a living, and that's not nothing. Not everyone can do that, but they've made it happen.

From living in a one bedroom apartment together, taking turns with who got the bedroom, while the rest of them crashed all over the living room until it was their turn again.

Then being able to afford two apartments. Right across the hall from each other. Jeff and Goodie in one, him and Gareth in the other. Their own separate bedrooms and everything.

To shopping around for single studios in nicer buildings, and just realizing that even though they can afford it, and somehow, they can, that they'd rather just stick together.

"Eddie!" Goodie yells again, and Eddie turns and puts his hands up in surrender, climbing back into the car.

Eddie drops Jeff off at home, then Goodie, and then it's just him and Gareth left in the car. Driving through the snow-packed streets of Hawkins.

"You could just talk to him, you know?" Gareth says, looking at Eddie, knowingly.

Eddie could try to deny it, but yeah, that's where his head has been since their plane touched down in Indiana. Where his head often is, always. But it's easier to push it to the back of his mind when there's some distance between him and his hometown. Between him and Steve.

"Yeah, well, last I heard he was getting married," Eddie says.

"That fell apart," Gareth says, "a long time ago. And you already know that."

Yeah, Eddie knows that. He just doesn't want to talk about it. He never wants to talk about, or hear about, what Steve's been up to since he's been gone. If he did, he'd ask. But it's none of his business, and it's not like Steve has been checking up on him, either. He's never flown out to L.A. and he definitely never asked Eddie to stay.

He let Eddie go, let him escape this place, and that was that.

"It's just easier not to," Eddie finally says.

"Sure it is," Gareth says, and Eddie cuts him a look.

"Since when are you on Team Steve?" Eddie asks. Gareth liked Steve just fine, but he was also the first in line to get out of this town, the minute he graduated high school and turned eighteen. He was definitely not at all concerned at the time that their skipping town meant Eddie's relationship with Steve would come to an end.

Gareth looks over at him, "What? I'm not. I'm Team Eddie. Always. But Team Eddie is kind of a sad sack team these days. We've got a losing record going, big time."

Eddie laughs, "Fair enough. But what do you know about sports? Nothing, last I checked."

"I played as a kid. Baseball. Soccer. You know, the usual suspects. Before I found the drums."

Eddie isn't sure he knew that. This is his best friend, and he's still learning things about him, all these years later.

"Just. Talk to him. Either finish it for good, or…"

"Just pick open some old scabs?" Eddie says, sarcastically.

"Sure, do that. We've got a first aid kit. We can bandage you up again. We did it the last time," Gareth says, and they did. They have. Over and over, for ten years. Without his friends, without his band, he doesn't know where he'd be. Aimless. Shiftless. A wanderer.

Just…lost.

"If I see him, I see him," Eddie finally concedes.

But he has no plans to see Steve Harrington. Not this trip. Not any trip.

He's snuck in and out of town a few times over the years, and hasn't ran into Steve yet. He's pretty sure they're on the same page about making sure they don't cross paths. And that's okay. Easier.

Finally alone, he pulls into Wayne's driveway in front of the comfortable little house. Eddie doesn't have a lot of money. But he worked his ass off while waiting for Gareth to finish high school. And every spare dime he had that wasn't earmarked for the band's move out west, went towards a house for Wayne.

It's not paid off, not by a long shot. But it's theirs. Their home. The trailer was starting to cost more to upkeep than a down payment on a house would be, so Eddie made that his goal. The last thing he'd do before he left town.

He did it. They'd moved Wayne in. Him and Gareth, Jeff and Goodie. Steve. The kids.

And then Steve had watched him go. It wasn't dramatic, their parting. The lore of it, between their friends, is far more interesting than the actual break-up ever was.

It was just quiet recognition that it was over. Eddie was going, and Steve was staying.

And he has stayed, all these years, as far as Eddie knows.

Steve opened an ice cream shop, selling artisan ice cream. Dustin has said Steve took some classes to learn how to make ice cream. Real ice cream. Fancy ice cream. And he took others to figure out how to run the business side. Ice cream, though. That's kind of a hilarious choice, after his stint at Scoops Ahoy when they were teens.

Less hilarious, was that Steve fell in love again, and almost married someone else. A woman Eddie never met, and he's glad. He couldn't have handled it. Not a chance in hell. But, it didn't matter, Eddie heard through the grapevine a year or two ago that the relationship had ended, just as quietly as theirs had.

At least Eddie had nothing to do with it. He would have, if all their mutual friends had gotten their way. Everybody had reached out, making sure he knew. Like it was his place to object. He left. Steve was bound to find someone else, eventually.

Eddie's never bothered with love again. He doesn't have the time or the energy. His heart was broken, by his own doing, a decade ago. And he's just never felt like sweeping up the shattered pieces of his heart, to try to give them to someone else.

It's broken, pretty much beyond repair, and he's used to it by now. He has one-night stands, he fucks around when the itch arises, but his heart? That's not in play. Not anymore. Been there, done that.

He gave that away a long time ago.

Steve never gave it back, and Eddie never asked him to, so, here they are.

Wayne opens the front door, and that's Eddie's cue. He steps out of the car and Wayne smiles.

Eddie jogs up the drive, careful of the ice, but he can't resist rushing into his arms, barreling into his chest, squeezing him tight.

"There's my boy," Wayne says quietly, and Eddie just holds on longer. He might be over thirty years old, but he's still Wayne's boy. Always has been, always will be. "Merry Christmas, Eddie. I'm glad you came home."

"Me too, old man."

Hawkins might be a place he's avoided, but he's missed Uncle Wayne like crazy.

He's thirty-two, but he suddenly feels much older, for some reason.

Wayne cooks them dinner, just like he always did, and Eddie sits down in the recliner next to him, plate in hand, right in front of the television.

The television is new since the last time Eddie was here, and large. Very large. Not at all in Wayne's usual style. Or budget.

"What possessed you to get a TV this big?" Eddie asks.

"Oh, a friend was getting a new one. Asked if I wanted this one. I said okay," Wayne says, not expanding on it. Like that's a full story.

"You finally got some rich friends I don't know about?" Eddie teases.

"You don't know everything about me, kid," Wayne teases back.

That's true. Wayne doesn't know everything about him either. Just most things. The things that matter the most.

"So, what are your plans while you're home?" Wayne asks.

And Eddie shrugs. They're only here for a few days. He just assumed he'd hang out around the house.

"Carolyn Jones called last week. She's expecting us all for dinner the day after Christmas," Wayne says.

And Eddie expected nothing less. Mama Jones will want to gather them all, now that they're home. Gareth didn't warn him, but Gareth probably didn't know about it either. His mom is always gonna do what she wants, anyway.

And she'll want all of her boys under her roof again, around her dining room table, for at least one meal.

So, they'll all go, parents included, and update them all on their lives in California. It'll be loud and a big production.

Not like tonight, just here with Wayne.

Eddie sits around and Wayne comes up behind his chair and hands him a bowl of ice cream. Eddie digs his spoon into it, and this definitely isn't from the cheap, plastic party buckets they used to buy while he was growing up.

This is pistachio. Good pistachio, his favorite flavor.

"Is this from…you know?"

He can't even say his name. He definitely can't eat his ice cream.

"No," Wayne says, and Eddie nods. Of course not. Eddie laughs just trying to picture Uncle Wayne buying fancy containers of Steve's ice cream. It's a ridiculous thought.

The next day, they have a quiet Christmas day at home, just the two of them. And they play the guitar together, and Eddie has fun like he hasn't in a long time. They should have made this trip longer. Only a couple days won't be enough.

They take turns picking songs to play, and it's just like it was when he was growing up. Before he got an attitude. He's missed Uncle Wayne, and this is the best Christmas Eddie's had in a long time.

The next morning, they're hanging around in Gareth's living room, like they don't see each other the other fifty-one weeks of the year.

"I'll make anything you boys want, you just have to go to the store and pick up the ingredients," Mama Jones says, and they start squabbling amongst themselves. All having different ideas.

"She's my mom. I should get to pick," Gareth whines, and the rest of them grumble, but concede. They've never had a bad meal in this house, and they expect tonight will be no different. No matter what Gareth chooses.

They all nod, and look at him, expectantly.

"Lasagna?" Gareth suggests, and that works. That definitely works.

In the store, they've split the list in half, Gareth taking one half, and Eddie taking the other. It's not even on the list, but Eddie stands in the freezer section for a long time, just staring at a small shelf of pints of ice cream. Dairy King Creamery. There's a locally made sticker on the glass, and these are Steve's, for sure.

Eddie reaches for the handle, and stops before he grasps it. That's not what they're here for. Not today. Maybe later, maybe before he goes back to L.A.

He wanders to an aisle he actually needs to be in, and he's squatted down, looking at all the different lasagna noodle choices. He doesn't know what the best option is. The cheapest? His instinct is always to go for the cheapest. But he consults his half of the list again.

Mama Jones has actually specified. That makes this much easier. So, he picks up three of the red boxes, and puts them in his basket, and pushes himself back upright.

"Eddie?"

Eddie hears the soft, familiar voice, and freezes.

Steve.

He turns and looks, and sure enough Steve is standing in the aisle of the Big Buy, right behind him. Pushing a cart full of groceries. Eddie wants to paw through them. Wants to learn something new about him.

He doesn't.

"Hi," Eddie says, just as soft.

Steve smiles at him, and Eddie smiles back. There's no bad blood here, not really, just distance. And time.

And then Steve is coming at him, clearly going to hug him, so Eddie just opens his arms. Wraps them around Steve, banging his basket against Steve's back, and holds on. He still smells like Steve, and Eddie leans into it for longer than he should, he's sure of it.

"Eddie, hurry up!" Gareth shouts, rounding the corner of the aisle.

Eddie turns his head, and Gareth has frozen like a deer in headlights. And Eddie steps back from Steve, reluctantly.

"Hey, Gareth," Steve says, crossing the distance, and offering him his hand.

Gareth takes it, and Eddie watches them shake.

"You all home this year?" Steve asks, looking between them, and they both nod.

"Yeah, all of us," Gareth says, once he realizes Eddie's not going to answer. He can't. His mouth is dry.

"Well, maybe I'll see you around town? I'm going to the Christmas parade tomorrow night, if either of you want to grab a hot chocolate and catch up or anything," Steve says, like it's an offer for the both of them.

It's not. It's an offer for Eddie. Eddie knows that. He's sure Gareth knows it, too.

Eddie nods, against his own will, but it makes Steve smile. So he doesn't regret it, too much. He doesn't have to go. Steve will understand if he doesn't show up.

And at that, Steve walks back towards his cart, grasping Eddie's shoulder and squeezing it on the way by.

Eddie watches him go, watches him walk away.

It is his turn to do that, after all.

When he turns the other way, Gareth's eyes are huge. Bugging out. Eddie just points at him, willing him to swallow all that down, at least until they're in the car.

Gareth seems to understand, and keeps quiet. Which is a Christmas miracle, for real.

It's only as he's bagging his groceries that he realizes the Christmas parade is after Christmas? What sense does that make?

"Is the Christmas parade really tomorrow? After Christmas?" Eddie asks the cashier, and she nods.

"They wanted it on Saturday, and well, you know Hawkins," she says.

Yeah, Eddie knows Hawkins.

They load the groceries into the rental car, and Eddie watches as Steve does the same across the parking lot, putting his stuff in the back seat of his pickup. Steve Harrington has a pickup now. Eddie would have never guessed that.

As soon as they're in the car, Gareth is vibrating.

"Okay, just let it out," Eddie says, resigned.

"You were fucking hugging him!" Gareth yells, and Eddie just looks at him, waiting to see if he's finished. Surely, this mouthy little shit has more to say than just that. But he just looks at Eddie.

"Was I supposed to dodge it? He hugged me first, I'll have you know."

"And you hated that, I'm sure," Gareth says, rolling his eyes.

"I never said that," Eddie answers.

"Well?"

"Well, what? I saw him. It was fine. We both lived."

"Are you going to the parade tomorrow?" Gareth asks.

"Probably not," Eddie says, and Gareth laughs as Eddie's putting the car into reverse. Gareth clearly isn't believing him. That's okay.

He shouldn't believe him.

Of course he's going.

And the next night, Eddie stands on the street, looking like he's waiting for the parade to start. But he's only waiting on Steve. Maybe Steve won't show up? Maybe it wasn't a real offer? Maybe he was just being nice?

But those thoughts, those fears, all melt away when he sees Steve pushing his way through the crowded sidewalk, stopping in front of Eddie, smiling.

"You want that hot chocolate?" Steve asks, and Eddie rubs his hands together. It's cold out here, so yeah, that sounds pretty damn good, right about now. At least it'll give him something to do with his hands.

Steve leads him down the street, and Eddie follows. He's not sure where they're going, but Steve pauses in front of a darkened storefront. Eddie looks up. It's Steve's store, and Eddie watches as Steve pushes the key into the lock, and turns it, pushing the door open.

The little bell on the door, ringing out in the silence.

Once they're inside the warmth of the shop, Steve locks the door behind them again, and nods for Eddie to follow him to the back. Eddie does, looking around as he goes. The wall is decorated with old pictures. The kids. Robin. Lots of Steve and Robin, together. Several of them in their Scoops Ahoy uniforms as teens.

He wonders where Robin is. This ice cream shop is half her baby, too, he's pretty sure. They don't do anything without each other. It's impossible.

There's a larger one of a teenage Steve, armed with an ice cream scoop, his other hand on his hip, looking very serious. He wasn't. Couldn't be, not in that little sailor suit. It makes Eddie smile. He remembers those days, with a hazy fondness. It's been so long now, but he can still picture Steve Harrington behind that brightly lit counter, just glowing.

Eddie keeps looking at the pictures, and there's one of him, too. With the band, when they were young, and still playing The Hideout every week.

Eddie runs his finger over the glass, and feels an ache in his chest. This was so long ago. A lifetime, really. He hasn't felt that young in a very long time. Gareth was a baby. They all were.

"You comin'?" Steve asks, and Eddie follows the sound of his voice. Steve's standing behind the counter, holding up the divider for Eddie, just like he did all those years ago in Scoops Ahoy. He looks even better now, in a warm sweater instead of dumb sailor hat.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Eddie says, and he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the rack at the front of the store before he follows Steve to the back, where he watches Steve make two mugs of hot chocolate.

"From packets, Harrington? I thought this was an artisan shop?" Eddie teases.

"Artisan ice cream, I said nothing about artisan hot chocolate," Steve banters back.

Eddie had expected a cup of hot chocolate from some sort of street vendor anyway, not one Steve made in the office of his store. His private space, that Eddie's been invited into. To look around, to spend some time with his first love.

His only love, honestly.

Eddie sits down on the couch, and soon enough he's being handed a steaming mug, and Steve is sitting down next to him, knees bumping against each other.

It's nothing. But it's also everything.

He's missed him so goddamn much. They can't go ten years without seeing each other again. No matter how painful it might be to look and not touch. Steve's too important. He's always been too important.

"Your shop is perfect, Steve," Eddie finally says, waiting on his mug to cool.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, "it's been pretty good. Even in the winter, surprisingly."

"That's great, I'm happy for you," Eddie says, smiling at him. "Why ice cream? Didn't you get enough of slinging it during high school?"

Steve smiles, "You know I make a mean scoop."

And he does. Long, steady strokes with precision. Perfect balls.

Eddie laughs, that sounds dirtier in his head than he meant it to. Years ago, he could have shared that thought out loud, but they aren't in that place together, not anymore.

Steve keeps talking, "I just thought, I can do this better. Better quality, better flavors. Just…better."

"It looks like you definitely did," Eddie says, and he means that.

Steve just shrugs, non-committal. But this is great. If he's been able to package it for retail sale, even just locally, that's really something.

"How's the band doing?" Steve asks, changing the subject. Or not, maybe. Maybe this is just pleasantries. All they have to say to each other, after all these years.

"Good. Good, we've got some great long-standing gigs. Guaranteed slots. We play most nights, somewhere or the other, and don't have to travel to do it," Eddie explains.

"That's great," Steve says.

They both just keep saying how great things are. Things aren't great. Not really.

"I'm happy you guys have made it," Steve adds.

Eddie laughs, "Made it might be a bit of a stretch, but we're working. We all do a lot of session work, Gareth especially. Session drummers are always needed, here or there."

"Do you have another job?" Steve asks, and Eddie knows exactly where this is going.

"No," Eddie still answers.

"Then you've made it, I say. You are a professional musician. Maybe not a famous one-"

"Hey!" Eddie interrupts, just ribbing him. He's right. But Steve often is. He was right to encourage them to take a chance on it. To see if they could make it work. And they have. They are professional musicians. Together, and apart.

"Goodie's got a girlfriend he's getting serious with. I think he's gonna move in with her, soon," Eddie says. "Maybe get married."

Eddie regrets saying it, as soon as it leaves his big mouth.

"I heard you were going to get married. I'm sorry that didn't work out," Eddie says, looking at his hands.

"Thanks, it just wasn't meant to be, you know?" Steve asks.

And, yeah, Eddie knows.

"Do you still live with Gareth?" Steve asks, and Eddie watches as his face tightens, like he regrets asking. Eddie gets it. He'd be too scared to ask, too.

So, Eddie answers fast, putting him out of his misery.

"Yep, I'll never be able to shake that kid," Eddie says, and Steve chuckles.

"You wouldn't want to if you could," Steve says, and that's the truth. He wouldn't. He likes living with Gareth. He isn't lonely. And he's with someone he loves. That's a comfort Eddie wouldn't want to give up even if he could.

It might not be a love like he once shared with Steve, but it's still a love. Platonic with a capital P, as Robin would say.

"Where's Robin?" Eddie asks, once she's popped into his head. Seeing Steve once without Robin might be normal, but twice? No way.

"She's on a Christmas cruise," Steve says, with a grin.

"No fucking way. The Robin I knew would never."

"The Robin you knew wasn't ass over teakettle in love," Steve says, smiling. "I'm happy for her. Even if she left me alone for Christmas. She invited me to come, of course, and I thought third-wheeling it on a ship to Mexico might be fun. And warm, at least. So, I considered it, but one of us needed to stay with the shop."

Eddie thinks he was thisclose to missing Steve on this trip, too. If he'd decided to just close up the shop and go with her.

"Well, good for her. Tell her I said hi," Eddie says.

"I definitely will," Steve says with a smile. "I'm sure she'll say hi back."

Eddie isn't so sure about that. Robin was very against Eddie leaving back then, and wasn't scared to let them all know. She was the only one fighting for them to stay, and she lost, all her protests drowned out by Eddie's need to run.

"Did you have a good Christmas?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it was quiet. A day off, though, so that was nice," Steve says. "You?"

"Yeah, it was just Wayne and me at the house. But that was good."

"I'm sure he's missed you," Steve says.

"I've definitely missed him," Eddie answers, because he has. More than he realized, maybe.

This is getting too serious, too sad, so Eddie needs to fix that.

"Am I gonna get to try any of this famous ice cream?" Eddie asks, changing the subject to something lighter, and Steve laughs, but jerks his head towards the front of the store.

He picks up one of the little sample spoons, and dips it into a tub, and hands it to Eddie.

"What is it?" Eddie asks.

"Just try it, Munson," Steve says, and Eddie does as he was told.

It's sweet, and chocolate based, but with a depth Eddie can't put his finger on.

"Chocolate Cherry Bourbon," Steve says, and Eddie smiles.

"It's good. Really good," Eddie says. And it is. It's very smooth on the tongue, like the best ice creams all are.

"It's Wayne's favorite, I think," Steve says, and Eddie looks over at him. He never considered that Wayne would still be in contact with Steve on any sort of regular basis. But they still live in the same town, and Wayne didn't break up with Steve. Eddie did.

"But he also likes this one," Steve adds, getting a new little spoonful and offering it up to Eddie.

Eddie puts that one in his mouth, too.

"Oh, shit, that's good," Eddie says, closing his eyes to savor it.

"Butterscotch-Infused Whiskey and Pecans," Steve says.

"An ocean of flavor," Eddie teases, and Steve hip-checks him.

And then Steve gets him another sample, and this one isn't spiked, Eddie doesn't think, anyway. But it's bright red with black and white swirls.

It's a punch of chocolate, deep and rich. And maybe cream cheese? Eddie isn't a professional taste tester. But it's very good.

"Hellfire," Steve says, with a smirk, "hope you don't mind."

Eddie swallows. Of course he doesn't mind. That Steve would even want to name it after something Eddie loved so deeply, is really something.

"Of course I don't mind," Eddie says, handing the used spoon back to Steve and watching as he tosses it in the trash along with the others. "I'm honored. That you'd, you know, think of me. Of Hellfire."

Steve's whole face softens, "Eddie. I think about you all the time."

And Eddie is moving before he's even decided to do it. Pressing his cold lips against Steve's warm ones. Steve catches him and kisses him back, tangling his hand in Eddie's hair. It's desperate, this kiss. Demanding, and pent up, with years of wanting.

Years of waiting.

Eddie clings to him, desperate to be closer to him. Because he is desperate for Steve, there's no denying that.

He always has been.

When they finally, finally break apart, both breathing hard. Chests heaving with the intensity of it all, Eddie smiles. He's embarrassed. But not that embarrassed.

"Wanna get out of here?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. "You want an ice cream for the road?"

And you know, Eddie does, so he nods again.

So, Steve grabs a waffle cone, and piles it high with a fourth untested flavor, handing it over.

Eddie licks it, and it's pistachio. Eddie's favorite.

"My favorite," Eddie says, and Steve smiles.

"Yeah, I remember," Steve says, and that settles right into Eddie's chest.

Steve reaches into the freezer and turns the little sign that's stuck into the ice cream around, so Eddie can read it: Eddie's Pistachio.

He grins at Steve, and takes another lick. This one with a promise behind it.

Steve helps him put on his coat, trying to help him juggle it and the cone. And when they step onto the street, Steve looks at him, "You drive here?"

Eddie shakes his head. Wayne only lives a couple blocks away, and he figured finding parking would be a bigger hassle than just walking.

Steve puts his hand on the small of Eddie's back, and leads him around the block, and then into the alley. His pickup is parked back there. There's a perk, Eddie supposes. Dedicated parking.

Eddie climbs up in it, and settles in, still licking his ice cream cone. And Steve pulls them onto the street, and away from the parade. Since most of the town is there, the streets are dead. And Eddie looks around, taking in the lights.

Steve knows what he's doing, of course he does, so he steers them into Loch Nora, and lets him look at the rich houses, decorated to the nines. At least that's never changed.

They pass Harrington House, and Eddie wonders if Steve lives there. Or, if his parents still do. Steve reads his mind.

"My mom and dad flew south a few years ago," Steve says, "and by that time I had my own house, so they sold it."

Eddie nods. He knows it's hard to leave your childhood home, permanently. He's done it twice. He's an expert, and it hurts in a way you never expect, and you never really get over. That the place you grew up, isn't yours to call home anymore.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says, and Steve smiles.

"It's okay. I like my house," Steve says. "You want to see it?"

And Eddie swallows. He knows what that offer entails, if he wants it to, and he nods, "Yeah. I do."

"Finish that cone, and we'll do that," Steve says, and it's husky and full of promise.

Eddie licks faster.

They pull up in front of a house in one of the nicer neighborhoods, but not Loch Nora. And Eddie follows Steve up the path, and onto the porch. Once they're inside, Steve pushes his front door closed behind them, grappling for Eddie's coat, trying to strip it off his shoulders, but they're too close to each other. Too tangled, and Eddie laughs.

He helps the process along, shedding it, finally.

And then he's attached to Steve, again. It's desperate, and he should probably be embarrassed, but he's not. He needs this. He needs Steve. He's always needed Steve.

And he lets Steve lead him to his bedroom.

Steve's walking him backwards, kissing him, hands roaming all over Eddie's body.

"Where have you been all my life?" Eddie asks, pressing his face into Steve's neck.

"Right here where you left me," Steve answers, but there's no heat behind it, only the truth.

And Eddie presses his lips to Steve's neck, and smiles when Steve moans under his touch. Eddie loves to know that he can still play him like a goddamn fiddle, it makes him endlessly happy.

Steve kicks open his bedroom door, and pulls his shirt over his head. Eddie follows his lead, and watches as Steve digs in his nightstand, producing a bottle of lube and a row of condoms.

He throws them on the bed, and starts pulling his jeans down.

Fuck, yes.

After, Steve is stroking the back of his hand, legs tangled together, the sheet pooled around their waists. Eddie hasn't been this warm in years. This comfortable. Not since Steve, the first time.

"I know you have a whole life there, and I have a whole life here," Steve says, "but if you want to pretend things are the same, just for a while. Just while you're here. We could. We can, you know. I've missed you."

And Eddie wants.

Wants that more than anything, but he's scared that blundering down the road not taken is just going to hurt more than ever before once they reach that fork at the end, again. That dead end that separates them off, again.

But he's already in this. The damage has been done. So, he turns and smiles. Nodding.

"I've missed you, too."

And the grin Steve gives him is blinding.

"I could be your sweetheart, again, just for the weekend. While you're home," Steve says, like that isn't something that's going to break Eddie's fucking heart.

Eddie gathers up Steve's hand, and pulls it to his chest, his heart.

Steve's been his sweetheart for a long time, together or not.

"You've always been my sweetheart," Eddie says, and it might sound like bullshit, but it's the truth. It's always been the truth.

Steve burrows closer, resting his head on Eddie's chest. Over his heart. He runs his fingers over Eddie's bare stomach, touching the tattoos there. He's gotten a lot more ink since he's seen Steve last, and Steve is touching them all, getting acquainted.

Eddie runs his hand down Steve's arm, pausing at a raised scar under his elbow.

"Oven rack. Decided right then and there that cookies in the shop were a no go," Steve says, laughing a little into Eddie's skin.

"Sounds wise," Eddie says, and he'd kiss the scar if he could reach it. Later. He'll do it later.

The door that was cracked open, pushes open wider, and Eddie just about jumps out of his skin.

"That's just Pudding," Steve says, as a big, fluffy cream colored cat jumps up onto the bed. Then stopping at the foot, looking at Eddie.

Steve laughs, "It's fine, Puddy. C'mere, boy. It's just Eddie."

Like the cat is going to understand that, Eddie thinks, but the cat stomps up Steve's legs, and then steps a tentative paw onto Eddie's bare chest. Eddie reaches out and pets him on head, and the big cat leans into Eddie's touch.

"See? You're already friends," Steve says, and he isn't sure if Steve is talking to him or the cat.

The cat meows, and then hops down, before walking back out the door he'd opened.

Steve curls back up against Eddie, wrapping his arm over his chest.

"You'll still be here in the morning, right?" Steve asks.

"I'll still be here," Eddie promises, and closes his eyes.

And he is, and they sleep in, just lazing in bed all morning. Trading kisses, and blow jobs, and just touching each other all over before Steve has to get up and open the shop. He drops Eddie back off at Wayne's with a goodbye kiss, and Wayne steps out on the porch, and waves. Steve waves back, and Eddie trudges through the snow towards the house. It snowed more overnight, leaving a fresh layer of white all over town.

It looks brand new.

It feels brand new.

Eddie slips past Wayne at the door, "Don't say a word, old man."

"I wouldn't dare," Wayne answers, holding the door open for him.

When the doorbell rings, Eddie's hopeful, for just a second, that it's Steve. But Steve's at work, and Robin's out of the country.

So, it's not Steve, it's just Gareth.

"I tried to call you this morning. Wayne said you didn't come home last night," Gareth says, slightly snippy.

He pushes past Eddie, already hanging up his coat. Eddie guesses he's staying.

"So, I take it you two talked," Gareth says, finally looking at Eddie.

"Yeah, we talked," Eddie says.

"And fucked?" Gareth asks, and Eddie isn't going to be shamed by this kid.

"And fucked. What of it?"

"Was just trying to gauge how bad the cleanup from this was gonna be. So, bad, right?"

Eddie shrugs. He doesn't think so. It doesn't feel bad right now, but maybe it will when the weekend ends, and he's back in L.A., without Steve, again.

"We were just two old friends, having some casual sex," Eddie says, knowing it's a lie even as it rolls off his tongue.

Gareth laughs, "You and I are old friends. And we don't have casual sex with each other."

"Did you want to? You never said," Eddie teases, and Gareth shoves his shoulder.

Eddie smiles at him, then decides to be honest, "You know what I mean. It's comfortable, with Steve. With someone you know that well, even if a lot of time has passed. It was just like riding a bike."

"Eddie…"

"Gareth…" Eddie mocks, then softens, "I'm a big boy. I know what I've done."

"I hope so," Gareth says, digging around in Wayne's fridge, then moving to the freezer.

"And you're already buying his fancy-ass ice cream, you're just asking to suffer," Gareth says, plucking a tub out of the freezer.

"Those aren't mine, and Wayne's a dirty liar," Eddie laughs. "He gave me some the other night, and I asked if it was Steve's, and he said no."

"Well, it is from the Dairy King himself," Gareth says, popping off the lid of a bright purple container, peeling back the foil seal, and getting a spoon. "You want?"

Eddie lets Gareth feed him a spoonful, and it's good. They've all been good so far, but Eddie's not really surprised.

He turns the container in Gareth's hand so he can read the label: Lavender Berry.

"Are you gonna give me shit about this?" Eddie asks, and Gareth just looks at him. Shoving another spoonful in his mouth.

Then, Gareth looks away, and that's not the reaction Eddie was expecting.

"What?" Eddie asks.

"You are coming home with us, right? Back to L.A.?" Gareth asks, not looking at him.

Eddie reaches forward and squeezes both of his shoulders, "Yes, I'm going home with you. I promise."

Gareth nods, but doesn't really look like he believes him, and Eddie understands why.

Wayne comes in later and nods at them.

"I owe you some ice cream," Gareth says, and Wayne just nods again.

Wayne just doesn't get too worked up about things like that. He knew Eddie was home. Anything in house would be fair game to eat, as far as Wayne would remember.

"So, I thought that ice cream the other night wasn't Steve's?" Eddie asks, eyeing Wayne as he stands by his edge of the couch.

"Steve's? You never asked if it was Steve's, you asked if it was you know's and it sure wasn't," Wayne says, with just a hint of a smirk.

"You're an asshole, old man."

"Learned it from you," Wayne says back, and pops Eddie on the head with the newspaper he has in his hand.

Eddie grins up at him

Steve turns up again, after his shop has closed for the evening, and while they didn't have plans, Eddie was waiting on him. Steve has a brown paper sack, and opens the freezer and starts refilling it.

"Gareth stopped by earlier, said he owed Wayne some ice cream," Steve says, replacing a purple pint container just like the one Gareth had eaten, and then several others.

Eddie picks up a green one: Eddie's Pistacho.

It's a love letter, and one Steve probably assumed Eddie would never read.

"He didn't owe him that much ice cream," Eddie teases, and Steve laughs.

"Some are from me. I try to keep him stocked up," Steve says, and Eddie loves him for that. He loves him for lots of things, but especially that he's still stayed in contact with Wayne while Eddie was gone.

Wayne's out at his usual bar with his friends, and Steve settles onto the couch with Eddie, draping arm over Eddie's shoulders. It looks casual, but it's not. Eddie knows better, but he doesn't care, and he leans into Steve's side.

They hadn't made plans, but Eddie had still expected him. He thinks they're gonna just gonna act like nothing has changed, for these couple days. He's okay with that, okay with anything he can get.

Steve is scratching his blunt nails against Eddie's jeans, and it's driving Eddie a little crazy.

"Want to go out and eat, or…" Steve trails off.

"Anything is good with me," Eddie answers, and that's true.

Steve gets up and starts going through Wayne's cabinets, and watching him, Eddie is certain it's not the first time he's been in this house, in that kitchen. Wayne has never mentioned that, but Eddie understands why he didn't.

"We could make pancakes?" Steve offers, and Eddie nods.

It's just a box mix, but they stand together, and watch each pancake brown and bubble in the old cast iron pan. Steve's putting butter down to melt before spooning each one into the hot skillet. They're thick and fluffy, and when they sit down at the bar to eat them, they are pretty damn good for being from a box.

Eddie doesn't cook all that much with their weird, late hours, and Gareth doesn't either, so they rely on delivery and take-out a lot more than they should. They could make pancakes from a box. Maybe they should, more often. Get his own cast iron pan, and grow up, maybe.

After they've eaten, they do the dishes, side-by-side, and one thing leads to another, and they push and pull each other into Eddie's bedroom, not stopping until they're sprawled out on the bed, Steve on top of him.

Eddie cups Steve's face, and Steve leans into his touch, turning his face until he can press a kiss into Eddie's palm.

And that's…everything. The dam between has not only sprung a leak, it's now rushing out full speed, wide open.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says, and Steve closes his eyes, just leaning into Eddie's touch.

"I still love you, Eddie," Steve says, eyes still closed.

And Eddie grips his hip with his other hand, "I still love you, too."

Then Steve presses down, grinding their bodies together, and it's like no time has passed. Like he's still twenty-two, and madly in love with his boy.

No, now he's thirty-two, and madly in love with this man.

They're cuddled up on the couch, watching television, when Wayne comes home.

"Night, boys," Wayne says as he passes through, heading on to bed.

"Well, I should go," Steve says, standing.

Eddie stands with him.

"You can stay, you know," Eddie says, and Steve nods. They fly out tomorrow. He wants Steve to stay. Or he'll go home with Steve. Whatever Steve wants. He wants one more night with him, however he can get it.

And Steve walks to the guest room, so Eddie follows. The sheets are still a tangled mess from earlier, and he's sure Wayne noticed as he walked by. Eddie doesn't care, and he knows that Wayne doesn't either.

Eddie didn't pack a lot of clothes, but he rummages through what he has, and throws Steve a t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

Steve holds them, and smiles back at him.

They get ready for bed, and then curl up together under the quilt. Hands and mouths wandering, as they whisper promises to each other in the dark that Eddie hopes they can keep.

When the sun peeks through the curtains, Eddie groans. He's not ready. He wasn't ready the first time, and he's definitely not ready now. They eat breakfast with Wayne, sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee, just talking. After Wayne goes to work, hugging Eddie goodbye until next time, they take a shower together, and Eddie memorizes every inch of Steve's body. Every new mole, every new scar. The fact that he has even thicker chest hair than he had, before.

Eddie wants to remember it all.

There's a horn honking out front, and it's the band, ready to go. Eddie's not ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He hugs Steve a little longer, before the honking becomes too much to ignore. Wayne's neighbors are gonna get pissed.

Eddie opens the front door to acknowledge them, and none of them seem surprised to see Steve following him out of the house. He supposes Gareth told them, or Steve's truck in the drive gave it away.

Steve leans in, hugging Eddie again, pressing their lips together, before breaking apart. Steve leans his face close to Eddie's, "It was nice to be your sweetheart again."

And Eddie wants to cry, might just do it.

He cups Steve's cheek, "You're always gonna be my sweetheart."

"Can we-"

"Eddie, c'mon! We're gonna miss our flight!" Goodie screams from the backseat, interrupting Steve. A broken record, that one.

Steve has him pressed against the side of the car, but Eddie manages to get his hand behind him, flipping Goodie off through the window. He feels the window coming down, and he snatches his hand back before Goodie crushes his hand, or bites his fingers. Something unpleasant, for sure.

Eddie pushes off the car, still kissing Steve, still pressed close together.

When they finally break apart, Eddie rests his forehead on Steve's.

"We're gonna make this work, right?" Eddie asks. "For longer than the weekend?"

And Steve nods.

"I gotta go now," Eddie says, even if he doesn't want to. Not at all. "But I'd rather stay with you. You know that, right? I'm not running from you. Not again."

"I know. Call me when you get home," Steve says.

"I will," Eddie promises.

"I'll come see you next month," Steve promises, and Eddie squeezes him harder.

"Eddie!" Jeff yells, and Eddie knows that's his actual cue. If Jeff's getting involved, they actually are running late.

"I love you, sweetheart," Eddie says, "I've always loved you."

"I've always loved you, too," Steve echoes, and Eddie kisses him one more time.

And then they're driving away, Steve in the rearview mirror, just like he was a decade ago.

Only, this time, he's smiling and waving.

Eddie leans out of the passenger window, and winter air is freezing, but he looks back, waves, and blows Steve a kiss.

He can't see the details of Steve's face, not from this far, but he sees his hands in his pockets, and how he rocks backwards on his heels. And Eddie can read that body language, perfectly, even all these years later.

He's laughing.

Eddie slides back into his seat, and he smiles, pulling his hair over his mouth.

"Jesus Christ," Goodie mumbles, and Eddie tosses his head back and laughs. Gareth reaches over and pats him on the thigh, and Eddie turns and smiles at him, and Gareth is smiling back.

"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie says, wedging the phone against his ear as he's unpacking his suitcase.

"Hey, honey," Steve says, and Eddie can hear the smile on his face. "Your flight okay?"

"Uneventful. Except Goodie acting like a big ol' baby. He's thirty years old and still scared to fly. He's ridiculous. We haven't crashed yet," Eddie teases and Steve laughs.

"Be nice," Steve tells him, and Eddie laughs. Impossible. If they weren't making fun of each other, something would really be wrong. "Robin's home. She's mad she missed the big reunion."

"Well, she should haven't decided to go on a Christmas cruise," Eddie says.

"That's what I said!" Steve hollers, and Eddie can hear Robin in the background scrabbling for the phone.

"Hey, dingus número dos" she says.

"Hey, Buckley," Eddie says, "sorry I missed you."

"Yeah, yeah, I bet you are," she says, like she's threatening. She's not threatening. Well, not too threatening. "You better listen to me, Munson. If you hurt him-"

"I know, I know," Eddie says, "I'm in to win it, Buckley."

"You better be," she says, and then she lowers her voice to a whisper, "I've missed you, too, you know."

"Back at you, Robbie," he says.

"Do I get to come visit with Steve?" she asks, and Eddie smiles.

"Any time you want to," he promises.

"I'll hold you to that," she assures, "I'll just want until you've got all the fucking out of your system."

"That's never gonna happen," Eddie says, and she laughs.

"I'm happy for him, and for you, too. Took you long enough," she says.

He laughs.

They've been in this thing, alone and apart. Now, they're gonna be in it, together and apart. Hopefully not forever, but this is an improvement, that's for goddamn sure.

"How was your cruise with your lady love?" Eddie asks, and Robin laughs.

"It was great," she says, and tells him all about it, and then she pauses for a long few seconds, and Eddie wonders if the call has dropped, but then she's speaking again, softly, "We should all go together, next year."

"Count me in," Eddie says easily, "now, put my sweetheart back on."

And Robin says bye and does just that.

"Hi, it's me again," Steve says, and Eddie couldn't be happier.

Him again is the dream.

And Eddie listens as Steve talks about his newest flavor idea, and Eddie can't wait to try it the next time he's back home. He doesn't know what their long-term plan looks like, just that they're gonna do this life thing together for a while. See what happens.

They didn't do so hot flying solo, so he's definitely ready to try it as partners again. Now that they're both older. Now that they both know what they want, and who they love.

It's gonna work out this time, Eddie can feel it.

And he smiles, Steve's voice in his ear.

Notes: I know this song has been done roughly a million times in every fandom. But it was on the song list for a reason. Because it's a damn good fic prompt. So, more cake? I hope.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along! 🍨

If you want to see more of my entries from this challenge, they are in my Steddiemas tag right here!

#steddiemas #winter-themed songs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiemas #gareth (stranger things)#jeff stranger things #goodie (unnamed freak)#corroded coffin boys #gareth & eddie #steddie fic #christmas fic #'tis the damn season

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dickinson-devotee · 1 month

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Kevin Shirley's Studio Diary — The Final Frontier — 2010

January 6, 2010 Los Angeles - Nassau Been working flat-out at home in Malibu. I'm pretty burnt out. I've just remixed the classic Deep Purple album, Come Taste The Band over the New Year, and just recorded six new tracks with a brand new band this last weekend. Glenn Hughes, Joe Bonamassa, Jason Bonham and keyboard wiz Derek Sherinian (tentatively calling themselves Black Country). So, I am pretty wiped out. The next adventure on my horizon is producing the new Iron Maiden album - this one to be recorded in the Bahamas.

Left the family, sadly, in the early hours of today, and met Jared Kvitka at LAX. He is to be my assistant and the engineer on the new Iron Maiden album. We fly together to Nassau in the Bahamas, where we'll cut the new album at Compass Point Studios. Maiden have made three of their huge albums of the 80's there. Piece of Mind, Powerslave and Somewhere In Time, I believe. It's cold in Nassau when we land -- highly unusual, but all of the States is mired in a "Deep Freeze" and the Bahamas are experiencing the runoff. Studio manager Sherrie Manning meets us at customs and immigration, and once the work permit thing is ironed out, she shows us to our accommodations. In the early evening I see Steve, Adrian and Janick at the local pub for a beer and walk back home. A cold night.

January 7, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Bump into Steve in the apartment complex parking lot - I have opted not to have a rental car so Steve kindly takes me to the supermarket and we push trolleys around like two old queens, doing their weekly shopping. Quite a sight! Nassau is expensive -- half a trolley of basics is just shy of $300!

Off to the studio, and the gear has just arrived - mine from L.A. and the band's from England. The crew, Sean, Charlie and Michael begin unloading the equipment. Not much for Jared and I to do at this stage as drums, amps, guitars, etc start escaping their packing cases.

January 8, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Drums are up, Guitar cabs are up -- the day is spent wiring, plugging things in, putting microphones up and doing line checks by studio owner and tech-wiz Terry Manning and Jared. It's a very complex setup -- the studio is basically one big room, and there are not any isolation booths in which to put guitar amps to avoid the leakage into the other instruments as we do record the basic tracks with the whole band playing together live. So 'Arrys bass speaker goes in an adjacent office -- the three guitar cabinets go into a second studio, with about 100 feet of high quality speaker cable running from the amp heads, while Nicko's huge drumkit is in the corner of the main studio, so they can all play together and interact with one another. The little tiki-hut vocal booth, originally made for Mick Jagger in the eighties, is where Bruce will sing to get a little separation, but it's still in the main room and there's just no escaping Nicko's booming bombast! The old Neve V series console at Compass Point isn't on it's last legs, but it's definitely seen better days. We don't use any of the console channels for anything other than monitoring -- every microphone has it's own preamp and feeds the Pro Tools recording system. Most channels won't be recorded with EQ. The exceptions are the kick and snare drums, which have copycat Neve 1073 EQs across them. Nothing much, a little top on the snare and a little scoop on the kick -- as Nicko has no padding and the drum sound very resonant. January 9, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Final touches are made to the guitar rigs -- the crew string the guitars and the studio is made ready. We get sounds on everything and the road crew play AC/DC's Highway To Hell to test the systems. Ironic, as the iconic Back in Black album was cut in this very room! We finish up about 6pm, and Jared and I head to Compass Point Resort across the road, and have a drink as we watch American NFL football and the Eagles lose their wildcard game. Jared is from Philly. Michael Kenney drives back from the apartment complex in the rain to pick me up and get me back home. I have hiccups...

January 10, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Day off today -- the weather is miserable. Rainy and windy. I'll stay home and watch football, and work on the "Black Country" Hughes/Bonamassa recordings. I have Pro Tools on my laptop, and quite enjoy the zen of working at my own pace, on headphones. Enjoyed watching an NFL playoff game in my apartment and then Steve Gadd, Maiden's Road manager called, saying Bruce and Davey were getting in and wanted to meet me. So off to the bar and dinner and a chat with the lads, then it's off home.

January 11, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Started tracking today -- was very funny seeing all the band assemble at Compass Point, and they all share a similar headspace, all exclaiming "holy fuck, remember when we were here 25 years ago -- it's still the same!!!!" First we worked on getting everyone's headphones sorted etc. Cut the basics for the ballad Coming Home by 2.30pm, then went on to track called El Dorado. Got 2 takes done, when technical gremlins jumped in -- Adrian's headphones became intermittent, Janick's guitar kept cutting out, then Bruce's vocal microphone fried, then the vocal compressor fried -- but despite all these, we still managed to get 7 takes done -- one of which I'm sure will be quite good enough to begin with. Then at Nicko's bidding, it was off to the Travellers Rest for all of us and a dinner of banana daiquiris and minced crawfish -- apparently band staples 25 years ago.

Haiti just had an earthquake this evening which looks to be devastating... and as we are on a tsunami warning for the Bahamas, we headed back to the studio and retrieved the hard drive for storage on higher ground for the night.

January 12, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Cut an awesome track called Isle Of Avalon today. There were no high waves overnight, and no tsunami here, but we hear reports that Haitian capital Port-Au-Prince is in ruins. I donated to Red Cross this morning as they'll need all the help they can get. My family are home in L.A. and are off to Disneyland today. I miss them...

Wednesday January 13, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Up early and swam across the bay in front of the apartments. Glenn Hughes rang just as I was leaving, to discuss Black Country, (his new band) -- and then I drove to the studio with Steve, Janick and Charlie (Nicko's tech). I had to stop for a cup of Starbucks en route. Once at the studio, I reviewed the track Isle Of Avalon and overdubbed new guitars with all the guitarists - the Three Amigos - playing together. They have a unique chemistry playing together and the signature gallop in the guitars is a result of their individual rhythms combined. After that was wrapped up, it was everyone back in the room and we cut a new song - Mother of Mercy...

Banana Daiquiris have started something -- Bruce came in this morning with a brown paper bag filled with alcoholic ingredients to brew disaster -- 63 proof rum, etc., and after they had cut the track, Nicko and Bruce proceeded to "experiment" with making the perfect banana daiquiri -- blowing up the blender in a stinky electric puff of smoke in the process! Really......

Finished the new track at about 6.30pm, then Nicko, Bruce and I went in search of more daiquiris, Nicko was on a mission and wanted to take in a bit of adult entertainment and do some gambling, and he wanted me to tag along and be his foil -- so I said I was up for a little fun, but that I needed to get back home by midnight - after all I do have a job to do! A determined Nicko went off and I ended up having a beer with Jan at the end of the night, who's about the most normal of the lot I suppose!! Charlie appeared later after putting Nicko to bed about 10ish, after Nicko had cleared the casino at the Sheraton on Cable Beach and lost a bit of money! That's our Nick......... we do love him so!

Thursday January 14, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Not everybody was up to cutting a track today so the band had the day off, and I went to work alone, to go through all the takes and compile a great performance of Mother Of Mercy.

Friday January 15, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Today we cut a Janick song: The Talisman. It really came out great and after the session, Adrian, Dave, Adrian's wife Nathalie and I went to dinner at Nobu in Atlantis. Chocolate martinis and wine started the evening, and then it was off to a late night rock 'n roll bar called Crazy Johnny's where the night turned into morning... I lost my driver's license and credit card and we got home in the very early hours - all the worse for wear. I'm getting too old for these shenanigans!

Saturday January 16, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Woke with a teensy hangover -- to the wrath of my wife back in the States, as she says she doesn't want to be a widow just yet, and I headed in to work nonetheless, after a swim in the ocean, to sort thru the track The Talisman. Sounds amazing, even if I do feel like Death warmed up! Home to recuperate and watch the NFL playoffs... Saints and Arizona...

Sunday January 17, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Woke feeling almost normal! Crazy Johnny, proprietor of his eponymous club -- scene of Friday night's debauched shenanigans - took a bunch of us out to Rose Island with his kid, Dylan, where he has a house on the hill overlooking an absolutely perfect gorgeous white beach -- a great day out. His 400HP Yamaha engines zipped us across the ocean in his boat at "a strong 50" knots, and it was very enjoyable. Janick was the only one from the band to come along; the rest either busy or perhaps even still suffering -- so tech Sean from the crew and his girl Sarah, Tour Road Manager Steve Gadd, and engineer Jared Kvitka made up the rest of the pirate crew. Back in time to watch the New York JETS make it to the conference championship! After living on the U.S. East Coast for 16 years, I'm a declared supporter

Monday Jan 18, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Up at 7am, a great way to start this beautiful day with a visit to the Dentist this morning (I chipped one tooth and a crown fell off another over the weekend). Seems I'm just falling apart! A pretty Bahamian dentist Dr Coverly worked on my teeth in her high heels and a nicely coiffed do. A first for me!

Nicko flew back from Florida today so we didn't start until 1pm. Cut a great proggy tune of Adrian's called Starblind -- which came out very strongly, I think....

Tuesday Jan 19, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Having trouble sleeping -- seemed to be up all night long last night. Late-night text chats with Joe Bonamassa seem to be the case most nights these days, as he sleeps weird hours, planning and scheming... and chatting with his girlfriend in a far off land. I'm the therapist... Recorded another new Maiden song once we finally got going today. It was a late start at the studio as there was no power at all -- Bahamian Electricity was off until 1.30pm, but the song was quite straight forward - even quite simple for Maiden but very powerful: The Final Frontier -- almost more like a rollicking Mellencamp or Tom Petty type song than a Maiden song, but it looks like being the anchor tune for the new album. We kept it pretty raw!

Wed Jan 20, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Didn't sleep last night. Cut a highly complex song today, one of Davey's I believe, The Man Who Would Be King -- one which the band hadn't managed to rehearse beforehand as Janick had cut his hand very badly just as they were starting to learn it and run through it at the pre-recording rehearsals in France -- so he had been rushed to hospital and had surgery on his hand and fingers - the upshot being that the song was cut in sections and pieced together today. It was very difficult. Bruce has decided he didn't want to stay in the fairly boring accommodations we're in, that are a residential complex, so has moved to the Sheraton which is probably a lot more fun and goes on much later than we do, and consequently was a little tired today, which didn't really help. Well, he's at least not flying anywhere…….

Thurs Jan 21, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas I've been having trouble sleeping at night, so Maiden Road manager Steve Gadd gave me a sleeping tab, and I finally slept great all night. Got up, went to the gym and worked out with a trainer (first time in years), and really enjoyed it. Cut a great Deep Purple-ish tune today -- tentatively titled House of Dr. D! I'm pretty sure that title won't stick as it's pretty uniformly sneered at. (It was renamed The Alchemist. KS) Nicko, normally loves the way his drums come out on all the albums, and asked respectfully if I minded if he watched while I edited the takes, and he promised to not say anything -- I of course said I didn't mind, but once I began working, he couldn't stop talking and admonishing me the whole while, about his mistakes, which he calls "Nickoisms", and which I was attempting to repair, so I had to stop the session. Update tomorrow, when we cut the last song, which Steve is still working on tonight and it promises to be an epic... ahhh, the Mighty Maiden!!!

Friday January 22, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas We cut a very intricate piece today. Where The Wild Wind Blows. Nobody had heard it at all and Steve had all these ideas, so we cut about 10 totally different melodic pieces -- he'd show the band then we'd cut a few takes. He shows everyone the song and whistles the melodies to everyone. Nicko was unusually reserved today, but played very solidly and well. We ended up with over two hours of recorded music, which I attempted to start editing as the evening closed in on us, but Steve was totally wiped out - he'd forgotten to eat and drink all day, such was his concentration -- and I don't even know how the song pieces fit together yet, so it will have to wait 'til we get together on Monday! Steve won't come in over the weekend normally, as his weekends are mostly chock-full with his kids activities, and he is first and foremost a dedicated father.

Saturday Jan 23rd, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Went to workout at the gym early then on to the studio, and spent the entire day editing some tracks recorded for Black Country in Malibu -- Black Country is the group I put together with Glenn Hughes, Joe Bonamassa, Jason Bonham and Derek Sherinian. Met Nicko, Davey and Steve Gadd in the Poop Deck bar in the evening, and we drove to the big Atlantis resort where we had dinner at the fancy sushi restaurant Nobu, and then went to see Jerry Seinfeld doing standup. Davey is a big fan and really wanted to go, but it was just OK - nothing special actually. We had a little to drink over the evening... and invariably ended up at the Daiquiri shack chatting to some Irish wedding guests.

Sunday Jan 24, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Woke late -- a little tired still. Relaxed around the condo, made coffee and watched some Gridiron football. Adrian dropped by around noon and borrowed my iPod to listen to the rough mixes of the tracking recordings we have done thus far.

Monday Jan 25, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas The lads took the day off and 'Arry and I went to work about 11 o'clock and began the big job of editing the multiple takes of Where The Wild Wind Blows together. Nobody but he has any idea how it ultimately goes, and the structure altered a little from his original idea in the assembly, but it fits together and flows very nicely. An ironic epic about a suicide pact in the face of a nuclear explosion. And very Maiden!

Tuesday January 26, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Workout with a trainer again at 8am - he kicked my butt! All the band - bar Bruce, who's gone back to London - meet at the studio to listen to all the tracks we've recorded and get a good overview of the album. All the guys seem excited after the playback, and we start work embellishing the rough recordings of Coming Home with some overdubs. Adrian puts an acoustic guitar picking through the verses and choruses, which we double track for stereo imaging. Then Davey plays the first of the guitar solos on his Les Paul guitar, which ironically sounds like a Strat! it's a very Hendrixy Little Wing-ish solo, and he's happy with the result. He's always happy! Then Adrian added the second solo. We assemble a different monitoring system for him in the studio, so he balances his own mix and listen on Genelecs. He's uncomfortable initially, but after a while we get a great solo from him. The raw sound bothers him, so i add a little Pitch Shift, and he's happy. End of the day. Off to the local bar called The Poop Deck for burgers and beer. And coffee tequila. And a last cleansing beer. Nicko and his chef mate, Frankie, visiting from new York, leave first. I leave Jan and Davey chatting at the bar.

Wednesday January 27, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Start the recording day by having Janick add an upper octave to his guitar line in the choruses of Coming Home. This is the end of guitar overdubs on this song.

Then we move onto the song El Dorado. Adrian does a guitar solo, quite a few takes - which I then compile. He's happy. Steve doesn't stay around for things like the guitar solos necessarily, but he likes to hear everything at some point. Next Janick has a go at the guitar overdubs, adding an octave to a prechorus line, then doing his solo. Davey comes in for a late start having had a little beach time and does the middle solo. We listen back quite loud and everyone seems very happy with it. They all leave and I stay to sort through some takes of Mother Of Mercy, so it's ready to be overdubbed. Dinner of fresh fish and a beer at the bar, and I'm home just after 7.30pm. Early night in....... speak to my babies on Skype.

Thursday January 28, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas A very full day in the studio today - Davey starts the day with a bunch of overdubs on The Man Who Would Be King - Harmony guitars on the outro and on the chorus - we try a few on the intro, but they don't really work. Then we do a quick solo, which I reverse a-la-hendrix, and he loves it! We do some other weird noises - divebombs, etc., which go alongside the backwards solo, then Janick does a little tag, after which we do a 3 part guitar harmony with all the guitarists on the second part of the solo. It was originally going to be an Adrian solo, but the track felt so out of control after Davey's musical madness, that we introduce the harmony melody guitars which brings some order into the chaos. This song is now done for the day, and we move to the overdubs on The Final Frontier. Adrian does a big strumming acoustic guitar on the choruses, and then adds a tenor guitar line which echoes Steve's bass line on the chorus - and last he does the solo on his trusty Strat...... and that's it for the day, and the week!

Friday January 29, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas My family are arriving at 1pm from Los Angeles, and we all take the day off work. No one complains! Well, Delta screws up my family's flight, and leaves them with an enforced long layover in Atlanta - so I take the opportunity to go grocery shopping. I need everything at our condo - toilet paper, water... you get the picture, so it's a godsend to have time to prepare for them. The lifestyle of a bachelor doesn't necessarily meet all the needs of a young family, and once I've sorted out the house I head to the airport with Steve Gadd and Mike Kenney, who've come to give us a hand with the luggage and kids. (They offered and are very gracious and friendly - it's no Producer control-freak thing!). They finally arrive at 5pm and as they come through the Arrivals and I see them, I get a little misty as my 2 year-old Talon yells, "My daddy, my daddy, my daddy" .... sweet!! Weekend off playing with my kids in the pool and on the beach!!!!!

February 1 and 2, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas More recording on some of the other songs - it gets a bit "Groundhog Day" in the telling and diarizing of it all, as it's a very similar process every day for all the songs and overdubs. We do various guitar overdubs, solos, harmonies, acoustic guitars...... the Three Amigos take turns and occasionally we record all three together to get that great rolling, galloping rhythm that only Maiden can really create - there's nothing mathematical about it, it's all feel. If you sort it out in Pro Tools, all that feel goes, so we don't!!!

February 3, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas It's my wife's birthday today, so we take the day off and I spend the entire day at the Atlantis resort with my family. A great day, playing on the beaches, sliding down the water slides, floating on rafts on the artificial rapids and rivers, and viewing the absolutely amazing aquarium they've built there! In the evening, we leave the babies with my mother-in-law and go out for an intimate adult evening, but we're so shattered by the day's activities that we end up crashing at about 9.30pm!

February 4 and 5, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Same agenda as Feb 1 and 2. We've almost finished the overdubs on the last song, guitar-wise. Just a last guitar solo of Adrian's to do on When The Wild Wind Blows on Monday, then we'll all gather for a final collective listen, and that's all the guitars on this new Iron Maiden album. We'll add keys for the rest of the week, then it's home for me next Saturday, and Steve and Bruce arrive the following week to finish up the vocals and mix...... February 6, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Windy and stormy today. No studio. Wife and kids are all packed as they leave Nassau for Los Angeles tomorrow - so we had an early dinner of fresh fish from the Poop Deck, then my wife, Dev, and I joined Steve Gadd and his better half, Jen; Janick and Adrian Smith and his wife Nathalie, for a late evening drink. A very nice time and it was fun socialising with just adults for a change.

February 7 - Superbowl Sunday. Gaddsy and Michael Kenney took me and my family to the airport as they left for L.A. today. Janick went off for his first scuba dive ever, with the crew from the Aga Khan's yacht, Shergar, and he really loved it. Gadd and I joined them on the boat about 4pm-ish, had a couple of beers onboard and got the royal yacht tour. Amazing! $100million worth of boat - each tank of gas costs $75,000!! It has two jet turbines, and at 100 ft long reaches about 50 knots! That's flying!! Then off to Crazy Johnny's we all went, to watch the Superbowl, and perhaps a few drinks.......

February 8 Not everyone looked like they were ready to run a marathon this morning, after a long night of Superbowl revelry. Our engineer Jared arrives a little puffy, and As 'Arry said of his eyes, "they look like two piss holes in the snow!" Well, as Jared has a vague connection to New Orleans, he was forgiven! We need to do a few updates to the last song and so Adrian started off the day recording a solo on When The Wild Wind Blows, after which we did some melodic lines on the same song with Davey, some guitar jangle chords in the verses, and that is the band tracks for the new album complete! I let everyone go for the day, and spent the rest of it getting the complex tracks in order so when we do some keyboards over the next few days, we hear everything as it's meant to be heard, and nothing clashes musically or sonically. Had a very English dinner of Bangers 'n Mash and a pint of stout at the Nassau Cricket Club, and home earlyish to watch a movie.

February 9, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Slept great, but woke feeling very stiff. Off to the gym for a gentle workout and then set off to the studio at the normal time of 10.45am, with an obligatory stop at Starbucks en route. Finally we got stuck into keyboards today. Michael Kenney set up the keys and Steve poked away at them, hunting for the melodies running around his head like a chicken pecking the ground. Simple lines, but effective and we accomplished a lot of work. We finished keyboard overdubs on seven tunes today then headed to Poop Deck for a quick drink with Steve before heading home to make dinner.... for myself.

February 10, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Today we finished the few keyboards overdubs left to do on the album. Janick's family arrived from England today, so he asked me to send him an MP3 of the solo he did on The Alchemist, which I did, and he called me later asking if he could redo it, so we'll have another crack at it on Friday. Adrian listened to all the tracks and has a few things he wants to add as well. We all went to dinner at The Poop Deck but as the weather had been a little rough, there was no fresh fish on the menu, so we had burgers while sitting at the bar. Nicko sent us his love from sunny Florida, where he's working on the official opening of his restaurant, Rock 'n Roll Ribs, in Boca Raton or somewhere in the vicinity, this weekend.

February 11, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Up early and I swam across the bay - didn't feel like the gym today. Headed to the studio about 10.30am after a quick stop for a "grande-four-shot-non-fat-wet-cappuccino" at Starbucks and once we got up and rockin', Adrian replayed the verse on Mother Of Mercy and added a harmony guitar to the pre-chorus. 'Arry didn't make it in to the studio today, and while waiting for some computer thing to be done, I was noodling around some blues scales on one of Janick's acoustic guitars, which prompted Terry Manning to show me an old National that used to be blues icon Robert Johnson's dobro! It was very humbling and awe-inspiring to hold it and slide a little on it, and I felt more moved even than when I met Jimmy Page or B.B. King. Its serial # is T968. Back to work, and we listened through a few things and I did a couple of edits that needed doing and we were done by 7pm, off to .........yep you guessed it, the Poop Deck again. It's the only place around, as you've probably gathered, that doesn't require getting a taxi. At least they had fresh fish today, and I ordered one to go and had it at my house while watching the news - boring but very tasty!

February 12, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas Adrian and Nathalie, his wife, left early for a week at Parrot Key. It's the last day in the studio today. Janick came in and redid the solo on The Alchemist. He was much happier than before - the first solo had been much more "in the meter", but this one crossed the rhythms, and he liked the fact that it sounded like he wasn't going to make it, and then did. He felt it sounded more "incendiary!". His phrase. Looked over the tracksheet of Where The Wild Wind Blows and sorted through the multiple parts, and made a cohesive tracklist - then made 2 safety copies of the Master drive, and said our goodbyes to the Mannings in the studio, took Steve two masters - one to leave behind, and one to bring with him. I have one to carry back to L.A. tomorrow, and that's all three master drives. We have a big art canvas in the studio, which has all the album titles and plots the progress of the recording session as we go. So I dropped the big canvas at 'Arry's house, and then went with Steve Gadd and his best gal to the Cricket Club, for bangers 'n mash. Again. Yummy!

February 13, 2010 Nassau, Bahamas The wind howled all night and the rain bucketed down. I woke at 3am and couldn't get back to sleep. Packed, and checked the flight details. Atlanta is covered in snow and is a frigid 25 degrees. All good, it appears. Left for the airport to find my flight cancelled. Managed to get a coach flight (all Business was booked) back home - it adds another six hours to my flight!!! which means 13 hours from check-in til landing, if all goes to schedule. I'm in Nassau airport now.......

February 15, 2010 Malibu, California Finally got home late last night. My luggage didn't. Lots of scrambling and frantic running between gates, but I finally had a good flight back and it is great to be home in Malibu on the beach. I had a very chilled Sunday with my family and now it's back to work in my studio today, going over all the tracks. They're not really ready for my studio, so had to spend the day preparing them to suit a different console, etc. Also, the big storms in California recently have knocked my studio about - all the lightbulbs downstairs had blown, as well as my Summit TLA- compressor, so the day was spent in repair mode, as well as getting the studio bedroom ready, where Steve Harris will stay for the month ahead - he arrives tonight.

February 16, 2010 Malibu, California I'm in the studio early today. I FedExed my blown compressor out for repair - Brent Spear, my tech, is coming in for the day from Las Vegas to make sure everything is working perfectly, the Cable TV repairman is coming today to make sure Steve's English Premier League soccer is available on the telly, so it's all systems go around here. Bruce will be in from London tonight to sing ......

February 17, 2010 Malibu, California Vocal day - Bruce arrived, with stories, as usual. Tales from flights around the world - Russia, Iceland, Niger..... Today he sang Coming Home and El Dorado, then we had a break for lunch, after which he nailed the lead vocal for Mother of Mercy! It's very, very high...

February 19, 2010 Malibu, California Bruce sang again today, then left to fly back to London tonight and on to Africa as Capt. Dickinson tomorrow - I compiled the lead vocal on El Dorado, and then I mixed it. Went to the store to pick up dinner on the way home and my car got wrecked in the parking lot by some Bonehead. Exhausted!

February 20, 2010 Malibu, California Knackered - feel brutally tired today.

February 21, 2010 Malibu, California Had to go with the family to a kids birthday party - I realize I have to do these things, but I really hate doing them. Went for a bicycle ride when we got back, and decided while riding, that I'm going to cycle to San Francisco to do my next job - which is producing Journey's new studio album in April.

February 22, 2010 Malibu, California Compiled the lead vocal track from three or four vocal performances which Bruce has sang for Coming Home and then I set about mixing the song.

February 23, 2010 Malibu, California Compiled the lead vocal track for The Final Frontier today - then mixed it - Steve came in at the end of the day and thought it sounded a bit roomy, so I'll do a drier mix tomorrow.

February 24, 2010 Malibu, California Did a dry mix then some updates on ..The Final Frontier. In the end we went with yesterday's mix - my original mix. After that I began comping the vocal on Mother of Mercy - Steve has a very particular vocal melody in his mind, which Bruce didn't really get 100% correct. It's close tho..... but needs a few tweaks. Left the comp about half way through - it was mind jumbling. Got home to find two sick babies....

February 25, 2010 Malibu, California Last night was a rough night with our poor little sick kids - so not too much sleep at all for any of us last night. Got to my studio just after 11am to find Steve doing the crosswords - he loves them! I had to dig back into Mother of Mercy and complete the vocal compiling!

Adrian came by The Cave for a listen - he thought the tracks sounded good but "a little too much like the band in the studio". He thought more reverb to make them sound more "majestic" and "epic". Steve disagreed strongly. Honestly, they are both right. The thing I personally like about the dry, honest mixes, is that it sets them apart from any other Classic Rock or Metal band. They're not really metal anyway, in the present day sense of the genre, but they're more of a hard progressive rock band. I promised to run some mixes each way and decisions can be made down the road, if necessary.

February 26, 2010 Malibu, California I started the day with an early 30 mile bike ride along the coast and went in to the studio at normal start time of 11 and finished the mix of Mother Of Mercy. Bruce came in from London this morning and very kindly brought me a stack of Formula 1 magazines - it's my passion and the States only sees them about 6 weeks after their appearance in England, so I was particularly thrilled! He listened to a few things we'd been working on - had some issues with a couple of vocal lines he'd sung, and disliked a particular guitar solo we'd recorded at Compass Point, but said "whatever!", and then dug into the work and sang Isle Of Avalon and Starblind. Both are very high - I suggested a lower vocal line in the Isle Of Avalon chorus, which he tried, so perhaps we'll have a harmony - we'll see.

February 27, 2010 Malibu, California A massive 8.8 earthquake hit Chile early this morning. We were on a tsunami advisory again, and as we live on the ocean, we left for higher ground over the lunch hours. The waves were only about 2 feet higher, which didn't really affect things too much up here in Malibu. I'm sure this will prove to be catastrophic again.....

It's Adrian's birthday today! His wife, Nathalie, threw a great party for him. Gorgeous food, great ambience - Steve and his beautiful daughters Kerry and Faye attended, as did Bruce and a host of people. A lot of fun - she had been quite explicit about overstaying our welcome with "Carriages at 11" on the invitation, but by the time it came to go, Adrian wanted everyone to stay longer. Nathalie said, "but it's what you wanted!" We had sickish babies at home, and couldn't stay in any case.........

February 28, 2010 Malibu, California Last day of the month - relax!

March 1, 2010 Malibu, California Bruce came in from Marina Del Ray and sang two songs today - Satellite 15 and When the Wild Wind Blows. Started working on the Wild Wind mix.

March 2, 2010 Malibu, California Compiled the vocal for When The Wild Wind Blows and mixed it! Steve's daughters, Faye and Kerry, came by and listened to all the music completed thus far, and they went with Steve to the local Italian restaurant, The Sage Room, for dinner.

March 3, 2010 Malibu, California Bruce came by today to hear the five mixes that were done. Did a little touch up on When the Wild Wind Blows mix, compiled the lead vocals on The Alchemist and mixed it as well.

March 4, 2010 Malibu, California Started compiling a lead vocal on The Talisman. It was a nightmare to compile! Adrian dropped in late afternoon to pick up a CD of the mixes thus far.

March 5, 2010 Malibu, California. I mixed The Talisman, the second bit. Not the quiet intro bit that sounds like a haunting kids sea shanty. I think fans are going to love this song! March 6, 7, 2010 Malibu, California Weekend - happy to have a break! March 8, 2010 Malibu, California Finished mixing Talisman (the acoustic intro) and compiled the vocal on The Man Who Would Be King. March 9, 2010 Malibu, California Mixed The Man Who Would Be King. Adrian came in and said it all sounded good - and said he was 95% happy with the album mixes and we should look at them and tweak them slightly - I am perfectly happy to reassess any of the mixes, as daunting as the prospect of revisiting everything is, changing sonics etc., but Steve and I are quite happy with it and neither of us can really afford the extra time it would take to remix, so Steve jumped in and basically said we're going to be done this weekend and we are not remixing the entire album. Adrian ultimately understood but wasn't thrilled about it! March 10, 2010 Malibu, California Compiled the vocal for Starblind, and began the mix of it - it is proving to be a complicated mix and quite difficult.

March 11, 2010 Malibu, California Mixed Starblind today. Adrian came by to hear it - and was desirous of more reverb on some things - it's a little bit of a continuous internal battle, and is essentially just a different way to hear things. Def Leppard on one hand, something garagey on the other. Extra reverb was not added to anything. Adrian left happy and understanding, I thought!!! March 12, 2010 Malibu, California It's Steve's birthday today! I've just finished mixing the entire album - mixed The Isle of Avalon and Satellite 15 today. The mixes went very well then I assembled the album in order - putting all the master mixes in sequences and adjusting the gaps or segues between the songs. Steve is packing to leave and I'm planning on having a glass of wine with Adrian at 9pm - both lads appear ecstatic! We're all off for dinner...... Friday May 7th, Oakland, CA Well, it's almost two months later. I've completed the Black Country Communion album and am in midst of producing a new Journey album since we wrapped up the Iron Maiden album. I'm sitting in Oakland airport (I'm producing Journey album in San Francisco) - waiting for a one hour flight to Los Angeles where I'm going to play the folks from Universal Music the new Maiden album later today. We've had the album mastered three times, and have ultimately decided to go with my flat mixes over any of the mastering versions. I think the mastering place did a great job, but Steve, while liking these versions, feels that the integrity of the original mixes has been compromised somewhat and so it's coming out flat. No equalization, no compression, just as it was when Steve heard the MP3s of the mixes and just as it left my studio. Tuesday June 8th, Malibu CA Home after recording the Journey album - in the studio mixing a South African band called Panic Circle today. The first Maiden single, El Dorado, was released yesterday as a free download on the ironmaiden.com website and immediately clogged up the server, but I woke to about a hundred emails from people that have loved it - so, THANK YOU!!! And that is how I spent the early part of 2010 - producing The Final Frontier. Hope you enjoyed that....... - Kevin Shirley

#iron maiden #bruce dickinson #steve harris #adrian smith #nicko mcbrain #dave murray #janick gers #Kevin Shirley #the final frontier #behind the music #behind the scenes

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dowhatisaynotwhatido · 2 years

Text

2. FBT - opening boxes and settling down

Paring: F!Reader x Wanda

Context: After Wundagore in Multiverse of Madness, Wanda finds what she has been looking for in a small town – more precisely, in you.

Warnings: just comfort

Word Count: 1.8k

Part 1 | Part 2 (this)| Part 3 | Part 4*

Although Wanda had been in Farmville for the better part of a year when you came in that Saturday, the majority of her clothes, kitchenware and decorations were still in their original moving boxes. Wanda did not plan to take her stuff out of the moving boxes: after so many frustrations moves, she preferred to be prepared to quickly grab her stuff for when she grew tired of town. However, since you came into her life, she saw herself a little less anxious about moving out and the daily things did not bother her that much anymore. And without any plan whatsoever, she surprised herself asking you to help out – even though she could easily do it with her magic, while comfortable laying on her couch sipping a tea.

In your side of the story, helping out Wanda to organize wasn't your favorite Saturday morning activity. Of course, you enjoyed her company and that week you realized how much you missed an adult friendship. However, the truth is that you simply needed the money. Your earnings as a teacher could easily support your single lifestyle; you never had a problem with that. But since adding a couple of twins necessities, the weekly therapy sessions and the need to move to a 2 bedroom house rent to your monthly bills, you were going through your savings on a dangerous speed.

Your brother and sister-in-law not-so-significant heritage were stored by the government until the twins were 16 years old, and the three of you would be starving if you waited for that. Your mom couldn't help regularly, and your sister-in-law family didn't even bother to show up in your brother’s funeral. So it was up to you to make the extra money.

You sold your old car for an old-old-super-old car. You gave up your mortgage and got a rental. You quickly sold and traded any of your extra belongings and now there was nothing left. The therapist helped you with a social fee and the elementary school gathered last year’s books, uniforms and everything that 6 yo could need to study. Your tutoring gave you a few bucks an hour, and the extra grading and online queering allowed a couple more. But it wasn't enough. Going out the academic route wasn't on your agenda, but the payroll Wanda offered could get your family through a week and you weren't going to pass that.

"Good morning, Ms. Maximoff" You said embarrassed.

"Good Lord, Y/N. Wanda." She said giving you a peck on the cheek like you were friends. "Come on in; leave your stuff on the counter. I just started on the kitchen" Wanda wore a set of sweatpants and white T-shirt with her hair up in a messy ponytail. She was a beautiful women, definitely the type you used to date - not that you were even remotely available to do anything about it in the crazy pace your life was going.

The morning passed by fast. Your company was even more enjoyable than Wanda thought, you held a light mood and you were becoming increasing more comfortable around each other. As you held the stairs for Wanda to clean an open cabinet, or you carried together a large and heavy box - you found yourself enjoying the domestic environment around her. It was pass noon when Wanda ordered a pizza and a couple of beers for you to take a break.

"Not that I am complaining... But aren't you, like, super strong?" You asked while taking a bite.

"Kind of" She dismissed getting both of you another beer "Why?"

"With all due respect, oh-miss-magical-fingers... Why the hell did we tore our back with the heavy lifting if you could do it with your pinky?" You looked at her confused both of your chuckling.

"Magical fingers?" she smirked and handled your beer. "Are you going to believe me if I tell you I forgot about it?"

"No" You smiled “But it is ok, I was just wondering why you needed my help in the first place."

"I didn’t. I like your company, Y/N. And it would feel lonely to settle down alone again." She looked into your eyes and gave a small smile "And I don't feel like being alone again"

"I know what you mean" You didn't. As much as you liked Wanda's company and her proximity made you feel all mushy and somewhat stupid; you didn't see Wanda in a romantic way. She, in the other hand, felt you cozy and warm, easy to talk to, easy smile and she was interested in a very non-platonic way.

"Sure thing" She laughed and followed you into the room.

"You don't. Yet" Her eyes quickly darted to your mouth and you instinctively licked your bottom lip flustering with the attention.

"Shall we go to the bedroom?" She lifted her brows mocking you "To organize!" you added embarrassed.

The bedroom was bigger than you expected from a 3-bedroom house. She had an on-suite and a walk-in closet - almost empty apart from couple row of clothes. You started organizing her bathroom, taking mental notes on her products, scents and a special crimson lipstick that had your dreaming about it a few weeks ago. Her skincare routine was neatly displayed on the counter, her extra towels folded under the sink and all her hair products on a basket as she instructed. There was just one box left behind and you opened it without a second thought the same way you had done with so many on that day.

But oh damn. That box was different.

You groaned low at the sight of it, your mouth watering as your mind wandered to where-how-when Wanda would use all of that.

Wanda was in her closet when she heard you and smiled to herself. She planted the box in there this morning, hoping that you would find it. Your thoughts weren't exactly innocent while sneaking a peek at the toys Wanda kept neatly organized in that box. Many sizes, shapes, different uses, intensities, a whole other world from your small bag back home. You were building a special mental image of Wanda wearing the big black strap you held when she called out your name to help. You almost let it fall as you quickly shut the box and placed it back on the cabinet.

“Thank you, sweetie.” She praised you, your cheeks burning due to the pet name. “Do you know how to drill a hole in the wall?” She asked when you were almost over.

Once you got into the closet, Wanda was up the ladder, her ass pin up right on you eye level. She was reading your thoughts constantly since she heard your gasp, and the praise to her ass was exactly why she called you using a heavy box as excuse.

You offered politely to grab it for her, once again forgetting about how silly it all was considering she could magically get it down. As you got up in the ladder, Wanda's hands found your thigh in what seemed to be an innocent act. The proximity and the heat of her hand took a small whimper out of you, to the satisfaction of a greedy Wanda.

“Uhum. Do you want me to hang something?” You asked distracted while sorting some Knick and knacks into a smaller box

“Not hang. I just need a couple of wall mounts over there” She pointed towards her headboard hiding a mischievous grin “But I am afraid of the screwdriver” That was a lie. Wanda knew her way around a toolbox, as she often were on her own since her teen years.

“Why would someone need wall mounts near the bed?” You asked innocently while preparing the drill

She smirked “I can rope a couple of reasons” Your cheeks reddened immediately as you caught up with her meaning.

“Oh” you coughed out your embarrassment and focused on the task, your mind travelling a million directions.

All throughout the rest of the day, Wanda collected small touches and teases, observing your reactions and how your thoughts frequently traveled back to the toy-box.

….

In the days that followed that weekend, you two became close. You stopped by the teachers’ lounge more often, went out together to grab coffee and Wanda got used on waiting by your classroom door to escort you back to your car. Wanda quickly became an essential part of you daily life.

- What?

You and Wanda have been talking over coffee for a few minutes already when she suddenly tensed over something you said.

"What ‘what’?"

"What did you say your kids name were?"

"They are named Anthony and Thomas, you know that already" You frowned

"Yes, yes. Sorry. I was under the impression you said Billy and Tommy" She chuckled relaxing.

"Oh, I did. Sorry." You smiled fondly "Anthony's nickname is Billy, after his father. He always has been little Billy because they look so much alike. But after his passing, Billy just doesn't accept being called Anthony anymore" you said sadly.

When you got no response from Wanda, you lifted your gaze finding a conflicted Wanda staring down at her mug.

"Wands?"

"Sorry. I-I have to go" She said storming off.

The thing is that when you told her your kids name were Anthony and Thomas, she thought nothing of it. You have never showed her even a photo of them - keeping their privacy on social media and personal relations due to the abuse they suffered last year. So she has never seen them, and honestly, it never crossed her mind. But today, after she heard you calling them Billy and Tommy, some piece snapped back into place and she finally realized the answer to what had been bothering her for so long since the Darkhold.

Wanda didn’t mean to upset you or your kids. Of course she knew about both of them, as you talked a lot about them.

You two had become closer the last few weeks and Wanda found herself specially drawn to you difficult but ordinary life. She wanted to know everything about you and she finally started to open herself to another person. Wanda knew it was stupid of her letting you get so close, she knew she could not ever be deserving of love again- she had it once and she blew it. Her self-vexing was more than enough to keep her from making any advances towards you, but the reality is that you were the first thing she thought about before sleep and the first thing in the morning. She was falling for you in the last few weeks. Not that you knew anything about it.

And no. That wouldn't do.

Part 3

#wanda maximoff #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #mcu #wlw wanda #wanda fluff

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