#without robin they’d all be toast

[kissboybyler]

i don’t trust people who think that they destroyed robin’s character in s4

[runninriot]

written for @steddie-week day 4

and the @steddiesongfics july prompt

Easy

prompts: trade, body swap & song: Nik Kershaw (Wouldn't It Be Good) | wc: ~1.2k | rated t | cw: recreational drug use | tags: steve has a bad relationship with his parents, good uncle wayne appreciation, repressed feelings, steve has a crush on eddie, friends to lovers | also on ao3

They’re lying on Eddie’s floor, sharing a joint like they often do. Hanging out, just the two of them, enjoying each other’s company.

Eddie’s been rambling for the past ten minutes, talks about how he’d like to swap bodies with Steve for a day, how he’d want to experience a day in Steve’s life first-hand.

   “Why the hell would you want that?”

   “You got it easy,” Eddie says matter-of-factly and Steve snorts at this very untrue claim.

   “Yeah right, I wish.”

   “What could possibly make Mr popular rich boy’s life hard, huh?” Eddie teases and Steve knows he doesn’t mean it in a hurtful way but it still stings.

   “You don’t know a thing bout it,” he answers simply, before snatching the joint from Eddie’s fingers and taking a long drag.

Steve doesn’t want to open up that box. He came here to forget, not to talk about what’s keeping him up at night.

   “So? Tell me then. I wanna know. Because- and don’t take this the wrong way, Stevie – but I really can’t see it. I mean, look at me. I’m certified trailer trash. I know what it’s like to live on nothing but toast and peanut butter for weeks because the washing machine broke and the next pay check isn’t yet due.” Eddie laughs but Steve can’t find it in him to join in on it.

He hates when Eddie calls himself that, trailer trash. As if living in a trailer park makes him less of a person. It doesn’t! It just means that Eddie and his uncle are less fortunate than others.

Steve didn’t do shit to earn the comfort of growing up in a big house, was just... lucky to be born into the Harrington family.

Wayne on the other hand is doing his best, is giving his all to make their life as good as possible.

Steve envies that.

Wayne is an honest and hard-working man, and even if Eddie likes to joke around and belittle himself for their situation, Steve knows he cherishes everything Wayne has done for him. Steve knows Eddie will do everything to make him proud. To repay him for taking him in when he needed a place to stay. For always being there for him, for supporting him. For loving him unconditionally.

They might not have much but they have each other. It’s something Steve would trade everything he owns for without hesitation.

In a heartbeat, he’d give up his inheritance for a relationship with his parents that is as respectful and loving as the one between Eddie and his uncle.

Because Steve might have a nice car, a pool in the backyard, and a name that can open doors for him but- at home, he feels lonely, unloved. He’s a failure, his father keeps reminding him. And worst of all, he’s afraid to be his true self around them because they’d never accept it, would never understand.

   “Steve? You with me?” Eddie pushes himself up on one arm, his face hovering over Steve’s. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to-“

   “Nah, you’re good. Just got a little lost in my thoughts.” Steve offers a weak smile but he can sense that Eddie doesn’t buy it.

He knows him too well.

Has this annoying ability to read Steve like an open book.

It’s like he can see right through him, can see right through Steve’s little white lies whenever he tries to talk himself out of something.

There’s only one thing Eddie doesn’t know about him and never will. It’s Steve’s best kept secret; not even Robin knows. Because he can’t risk his parents finding out about it.

If Eddie knew, maybe he’d understand and take back what he said earlier because yeah, sure, Steve’s life might seem easy from an outsider’s point of view, someone who only sees the shiny exterior of his golden cage.

It’s a false illusion, because contrary to Steve, Eddie does not have to hide a certain part of himself out of fear of the consequences.

Wayne loves him regardless, accepts all of him. Wayne knows, and he’d put up a fight with anyone who doesn’t agree with Eddie’s... choices.

Steve’s father would kill him if he ever found out that his son is-

   “Alriiight, enough for you!” Eddie sits up and reaches for the joint that’s slowly burning down in Steve’s hand.

Their fingers brush and it feels like the world stops for a second. Steve finds Eddie’s gaze, can’t look away, slowly loses himself in Eddie’s dark brown eyes. The air is crackling between them and Steve feels tiny electric shocks prickle on his skin when Eddie lifts his free hand and cups his face.

The hand doesn’t linger, unfortunately, moves up his temple to brush a strand of hair back from Steve’s forehead. It’s a kind gesture and Steve wishes he could lean into the gentle touch.

But he can’t. He can’t let the wall crumble because Eddie would instantly know what it means.

Would know that, behind layers of pretentious confidence, Steve hides this vulnerable part of himself.

That there, locked away in his fragile heart, burns a small flame. A flame he tried to smother, that keeps flickering unrelenting.

Because every time Eddie looks at him, every time he smiles, every time they touch – it’s like gasoline to the flame, setting his insides ablaze.

Eddie’s hand retreats but the sensation on Steve’s face remains, hot and red. He knows he’s blushing, hopes he can blame it on the buzz from the weed.

   “Sometimes I wish-“ Steve realises too late that he said it out loud.

   “Wish what?” Eddie asks, curiously waiting for Steve to continue.

   “Sometimes I wish things were different.”

   “What would you change?”

    This right here, Steve thinks. You being so close but not close enough.

   “I’d change who I am.”

   “Who would you want to be, if you could choose?”

    Yours.

   “I’d want to be someone who’s brave.”

   “Pff, you’re literally the bravest person I know.” Eddie scoffs affectionately.

   “If I’m so brave, then why I am so scared?” Steve knows it’s more than he should confess, too much for Eddie not to keep digging.

   “Scared of what?” Eddie looks at him like he’s searching for the answer in Steve’s eyes, intense and pensive. And then he smiles, bright and warm and fond in a way that makes Steve’s heart stutter.

Inside him, the flame flares up, spreads heat from his heart through his veins and Steve knows, in that moment, this might be his only chance.

   “Scared of my feelings for you.”

Eddie kisses him and suddenly, everything does seem easy.

Kissing Eddie back is easy.

Leaning into his touch and holding him tight is easy.

Loving Eddie is easy.

Because it feels right.

It doesn’t matter what his parents will think of him if they know – this is right and it’s all he wants.

This is who he is underneath.

This is who he wants to be, openly and unafraid.

   “You don’t have to change, Stevie. You don't have to be anyone else. I love you just the way you are.”

And that, Steve realises, is more than enough.

[turnupswritessometimes]

A Toast to the Roman - Last Binding Series - Oneshot

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56529883

Summary: “Mr Ross.” Shit, Robin’s Baronet tone was out – that was how Alan knew he was in trouble. “Did you sell pornography to my sister on an ocean liner?”

“In my defence—” He used his best, most clipped voice. “Your sister bullied me into selling her all the pornography I was carrying. And, if I didn’t sell it to her, I believe the fair lady would have stolen it.”

(In which, Robin discovers Alan sold Maud his porn stash, everyone discovers the identity of the Roman and Alan discovers he's responsible for helping start all of their relationships.)

Word Count: 3,473

A Toast to the Roman

It happened on a lazy Sunday afternoon. A lazy Sunday afternoon of a bank holiday weekend. Naturally, the bank holiday meant Maud had been invited back to the Blyth estate from University – and where Maud Blyth went, Violet Debenham followed. Then, because Robin was Robin, he extended the invitation to Lord Hawthorn, to, “make it something of a party.”

And, where Lord Hawthorn went, Alan Ross seemed to follow.

“That had been my idea – a friendly party,” Robin had said, when they’d arrived. He wore that bright, Baronet smile that was impossible to resist. “A reunion, of the Final Contract Crew.”

Alan smiled back, blankly. “The what?”

“Ignore him,” Edwin appeared from further down the hallway, his arms full of books. “I’ve told him, we’re not calling ourselves that.”

“We need a team name,” Robin said. “Don’t you think?”

Alan weighed that up – figuring out who else would be solidly against the idea of a team name, who would be for it, and which side would be for fun to be with – when Jack said, “This isn’t Oxford, Blyth.”

Robin only laughed. He stepped aside, and welcomed them properly into his house. Alan was starting to feel more and more at ease on these estates, and he didn’t know how to feel about that. Certainly didn’t like becoming accustomed to houses with their own grounds; changing for dinner; days without any plans to do real work. At least he still felt the same zeal to radicalise the staff. At least he would never tire of the way Jack looked at him when Alan did have the clothes to change to dinner: as though he wanted to rip them straight back off and kiss him completely senseless. It was the company – not just Jack, but all of them – that made Alan begrudgingly alright with the whole business. Because they were closer to him than simply friends now. It was like having a second family.

And it was a nice weekend – a good weekend – until Robin leant forward to move a pile of books from the coffee table in the lounge to make room for the chess set, and a purple pamphlet fell out.

There seemed, to Alan, a moment where time stopped, as everyone recognised it. (Purple, Alan thought almost hysterically, was not a very discreet colour.) They’d all been half-asleep in the sunshine drifting through the windows, lounging around, totally full of roast beef dinner with all the trimmings. Now, though, they were all awake. He took stock. Adelaide was (mercifully) in the garden. Maud sat in front of the armchair, legs folded under her, with an expression so carefully clueless it looped right round to guilty. Violet actually sat in the armchair, playing with Maud’s hair, an eyebrow raised and a slight smirk on her face. Entertained.

Both Edwin and Robin were sat on the sofa opposite Alan. Well, Robin was leant over, looking at the pamphlet as though it was a dog who’d slipped the leash and he was trying to catch it solely with his mind. Whilst Edwin was reclining, an elbow on the sofa, his fingers against his temples. He looked faintly sick.

Alan and Jack were on the other sofa. Not close – not practically on top of each other, the way Edwin and Robin always sat. Jack was a respectable distance away, though his arm was over the back of the sofa. If he twitched his hand, he could just graze the back of Alan’s neck – which he deliberately did now. His bad leg was outstretched, his cane against the end of the sofa. He looked impressively uncaring, but there was just a – quirk – to his mouth that showed his amusement.

Alan himself sat on the edge of the sofa, primed like a terrier, and he was desperately trying to school his expression into normalcy. He suspected he was succeeding as well as Maud. He felt nauseous. It was one thing to know that a lot of men had read his pamphlets; it was another thing entirely to come face to face with them – especially when he was good friends with them. Especially when he’d fought alongside them to save England’s magicians – England – the world?

“Ah,” Robin said. “That’s Win’s.”

Edwin’s usually colourless face flushed with pink. “Robin!”

“What?” Robin smiled, easily, and picked up the pamphlet. He still twisted it, to hide the title. “No one knows what it is.”

“Okay,” Alan said. He couldn’t help it. “Even if we all didn’t know what it is, that would only make us more suspicious.”

Jack’s pointer finger traced his neck, and he determinedly did not look at him. No doubt the bastard was smug and smirking. He hated him when he was like that.

“It truly is the guiltiest thing you could’ve said, Robin,” Violet added.

“In that case—” Edwin cleared his throat. “For the record, it’s not just mine.”

“Wait, no.” Now Robin stood, the books discarded, holding Alan’s fucking pornography aloft in one hand. “I can understand Hawthorn and Alan knowing about the Roman. I can even understand Violet. But I would like Maud to explain how she knows.”

Maud ducked her chin, smiling. It was the kind of smile that Alan suspected got her out of a lot of trouble growing up, and he could already see Robin start to relent.

“I happened to stumble upon his works, aboard the Lyric,” she said.

“How?” Robin pressed.

Maud, bless her, probably tried not to. But she couldn’t stop those bright green eyes from flicking to Alan. She might as well have pointed her finger and shouted.

Alan, knowing it was a show of guilt, still looked down. The back of his neck prickled, expecting a nudge from Jack. He didn’t, this time, not with Robin staring him down. It was not so much that their relationship was a secret, but they both seemed repelled by physical affection when other people were in the room. (Apart, of course, from longing looks and ‘accidental touches.’ Perhaps that was part of it.)

“Mr Ross.” Shit, Robin’s Baronet tone was out – that was how Alan knew he was in trouble. “Did you sell pornography to my sister on an ocean liner?”

Violet burst out laughing; Maud giggled; even Edwin hid a smirk behind his hand. Jack though, Jack watched Alan with those piercing blue eyes. He had one eyebrow ever so slightly raised, like a challenge.

Alan, though, wondered if it was a good time to bring up the fact that he’d betrayed them all to Edwin’s evil older brother, and made the whole Last Contract business a hell of a lot harder. Surely that would be a good distraction from selling a Baronet’s sister porn.

“In my defence—” He used his best, most clipped voice. “Your sister bullied me into selling her all the pornography I was carrying. And, if I didn’t sell it to her, I believe the fair lady would have stolen it.”

Maud cried, “That’s slanderous, Mr Ross!”

Robin, though, rolled his eyes, as though he wasn’t truly angry. “Maudie. You can’t bully people into selling you things.”

“In my defence—” Maud sat up, even straighter, her dark hair falling out of Violet’s grasp. It fell around her shoulders in a soft wave. “It made for the most amusing evening we had on that ship.”

“Oh, that’s very true,” Violet added, nudging Maud’s shoulder with her knee. Her smile was dazzling. “Who knew Lord Hawthorn would make such a good character in a Roman pamphlet?”

Robin’s eyebrows rose in interest, looking over them all. Even Edwin looked intrigued. They were both, no doubt, using their imagination, given their familiarity with the Roman’s work. Alan was regretting eating so many roasted parsnips, because they were surely going to be making a second appearance.  Even that would be preferable to them guessing at the intricacies of their relationship.

It didn’t help, of course, that Jack looked so calm about it all – so uncaring – so fucking smug, when he said, “Indeed.”

Alan wanted to bite him, like a cobra. Unfortunately, thinking about biting Jack; about pouncing on his neck and sinking his teeth in; also sent a sting of pleasure through him. Because, hell, when they were alone these days, they alternated between playing out the Roman’s greatest hits and coming up with the inspiration for the next one. Because hadn’t Jack been folded into each of those stories anyway? What was the point of pretending otherwise?

Robin, at least, seemed at a loss. He nodded. Took a breath. Tried, Alan thought, to still be the indulgent, carefree older brother he always was. He twisted the pamphlet in his hand, hitting it in his other palm. Eventually, he sat back down on the sofa. Edwin’s knee nudged his own, in support.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m not happy about it, but alright. That does explain my question. Thank you.”

Edwin rested his cheek on his knuckles, looking Alan over as though he wanted to study him. He decidedly did not like being the centre of attention in this way – it was even worse than being dressed in fine clothes and trotted out to dinner.

“I’m sorry, Robin,” he murmured, and tried to look suitably embarrassed. Really, his mind was thinking back to that night on the ship. Was placing bull horns on the sides of Jack Alston’s head. Would there be any way to convince him to play that part properly, one day? To hear him rumble ‘Cesare,’ in his ear, when he caught hold of him? When he lifted him bodily, as though he weighed nothing and had Alan completely at his mercy.

He had to shift, on the sofa.

Jack. Whose eyebrow raised a step further. Alan narrowed his eyes in reply.

“Allow me,” Jack said, in that low murmur. It was as much of a ‘please,’ as he could ever give. It was the fact that he asked at all, which cut through Alan’s core. The asshole wouldn’t give Alan’s secret away without his permission. Now that he thought about it, he did want to see their reaction.

He nodded.

“What?” Edwin asked, his tongue sharp and his eyes sharper.

Jack, bastard that he was, drew the moment out. Settled himself even further into the sofa, adjusting his leg again, and tilting his chin ever so slightly up in that lordly fashion.

“Books are best read by their authors,” Jack said. He pinched the back of Alan’s neck. Just enough to sting. He had to bite his tongue to stop from laughing. His cheeks bloomed with heat.

There was another moment. A long moment. Edwin looked faintly sick again, his face colourless, his eyes flicking from Alan to Jack. Robin had stopped moving entirely, a half-smile frozen on his face, as though he was expecting them to say it was all a joke. Maud, though, had her hands pressed to her mouth, and looked ecstatic. Violet had hold of Maud’s tresses again, and looked suitably impressed. It was as though Alan writing pornography earnt him more respect, in her eyes, than saving them all from crazy magicians.

Jack, though, Jack looked smug. His hand had stayed just against the back of Alan’s neck. It felt like a claim. Like he’d decided to undress Alan in front of the whole room, and, just like when Jack actually undressed him, it filled him with equal parts embarrassment and excitement. Because everyone in this room was somewhat acquainted with the Roman, and they knew what that implied. Weren’t just placing them both in one of those pamphlets, but confirming it for a fact.  

It should bother him more, that he’d exposed not only his own writing, but his own tastes. But, Maud had let slip too many details about her own love life to Alan – and Jack commiserated his pain from Violet’s chats – and from Robin and Edwin determinedly not looking at each other, he guessed they all had their own tastes. That, at least, meant none of them were alone.

“You don’t mean—” Robin started.

“You?” Edwin asked.

Alan grinned. He couldn’t help it. He opened his hands, his fingers splayed. It was different to admit it when he wasn’t teasing Jack Alston. (When he wasn’t trying to fuck Jack Alston.) It gave him a slight thrill, though, to have this knowledge over everyone. To know that even men like Robin, magicians like Edwin, read his work. And liked it.

From behind Maud’s hands came a delighted giggle. Her eyes shone like jewels. Alan looked at her. He couldn’t help it. He flicked his eyelid in a wink. She giggled more, ducking her chin.

Robin rubbed a hand over his face, laughing soundlessly, still seeming dazed. “But you’re—”

“Older than I look.” Alan leant back, into Jack’s hand. Felt his finger press against the bone of his neck. It sent warmth rushing down his back.

“It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” Jack said. Smug, and, if Alan wasn’t losing his mind, a little proud too. Jack Alston was proud of him. It shouldn’t make him feel like a dog with a bone.

Robin thumped back against the sofa. He still held the pamphlet, and he let it uncurl. Alan got a glimpse at the title; it was the latest. He was still a subscriber, then.

“Damn,” he said. His dark eyes roved over Alan again, and he felt his heart squirm. It was unfair how attractive Robin Blyth was. Doubly unfair that he was much too nice to be in any of Alan’s pamphlets. “You’re a skilled writer, Alan.”

Violet snorted. She finished tying off Maud’s plait. “Please – are you going to wax lyrical about his descriptive writing?”

“Well, it is descriptive.”

Edwin took a folded wooden chess set from the table, and tapped Robin’s leg with it in rebuke. Alan bit his tongue harder, a chill running down his spine by the fact that Jack’s hand was still on his collar.

“It might interest you to know, then,” Edwin said, casually, with just a single sly look at Alan. “That the Roman’s writings played somewhat of a role in Robin and I starting our relationship.”

He said it like a poker player placing a winning hand. It certainly felt like that. For a moment, Alan couldn’t breathe.

He supposed it made sense. After all, they’d all recognised the purple pamphlet here, didn’t they? It was a discreet way of asking if someone else was of a similar persuasion, and he was sure it happened a lot. But, still—

“Is there anyone here who is not in a relationship because of my bloody pornography?” he asked.

“That’s a fine discussion to be having.”

Saints alive, it was Adelaide. Back from the garden, and peering into the lounge. Alan wanted to shrivel up like a raisin on the spot, and never be heard from again, especially with the way she was looking at them all. Thank God for the Blyths, and their infectious laughter. It dissolved most of the awkwardness in the room.

Adelaide looked at them all. She shook her head, and said, deliberately, “I will be reading in my room, if anyone needs me.”

“I’m sorry you had to overhear that,” Robin spoke for the group.

She shook her head again, and disappeared. It left them all looking at each other like guilty children. At least Adelaide’s appearance had knocked some of the smug from Jack’s expression. Alan sat back a little, on the sofa, and felt another possessive graze of touch on the back of his neck. It had answered his question. At least Robin finally had the sense to put the pamphlet back between the books, and pile them up underneath the table, and Edwin had busied himself in setting up the chess board. As Alan watched him, he couldn’t help but wonder – just which of Edwin’s copies of his work were the most well-thumbed? Did he and Robin play them out, too?

Edwin glanced up at him. Alan looked away. He definitely shouldn’t let his mind wander there.

Evidently, it was playing on Violet’s mind too, because she said, “I, for one, am very glad we can all share these details about our sex lives.”

Alan winced; he saw Edwin shake his head, determinedly, where Robin outright groaned.

“No, thank you,” he said.

“Oh, don’t be such a bore,” Maud said, tugging her new plait over her shoulder.

“Maudie.” Robin looked at her.

Maud got his meaning. She wrinkled her noise. “Oh no, you’re right. Let’s not.”

“That’s hardly fair, when I have to listen to Miss Debenham regale me with her stories,” Jack said. He had that fake disgruntled tone, which showed he wasn’t actually cross.

“That’s what friends do, Lord Hawthorn.” Violet ruined her air of manners and dignity by sticking her tongue out.

Alan laughed. He couldn’t help it. The sick feeling had given way to heady one; he’d been met with acceptance; with almost too much eagerness. But it was a secret they were all in together – just like magic, Alan supposed. That was why he felt so giddy. It was so ridiculous. It was ridiculous that he was able to have this conversation at all.

Ridiculous, and yet – it was a secret he could never share with his family. A secret that he was oddly glad to share with this family. His other family. It made him feel confident – powerful – like he’d earnt his place here.

He didn’t want to read too much into what that meant.

“I certainly will be reading the Roman in a new light.” Edwin finished setting up the board. He made the first move, with white, and rested his elbows on his knees as he waited for an opponent.

It definitely wasn’t going to be Alan. The more he played of chess, the less he liked it. He resolutely sat back, trying not to look too much like a cat with the cream. He was giddy, now; giddier from Jack’s proud look and smug smirk. Jack was proud that he’d landed the Roman.

It was Jack who made the move against Edwin. They looked at each other, and Alan suspected it would be a tense match. He nudged Jack’s elbow with his own, when he moved forward. He got a glimmer of those blue eyes on him.

“I know I certainly will be.” That was Maud, also looking far too smug – far too happy about who she could imagine in those pamphlets, now.

“You shouldn’t be reading them at all,” Robin replied – as though he was the epitome of innocence.

“I’m a grown woman, Robin.”

The two glared at each other. Silently, Edwin leant forward to move another chess piece. Jack followed suit. They’d exchanged three moves each by the time Robin stood, clapping his hands on his knees as though that concluded the conversation. (Which meant he’d lost the argument to his sister, Alan noticed.)

“I do have questions, though,” Robin continued. He was heading to the cabinet, and thank fuck for that, because that was where the liquor was kept. Alan felt like a drink. He eyed the sparkling glasses, because it was the only safe thing to keep his eyes on.

“I will not be answering any questions about practicality,” Alan said.

Violet laughed again. Jack made a move that clearly lost him his bishop.

Robin was pouring drinks on the sideboard. His cheeks were actually a faint pink, as though he was embarrassed.

“That wasn’t…” He seemed to be pretending to be more occupied in getting each shot of brandy even. “I rather meant about – where your ideas originate.”

“No,” Alan said. “Not today. Certainly not whilst I’m sober enough to remember. Tihank you.”

Which, at least, got a chuckle out of Jack. Alan kicked his good ankle, and was pleased to see that he left a shoe mark on his Lordship’s trousers. He would not even look at Edwin – still soundly winning against Jack – because he was sure there would be some knowing there.

Robin looked suitably cowed and apologetic (for the time being), as he handed out the glasses. They really were fine things; crystal-clear glass with patterns cuts into them; the likes of which the Rossi family would likely never own.

He really did live in two worlds.

“Can we have a toast though?” Robin asked. Asked Alan, and actually waited for him to nod, cheeks still hot. He was rewarded with another of those bright, Blyth smiles. “Well then, a toast to the Roman – for how his…descriptive literature brought us all together.”

Brought them all together, indeed, Alan thought, as they raised their glasses in unison. The brandy glowed golden in the sunlight coming through the windows. It was warm, kicking Alan’s throat on the way down.

But he was smiling.

And that, he thought, was pretty fantastic.

[hummingbird24220]

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Seven: Luffy Asks an Innocent Question and Nearly Gets Launched

It was an uneasy peace.

You’d bribed the crew with snacks, drinks, and a heartfelt, slightly squeaky apology. They’d accepted it too easily, and you remained suspicious—especially when Robin said, with a smile too calm to trust, “Let’s just say this was expected.”

Still, things had begun to return to normal. No one mentioned the creaking. Or the rhythm. You didn’t bring it up. Sanji pretended to forget. Zoro just grunted at people like always.

And then Luffy—sweet, innocent, dangerously curious Luffy—ruined everything.

You were sitting on the deck, nestled between Zoro and Sanji again, sipping juice, minding your own business. Nami and Robin were across the way playing cards. Chopper was finally calm again.

Luffy plopped down in front of you, grinning wide.

“So,” he said brightly, “when’s my turn?”

The world stopped.

You choked on your drink. Zoro’s eyes snapped to Luffy, one brow twitching. Sanji nearly dropped the snack tray in his hands.

“What,” Zoro said slowly, “did you just say?”

Luffy tilted his head, still smiling. “I said—when’s my turn?”

Sanji blinked. “Your—what?!”

Luffy gestured loosely. “You went in the room. With the sign. Then you came out all red and happy. So when’s my turn?”

There was a beat of silence.

And then—

WHACK. WHACK.

Simultaneous palm-to-head smacks from Zoro and Sanji.

“OW!!” Luffy yelped, clutching his head. “What was that for?!”

“That’s not how this works!” Sanji hissed, scandalized.

Zoro looked like he was mentally debating how far he could throw the captain without getting in trouble. “Idiot. You don’t even know what happened in that room.”

Luffy pouted. “Well, no. But everyone said it was loud and important!”

Robin sipped her tea, smiling faintly. Nami’s head hit the table. Usopp dropped his cards and fell backward laughing. Chopper was already crawling under a cushion again. “Why is this my crew…”

You, now redder than your juice, stared at Luffy. “Captain. Buddy. Bestie. We were… having private time.”

Luffy blinked. “Like… nap time?”

You nodded aggressively. “Yes! Exactly! Nap time! Very intense nap time!”

Sanji buried his face in both hands. “Why are we explaining this.”

Zoro muttered, “I hate it here.”

Luffy nodded slowly. “So if I want nap time too, I just knock?”

Both men lunged.

You tackled Luffy to save him, wheezing. “NO. NO NAP TIME.”

—-----

After the Luffy Incident™, Zoro and Sanji were left simmering in their own flavor of irritation.

Zoro? Quietly broody. Aggressively sharpening his swords for the third time that day, despite them already being pristine.

Sanji? Irritably sweet. Overcooked your toast on purpose, then kissed you with an “accidental” amount of tongue just to prove he wasn’t upset.

You got the message.

So now, here you were: caught between both of them on the couch in your shared quarters, curled in with one leg draped across Zoro’s thigh and your hand toying with the collar of Sanji’s shirt.

“Are you two seriously still mad about the ‘nap time’ thing?” you asked softly.

Zoro scowled. “He wanted a turn.”

“I’m going to be haunted by that for the rest of my life,” Sanji muttered, rubbing his temples.

You huffed, sliding your hand along Zoro’s jaw. “He didn’t know what was happening—”

“Which makes it worse,” Zoro grunted.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you said smoothly.

Sanji raised an eyebrow, catching the tone in your voice immediately. “Oh?”

You tilted your head, mischief in your smile. “Starting with a kiss.”

And before either of them could get cocky, you leaned in—one hand on Zoro’s cheek, the other sliding behind Sanji’s neck—and kissed them. One after the other. Then again, slower. Then—

At the same time.

It was awkward. It was hot. It was absolutely going to your head.

Both men froze. Zoro’s hand slid to your hip. Sanji’s breath hitched.

And just as you were about to deepen it—

The door opened.

Robin: “The pantry’s still out of organiz—oh.” Nami: (behind her) “Wait, where’s the—OH MY GOD—”

You pulled back, startled, hair ruffled, one leg still over Zoro’s lap, Sanji’s hand firmly around your waist.

All three of you turned slowly.

Robin blinked. “This isn’t the pantry.”

Nami’s eyes darted to the wall. “Where’s the sign?! Where’s the sign?!”

Your mouth opened. “It was just here—!”

Robin turned to Nami. “Do you think someone took it as a souvenir?”

Nami stared blankly. “Why would they do that?”

“Because,” Robin said, sipping her drink as she calmly backed out of the room, “this crew is nosy and emotionally unhinged.”

“FAIR,” Sanji hissed, shielding your modesty with a blanket.

Zoro let his head thunk back against the couch. “I swear I’m going to start barricading doors.”

You sighed, head falling to Zoro’s shoulder. “I just wanted to be romantic.”

“You were,” Sanji said, face flushed, voice raspy. “Too romantic, apparently.”

“New sign,” Zoro muttered. “In blood-red ink.”

You mumbled into his chest. “I’m going to glue it to the door this time.”

[magicalmysteries777]

The Bloody-Handed and The Anguish of Loving Them - Chapter 3.

Summary: Almost a year has passed since Eddie Munson died and it feels like the only person that isn't moving on is Steve.

After spending the night studying a Dungeons and Dragons handbook, Steve is convinced he's figured out how to bring Eddie back. Not only that, but defeat Vecna once and for all too. Now he just has to prove it.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Vampire Eddie Munson

Masterlist: Here.

Chapter: 3 of 10.

Chapter WC: 3605.

CW: PTSD, panic attack.

This story can also be found on AO3 here.

Taglist: @ohmeg 🖤

March 24th, 1987.

“Steve,” Dustin whispered, prodding at Steve’s cheek. “Steve, wake up.”

The sound of quiet footsteps and hushed whispers faded in as Steve began to stir. “Is it time already?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah, Jonathan’s just set off to the garage and Nancy’s upstairs sorting out food. I think we’ve got about 20 minutes.”

Everyone had stayed over at the Wheelers’. After a large helping of Karen’s casserole, the group returned to the basement and continued to study until, one by one, they drifted off wherever they’d been seated. Not surprisingly, Steve had been the last to fall asleep.

The kids had fallen asleep first. Mike and El were bundled together on one side of the sofa. Dustin, Lucas, Erica, and Will had fallen asleep at the table, their arms crossed under their heads as makeshift pillows. Robin was on the other side of the sofa, letting out quiet snores from under a blanket, and Nancy and Jonathan had opted to sleep upstairs in an actual bed. That left Ted Wheelers’ tatty old armchair, tucked in the corner of the basement, open for Steve to sink into whilst he’d once again pored over a Dungeons and Dragons handbook until he passed out.

Steve blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the lamps lighting up the room.

“Oh, God, I feel sick,” Robin announced, propping herself on the side of the armchair.

“Me too,” Steve groaned.

“I’m not ready to go back in there.”

“I don’t think any of us have ever been ready for this,” Steve admitted.

Nancy placed a large plate of toast on the table, accompanied by various spreads and jams. It turned out that nobody had much of an appetite; the lingering sense of dread filled everyone enough that they just sat in silence, nibbling at the corners of their toast until Jonathan got back with the last of the supplies.

-

The drive was eerie. Eerier than last time, almost. This time there was no Winnebago. No Eddie with a pair of pliers in his mouth, haphazardly ripping wires from the console with a devilish grin on his face. No reminiscent tales about how Al Munson had taught Eddie how to hot wire. No “Don’t ya, big boy?”

Steve had been so distracted he’d completely missed the turning by seventy-five yards and had to do a U-turn after Dustin and Erica had pointed out his mistake by calling him an idiot, to put it politely. He muttered his apologies as he hurried the kids out of the car shortly after.

“We don’t have long, it’ll be getting light soon. We’re already risking someone seeing us as is,” Nancy told them worriedly, peering around the trailer park. “Grab as much as you can, one trip would be ideal.”

If anyone had seen them it must have been quite the sight.

They hadn’t parked outside of Eddie’s trailer, instead, they opted to leave the cars near the small park. Ten people with bags of weapons, breaking into a trailer in the early hours of the morning was risky enough without leaving evidence that could identify them right outside. It hadn’t taken them long to get in; the trailer had been drunkenly vandalised by the basketball team numerous times over the last year, all of them still believing Eddie was responsible for the deaths of Chrissy, Jason, and Patrick. Jonathan quickly climbed through the empty window pane leading to the bathroom and unlocked the front door for the rest of them.

-

The sense of deja vu consuming the entire group was rather overwhelming.

Lucas and Erica were tucked away in a corner on the sofa assembling spears. Mike was helping El mentally prepare to reopen the gate. Dustin and Will were sitting opposite them, hammering nails through dustbin lids to use as shields. Nancy, with the help of Jonathan, was using a hand saw to remove the ends from a couple of shotguns. Robin insisted on making the molotov cocktails alone, not wanting Steve to get tempted by the alcohol while tensions were high. Instead, Steve waited alone in Eddie’s bedroom, his spiked bat made by Jonathan some years prior propped up by the door so he could go at a moment’s notice.

The room itself was oddly intact compared to the outside of the trailer. If it wasn’t for the layer of dust settling on the hard surfaces, Steve would’ve bet money that it had been in use a day prior. Not a single thing had moved since the last time they were here - no doubt Wayne’s doing, he concluded.

The echo of Eddie’s life lingered in every part of the room - his once-organised cassette collection was still scattered amongst the bedsheets and his guitar collection, minus the one residing in a different dimension, was hung with pride on the walls. There were stacks and stacks of unfinished assignments and textbooks on top of the dresser because goddammit Eddie was determined to graduate in eighty-six. The overflowing basket of washing that he’d never got round to doing and Wayne couldn’t bear to wash sat by the door. Everything was a painful reminder of what Eddie didn’t get to do before his whole life crumbled beneath him.

Steve reached out for the first t-shirt from the pile and held it close to his face. It had been a long time since he’d smelt the familiar scent of cigarettes and cologne that Eddie used to wear, the denim vest in his possession had begun to lose its scent the moment he put it on last year and got it covered in sweat and blood.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there inhaling the scent from the old t-shirt, his mind racing with thoughts of Eddie and how determined he was to see this through, but a quiet knock and some murmuring from the other side of the bedroom door indicated that it was time to go.

“You ready?” Mike asked tentatively.

“Ready,” replied El with a quick nod.

Steve had seen El use her powers countless times now but it still never failed to amaze him whenever she did. Everyone hung back whilst El stepped forward and raised her arm at the faint crack still etched into the ceiling of the Munson trailer, despite the scientist’s best efforts to remove it completely. Everyone waited with their breath held until the lights began to flicker and the trailer began to rumble, the sound of cracking slowly getting louder and louder until the gate reopened right in front of their eyes. Vines erupted from the gaping hole in the ceiling, spreading viciously along the walls and any surfaces they could cling to.

“Has the Upside Down always smelt that bad?” Erica asked, her hand covering her nose.

“Yeah, just as pungent as I remember it,” answered Steve, a look of disgust creeping onto his face as he stared up at the ceiling.

Dustin stepped forward, a familiar rope made from bedsheets and towels tied together in his hands, before hesitating. He glanced back at Steve, the look in his eyes asking a million questions that his mouth could not. Steve nodded quietly and Dustin threw the rope through the hole made by El, once again granting them passage to the Upside Down.

-

It was exactly how Steve had remembered it. Cold. Dark. Eerie. A putrid, desolate version of the Hawkins they’d all grown up in. Thick fog and particles wafted through the air and vines belonging to the hive mind stretched along the floor and buildings, weaving and wrapping around each other as they marked their territory.

Steve honestly thought that he would have been okay going back into the Upside Down. Sure, maybe he’d be a little bit on edge at first but who wouldn’t be given the circumstances? Tensions were running high and so were emotions; it’s expected to have some kind of reaction, the Upside Down just has that effect on you.

It engulfed him in an instant, the dread that lingers in the air and consumes anything good left in you.

“You okay?” somebody asked a visibly sweating Steve.

“Can’t breathe,” he spluttered, pulling at the neckline of his sweater.

“What?”

“I can’t fucking breathe,” he repeated.

Steve dropped to his knees, clawing at his throat desperately while he coughed and choked. Robin and Dustin rushed towards him, struck with panic. It was like it was happening all over again. The bat with its tail wrapped around Steve’s neck, constricting like a snake and depriving him of oxygen while the others gnawed at his flesh. His eyes filled with tears as he tried and tried to take a breath. The sweat and tears dripping down his face mixed with the phantom taste of copper in his mouth. He was surrounded now, countless pairs of wide eyes staring at him with concern.

“What do we do?”

“Does he need the Heimlich?”

“I don’t think it would do anything, there’s nothing there to come up.”

“We’ve got to do something!”

“Steve, you need to breathe.”

“What does it look like he’s trying to do?!”

The voices sounded echoey and distorted but Steve could still hear them, scared and helpless. The wooziness was creeping up too, his extremities going numb while his eyelids began to feel too heavy to keep open, the sense of calm washing over him too peaceful to resist. Snippets of memories began to flash through his mind as though he was watching a compilation of his life for the last four years.

Tommy and Carol. Parties. King Steve. Nancy. That night by the pool. Barb. The fight with Jonathan and having to call his parents to get him off the hook with Hopper. The lights. The Demogorgons. Nancy and Jonathan. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. Dustin and Dart. The tunnels. Demodogs. Bob. The Mind Flayer. Scoops. Robin. The Russian code. Erica in the air vent. The elevator. The capture. The torture. The drugging. The beating. The massacre at the mall. The screaming. Billy. Hopper. The night terrors. The panic attacks. Robin crying with him. Family Video. Dustin trying to get him to join Hellfire. Failed date after failed date. Belittling parents. Lucas’s basketball games. Dustin and Max bursting into Family Video the morning after Chrissy died. The broken bottle against his throat in the boat shack. Chocolate milk and honeycomb cereal. Big, brown eyes looking up at him. Breaking into the school. Max in the cemetery. Skull Rock. Water Gate. The bats. “It was pretty metal, what you did.” Morse code. Nancy’s vision. The Michael Myers mask. “Don’t ya, big boy?” Warzone.. The plan. “Make him pay.” The vines. Flambé. Dustin’s screams. Eddie’s lifeless body. The burial. The drinking. Getting fired. The crying. The breakdowns. Realisations that came far too late. Pining. Wayne outside of the trailer at 2 am. The intervention. Dungeons and Dragons. The handbook. Eleven reopening the gate. Bats screeching. The cave. Screaming. Blood. The grave. Cold, red eyes looking down at him. A sword. A red buffalo horn. The memorial. Hawkins burning.

Steve’s eyes popped open as he let out a large gasp, his hands reaching for his neck subconsciously as he became aware of his surroundings. He let out a quiet groan as he pushed himself up to his knees, his stomach churning more with each movement.

“What the fuck just happened?!” asked Dustin, his eyes flicking between each person in search of an answer.

“I… I saw-” Steve began before lunging forward to empty his stomach contents, narrowly avoiding Nancy. The ground beneath them began to shake violently and the distant sound of screeching caused all heads to turn in the direction of what they knew this time around to be Vecna's lair.

“He knows we’re here,” Will whispered ominously, his hand reaching for the back of his neck.

“We’ve got to go, now.”

-

Deep in the woods at the back of the trailer park, the group found themselves sheltering under a large, fallen tree trunk whilst they stopped to catch their breath and gather their thoughts.

“What happened back there?” Jonathan panted.

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted, hunched over in an attempt to ease his stitch. “It started as a panic attack, I think.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Erica added with a sarcastic tone. “Listen to me, Harrington, if you get our asses killed by bats because you can’t keep it together for more than five seconds, I swear to God I will-”

Lucas cut her off with a swift “Erica!”

“What?! Just the facts.”

“Steve, what did you see?” El asked, changing the subject back to the previous matter.

“What?” Steve asked in response along with Mike, Lucas, and Nancy.

“When you woke up, you said you saw something before you threw up and we started running. What was it?”

All eyes turned to Steve, expectantly.

Steve let out a deep breath and began telling them what he’d seen while he was unconscious, except for a few details he’d still like to omit, adding extra emphasis to what he’d seen after they crawled through the gate.

“So that was-”

“Another one of Vecna's warnings,” Nancy finished. “Just like the one I got last year.”

“So, something to do with a red horn and the memorial?” Mike repeated.

“Yep.”

“That’s not a lot to go on.”

“Oh, well I’m sorry that I didn’t stay unconscious for longer to get you more details,” Steve answered back.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, I know what you-”

“Shut up!” Nancy snapped at the pair of them, earning a chuckle from Robin. “We can figure this out, without arguing like five year olds, while we find this cave. We might have lost them for now but we can’t just hang around and wait for them. Where are we going?”

“Somewhere up near Roane Hill according to the game notes.”

-

They’d spent twenty minutes walking through the bleak woods discussing their different theories as to what the things Steve had seen actually meant. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike theorised that the sword must have some kind of magical enchantment on it and that was the key to defeating Vecna. El, Erica, and Will all came to the same conclusion upon hearing their theory - they were talking out of their asses. Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan were talking amongst themselves a few feet ahead. Steve kept quiet, trying to hide away at the back of the group.

The last time he’d walked through the very same woods he found himself in now, he’d been brushed up shoulder to shoulder with Eddie. Eddie had compared him to Ozzy Osbourne and told him how shocked he was that Steve was “a good dude” just like Dustin had insisted. Steve hadn’t appreciated either of those compliments enough at the time. Then Eddie had told Steve about how he watched Nancy dive into the water after him in what was an “unambiguous sign of true love” which Steve thought was ironic, really. If only Eddie could see him now.

“You know you can still talk to me, right?” Robin asked.

“What?” Steve replied, jumping slightly at her sudden, quiet appearance.

“I just mean, you know, if you had something going on or if you maybe had any questions about certain topics that you feel like, maybe, you can’t talk to anybody about because they wouldn’t understand,” Robin rambled, earning a raised eyebrow from Steve. “I don’t want to, you know, assume or anything because that would be-”

“Robin-”

“-a little rude of me, but I can’t help but notice that-”

“Robin, would you spit it out already.”

“Why do you want to bring Eddie back so badly? I expected it from Dustin, but-”

“I think you already know the answer to that one, Rob. Has your radar ever been wrong before?” Steve asked with a smirk on his face and a small piece of the weight he’d been carrying around on his back lifted.

“I knew it!”

“How long have you known?”

“I’ve had my doubts ever since I saw your reaction to him flirting with you in the Winnebago. Oh, and I saw you cuddling his vest in your sleep.”

“Yup, that’ll give it away.”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“I know, but I’m not ready to be answering any of their questions yet,” he admitted, gesturing at the group ahead of them. “So if we could keep this between us, I’d really appreciate that.”

“Obviously, Dingus,” Robin grinned, placing a supportive arm around his shoulder.

Steve joined in with the swapping of theories regarding Vecna's warning as they drew nearer to Roane Hill. Lucas and Mike stood firm in their decision that the ‘magical sword’ was the answer to all their problems. El and Erica were still calling bullshit. Dustin had been swayed towards the idea of the horn being the key by Will. If Nancy and Jonathan had come up with any theories, they had not yet shared them with the rest of the group.

“I’m just saying, the horn seems equally, if not more important than the sword,” Will argued.

“How are we going to kill him with a horn, Will? Hit him over the head with it? Jab his eyes out?” Mike argued back.

“He would be easier to kill if he was blind,” Erica chimed in.

“Guys-”

“If he was blind he’d be easier to stab with the sword,” Lucas agreed.

“Guys, stop, we’re here,” Dustin announced, compass in hand.

The group quieted instantly, all peering around at their surroundings.

“If we’re here, where’s the cave?” asked Jonathan.

“It’s not going to be stuck out like a sore thumb, is it?” Mike asked.

“He doesn’t play, man, cut him some slack,” Lucas defended.

“It’s either going to be concealed or closed off. Somewhere you wouldn’t just stumble across it. It might be guarded.”

“It’s definitely guarded,” Erica retorted. “Will said he knows we’re back. If he knows we’re back then he knows we’re back to finish him off. It’s not going to be a walk in the park, is it?”

“Erica-”

“Just the facts.”

“There!” Steve yelped, running away from the rest of the group.

Steve found himself in front of a collection of large rocks tucked in between the trees. Vines wrapped around the stones haphazardly, making a point of entry not only difficult to locate but nearly impossible to pass through without triggering the hive mind. “El, can you open it?” Steve asked, gesturing to the stones.

El closed her eyes and breathed deeply, her arm stretched out in front of her. Everyone waited for something, anything, to happen.

“El?” Mike asked, always airing on the side of caution when it came to El’s powers.

“They’re not moving,” El muttered through gritted teeth, her focus not faltering.

“Don’t strain yourself.”

“Are we sure this is the right place? There’s not a single bat or Demogorgon in sight,” Jonathan questioned.

“Mike, pass me your backpack,” Steve requested. He rifled through the notebooks with a torch wedged between his teeth until he found the page he was looking for. He held the page out for the others to see and pointed the torch to it. “The door can only be opened by someone carrying the… Spirit Stone of Azuth? Mike, your handwriting is awful.”

“Who and what is that?” Robin asked, confusion plastered across her face.

"Azuth, also known as The Lord of Spells, servant of Mystra. The Spirit Stone is a blue sapphire that sits on the top of his staff,” Mike answered. “Looks a lot like the one Will is wearing around his neck.”

Every pair of eyes turned to Will, who sunk into himself at the sudden attention.

“Still think you’re not a wizard here?” Steve asked, cockily. “Touch the stone.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Will scoffed.

“Will, touch the damn stone,” Dustin urged.

Will rolled his eyes, turning to face the rocks once again. He looked at it for a couple of seconds before poking at a gap between the vines. “See, nothing happened-”

The ground around them began to shake again slightly and the vines began to squelch as they retracted from the stone, leaving it uncovered. The largest of the stones lifted into the air, hovering above them. Mouths agape, everyone stared at Will.

“Is this where I get to say ‘I told you so’?” Steve asked, smugly.

“I- But- What-” Will stuttered.

“Who’s going first?” Dustin asked, peering into the now uncovered cave entrance.

Steve and Jonathan went in first, approaching cautiously with their weapons at the ready to check that the coast was clear before signalling for the rest of them. The sloping passageway was long and winding, taking them deep below the surface of the Upside Down. The narrow passage opened up to reveal a small circular room, torches mounted to the walls lit up, engulfing them in a dim, flickering light. There, in the centre of the room, was the answer to Steve’s prayers all bundled up neatly, waiting to be taken. The scroll of revivify.

With one hand wrapped around the scroll and the other one clasped tightly to Dustin’s shoulder, Steve was on top of the world. It felt electricity zapping through his veins, shocking him back to life one spark at a time as the hope spread through him. This was it. He was going to get Eddie back and all of them, together, would defeat Vecna and everything was going to be okay again. Everything was going to be perfect. Except nothing is ever perfect, which Steve realised as he caught sight of Nancy’s wide, panicked eyes looking over his shoulder before she let out a long, blood-curdling scream.

[doingthingsthewriteway]

Is Where I Want to Be

Request: yes

Summary: alpha!eddie settles in with his omega

Home Pt. 2

Warnings: n/a

Neither Wayne nor Eddie had much experience with omegas. Not for lack of trying or wanting but omegas just didn’t thrive in the lifestyle they lived. Omegas liked structure, liked things tidy, liked getting spoiled. The Munson Men were notoriously not those things. 

Needless to say, they were scared. Scared that sweet Y/N would wake up one morning, write a note, and leave. They’d lived that before. The rejection by an omega stung like a hornet’s chest in your chest. Wayne knew that all too well. 

Yet, to their amazement, Y/N was still here. Every morning when Wayne would sluggishly return from work, Y/N was there with a pot of coffee on and breakfast ready. She was real good at biscuits n’ gravy and French toast (he didn’t have the heart to tell her that her scrambled eggs sucked). 

Eddie would crash his way through the trailer before slopping into a seat at the card table with a huff. “Morning, sweetheart.” He’d rub at his eyes. “Thank you for breakfast.” 

Y/N would purr with delight. She’d always wanted this: an alpha to look after, a home to take care of. 

“What time is Hellfire, baby?” It had been a month and Y/N was still adjusting to their routine (despite how well established she’d made their lives). 

“It’s right after.” Eddie hated saying “school” to her knowing she was working hard at getting her transcript carried over to the community college and he was repeating his senior year for the third time. Y/N was so smart and pretty and nice. His thoughts trailed off as he sniffed her. What was he talking about again? Oh, right. “Should be done by 7.” 

Y/N hummed in a sound of acknowledgement while she filled a brown bag with Eddie’s lunch. She kissed his forehead, nuzzling the mate mark tucked away in Eddie’s curl with her nose. 

Wayne had scarfed down breakfast and excused himself to shower knowing that the young couple would get all cutesy. He laughed under his breath as he watched Eddie all but howl with delight from the attention she was giving him. He knew he’d be staying at a buddy’s or a motel with the omega’s heat due to come again. Still, the kids were cute. 

Y/N spent her days tending to the trailer. The Munson home had gone so long without a touch of attention that the smallest thing she did made the two men all sappy. Today, though, she was planning a surprise. 

She’d heard so much about the little club Eddie ran. Did she ever want to play? God no. The idea of embarrassing herself in front of Eddie was enough of a distraction. Y/N did, however, want to support Eddie. So she made big batch of brownies and bought an obnoxious amount of soda and chips. 

Was it dangerous to venture out this close to her heat? Yeah. She could feel it bubbling up from her core. A matter of days and she would be at Eddie’s complete disposal. But not presently. 

Y/N loaded up the basket of her bike and headed toward the high school. Had she dreamt of her alpha still being in high school? No. But that didn’t mean a damn thing. Eddie was smart, just different. Different didn’t always fit the school schedule. 

She chained up her bike and headed inside. Did she know where she was going? Nope, not a clue. If she sniffed really hard, she could catch a whiff of Eddie’s scent but it was hidden somewhere amongst the halls. 

“Excuse me?” She approached a female beta lingering by the bike rack. “I’m dropping off snacks for uh, Hellfire?”

The short haired girl pointed to herself. “I’m sorry are you talking to me? Because like, omegas never talk to me. I don’t know why I mean I’d like to think I’m approachable.” Her cheeks turned pink. “Um, right, sorry. I’m Robin. Uh, Hellfire is in the Drama room. They’ve got a flair for the dramatic.” 

Robin took the time to explain her directions which Y/N appreciated. Perhaps as a rare classification, Robin understood what it was like to be talked down to and found a way to not be condescending to the omega. 

“Thank you, Robin.” Y/N chirped. 

“Are you one of Henderson’s other older friends? That little gremlin has more friends who pay taxes than anybody I know.” 

“Oh no.” Y/N dug the toe of her shoe into the sidewalk. “I’m uh, Eddie’s omega.” 

Robin’s jaw dropped. “Are you, you’re not shitting me? Steve so owes me $20 bucks.” 

Y/N offered a small smile and headed into the building. She knocked softly on the Drama room door before peaking her head inside. “Eddie?”

Her alpha was setting up board pieces, goofing off with pups that looked like freshman. His curls flew everywhere as he turned toward the door. “Baby!” Big, brown eyes glistened with glee as he ran to the door. 

Y/N sheepishly handed her bags of goodies to him. “I brought things for you and your friends.” 

“I see that, sweet girl.” He pecked a kiss to her nose earning a giggle in response. “Help me set it up?” 

Helping her alpha gave her a rush she’d never known. Feeling useful wasn’t common for her, but now she was hooked. She plated chips and brownies and poured cups of soda for the rowdy group. 

The little pup named Dustin had a million questions best summed up as “who, how, what, when, why”. Eddie’s cheeks turned the most delightful shade of pink as he mumbled out answered to the questions. Everyone seemed shocked to see their fearless leader so gentle, so domesticate, so alpha. 

“Time to play?” Y/N asked, staring doe eyed into his. “I’ll head on home. Not feeling so great.” 

Eddie escorted his little love out, pressing a kiss to her head. “Be careful getting home. In fact, the walkie talkie in my room connects to Dustin-don’t ask- just message me that you’re home.” 

His ring coated fingers brushed over her neck. “I’ll take care of ya when you get home.” 

Heat pooled in Y/N’s belly. She couldn’t wait to please her alpha once more. 

[hopelessfandomfreak]

Stranger Things characters as Eleanor Shellstrop quotes

Mike: There’s this chicken sandwich that if you eat it, it means you hate gay people - and it’s delicious!

Will: Yeah, I know, you wanna do that thing where we’re arguing and fighting but then it’s suddenly like, “woah, this is hot!” And we start making out, well, dream on! Or whatever, fine, let’s just do it.

Lucas: This is how I always got out of escape rooms. If you break enough stuff, they open the door and kick you out.

Dustin: Does your brain work, actually?! Do you have a functioning head?!

El: Why do bad things always happen to mediocre people who are lying about their identities?

Max: “Live every day like it's your last.” Bite me. I'ma live forever, bitch.

Nancy: New plan: forget the toasts. We do nothing. We hope that our early successes make up for the embarrassing mess we've become. Like Facebook, or America.

Jonathan: Dude, here’s where I’m at. Feelings are stupid.

Steve: But I was a good person for six months. That’s like five years.

Robin: I know it sounds crazy, but if it weren’t crazy, they wouldn’t call it a leap of faith. They’d call it a… sit of doubting.

Joyce: I guess “try and enjoy this” is a better plan than “have the anxiety sweats.”

Hopper: Here are my rules... Rule number one, I get to do whatever I want and you all just have to deal with it.

Erica: You need to just ghost her. Disappear, block her number. Bonus, anything she left in your apartment now legally belongs to you.

Eddie: At home, when I want to get something nice for one of my friends, it usually comes in the form of something edible. You get what I'm saying? An ‘edible’ thing?

BONUS:

Robin and Steve, applying for jobs: I'm really good at telemarketing. I can usually guess how long to microwave food without looking at the box. I'd say those are my two main skills.

[hxneyfarm]

serotonin machine broke. here's 600 words of wedding planner steve and wedding singer eddie.

“So what do you think?”

When he first started in this industry a decade ago, as a bright eyed and bushy tailed twenty-something who still believed love could conquer all, Steve would have never entertained a game like this. 

The reception hall is a glistening wonderland of whites and blues. The ice sculpture in the corner - two swans whose necks form a perfect heart and whose beaks meet in the middle to share a kiss - frames the cake and the snowglobe topper just like Steve had envisioned it would. The centerpieces that adorn the tables glitter beneath the chandeliers like freshly fallen snow. There are no screaming children, none of the guests are wearing white, and the ceremony had gone off without a hitch.

Overall, a perfect night. 

Of course it is. Steve planned it. He’s very good at what he does.

The maid of honor is giving a speech.

Steve is at the bar with the wedding singer, a guy whose name constantly escapes him until the happy couple he’s working with tell him they’d like a live band for the wedding, and then it’s I know the perfect group, let me give you Eddie’s contact information.

This is something they do sometimes when they work a wedding together; speculate on the destiny of the couple at the center of this whole ostentatious shindig.

“Give ‘em a few years, I think,” Steve says with a shrug, still surveying the fruits of his labors. 

Eddie makes a considering noise. “That long? Awful optimistic, even for you.”

Steve shrugs. “They seem pretty in tune with each other. Support each other’s ideas. They agreed on the cake without even having to discuss it. He was involved from the beginning.”

“I sense a but here.”

Steve sucks at his mixed drink through the shitty little plastic straw.

“I clocked the way he and the best man have been looking at each other all night.”

Eddie clicks his tongue, takes a deep pull from his glass of light beer.

“Maybe he’s trying to find them a third for their wedding night,” Eddie suggests.

“Kinky.”

Over the past few years, Steve’s become disillusioned with it. The whole thing. He can count on one hand the number of couples he’s planned weddings for that are still together. Love doesn’t conquer anything, no matter how much money you throw at it to make it just right. People cheat, people are dishonest, people get themselves into debt and hide it from their partner.

He used to be a real hopeless romantic in his early days, but something about this industry has dulled that fire in him.

Robin says he’s become a cynic. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it’s just the institution of marriage. He doesn’t buy into it anymore. He’s watched enough marriages come together and fall apart, he’s seen fights happen at receptions, watched brides weep into their champagne, watched grooms shove cake into brides’ faces even after explicitly being begged not to. People just don’t care about each other like they should when they make the decision to get married. They don’t take it seriously.

Steve’s never going to let himself go down that road.

Robin says he wouldn’t know true love if it came up and bit him on the ass.

He doesn’t even know if he believes in love anymore.

Beside him, the wedding singer is sighing and knocking back the last of his beer. At the head table, the best man is finishing his speech. The groom is hugging him. They linger.

“I give it four months,” says Eddie. “Six on the outside.”

Steve looks over at him. Big brown eyes smile back. Eddie winks and goes back to the stage, where his band is waiting for his return. 

Steve watches as he picks his guitar back up and offers up some scripted line about the sweetness of love, calls a toast to the bride and groom, and then he launches into the opening chords of some Marvin Gaye song he’s played at every wedding they’ve worked together.

[nerd-at-sea5]

isn’t this all enough?

APOCALYPSE AU BABY - vecna likes zombies. basically i wanted an excuse to write a fuckton of angst. so, basically how the scooby gang - lucas handles a new apocalypse. 

they/them robin and max, he/they/it eddie, canon everyone else

cw-blood, death, panic/anxiety attacks, suicide, ed

THERE WILL BE A PART TWO ON WENSDAY OR THURSDAY!!!!

robin buckley woke up curled under a blanket on steve harrington’s couch for the 37th day in a row. they woke up to the same thing they had on the 36th day, the 22ed day, the 14th day, and the 1st day.

max mayfield sitting silently in an armchair, wonder woman comic open in front of them, staring at the pages, not reading any of it. the sounds and smells of steve bustling around, making a small breakfast of their rations for the week. eddie munson perched on the counter, sharpening the variety of knives in front of him and dustin henderson by the window, swearing as he fiddled with a line of wire and control box.

“morning red.” max raised their eyebrows as a greeting, and robin moved into the kitchen, lights blazing-they’d spray painted all the windows in the house and bolted them shut on the 12th day. the door had 6 locks installed (15th day).

“hey steve, eddie.” 

“robin! i’ve got toast.” 

they took it, forced a smile, and sat next to eddie, “what’s the plan for the day?” 

there wasn't really anyway to sugar coat it-after all, the byers + sinclair kids, hopper, mike and el where in california, everyone else was either dead or a zombie-and since any and all radio/phone/tv connection had cut out on the 25th day, they had no idea how the rest of the wheeler’s were doing. 

robin knew exactly how everyone's family was. sometimes they wished they didn’t-others they wanted to scream, cry. wanted to punch steve’s parents for leaving and dying in another country and not letting him say goodbye (even if he said he didn’t want to). wanted to scream at max and dustin’s mom’s for getting infected and leaving the two kids to find their own way to steve’s. and wanted to hug eddie’s uncle for fighting off three zombies to give eddie the chance to take his car and run all four over-a request shouted at him by said man as the bites came pouring onto his skin. 

and most of all robin wanted to cry and scream and fight their own parents-how dare they? how dare they make her leave. leave them to fall out of their bedroom window because their eyes were blurry with tears-with their supplies grasped tight in hands while they listened to the screams, the locking of the bedroom door, and then the two gunshots that followed. how dare they leave them? and why didn’t they let robin go with? insted of forcing them to promise they’d make it to steve’s. why?

continuing to ask the same thing everyday was the only way to maintain any grip of sanity left-they could only listen to dusin’s science rants for so long.

so when steve sighed, wrung his hands together and looked robin dead in the eyes, panic began to rise in their chest.

“we’re going to the wheelers. if nance-if she’s still. fuck.”

‘if she’s still alive.’ the sentence hung heavy, unsaid in the air.

if she was, then robin could sleep without nightmares plaguing their mind-without the constant worry chewing away. if nancy was alive, robin could have one more kiss, one more hug-more of everything. more time with their girlfriend. more.

“well, we need her. and....well. she has guns. we’ll need those if she’s not...yeah.”

he seemed to notice the glare, “i know you don’t want to go.”

robin couldn’t help the harsh laugh that bubbled up in their throat, “steve it’s not that i don’t wanna go-it’s that if we open that door and i have to see her dead and mauled body, or-or if she’s...turned and we have to kill her-i wouldn’t be able to stop from getting bit.”

“that’s why we need to go! what if she’s alive!!”

“there’s no way she could be, it’s been thirty-seven days, steve!”

he glared them back, “eddie made it thirty!”

eddie nodded, “yup. thirty mother fuckin’ days in this shit hole harrington. let’s go get wheeler, make buckley see their dead girl.”

steve groaned, robin flinched as his hands went up in the air, “SHE’S NOT DEAD.”

“fine!” they slammed their hands down and max’s eyes jumped to the trio, “fine, we’ll get nancy. but if she’s dead, i swear to god steve, i’ll break your fucking nose.”

“love you too robin.”

a smile pulled onto their face, but was soon replaced by the anxiety as the five geared up for another expedition.

robin tried to keep their eyes off the road, but every time they passed another zombie, the thought of it being nancy slipped into their head, and every time max would slam their hand onto the trigger of neil’s old gun, “bastards.”

“stop!” dustin’s voice shot out from the back and steve slammed on the breaks, robin’s hand shot into their pocket, hand closing on the cold handle of their knife. “we’re here.” the boys voice shook more than it should, and for what would not be the first or last time-robin’s heart sunk for the two kids who were forced here with everyone else.

on instinct, they jumped out of the car and made it two steps forward-closer to the big house that they used to bike to daily. the garden was overgrown, the windows blacked out, it was scarily quiet, aside from the occasional howl of a zombie. there was absolutely no sign of life.

robin felt steve’s eyes on them, a silently apology, “it’s fine.”

eddie moved first robin right behind him-dustin and max next and steve from the back, baseball bat gripped tight in his hands.

anxiety spiked in their chest as eddie’s knuckles hit the door, shattering the quiet.

one, two, three.

robin was about to run back to the car, run back and cry. she’s dead. 

there’s no reason to be here-

“who is insane enough to-robin?”

and there was nancy wheeler, gun still tightly gripped in her hands, face having gone slack and the sight of robin, cuts on her arms, lips and a bandage on her cheek. she looked like she’d crawled through a glass window, and gotten into a fistfight with a biker, there we’re bags under her eyes and she looked like she’d been starved, but her eyes carried the same hard glint like when she’d shot at billy hargrove, or spoken to victor creel, or kissed robin for the first time.

robin didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone so beautiful.

their mouth opened, but nothing was able to come out, max’s arm gripping their bicep until robin found their voice. “hey nance.”

steve snickered, “what, no hello for us? how’s it going, wheeler?”

nancy rolled her eyes and let the gun fall limp to her side, “normal, or at least-as normal as it can get. what are you all doing here?”

max stepped forward while dusin glanced anxiously around, “wanted to see if you were alive. can we come in? you know there’s a fuckton of zombies around, right?”

robin watches hesitancy flash in nancy’s face, “um...i do-” 

she was cut off by another howl and eddie flashed her a ‘get us the hell inside’ look, “fine, yes-come in.”

the door clicked shut and robin grabbed her, pulling the shorter girl into a hug, “you asshole i thought i lost you.” 

“i’m ok, i’m ok baby.”

nancy’s voice was muffled into robin’s jacket, but they didn’t let go, not till they heard footsteps and another familiar voice came from the stairs, “nancy? what’s going on?”

holly sleepily make her way down the stairs, only to hide behind her big sisters legs, fear and terror clear in her eyes as robin watched them flick to the gun in nancy’s hand, to the bat in steve’s.

max moved to their knees, “it’s us holly, you remember me, right? max?”

at the name, holly let out an exited yell, and threw herself into max’s arms-the force and weight of the seven year old combined with max’s unbalanced position sending them both to the ground with holly’s yell of; “maxie!!”

robin couldn’t help but smile, watching dustin be pulled down as well, the exhaustion fading from nancy’s eyes for a moment.

steve was the one who started the hard conversations, “nance, we didn’t come her for no reason.”

she nodded, pulling away from robin to stand up straight, “i guessed. are any of your families....?”

eddie shook his head and nancy’s thumb brushed robin’s, they ducked their head to avoid anyone seeing the blush. “what about your parents?”

robin didn’t expect holly to stand up again, return to hiding behind nancy, or for nancy to cross her arms and glare eddie down, “doesn't matter.”

“nancy are they-”

“kind of.”

panic flooded robin once again, she looked around at the house-marks on the banister, a crack in the basement door, “nancy.”

the fear that hit nancy’s face told robin the rest of the story, but something inside them forced them to ask, “nancy where are your parents?”

“they-”

“don’t lie to me, please.”

her face crumpled, as pain sliced robin in half, nancy’s shaking hand pointed to the basement door, and as if on a twisted-horrible cue, a loud, unhuman groan ripped up the stairs.

dustin tripped back, max’s gun aimed at the door, her other hand on dustin’s shoulder. steve and eddie stared at nancy in shock.

robin just, froze. staring dumbly at the door without any thought.

holly screamed, nancy pulling her little sister into her arms, “it’s ok, it’s ok sweetie. it’s ok.”

she looked back up at them all with teary eyes, “i couldn’t...i couldn’t k-i-l-l them.” a pointed look at holly’s head, still pressed against nancy’s chest told robin she was censoring herself for holly’s sake. “so i managed to lock them in there...i was already b-l-e-e-d-i-n-g so i just. got a jar full and...and threw it. we’re been mainly upstairs.”

dustin covered his mouth with his hand, and robin slid down the door to the floor, “are you okay?”

nancy laughed, “physically yes, for the most part. a few scratches and bruises but no bites. scratches don’t turn you, we’ve checked. i locked myself in the bathroom and made holly promise to run if anything went wrong-but i was fine. mentally, no. i talked to mike before everything cut out-it’s in california, but they have the house on lockdown and are trying to get some of el’s lab people to come and get us. i said to check steve’s house as well. i’m assuming that’s where you all are?”

he nodded, “we have to get you guys outta here-nancy the door could-”

“i know.”

“why didn’t you come to us?” 

something inside robin made them want to say ‘me’ but they bit it back. this is not the time.

“i was scared. i couldn’t leave them and i didn’t know what to do with holly-if something happened to her..i’d...”

robin may be bad at social cues, but one look at her girlfriend and they knew exactly what she meant.

they reached out and took nancy’s hand, “come with us? bring food, bring your things-steve’s house is a goddamn bunker, and-and dustin’s almost got his weird ass radio to work so we can talk to the byer’s. please, nancy?”

they were vaguely aware that everyone could hear how much they we’re begging, but when nancy nodded and stood, “ok. help me pack.” robin wanted to cry of relif.

max lifted holly onto their back, running around the kitchen with dustin while steve and eddie raided the cabinets-just once glance had robin worried if nancy and holly were eating enough.

upstairs, they helped nancy put clothes and personal items away, pulling nancy away from her photos when she started to tear up, “i’ve got it.” barb, family photos, newspaper, the party. all the important ones.

one last glance around the room that she’d grown up in, and nancy slipped her hand into robin’s, gripped their collar and pulled them into a hard kiss, “i missed you.”

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

Tagged by @lovebillyhargrove to do this harringrove ask (THANK YOOOUUU!!!)

1. Do they get together BEFORE MF possessing Billy or AFTER shit goes down? (Or maybe DURING😲)

I may be one of the only people who think that it happens after - more officially, anyway. Like beforehand, they did a lot of flirting, but nothing really got farther than that. But then after Billy was free of the Mindflayer, they both get their heads out of their asses and decide that they don’t want to wait anymore, because creepy shit happens all the time in Hawkins and neither of them want to die without finally taking a chance with each other.

2. Who kisses who first?

Steve kisses Billy after Billy wakes up in the hospital after the Mindflayer.

3. Where do they have their first sex? (Location) (HJs and BJs count)

Billy surprises Steve one night by showing up at his bedroom window. Steve lets him in, calling him a dumbass because his parents aren’t even home so he could’ve just knocked on the front door, but Billy thought being sneaky was more romantic...and hotter, dont’cha think, Harrington? (things get sexier from there) . :)

4. Who says 💖 I LOVE YOU 💖 first?

Steve. Billy has been avoiding him, and when they do see each other, Billy starts arguments. He’s been in emotional hell for days because he’s been scared that his dad will find out about them, and he’s scared that he can never have anything good that will last, and Steve will realize that he’s just trash and he’ll leave. Steve finds him at the quarry one day, and they fight again, but Steve doesn’t leave, and he doesn’t let Billy leave either. When Billy tries to, Steve pushes him up against the hood of his Camaro, and holds him arms against his sides in an extremely strong grip, so Billy can’t get away, or hit him. Steve looks him right in the eye and says “I love you.”

5. Bottom!Steve or Bottom!Billy?

It depends on the situation. If Steve instigates it because he knows Billy’s had a bad day, he wants to take care of him. But sometimes Billy wants to take care of Steve too..

6. Do they give gifts to each other?

Billy gives Steve small things, like keychains and magnets for the fridge at his new apartment. Steve gives him little things too (he gave him a flower once and Billy snorted and said, “I’m not a chick, you idiot”, but he takes the flower anyway). Steve tries to give Billy bigger gifts, like offering to pay for him to get new parts for his Camaro, but Billy won’t accept those kinds of things and gets angry when Steve offers. So Steve sticks to small things, too.

7. Where do they end up living? California, Chicago, Hawkins… Idk .. Alaska??)))) Any other location?

California. Billy loved it there, and Steve has always wanted to go, especially because of the way Billy talks about it. So one day, after the kids have all graduated. Steve hugs everybody (Billy hugs max), and they get in Billy’s Camaro and go. (And Steve insists on going to Disneyland the first week they’re there - he even buys mouse ears for both of them to wear).

8. What are their future jobs?

I can see them maybe both working at a car dealership. Steve is a salesman and Billy is a mechanic.

9. Who’s a better cook?

 Billy is better at breakfast (pancakes, bacon, french toast), and Steve is better at dinner. They cook together sometimes, but that just ends up in either an argument or a food fight (both lead to them having sex on the kitchen floor).

10. Steve Hargrove or Billy Harrington?

I feel like they’d keep their own last names.

11. What’s Max’s reaction when she hears they’re together?

“Well, DUH.”

12. Describe in ONE SENTENCE Hopper’s reaction when he hears the names Hargrove and Harrington mentioned together?

No words, just a really big sigh and a swig of Pepto Bismol.

13. Does Robin like Billy OR does Robin hate Billy?

Robin is protective of Steve at first. But eventually, she and Billy start bonding over favourite movies, and some music (Billy grimaces at some of the songs she wants to listen to on the radio, and says when she’s in her own car, she can listen to her chick music).

14. What about Dustin?

Oh, Dustin is APPAULED at first. It takes him quite a while to trust Billy, but he eventually sees that Billy’s feelings for Steve are genuine, so he becomes...okay with it.

15. Fav Harringrove AU?

I’m a sucker for Modern!AU’s. I also like the idea of Monster!AUs, like when Billy’s a werewolf or something.

16. Billy+Camaro=…???

Billy’s first love. “Don’t make me choose between you, Steve! That’s just not fair!”

TAGGING - @cigarettesandharringrove , @wint3r-b0y , @iridescent-idiot , @disdaidal , @gideongrace

[choco-glow]

Fall Like Rain On Sunday, Bonus!

“I thought you weren’t doing patrol tonight?” Kon’s voice was curious, warm and laughing, and Tim sighed, tucking himself a little further into the armchair and Kon’s stolen blanket while the super-clone made French toast in his tiny kitchen. Tim’s parents hadn’t cared too much for their only heir, but they did give him a hell of a stipend every month, so Tim had invested most of it into Kon’s apartment, taking some of the strain off the Kents and letting his boyfriend enjoy actually living without guilt or Lex Luthor’s ever-present hand on his shoulder. And…for Tim, it was living too, and he smiled a little as he turned his gaze back on Kon’s figure, wearing a frilly apron (a present from Jason and Bizarro) over a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, and tired as Tim might be, he really did love being here, early as it was.

He picked up his binoculars again, though, and glanced back out the window, just about making out Steph’s apartment and the distant figures of Jason and Steph snuggling on her couch, Steph an amorphous bundle of blanket and blonde hair in Jason’s lap. He freely admitted he was being a creep, but…he grinned a little when Kon took the binoculars, clucking his tongue in disapproval.

“Tim.”

“Just making sure the plan worked out. Which, judging by their cuddling, it did.” Kon blinked, eyes wide, and Tim shot him an innocent grin.

“…Timothy Jackson Drake, did you steal Steph’s waffles to force Jason to ask her out?!”

“Yup.”

“DID YOU SET UP THE WAFFLE DATE AND MAKE ME COME ALONG ON PATROL TO GET GLARED AT BY B JUST SO THEY’D GET TOGETHER?!”

“Yup.”

“…You are an evil genius.”

“Ye-up.” Kon rolled his eyes and leaned down for a kiss, and Tim snickered against his lips. “C’mon, it worked, didn’t it?”

“And you embarrassed yourself in front of Dami and B for the ruse too.”

“Eh, it was worth it if it makes Jason feel more like a part of the family. I know he’s not super fond of me, and I…didn’t make the best first impression…but I think he’ll forgive me once he figures things out.” Kon raised an eyebrow at that, and Tim gave him a smooch.

“Do you really think Jason will figure it out? He’s not exactly Dick or Dami, and definitely not you. No offense, but…” Tim just chuckled a little, standing up with a wince and limping on his good foot to the kitchen, purring when Kon picked him up and carried him to the little table.

“Trust me, Kon. He’ll figure it out. He’s B’s favorite for a reason, even if Bruce won’t outright admit it. And if he doesn’t…Steph will. Steph knows me too well.” Kon blinked at that, and flushed; Tim patted him on the arm. “Babe, you’re thinking of the way Jon jumps into things; Jay and Steph grew up learning to look before they leapt, and that only got better when they became Robins and beyond. But hey, it all works out; they’re now a couple, and they’re happy; that’s all I was going for.” Kon smiled at that, setting a plate of fresh, deliciously smothered in maple syrup French toast, lightly dusted with powdered sugar, and Tim groaned. “Fuck yes, my favorite reward.”

“Love you, Red Robin.” Kon chuckled, leaning over to kiss him again, and Tim kissed him back, cupping his cheek.

“Love you too, Superboy.”

[ibelieveinharrystyles]

Chapter Nine: Baby You’re A Firework

In some ways life had become easier for Ashley since her pregnancy was leaked to the press, she could freely walk Daisy to school each morning without having to wear the baggiest jumper she could find. She was also inundated with kind messages from other women, who like her were raising children as a young adult, she finally felt ready for her baby’s arrival. Knowing the baby was due to come any day, Daisy was behaving more angelic, perhaps in an attempt to make Ashley’s life easier, or maybe it was to ensure she wasn’t forgotten about when the baby arrived. “”Mummy, when the baby comes will I still be it’s big sister?” Daisy asked as the pair walked to school.

“What do you mean Dais?” Ashley asked.

“Harry isn’t my Dad is he? But he’s the baby’s daddy.” Daisy replied.

“You’ll still be the baby’s big sister darling, in fact you’ll be the best big sister ever.” Ashley assured her. 

“I promise I will be mummy.” Daisy smiled as they approached the school gates.

“Be a good girl today poppet, and remember we’ve got Lou and Lux’s fireworks tonight.” Ashley told her, holding her tight in the warmest of hugs.

“Love you mummy!” Daisy cried before running through the school gates.

“She’s a sweetheart,” One of the mums beside Ashley remarked.

“I don’t know where she gets it from, I was a little tear away at that age.” Ashley replied.

“Surely it’s her dad, he is a national treasure after all.” The lady smiled.

Although Harry wasn’t Daisy’s biological father, the whole world just assumed he was, he loved her like she was his own, and for Ashley that was enough.

“So do you feel ready for the new baby?” Gemma and Ashley had planned to shop for bits for the baby, but the british weather has other ideas. They’d managed to find shelter in a small vegan coffee shop in the back streets of Hampstead. It was one of those cool instagrammable places with hanging ivy trailing across ceiling beams and pink neon light signs.

“It’s less scary this time, even though Harry won’t be there for the birth, I know he’s going to be the best dad.” Ashley replied, sipping on her hot chocolate.

“Definitely, he’s finally mastered flat pack furniture, he’s set up a little nursery in the room next to his.” Gemma smiled.

“You know a mum at the school gates referred to Harry as Daisy’s dad, but I didn’t correct her. Because it felt right.” Ashley told her.

“Daisy will always be his world, we both know that.” Gemma assured her.

“Yeah, she adores him.” Ashley replied.

“And he adores you. He’d move heaven and earth for you if he had to. Where did it go wrong for you two? You were so good together.”

“Maybe we were always just destined to be best friends, and nothing more.” Ashley sighed.

“Ash, I’ve seen the way you look at each other, even at your house when the pregnancy got leaked, he could’ve easily contacted Jeff to protect his reputation and let us look after you, but he went straight to you. For Harry, it will only ever be you.” Gemma explained, she knew her brother better than anyone else, she knew they were right for each other since they were kids. She saw Harry’s face on the day of Ashley’s prom, when she was a bridesmaid at Anne's wedding and when she was on his arm at the Brits, he adored her and he cherished her. If Gemma could put the way Harry felt about Ashley into bottles and sell it, she would, because no matter what happened, or what anyone said, he would only really ever have eyes for Ashley.

It was late in the evening, thankfully the rain had held off, Ashley and Daisy were at Lou’s house for a small bonfire night gathering, the kids were playing in the garden, toasting marshmallows on the bonfire with Lux’s dad Tom, while the mums sat in the kitchen eating the leftovers of the takeaway pizza the kids had obliterated. “So when are you due Ash?” Lou’s sister Sam asked.

“I was due for halloween, but clearly this one enjoys it in there more than Daisy did.” Ashley told her, she knew the baby would come soon as every so often she’d feel a little flutter or a kick in her ribs.

“Have you got any names?” Lottie asked, from across the table.

“There’s a couple, if it’s a girl I love the idea of another flower name to match Daisy, and if its a boy, there's a few nature related names I love.” Ashley had one name in mind, regardless of whether it was a boy or a girl, she wasn’t planning on telling anyone yet, but she knew it would be a name Harry would love and hold close to his heart forever.

All the other parents and children had left, Lux and Daisy were curled up on the sofa drinking hot chocolate while they watched a movie on the TV. “Hey Dais, what are you watching?” Ashley asked as she poked her head around the living room door.

“It’s my Harry.” Daisy whispered, Ashley looked at the screen to see Harry and the boys performing at the O2, the girls had chosen to watch the One Direction movie, a film that captured so many moments that Ashley held close to her heart.

“Do you think I made a mistake?” Ashley asked Lou as she returned to the kitchen.

“What do you mean?” Lou asked, Ashley raised her eyebrows, “You mean Harry don’t you?”

Before Ashley could explain her epiphany the sharpest shooting pain hit her spine.

She gripped onto Lou’s marble top counter, “It’s happening Lou, the baby’s coming.”

“Are you sure?” Lou asked.

“That’s definitely a contraction Lou.” Ashley winced, “Why do I only go into labour in kitchens?” 

“Tom’s out the back, I’ll ask him to stay with the girls, Daisy can stay here tonight. Where’s the baby bag?” Lou replied.

“In the hallway, in the cupboard under the stairs.” Ashley told her.

“Ok I’ll grab that and call us an uber, you sit down and I’ll tell Gem to meet us there too.” Lou instructed her.

Ashley pulled out her phone, ringing Harry, even though she knew full well he would be on set filming, “Hey Harry,” She winced as it began recording her voicemail, “It seems as though our little one is on it’s way into the world, Daisy’s in safe hands, she’s watching This Is Us with Lux, she is so proud of you H. I know you’ll worry but don’t because Lou is taking me to the hospital and Gem said she’ll meet us there. I’ve been a bitch these past few months, I should’ve let you in, but we both know that after the way other people have treated me before, that being open and vulnerable scares the shit out of me. I want you in the baby’s life and I want you in mine, frankly at this point I don’t care what capacity it's in, because you mean the world to me Harry, you’ve been the one constant source of happiness in my life since the day we met. From the day my dad died and you slept beside me because you were scared of what I might do to myself, when I had my first period and you spent your pocket money on a box of all my favourite things and when you were like a father to Daisy, that meant more than anything else ever could. Whatever happens between us Harry, whether we parent our baby as best friends, or whether we grow old and grey together, I will always be your golden girl.”

Compared to Daisy’s birth, this one was a walk in the park, Ashley was sat up in the hospital bed, already fully dilated and the nurses had given her the epidural to relieve some of the pain. “Right Ash, it looks like this baby isn’t hanging around, shall we get going?” The midwife said as she pulled on her surgical gloves. Lou had returned home to the girls, but Gemma stayed by Ashley’s side, holding onto her hand for reassurance. “When you’re ready Ash, I need you to push on the next contraction.” The midwife instructed her, “You are sensational Ash! That's the head delivered, I need you to push really hard to get this little one’s shoulders out now.”

“I am never letting your brother get me pregnant again.” Ashley huffed to Gemma after pushing through another agonising contraction.

“This baby is a chunky one Ash, I need you to give me one last almighty push, use every last bit of energy you have to push it out.” Ashley used every muscle in her body to push the baby out as hard as she could, until the once silent room was filled with the shrill cries of her new baby. “Congratulations Ash, you’ve got a little boy.” The midwife cut the umbilical cord and immediately placed him on Ashley’s chest.

“Hello little man, aren’t you a beauty?” Ashley whispered, a single tear of pride rolling down her cheek.

“He’s perfect Ash,” Gemma smiled, “You were incredible.” 

“Welcome to the world baby Robin.” Ashley whispered, already completely infatuated with her new baby.

“Robin?” Gemma smiled.

“I adored your stepdad, when we lost my dad he was always there for me, he always looked out for me, and I know how much Harry loved him, and it’s the only name that feels fully suited to him.”

Ashley was in love, her brand new baby boy lay sound asleep in her arms, his delicate little hands poking out of the sleeves of his baby grow. Gemma had gone home to get some sleep, which Ashley had encouraged her to do, so now it was just the two of them in the little hospital room. Ashley’s phone began to buzz and she picked it up to see Harry’s face, “Hello stranger.” Ashley grinned.

“Is everything alright? I got your voicemail.” Harry asked from the comfort of his trailer.

“Everything’s great you could even say perfect,” Ashley whispered, “Do you want to meet him?” 

“Him? We’ve got a little baby boy?” Harry replied, a smile stretching from cheek to cheek.

“This is our little baby boy, Robin.” Ashley told him.

“Robin? You know Mum is going to adore that, and I adore him too, thank you for naming him that.” Harry smiled.

“It only felt right, I think I always knew that’s what I’d call him, it just seemed to make sense.” Ashley replied, staring at her little boy in adoration. “He’s way bigger than Dais was, he weighed almost double what she weighed when she arrived.” 

“She’s going to love him.” Harry whispered, “I can’t wait until I can see you all in person again, I miss you all like mad.” 

“We miss you too.”

Robin made Ashley feel truly complete, it was the following morning and she had just changed into a comfier t-shirt and joggers, along with one of Harry’s tour hoodies. Robin was sleeping peacefully in his little cot, having just been fed, as she sent Harry yet another picture of their little boy, a little person popped their head around the door. “Hello Mummy,” She heard a whisper. 

She looked over to see Daisy, holding a balloon and a gift bag with Lou beside her, “Hello my best girl, how are you?” Ashley crouched down, greeting her daughter with open arms, “I’ve missed you so much angel.”

“I’ve been very good, Lou made us special pancakes for breakfast.” Daisy told her.

“That’s lovely,” Ashley smiled, “Thank you so much for having her Lou.”

“It’s no problem really, she is an absolute sweetheart.” Lou replied.

“Daisy, would you like to meet your little brother?” Ashley asked, Daisy nodded in response as Ashley lifted Robin out of the cot. “This our little baby Robin.” 

“Like my Grandad Robin?” Ashley was taken aback, she wasn’t sure if Daisy remembered him, but everyone loved to talk about him fondly, so Daisy must just have picked up on it, it melted Ashley’s heart that Daisy called him her grandad.

“Yes Dais, just like Grandad Robin.” For once it seemed as if life made complete sense, Ashley had two beautiful children who she loved more than anything else, and finally she knew exactly how she felt about Harry.

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Epilogue

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, AO3

~*CS*~

Los Angeles, Three Years Later

“You know, the last time I was here they only gave me those itty bitty bottles of water.”

Killian laughed to himself but kept his eyes trained to his phone.  He knew if he looked up the love of his life would be scowling at the unnecessarily large bottles of expensive water lined up along the counter of the green room they were waiting in.  Emma Swan was prone to many wonderful things but graciously giving up on a grudge was not one of them.

“The last time you were here you hadn’t won five Grammys in one fell swoop.  When I was doing the first interviews with Realm of Jewels we were lucky to get cups of tap water.  We thought a slice of lemon was the height of luxury.”

“Yeah, well that was what?  Three hundred years ago?” She teased, moving across the room to flop down beside him on the couch with a huff, “They should at least have a water cooler or something.  Reusable bottles are the way of the future.”

“First you complain about the water they’re providing and now you’re complaining about the one their not?  Can they do nothing to please you?”

He looked over at her with a raised brow and she gave him a smirk.

“They fired Walsh so that’s a step in the right direction.”

“Thank bloody fuck,” he growled, turning back to his phone with a scowl.

Emma had eventually told him the full extent of what had happened the day of her interview with Walsh Hoakley.  Not only had the wanker reported gossip as though it were truth, which caused the brief falling out between him and Emma that had made them both miserable, but the berk had hit on her not ten minutes after.  When she finally had told him, only a few days after they had reconciled, it had taken an hour for him to calm down and at least a week for her to convince him not to fight her battles for her.  The news of Hoakley’s firing less than a year later had been celebrated with a sparkling cider toast.

“So-” Emma peered over his shoulder and he felt some of his tension melt away, “What’s got you paying more attention to your phone than the expensive goodies they’re trying to get on our good side with?”

With a snort he tilted his phone towards her, “Just going over the contract one last time.”

“We have a fancy lawyer for that don’t we?” She asked crossing her arms as she sat back, “And Ruby wouldn’t try to scam you.  I mean, look what’s happened since she decided to become my manager instead of staying in my backing band.”

“Well, aside from those five Grammys I mentioned-”

“What?!” Emma’s brows shot up and her mouth dropped open in clearly feigned shock, “I won five Grammys?  I had no idea!”

“Hush, love, you deserved them and I’m honored to brag on your behalf,” he chided though he gave her a wink, “Although, I don’t rightly think we can give Ruby the credit for that.”

She scoffed and burrowed further into the couch, “If she hadn’t forced me to let you audition then we wouldn’t have met.  Then we wouldn’t have had our grand romance that in turn inspired In the Middlemist and I wouldn’t have won those Grammys.”

“I believe that we would have met eventually, love.  If not through our careers then we would have certainly been invited to Ruby’s wedding where I would have been immediately smitten with the blonde in the crimson bridesmaid dress,” he said lowly, pleased to see her cheeks flush.

“And I probably would have freaked out even more meeting you for the first time there than at the studio.  You know how much I like seeing you in a suit-” she said huskily, leaning up to press a soft kiss under his jaw.  Then she sat back and smiled wide, “Even then Ruby would still be the reason we met.  That’s why I dedicated it to her and not you.”

“Is that why?  I thought it was because you were still upset with me over the tiny misunderstanding over your choice in vehicle.”

He gave her a knowing look and she glared right back at him.  When he raised his brow in challenge she rolled her eyes at him.

“Fine, that was part of it,” she conceded, “But I did mention you in every acceptance speech.”

“Which was wonderful aside from the camera they kept shoving in my face to capture my every proud tear in HD,” he grumbled, remembering the repeated messages from Will that were just the GIF of him crying after Emma had said she loved him onstage holding her third award of the night.  He blew out a breath, “As I was saying: aside from all that I will admit that your career has flourished under Ruby’s care.  She has become quite the adversary of Regina, stealing her best clients away.”

“Regina’s over it now,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand, “Ever since you reintroduced her to Robin in a non-business setting and then moved to that corner office things have been great.”

Just as he was about to make a somewhat lewd comment as to exactly why both those things would put Regina in a good mood there was a knock on the door.  It was opened a moment later by the intern that had initially led them there.

“They’re ready for you, if you’d like to follow me.”

He let Emma proceed him as he stowed his phone in his pocket.  She was right, of course, Ruby wouldn’t dream of sneaking in last minute changes to the contract making her his new manager.  If anything she would have been fine with a verbal agreement and the promise of making her the godmother of whatever child he and Emma might have.  Unfortunately all of their fancy, and expensive, lawyers required things in writing and in triplicate.

The intern led them to a broadcasting studio that looked like every other one he’d ever been interviewed in.  One glaring difference, however, was the radio host who squealed when she saw them and practically skipped towards them with open arms.

“Finally, you guys!  I’ve been waiting all week for this!”

Emma laughed and accepted the hug easily, “Us too, Tink.  Killian’s had it marked in all of our calendars the second Ruby booked it.”

Tink pulled back from Emma and gave him a wide smile, “I’d heard she finally got you to make it official.  There’s no stopping her now.”

“As though there was a chance before,” he chuckled. “Lovely to see you again, TInk.”

“If you guys lived here I’d see you more,” she chided gently before stepping forward to wrap her arms around him, “Everyone’s still on for dinner tomorrow, right?”

“Of course, Will wouldn’t let us hear the end of it if we didn’t,” he scoffed, giving her a light squeeze before letting go.

“Great!  I still can’t believe he ditched Emma to be in your band,” She said with a laugh, grinning broadly at Emma’s frown.  Something over his shoulder caught her eye and she nodded before focusing back on them, “Alright, my producer’s about to throw a fit if we waste any more time.  Go ahead and get settled while I do my thing.”

As he and Emma moved to the seats awaiting them Tink bounced over to her chair and donned her headphones.  With a bit of awe and intimidation he watched Tink easily slip into performance mode, softening her accent and dialing up her enthusiasm as she introduced herself and the start of her broadcast block.  She hadn’t been a DJ for long but he could clearly see she had found her calling.  When she teased their interview she gave them an overexaggerated wink that had him stifling a laugh.

After two songs and a small promo of Enchanted’s other stations Tink gave them a thumbs up as her producer let them know that their mics were live.

“That was the latest from The Killers and I don’t know about you but I’m more than ready for their new album to be released.  I’m Tink and this is Rock Alt, home to all the alternative rock hits here on Enchanted XM.  Today is a very exciting day because in the studio with me, right this very moment, are two people that you should be very familiar with: five time Grammy winner and indie darling Emma Swan and two time Grammy winner and alt rock god Killian Jones.  Once upon a time I toured with Emma as part of her backing band and on one of those more memorable tours Killian decided to join us.  Welcome, welcome!”

“I can truthfully say we’re excited to be here,” Emma chimed in brightly, her grin wide and happy.

“Yes, thanks for having us, love,” Killian said warmly. “Though I feel it’s only right to mention that those two Grammys were won with Realm of Jewels.”

“Aw, it’s only a matter of time before they’ll be joined by plenty of others, especially with this new album-” Tink waggled her eyebrows and he had a feeling she wasn’t going to go easy on them just because she was their friend. “There’s no question that you two are more than just friendly collaborators, with a couple of writing credits on each other’s albums and a duet on Killian’s acoustic cover album of Realm of Jewels’ greatest hits.  We’ve also seen the red carpet photos and Instagram glimpses of your romance.”

He looked over at Emma and received an eye roll in return.  When they’d first truly started dating they’d kept it hidden from anyone that wasn’t close friends or family.  They had both felt that they wanted to start their relationship without the hounding from the press and scrutiny from the gossip mongers.  It wasn’t until nearly a year and a half later, when Emma had clearly been his date to American Music Awards, that they’d gone public.  Even then they had both agreed that they’d keep their personal lives as private as possible and continued to do so.  Including the fact that they’d been married for two years.

“But now you’ve released a surprise album as a duo,” Tink continued, “going by the name Charles & Leia, which also happens to be the title of the album.  It’s amazing by the way and if any of you out there haven’t listened to it yet I suggest you do so, but only after this interview is over, of course.  So, how did this come about and why Charles & Leia?”

Emma gave him a shrug and a nod and he leaned closer to his mic, “As you mentioned earlier we’ve been playing together for some time now.  After that tour I was a part of we were both starting on our next albums and would often work through arrangements or fine tune lyrics, using the other as a sounding board.  This has, as evidenced, continued through the years until one day we thought we might try our hands at creating a whole album together.”

“We didn’t want it to be an album of my songs featuring him or vice versa though,” Emma chimed in. “Then it would have just been the same thing we’d already been doing which would have been fun but kinda boring at the same time.  We wanted to challenge ourselves to create something new together from the beginning.  Luckily our label was open to the idea and let us run with it.”

“And the name?” Tink prodded.

“A bit of an inside joke, really,” he said with a chuckle, reaching over to clasp Emma’s hand in his, “Whenever we made reservations or had to give a name for whatever reason I used Charles and Emma used Leia.  I don’t even remember why-”

Emma snorted, “When he made the reservations for our first date and they asked for a name he panicked.  We’d been watching The Crown and he blurted out the name Charles.  At least he didn’t completely lose his shit and say Elizabeth.”

Emma’s eyes widened at the curse and clapped her hands over her mouth.  Tink waved her hand in dismissal.  Not a moment later the producer let them know through their headphones that cursing was fine but to keep it to a minimum if possible.

“Anyway,” Emma said evenly, though her cheeks were pink, “When it was my turn to make reservations I kept it going.  Princess Leia was my hero when I was a kid.  Still is actually.”

“As she is for us all,” Killian jumped in, “Of course we no longer use those as our aliases but when we were trying to decide how we wanted to present ourselves for this album this seemed appropriate.”

“We also figured it would give people the chance to listen to the songs without already having an idea of what they thought it should sound like because they knew it was us,” Emma explained, “I mean, it’s not like we’re trying to deceive anyone or anything but a lot of times people don’t try something out because they think they know exactly what it’s going to be.  I know I’m totally guilty of it sometimes.”

“I’ve been listening to the album non-stop since it came out last week and you’re absolutely right, if I hadn’t already known that it was you two I wouldn’t have even been able to guess.  Now, I’ve played alongside both of you and have been a fan of each of your music since both of your beginnings and I have to say, Charles & Leia is nothing like the music you’ve released before.  What would you say were the biggest influences on how you approached the creation of this album?”

Killian took a moment to consider Tink’s question.  He immediately dismissed sharing the long convoluted answer that began with innocent questions about one another’s past that led to a months long search into the mystery of Emma’s beginnings that came up empty while he nearly spiralled out of control once more over the unhealed pain of his borderline abusive and neglectful father.  They were still working through some of those issues in therapy and even with the personal nature of the songs they’d written he didn’t feel it was necessary to elaborate on what the lyrics already implied.

“I can’t speak for Emma but for me it’s a look to the past and what influence it has on the present and the future.  Take the title track for instance, my mother was Irish so I looked to the old Celtic folk songs and the instruments used, mimicking the flow of the music before playing around with more modern sounds.  The result was entirely unique but still felt familiar, like an auditory deja vu, if you will.”

Tink was nodding furiously while Emma rolled her eyes at him, “I definitely won’t be that eloquent but yeah, we both have things in our past that sometimes takes a toll on who we are today.  Our music was already pretty personal.  I mean, I’ve written songs about growing up in foster care or when I was in jail but this was something else.  Every day when we finished recording whatever song we were working on I felt like I’d been turned inside out and then wrung out but in a good way?  It makes no sense but I’ve also never been this proud of one of my albums.”

“Well you should both be damn proud!  I may be the tad bit biased but I think this may be the best album to come out this year and we’re only halfway through,” Tink effused.

“Thank you lass,” he mumbled as he scratched behind his ear at the compliment.

He caught Emma’s eye and she gave him an indulgent smile.  She was well aware that sincere praise always tended to discomfit him, as he felt he was undeserving of it, especially when it came from someone he knew well.  It was something he was working on getting better at accepting, with her help of course.

“Since the album was a surprise release there hasn’t been any confirmation of a tour yet.  Any chance we’ll be seeing you two taking this act on the road?”

“We’re doing a kind of a mini tour on the east coast and then a couple of dates out here,” Emma explained, her eyes sparkling, “We didn’t want to get too ahead of ourselves and book a bunch of dates and then not have anyone show up.”

“I doubt that will be a problem,” Tink dismissed with a bright laugh, “From what I’ve been told nearly every show is sold out.  So if any of you listeners out there want to see Emma and Killian perform songs from this brilliant new album I’d say don’t wait to buy your tickets.  I already have mine.

“Now, I know this album is only weeks old and you both have flourishing solo careers but I have to ask: can we expect even bigger things from you two in the future?”

With a smile he had no hope of quelling he gave Emma a wink, though he was reasonably sure that it was nowhere near subtle.  It didn’t matter though, as no one had a clue what it could mean since she had only shown him the positive pregnancy test earlier that morning.  Emma gave him a beaming grin of her own and he kept his eyes on her as he spoke into his mic.

“I think you can, Tink.  In fact, I’m quite certain that this is merely the happy beginning of grand things to come.”

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 30)

“It’s gonna be a great day.” 

Daryl turns his head from the robin, sitting on the ridge of a roof, further away and that he’s been fixing his gaze on for the past half an hour and observes Rick. His friend lets down his shoulders and relaxes his spine, takes a deep breath and lets himself take in the silent calmness of the morning surrounding them. He’s right. It’s gonna be a beautiful day. 

The breeze hasn’t even bothered to wake up today. It’s the two of them, the robin, who sings his morning song, to announce that a new day has begun, and the walkers. 

“Yeah.” 

“Gotta continue working on the wall.” Rick proclaims, as if to create a to-do list in his head of today’s chores. “Check blueprints, find materials. Gotta go on a run.”

“Great.” Daryl replies and nods at Rick. He’ll get to go, he knows it, and he doesn’t mind. As if he were a tame fox, who no matter how domestic it may seem, constantly needs a certain degree of freedom and nature. But he doesn’t mind returning back here either. Not anymore. “I’ll go.” He continues. “Just tell me whatcha’ need.”

“Yep.” Rick takes another deep breath. “What a day.” 

His sudden discovery of nature, the surroundings and an overbearing serenity hasn’t sprung from nothing. He watched by Carl’s side for days. Didn’t sleep, didn’t eat properly, not until Carl sat up in bed and ate himself. The eye was completely destroyed and had to be removed. Thanks to Denise, Rosita, Tara and Mila, who, thanks to her previous profession as a dental nurse, knew how to sterilize scalpels and tools, as well as use sedatives and anesthetics. Thanks to their care, Carl got better, as did Rick. 

“What time is it?” Rick says. “Seven, or eight?”

“Prolly.” Daryl looks at the sun. He watched it rise, heard the birds wake up. Rick joined him shortly after. “Early.” 

“Ya’ wanna go back to the house?” Rick asks. “Get some rest?” 

“Nah.” 

Rick fixates him with his gaze, very ‘nice cop’-like, yet friendly and somewhat cheeky. 

“When I first met Lori-” Rick says, then smiles faintly, chuckles. “Boy, I was- Couldn’t eat properly. Couldn’t sleep. Like I went around in a haze and just thought ‘bout her.”

Daryl nods a little, smiles very faintly, but inside of his chest, his heart takes a skip. 

Has it been two days, forty-eight hours ago he went downstairs holding hands with Jersey when everyone was eating breakfast at the big table? 

After their escapade in the shower, resulting in soaking clothes that had to sundry at the porch roof, they stayed in the bedroom for the entire day. Juri wasn’t in bed when they came out from the bathroom, holding their soaking wet clothes. The smell of breakfast toasts was enough for Mila to understand that Juri was downstairs. Daryl left late in the afternoon, to join a group that has started to create a temporary barricade at the broken wall. Carol brought a late dinner to the working group. 

“How strange, I think I saw these particular clothes sunbathing on the porch roof earlier.” She said cheekily and bumped his hip, while he took a bite of a sandwich.

“Shut up.” Daryl scoffed softly. 

“Pookie.” Carol grinned and shook her head.

He returned late and when he entered the bedroom again, both Mila and Juri were asleep, spooning each other on the bed surrounded by books, soft toys and cassette tapes. He sat down in the comfortable chair, didn’t feel like waking ‘em up by laying down next to them, where he fell asleep. 

Their presence downstairs the morning after that was a silent, visual proclamation that yeah, it was the two of ‘em now’. Or the three of them, including the kid wedged at Mila’s hip in his pajamas, barely awake, but determined to not skip breakfast. Daryl’s heart pounded harder than ever in his chest as they settled on the ground floor, next to each other in front of the entire Atlanta group at the table. Harder than when he stood in the yard as a child and saw the house, his home, burn down to the ground with his mother in it. But it was different. As if his chest was flooded with a warm, deep sense of pride, a sense of belonging. The group hadn’t, thankfully, made a big scene of the silent announcement, which was as big of a deal to him as if he’d announced he’d become the president of the whole damn united states of whatever. It was clear to him, when they sat down at the table, set with pancakes and toast, that the others had already put two and two together. Was it Carol who blabbed, or was it by any chance Rick? Anyway they took it without any fuss. Thankfully. He’d never pull through such a questioning. 

But Rick’s right, to some extent. He’s been in a constant haze for awhile now. He can’t put his finger on when the haze was inevitable, must’ve been during their walk to the gas station, but might just as well be earlier. She had a special impact on him from the start. Those blue, piercing eyes looking at him over the barrel of the gun after they’d saved him and Aaron. He can’t get enough of ‘em. 

“Guess ya’ right.” He therefore says. Why would he lie? Apparently they’re the talk of the town now anyway. Jeez. As if the townies don’t have else to talk about? 

“That hurricane of- I dunno, feelings. They’re good. Validation that everything’s just- perfect.” Rick says and by doing so, puts his finger on something Daryl have felt some kind of guilt for, not always, fuck no. 

But it’s a feeling he struggles with from time to time, if just for a second or a minute. He’s not good for her, or more correctly; not good enough. But that feeling’s swept away as soon as he notices her looking at him. The blue eyes smiling at him, as a lagoon of homeliness and deep affection. 

“Never done this before.” Daryl says husky. 

“No one has.” Rick replies while looking at the robin. “There’s a first for everyone. Ya’ just- gets a hang of your own mind. The rest goes by itself.” He makes a movement, and gets up from the boards. “I’ll go get some water.” He announces. 

Rick climbs down the ladder and Daryl looks after him as he strides over to the store. He smiles faintly to himself, lets his experienced gaze wander slow and steady over the closest surroundings at the other side of the makeshift wall. A few walkers have miraculously managed to remain on the site since they made a raid and eliminated most, after the great battle. One of them seems to have ended up in a loop; over and over again it crashes into the hood of an abandoned pickup, whose tires have almost grown stuck in the asphalt, which has been taken over, slow and steady, by mother nature. 

A soft tapping on wood gets his attention. He turns his head, and happens to see something at the lower end of the ladder.  

“Mornin’.” He greets Juri, who’s small, soft hands squeezes the second step of the hard, wooden ladder. “Wanna come up, kiddo?”

Without hesitating, Juri climbs the tall ladder, with the walkman in his pocket and the headphones around his neck. The big blue eyes are determined, curious. Almost at the top of the ladder, Daryl grabs the boy by his armpits and lifts him up to the platform. The three and a half year old is an early riser and has managed to dress himself this morning too, except the shoes that Juri wiggles in front of Daryl, to tie for him.

“Ya’ gotta learn to do this on ye’re own someday, kiddo.” Daryl says and ties the tiny Chuck Taylors.

A small index finger is pointed right at him. Juri looks at him with a clever grin, as to say: ‘Well, until then, you’re doing it for me’. Yeah, that’s probably true. Daryl lets out a faint chuckle. Being bossed around by a kid is something new. 

“Ya’ mom’s asleep?”

Juri nods. Daryl smiles. Before he left the night before to join Abraham at the watchtower he checked in on Mila and Juri. Juri was tucked in for bed and Mila had curled up next to him, supported by at least four pillows, with two books about bunnies in her lap; The Velveteen Rabbit and The Naughty Bunny. 

“See ya’ in the mornin’.” Daryl said, stroking Mila’s hair. “Night, kiddo.”

The smile he received from Juri, all wrapped up under the covers with his soft toys was priceless and also followed by a thrown, open-palm kiss.  

Juri settles down next to him on the platform. He’s dressed in a pair of rust colored dungarees with a black jumper underneath. On top he wears a flannel to shield himself from the still awakening sunlight, looking very proper. The blonde hair looks half combed, as if he got tired with trying and decided to leave it be. He fiddles on the walkman, while peering out over the wall with squinting eyes.  

“Ya’ had breakfast?” Daryl asks. 

Juri doesn’t answer, obviously, but he puts his hand in the front chest pocket of the dungarees and pulls something from it. A pack of two Reese’s cups. Daryl grins. 

“Ya’ mom won’t like that.” He says, but gets an authoritarian index finger in front of the mouth, followed by a ‘shhh’ from the boy; ‘I won’t tell if you don’t tell’. “Go ahead, kiddo.” Daryl therefore says.

He watches as Juri peels the packaging open and takes out a peanut butter cup and hands it to him. They eat the chocolate-peanutty-goodies under silence. He’s amazed at the little boy, who seems to have the intellect and the ability to think like a child who is twice as old. Mila hasn’t coddled him, except smothered him with infinite amounts of motherly love, no doubt ‘bout that, but he can dress himself, make decisions on his own. He’s curious rather than scared and calculating rather than impulsive. He likes to collect stones, feathers and sticks, picks flowers, investigates bugs and likes to draw and listen to music while jumping on the bed or running around in the streets. And Daryl adores him. He’s a great kid. 

“Whatcha’ listen to?” Daryl nods at the walkman between the small hands. 

Juri removes the headphones from around his neck. He holds them up in his right hand as he pushes the ‘play’-button and turns the small ‘plus’-volume button on the side of the device, increasing the volume, leaking an old rock song. 

“Sounds great.” 

Juri gesticulates with his hands. It makes him feel both dumb and sad over the fact that he actually can’t understand the kid. Not that it stops Juri from trying, but he can’t understand no matter how many times he repeats his gestures.

“Sorry kiddo.”

The kiddo ain’t let down that easily. He opens the walkman, takes out the tape and shows him. Daryl reads ‘Boston - Boston, 1979’, written in black marker at the thin line on the orange paper label at the black plastic tape. 

“Okay, here we go-” Rick appears at the edge of the platform, but pauses and bursts into a wide grin at the sight of Juri. “Hey, little guy.”

Juri waves at Rick as he climbs up and sits down at his left side. 

“Here-” Rick hands Daryl the bottled water and then looks at Juri. “You’re up early.”

The blonde boy nods proudly, as to say ‘yup, before my mom’. Daryl unscrews the cap from the plastic bottle and offers it to Juri. He takes it and takes two small sips, before handing it back and continuing to look out over the wall. But soon the little nose begins to search in the air. Daryl and Rick can smell it too; breakfast. Toasts and waffles.

“Ya hungry?” Rick asks Juri. Juri turns and peers up at Daryl, as if he had an answer for it. He then turns back to Rick, and shakes his head. “We’ll be replaced soon. Then we’ll eat.” Rick says, very dad-like. Authoritarian but still nice. 

Juri nods and returns to his walkman, puts the headphones over his blonde hair and disappears into his own world of Boston, 1979. Daryl looks down at the toddler sitting between him and Rick, nodding his head to the beat of the music, so carefree and at ease. He looks so much like Mila, except the blonde hair. But his constant cool is something else, a hybrid between Mila and whoever the man who biologically is his father. Mila’s a hothead by blood, with impressive self-control. Like the calmest water which in an instant can blow up into a raging storm. Juri, on the other hand, is calmness personified whatever the situation. Maybe because he relies on Mila entirely. He never has to be scared or worried.  

“Now, that’s a sight for sore eyes.” 

Daryl’s interrupted in his thoughts. He turns and looks over his left shoulder. Carol is standing on the ground, shielding her eyes from the sun, smiling up at the three of them. Juri waves happily down at her with a proud smile on his lips. He’s with the big boys now.  

“Hi, darling.” Carol waves at him before turning her eyes to Daryl. “Ya’ boys hungry?” Juri sniffs in the air and nods. “There’s honey and waffles for you, darling.” Carol smiles at the blonde boy. “What about you two?” 

“Sounds great.” Rick says. “We’ll be replaced soon.”

“Great.” Carol replies. “You’ve been up there all night.” She continues. “We’re planning a barbeque tonight. Why don’t you get some venison later?” 

I’ll be damn Carol, Daryl thinks to himself with a faint, but thankful smile. More things to do today, except collecting materials for the wall. 

“Sure.” He calls back at her. 

“I’ll thank you later, when you’re back with some meat.” She replies in a cheeky smile. “I’ll bring you three something to eat before you leave if you’d like?”

“Set up three more plates.” Rick says. “We’re done here soon.”

Carol nods smilingly, turns and starts walking back towards the houses. Daryl and Rick look at each other. Huh, a barbecue.  

“Could be fun.” Rick says. “Gotta chop some wood then. You wanna help?” He looks at Juri, who nods eagerly with the headphones around his neck again, excited to help out with grown-up stuff. “Great. We’ll start right away, after we’d had something to eat.”

Juri nods and looks at the two men on each side of him, rubbing his tummy, showing them that now he’s hungry. Especially when there’s waffles. He then gets up on his knees and, without warning, climbs into Daryl’s lap. The small hands start to fiddle with his vest, then with the cord of the headphones. Daryl doesn’t tense, but he becomes instantly aware of his body, as if a baby deer had climbed into his lap; he can’t scare him away. But Juri’s calm and relaxed. In the corner of his eye, Daryl sees Rick smile. 

“What?” 

“Nothin’.” Rick says and blinks. “Just, everything’s kinda fine, right?”

Daryl turns his gaze from Rick and looks down at Juri, who meets his gaze and smiles sunny, then out over the area on the other side of the safe-zone, contemplating his friend’s words. Yeah, he thinks. Things are actually kinda perfect. Fuckin’ hell, he feels great. Everything’s calm. No breaches and no herd of walkers approaching. There’s a three and a half-year old in his lap that looks at him like- yeah Daryl can’t figure that one out. But he seems happy. And there’s Mila, probably half awake by now, back at the house. Holy shit, he’s got his shit together at last. 

“Guess ya’ right.” Daryl replies.

“Yep.” Rick says, also turning his head out over the surroundings. “I’m happy for ya’.” He sighs. “It’ll be fun. Barbecue. Bonfire. The only thing’s missing is a harmonica, or a guitar.” Rick turns his head to look at him. “Ya’ play?”

“What? Guitar?” Daryl shakes his head. “Nah.”

But a faint smile spreads upon Daryl’s lips as an idea forms inside his head, accompanied by the muffled sound from Juri’s headphones, which leaks a guitar solo. Nah, he ain’t playing. But he knows someone who might. Inside his head, he adds another task to his mental to do-list.

Taglist: @lonewolf471 @twdeadfanfic

[astyle-alex]

[Fanfic] Museum Mishap | the BatFam

Museum Mishap  |  Chapter 5/6

Fandom: the DC Universe, Batman & co. Pairings: Jay x Tim Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None

Total Word Count: 38,590

Summary:

Middle-School Tim Drake is on a field trip to the Science Museum, but with a WE exhibition of top-secret new technologies being staged in the basement, Tim separates from his classmates and breaks into the staff-only areas by using the skills he's developed over years of stalking Batman and Robin.

Current-Robin Jason Todd catches him in the act, but he's not there to confront Tim for trespassing or truancy - he's there because there's a rumor on the street that Tim Drake knows Batman's real name. And the rumor's gaining ground, quick, drawing in the wrong kind of attention.

When a Drug-Lord decides to take the rumor seriously enough to kidnap the little genius, Jason jumps into the crossfire. It all goes downhill from there. Fast.

(Jason is 14, Tim is 12)

||  Read on Ao3 | Read on FF.net | Follow my updates on Patreon  ||

Museum Mishap Chapter 5: Checking Up

     Dick is the first to notice something’s different about Jason.

           Which is fair, because even though Bruce is the first person to see Jason after he wakes up on Saturday, a full 27 hours after being rescued from Sabini (ten of which he’d spent sleeping peacefully in his own bed instead of the Cave’s infirmary) – and even though Alfred is the first person to talk to him after he comes downstairs for breakfast – the bulk of what is actually noticeably different about Jason is aimed directly at Dick.

           Literally.

           Because Jason is starting.

           At Dick.

           From across his plate of scrambled eggs and sausage and toast piled high with strawberry preserves instead of the peach marmalade Dick likes and has on his own plate, Jason is staring. At Dick. Directly.

           He’s not even glaring at him, he’s just… watching.

           Which actually makes Dick more self-conscious than if Jason had been glaring, makes him think he’s done something wrong. Something especially wrong.

           Dick had never asked for a little brother, and to be perfectly honest he could admit that he hadn’t exactly been very nice to the one he’d acquired unexpectedly. While he had concrete and valid reasons to be pissed at Bruce for how he’d handled things, Dick wasn’t quite self-centered enough to miss how he hadn’t done right by Jason either.

           He’d screwed up their relationship in the beginning and now he spent most of his time trying to avoid making it worse. Which meant most simply that he spent most of his time straight up avoiding it…

           The longest span of time Dick had spent alone in a room with Jason since storming off to California a few weeks before his sixteenth birthday – to go be Robin with people who appreciated him and his skill and his right to wear the R, because it was his and always would be – was about the length of a Star Wars movie. The longest they’d spent together without such a specific and effective distraction was about twenty minutes.

           In which Alfred usually checked in on them halfway through.

           Because Jason does deserve the R.

           And he’s always resented that the older brother he’d never asked for thought he didn’t.

           Which isn’t exactly true, but Dick has never been able to explain that before Jason – brilliantly observant, woefully astute, and brutally willing to cut to the quick as he was – said something that made Dick get defensive. Which is when the yelling always started.

           And the quiet moments in between the yelling had always been punctuated by glaring.

           But now Jason is staring – and distinctly not glaring – and Dick doesn’t know what he did, or what he should do now. So, he sits in silence and plays with his eggs and worries.

           Because something is different about Jason this morning, and he doesn’t know why – or what it has to do with him. Or what Jason thinks it has to do with him.

           Because if Jason’s pissed with him for not getting to him quicker last night, for not jumping in earlier – early enough to stop Sabini from breaking his leg perhaps – then Jason would already be yelling. But he’s not. He’s staring.

           And Dick doesn’t know what to do.

           “Do you have a driver’s license?”

           Dick is so startled by the question he nearly drops his fork.

           Actually, he does drop it. He just manages to catch it before it skitters off the counter.

           “B won’t let me in the Cave with my leg and Alf won’t let me have the keys to any cars topside until I’m legal,” Jason explains – without explaining anything.

           “Yeah, I’ve got my license.”

           Dicks voice doesn’t squeak or waver. He’s moderately certain that some sort of magic or robotic voice replacement tech is behind the phenomenon. Or maybe his Robin conditioning is finally proving useful outside of the dark allies where his calm could comfort victims.

           Jason nods. He’s still staring.

           But now he’s squinting, evaluative. Not quite a glare, but closer.

           “Cool. Can you drive me somewhere after breakfast?”

           Dick nods. He decides not to ask to ask why Jason isn’t asking Alfred to drive him.

           He also decides not to ask where Jason wants to go until they’re already in the car.

           They don’t speak again until after Dick pulls into the circle at the end of the Drake Estate’s mile-long driveway, and even then, it’s just a gruff C’mon to hurry Dick along while Jason hauls himself out of the car on his own.

           Dick is slightly distracted as he cuts the engine. He nods to Jason – who’s paying him zero attention – as he marvels openly at the fact that they do, apparently, have neighbors.

           The Drake mansion isn’t quite a massive or effortlessly grand as Wayne Manor, but it’s a decently imposing imitation. There’s wealth here, excess. And no hint of the soft touch that Alfred has to bring a human element into the aching chill of life with money.

           Dick wants to ask what they’re doing here, of all places, but Jason is focused.

           It’s a feat for Jason to wrestle his crutches out of the car and limp his way up the wide steps of the ostentation front stair, but he manages. He does it without even making Dick feel terrible about not offering to help – though he knows if he did offer, Jason’s only response would be to curse and try to whack him with the pointy end of his crutches.

           Dick follows silently up the stairs after him and waits as Jason rings the doorbell impatiently, pressing it again after only a few seconds of silence.

           He’s not quite scowling at the Drakes’ front door, but he’s not smiling either. Whatever he’s thinking about is serious enough to warrant asking Dick for help instead of Alfred. Dick is definitely concerned by that, but there a hopeful anxiousness twisting in him too.

           Because Jason needed help, and he asked Dick to provide it.

           It’s not much, but it’s something.

           Jason’s leaning on the doorbell again when Dick hears a shuffling inside that indicates someone coming to check the matter. Dick hopes it’s not an elderly butler – Alfred moves around pretty well for his age, but it’s a big house and it takes even him a minute to get to the door on the bizarre occasion Wayne Manor has unexpected security-approved visitors.

           The Drakes’ equivalent can’t possibly be as light-footed or quick and Dick wants to tell Jason that it’s not whoever’s fault that it takes a while getting from one end of a mansion to the other on a Saturday morning for an unanticipated guest.

           There’s the sound of the lock being turned, but the door doesn’t open immediately.

           Jason is about to lean on the bell again – and Dick is seriously considering how counter-productive it will be to stop him from being overly rude – when the knob finally spins and the massive solid-wood structure sweeps inward.

           Dick plasters a smile on his face and –        

           It’s the kid from Thursday night.

           Dick’s whole being freezes.

           It’s the kid that took a beating because Sabini thought he knew something about Batman.

           Dick is stuck in a sudden mental rut of wondering why this kid – and Dick know he’s a tough one, he’s seen it, but he’s a head shorter than Jason and probably weighs as much as Dick’s leg and he’s just survived a torturous kidnapping and should be on bedrest with soup and blankets and stuffed animals – why this kid is answering his own door.

           Especially in a house like this. His family is clearly rich beyond reason and could have a flurry of staff to care for the household’s daily needs and to fawn sweetly over the poor injured young master. So why is he answering the door?

           When his door costs as much as the entire Trailer the Flying Graysons called home in Haly’s Circus. When there are still bruises on his face where Sabini’s fingers gripped him that haven’t quite gone ugly and greenish from healing. When the butterfly bandage on his cheek is still the only thing holding the skin together beneath the antiseptic goo.

           Jason’s brain is clearly doing the same acrobatics as Dicks, asking questions it’s not really keen on getting answered because the answers can’t be good, but Jason recovers faster.

           Which is good because the Drake boy – Timmy, Dick remembers, except no, that’s just what Jason called him, he introduced himself as Tim in his brief moment of lucidity on Friday morning – is looking between the pair on his doorstep like one of the rescue dogs Dick remembers Haly bringing into the circus fold on their first days of being treated well.

           They were cautious and skittish and quick to shy away, but also a little bit awed by the care and attention being paid to them – slightly overwhelmed to say the least. And Tim Drake is clearly in a similar state of mind.

           Dick is frozen on the doorstep.

           Tim is frozen in the doorway.

           Jason falters too, but only for a moment. Then he’s using his crutches to nudge Tim out of the way, so he can swing himself through the door and into the Drakes’ imposing foyer.

           Dick follows.

           Tim remembers to close the door – and lock it too, with a sturdy deadbolt that Dick knows will provide actual security – and then shuffles after Dick and Jason.

           Silent on his feet – impressive, given the floppy sneakers he’s wearing – Tim allows Jason to lead the way through the mansion’s sprawl to its kitchen. Tim is watching Jason’s back as he swings forward on his crutches, which gives Dick time to look around the mansion as they walk. He knows Jason’s scoping the place out too, and he’s glad Jason can manage it with that subtle street-wise skill he’s got ingrained. Dick could probably be subtle – he was trained by Batman – but he’s finding it hard to rein in the reaction he’s having to the place.

           It’s absolutely sterile here.

           More like a museum than like a house.

           Nothing looks soft, or like it’s meant for people to sit on, and the few chairs and cushions Dick has clocked as they move through the sprawl don’t look like anyone has ever used them. There’s not a speck of dust, but honestly that just makes it worse. There are people that come through here, in order to clean it at least, but nobody lives here.

           “What’re you saying about your face,” Jason asks bluntly when he stumbles upon the masterwork that is the Drake kitchen. Dick can tell that finding the kitchen has help Jason relax a little, that being in a place that’s meant to be sterile has helped at least as much as the prospect of diving into the soothing rhythm of cooking, but Tim doesn’t pick up on Jason’s new degree of ease and relax himself. If anything, he tenses more.

           “I’m going to say that I tried to launch a rocket in the back yard and it blew up in my face,” Tim explains. He watches as Jason moves to investigate his fridge.

           He notes when Jason stiffens, flinches as he realizes what he just said to prompt it, and he whips his head around when Dick is the one to speak up about it. “You’re ‘going to say’?”

           Dick knows the way he blurted it in aching disbelief is rude. Not calm. Not helpful.

           But he’s lost sensation in his limbs and his stomach is still sinking towards the center of the earth at supersonic speeds.

           They had dropped Tim back into his bed at 2pm on Friday afternoon, once Bruce had convinced Alfred that he was stable and well on his way to healing. That was almost 20 hours ago. Dick’s stomach churns as he realizes that no one’s been to check on him in almost a full day.

           Tim survived a brutal beating, and he’s been dealing with the mental fallout of his kidnapping – not to mention the physical aspects of his recovery – entirely alone.

           Dick is staring at Tim, wide-eyed and worried, and he knows it isn’t helping as Tim looks down and toes at the marble floor.

           “Mrs. Simz doesn’t work on Fridays,” he mumbles. “She thinks I spend Friday nights with my school’s chess club.”

           Jason snorts. “Of course, she does. That sounds perfectly reasonable.”

           He pauses. Anyone but Dick probably wouldn’t be able to catch the way he steels himself and forces down a mix of rage and worry before he asks lightly, “Hey, kid, you got any flour hiding in this joint? Baking soda?”

           “Why?”

           “I’m gonna make pancakes, obviously,” Jason replies, shouldering open the fridge and pulling out milk and eggs. He spreads his haul on the island and shoots Dick a look that he hopes means that he should start investigating the Drake cabinets for mixing bowls and a griddle and such. Because that’s what Dick starts doing.

           “Pancakes?”

           “Yeah, they’re kinda like pizza – you eat them,” Jason replies, a gruff amusement in his voice that tells Dick there’s some sort of inside joke involved.

           Dick wants to think that there’s no part of the joke where he should be legitimately concerned that Tim doesn’t eat, but he also remembers how easy it was to pick the kid up when they rescued him. Sure, he’s only twelve, but Dick is fairly certain that he weighed at least twice what Tim does when he was twelve. Comparing him to Jason – even the emaciated twelve year old Jason that had first been brought to the Manor – would be too tragic to let him keep the smile on his face, so Dick consciously fights the urge.

           Tim jumps in to help direct Dick and Jason around his kitchen, Tim acting as Jason’s legs while Jason barks orders. Dick didn’t know Jason could cook, but he’s not as surprised as he thought he’d be – even when Jason whips out the fancy tricks like cracking the eggs one-handed and twirling his spatula as he times the flips perfectly.

           Butter and syrup appear on the island as Dick tries to help put the finishing touches on their meal. It’s been over an hour since breakfast, so Dick can definitely eat – and he knows Jason is probably already starving. Tim is looking at the looming stack of pancakes warily, however, and Dick is pleased with himself for not shooting Jason a worried look.

           It gets even harder to resist when they actually settle down to eat and Tim expends a painstaking amount of effort on arranging the careful stack of pancakes on his plate instead of making any move to dig in.

           “So, Timmy,” Jason says around a mouthful of pancakes, “Find any cool new toys since you’ve been home playin’ with your rocket?”

           Both confused, Dick and Tim look blankly at Jason – who rolls his eyes. Then he taps his ear and makes a wide gesture about the kitchen. He’s asking if Tim’s found any Bat bugs.

           Dick knows Batman must’ve left some – Tim was suspected of knowing his secrets for a reason, after all, and Bruce would certainly want to keep tabs on any future developments that might potentially occur. What Dick does not know is why Jason’s asking Tim if he found any listening devices hidden in his home – why he’s referencing the plausible option so casually, so openly. Unless… unless Tim knows.

           Scandalized, Tim looks between Jason and Dick – redness creeping up his neck until his ears are bright ruby – and then stares down at his pancakes. He nods.

           Like he’s pulling teeth, Jason waits a beat to make sure Tim is still alive and then asks with the same casual air, “Find any in here?”

           This time, Tim shakes his head, still staring resolutely at his pancakes – and still making no move to actually eat them.

           Jason nods, satisfied.

           Tim waits, but Jason doesn’t say anything else.

           Eventually, peeks up. Looks at Jason. Waits.

           Then he slowly, sheepishly turns his head to look at Dick. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the accusations and yelling to start. Tim does know their secret, and he expects to be in serious trouble for it.

           Jason levels his own look at Dick, daring him to break the tenuous trust they’ve developed in the last few hours by voicing any sort chastisement.

           When they’d first brought Jason and Tim back to the Cave, Batman had been on Jason about getting to the truth of the rumors around Tim – to the point of absurdity, considering that there were two traumatized and injured kids to care for, considering that Jason himself was being questioned before Batman would give his broken leg the medical attention it needed…

           Dick had spoken up in defense of Jason – asserting his own opinion that Tim was ignorant of the secret that got him wrapped up in this mess – mostly because he was pissed at Bruce for being so callous. Dick knew that Bruce cared, that he cared so much he buried all of his feelings deep beneath an impenetrable layer of cold practicality so he could deal with the pragmatic details of resolving the situation.

           But it was really hard to remember that he cared when it felt more like he wanted answers in his own interrogation rather than to help the adopted son he’d just rescued from a drug-lord who’d been asking the same questions.

           But Dick had defended Jason’s stand against Bruce.

           At the time, he hadn’t realized Jason was lying – that Bruce honestly did have a valid reason to worry about Tim’s ability to threaten Batman’s secrets. He knew Jason wasn’t being entirely honest, but he’d brushed it off as embarrassment at getting caught and needing rescue.

           Knowing what he does now, that Tim is aware of much more than he should be, Dick isn’t certain he would’ve made the same call. On the one hand, he wants to trust his brother’s judgement – to stay focused on Tim as a victim rather than a threat – but he also feels the urge to trust his mentor’s trend of caution, because if Tim threatens Bruce’s secrets he’s also threatening Dick’s. And Jason’s. And possibly Barbara, and the Titans, and any other mask they’ve ever worked with… Tim could be very dangerous if Jason’s wrong about trusting him.

           But Tim is waiting to be yelled at – waiting to face the good guys’ wrath for simply being clever. And Dick had seen the R on Tim’s sweater. He’s a fan, and he’s been clever, and he’d taken one hell of a beating for a twelve year old kid to be expected to handle.

           And he hadn’t talked.

           It was more than Dick would’ve expected from most grown-ups. It was as much or even more than he’d expect from adults trained to withstand interrogation.

           If Dick needed proof that Tim wasn’t a threat, that was it.

           Tim was still staring at him – waiting for his anger. Waiting to be punished.

           Jason was staring too – waiting for a reason to get angry himself.

           Resolved to let Tim continue to fly under Batman’s radar, Dick doesn’t say anything. He just takes another bite of his pancakes. The bite goes down easier than he expects, validation that his gut trusts Tim on a level beyond instinctual. Something more like kinship.

           Tim keeps staring – like he doesn’t quite recognize what it means that Dick is just going on with eating like a major secret affecting both of their lives hasn’t just been exposed – but Jason relaxes. He even flashes Dick what could pass for a smile.

           It makes Dick feel like he’s made the right decision all over again.

           He’s got very little good history with Jason, but he’s working on his own issues and he thinks that, just maybe, he and Jason can work with this – can use Tim’s hush-hush existence as a bit of common ground to try standing by each other instead of against each other.

           Tim is still staring, though.

           Still waiting, still worried, still convinced that he’s in trouble.

           “Pancakes not to your liking, Tim?” Dick asks, flashing him a grin. It’s not the dazzling, thousand-watt smile that’s always made him shine as a media darling, but it’s still bright and teasing enough to startle Tim. And genuine.

           Jason growls before Tim recovers, retorting, “Hey, my pancakes are fantastic, asshole.”

           Dick gives a shrug, his smiling building as he feels out Jason’s grumble and realizes that there’s almost no real malice in it – none of the gritty defensiveness he’s used to from Jason.

           “They’re, um, great,” Tim replies in a squeak.

           With another snort, Jason says, “You haven’t even tried them yet.”

           He reaches across the island and swoops a smear of butter onto Tim’s topmost pancake, giving the terrified youngster a mild heart attack. He pushes the syrup across the table with his fork – it’s good stuff, real maple in a ceramic jug – until it clicks pointedly against Tim’s plate.

           “Eat.”

           Tim picks up his fork, obedient but still anxious and pushes a few bites around before he finally picks one up and forces it into his mouth and down his throat.

           Watching as Tim swallows and waiting until it looks like he might take another bite of his own volition, Jason says, “You gotta relax, Timmers. We’re the frickin good guys.”

           Dick gives a supportive smile as Tim forces himself to nod.

           His eyes jump guiltily to Dick for a moment but then he settles and takes another bite of his pancakes. This time he looks much less like he wants to throw the food back up immediately.

           “How’s, um, how’s your leg,” Tim asks. Guilty, which makes Dick’s lungs tighten, but at least he’s speaking up – which means he might be able to be convinced he’s not at fault.

           “It’s good,” Jason replies with a shrug. “I’ve gotta stay off it completely for the next week, and I’m benched for the next three, at least, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

           Dick snorts. “You’re supposed to stay off it for three weeks,” Dick counters automatically. He lets himself fall into older-brother over-dive to add, “And B wants to keep you benched for the next two months. Alf might actually put you in a coma if he sees you trying to go down to the Cave before the cast comes off.”

           With a shrug, Jason says, “So like two weeks and we call it even.”

           Dick tries to claw back the sigh that’s threatening to cut off all his air.

           “It was a pretty bad break,” Tim pipes up. He looks slightly guilt-ridden, but he forges on to add, “But it was direct contact to the bone, instead of to a joint, and I’m guessing it was a stable, simple tibia fracture – no skin penetration or muscle tears – and it was either transverse or very slightly oblique, so it should heal cleanly.”

           “Not if he bungs it up by trying to do cartwheels on it too quickly,” Dick counters.

           “I’m gonna leave the cartwheeling to you, Dickiebird,” Jason replies with a chuckle that’s warm and teasing and so much nicer than the conversations he’s used to having with Jason.

           It almost sounds like they’re just talking about your average sports injury, and Tim even joins in a few more times as the discussion shifts to Dick and his penchant for cartwheeling down the long halls of Wayne Manor. Tim’s a fan of the Flying Graysons, and after a little figuring, Dick actually remembers meeting him before – before the show for a picture and a hug and a somersault promise, before Zucco, before his parents fell… before life got so complicated.

           Dick and Jason and Tim stay gathered around the island in the Drakes’ kitchen until Tim has completely finished his plate of pancakes without needing to have Jason force him through each bite. And they stay an hour after they’ve cleaned up, and an hour after that too.

           They stay until Alfred sends Dick a text to warn him that Bruce is getting antsy with their absence, antsy enough to start wondering where they’ve gone.

           Tim looks sad as they start gearing up to head back to the Manor, but Jason assures him that they’ll be back tomorrow – and after school on Monday, assuming Tim actually goes to school on Monday. Neither vigilante would blame him if he wanted to take a day off.

           “Why?”

           “Because you got beat up by a drug-lord,” Jason told him with a gruff, but affectionate exasperation Dick can hardly believe he’s hearing from the ill-tempered teenager, “That totally warrants a fucking vacation day or two.”

           Tim shakes his head. “No, I mean why are you gonna come here? Why’re you here at all, if I’m not in trouble for… you know.” He mumbles through most of the words, falling back into the timid little thing he was when he first saw Dick and Jason standing at his door.

           It’s only now that Dick realizes how much he’d managed to come out of that shell.

           “We’re checking up on you, baby bird,” Jason huffs, “Duh.”

           “But why?”

           Tim stands there like the question is perfectly innocent, like it’s not one of the most heartbreaking thing Dick has ever been asked.

           If Jason didn’t have a broken leg and crutches to wrestle with, Dick is sure that Tim would be trapped under Jason’s arm getting his hair mussed beyond all possible repair. As it stands, Jason looks halfway to smacking Tim with one of his crutches.

           Or smacking whoever made him feel like his current state of being is somehow one that is in any way an acceptable situation for a child.

           But Dick smiles and slings an arm around Jason’s shoulders.

           “Because we’re Robins,” he says, promising, “And that’s what we do.”

           There’s a pause.

           And then Tim nods, smiling back in a way that makes Dick’s limbs feel gooey as he goes all warm and fuzzy. He can feel Jason lean into his side, can see that he’s smiling too – not as broadly as Dick is, but the expression is just as genuine. A bit surprised, perhaps, but happy.

           The door closes behind them and Jason clambers into his side of the car without beating Dick with his crutches for helping. The drive back to the Manor is just as quick as the one away from it this morning, but not as quiet.

           The Robins get themselves on a united platform about having gone to visit Drake as civilians – he’d recognized Jason as a Wayne and they’d gone to commiserate with Jason as a fellow victim of random, rumor fueled violence. They explain again to Bruce that Tim doesn’t know anything about Batman and latch onto Alfred’s concern that the boy’s parents are still out of the country. The Robins volunteer to go over and check on him tomorrow.

           At Alfred’s insistence, they agree to spend most of the day there, and several days next week – and bring over some of Alfred’s amazing, high-nutrition cooking.

           With all three of them set against Bruce in this, he relents to giving full approval to their plan – assuming that Nightwing patrols with Batman for the next three weeks while Robin remains obediently on bedrest.

           The butler sides with Bruce on that one, but he gives the boys a wink behind Bruce’s back and it makes Dick get that warm and fuzzy glow again.

           He’s halfway giddy all through that night’s patrol.

           Batman notices.

           But Dick doesn’t explain when he’s asked about it.

           He just says that he and Jason are finally seeing eye to eye about what it means to hero in Gotham, to be Robin… to be a good Robin.

           He smiles into the sunrise after a long night of beating up petty thugs on Gotham’s street corners – of looking into and utterly quashing any remaining rumors that Timothy Drake has any information on Batman. And maybe the throws a few extra flips into the maneuvers that carry him from rooftop to rooftop of Gotham’s city skyline.

           It’s a beautiful day and Dick resolves to make the most of the chances he’s been given – however unfortunate the circumstances around them. The world is already a slightly better place, and Dick is determined to make it more so, bit by bit.

           Because we’re Robins. And that’s what we do.

||  Read on Ao3 | Read on FF.net | Follow my updates on Patreon ||

[stevebillyrecs]

Summer of ‘85 Fic Recs

If you live in the northern hemisphere and are anything like me, you’re starting to really miss summer right about now! Or maybe you hate the heat, and want to experience it only from a distance by reading about it in your safe, cool living room. Or hey, maybe you’re only in it for the lifeguard crop tops, sailor shorts, and ice cream licking, that’s valid, too. In any case, I’m here to interrupt the Halloween mood with some sweet, sticky summer fun (or summer angst, or summer smut)!

Included: fics featuring Scoops, Starcourt Mall, Hawkins Community Pool, the Fourth of July, and other summer shenanigans. Not included: fics dealing with all the other stuff that happened in S3, recovery fics, fics set after the epilogue or outside of Hawkins.

35 fics under the cut – happy reading!

Salted Caramel (And Other Flavors) by kate_button / @un-buttoned (3k, E)

Billy’s all tan and smug and shitty and Steve has. Feelings about it. He’s not too happy about it - Billy’s kind of a dick. And Steve can’t stop thinking about the way he smells. It’s a Problem.

there’s something about a sailor by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald​ (1k, E)

Billy gets Steve to leave the sailor hat on.

bloom by crappyfriday / @softloucre (20k, NR)

In a small town in Indiana, two boys spend the summer listening to music, eating summer fruits, smoking weed, and falling in love with each other. Vignettes throughout the summer of ‘85.

so many ways to talk about longing by lymricks / @lymricks (3k, M)

Steve wakes up–in a pool lounger–to Billy Hargrove looming over him. Billy pushes his sunglasses down and Steve thinks sleepily that it must be so that Steve gets the full impact of Billy’s narrow-eyed glare. “Harrington,” Billy says. “We’re fucking closed.” (or, three times Billy doesn’t let Steve touch the radio and one time he kind of does).

Bright by Kerasines / @kerasines (10k, E)

Steve’s face looks golden in the light of the setting sun, and when he drops his eyes from where he was holding Billy’s gaze, his eyelashes paint shadows on the light flush of red in his cheeks. He looks so fucking pretty that Billy’s breathless with it. Doesn’t know what to do, just holds still and can’t tear his eyes from his face as Steve leans in close, too close, to put lotion onto the front of his shoulders, rubbing it in carefully, so carefully, as if he’s trying not to hurt Billy. Touching Billy’s chest, staring at it where it rises with every shallow breath under Steve’s hands. Then he looks up, straight into Billy’s eyes, and Billy’s sure his brain stops working for a second.

Cherry by LazyBaker / @granpappy-winchester (WIP, 33k, E)

They’ve got ten minutes before Steve’s break is up and he has to go back to wishing for death with a smile.

I Like The Way You Look At Me by XxmerthurcatxX / @callmelilyshameless (800, T)

Steve stares a lot. Billy doesn’t mind.

No Running At The Pool! by Thei / @ihni (2k, NR)

“So”, she said, faux-casually, and thus sending a chill down everyone’s spines, “what you’re saying is that you care about us?” “No”, he said gruffly. “I said that you’re not drowning on my watch. I’m a lifeguard. It’s my job. If you’re gonna drown, do it in your own time.” Another smile, sweet like poisoned honey. “But this is our own time. And you’re off duty.”

Those American Thighs by Veeebles (2k, E)

He smokes the rest of Steve’s cigarette, tosses the butt away into the trees and lounges down beside him. Steve is still just sitting there, staring at how Billy stretches his body out, arms behind his head as he bathes in the sun. Those swim shorts should be illegal. They pull tight over his skin, leave absolutely nothing to the imagination where his dick is concerned, and barely reach past his mid-thigh.

something good right now by Highsmith / @rhubarbdreams (1k, M)

When Billy’s skin is almost feverishly hot from the sun, Steve’s fingertips touch his freckles like they’d touch the inside of him, carefully and longingly.

The Drowning of Will Byers by hoppnhorn / @hoppnhorn (2k, M)

Billy never imagined working as a lifeguard would mean actually saving a life.

spark to a flame by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (1k, T)

Billy’s stomach swoops. He can’t believe he’s holding hands with Steve Harrington, watching fireworks over the quarry. It’s so stupid and girly and…and…fucking romantic.

Buckle (When You Think of Me) by trashcangimmick / @trashcangimmick (4k, E)

Billy doesn’t really ask. He just kind of does stuff. Steve is apparently filthy enough to be cool with it.

cherry pie by brawlite / @brawlite & ToAStranger / @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (133k, E)

Billy Hargrove lives for summer. Endless sunshine, heavily chlorinated pools, roaming ice cream trucks, and unencumbered freedom? There’s nothing better. Even being stuck in Hawkins can’t ruin the summer for him. He eats it up, devouring every day whole.

A Day at the Fair by LazyBaker / @granpappy-winchester (500, G)

It’s pink. It’s a flamingo.

You Got That Hair Slicked Back (and Those Wayfarers On) by moonflowers / @eatingmoonflowers (4k, M)

Five times Billy knows Steve is hiding something, and one time he finds out what it is.

you (FINALLY) rule by brutesa / @brutesa (3k, G)

“Ahoy, ladies!” Steve calls out when a group of girls enter the shop. Behind him, Robin rolls her eyes, picking up the whiteboard marker.

and you’re trying not to tell him by lymricks / @lymricks (3k, M)

Whatever. They don’t talk, is the point, and Billy doesn’t need to finish all these big, deep, tragic sentences in his head. He needs to know if Harrington can’t swim. For lifeguard reasons. It’s his job, all right?

I’m so bad, best that you’ve had by kate_button / @un-buttoned (4k, E)

Steve doesn’t like mustaches. Billy grows one because he’s Like That. Steve bitches about it. A lot. Until he doesn’t.

Turned Bitch by LazyBaker / @granpappy-winchester (2k, E)

Steve’s rock bottom has a name—Billy Hargrove.

ice ice baby by hoppnhorn / @hoppnhorn (1k, E)

“It’s just so hot out here.” And then the fucker takes the ice cube, rolls it down his chin, along his neck, and down to his collarbone. “I need something to cool off.” Steve usually would suggest using the pool sitting less than a few feet away. But he’s not that incredibly thick. He knows a game when he sees one, and he’s not about to give Billy any reason to stop putting that ice cube where Steve wants his tongue to go.

something happens and i’m by brawlite / @brawlite (10k, E)

Billy loves his job as at the Hawkins Community Pool. It’s even better now that Steve Harrington’s a lifeguard, too.

Scoops by itscrybabyharrington / @itscrybabyharrington (1k, E)

Steve presses his face against the cool lid of the ice cream freezer, watching the metal fog up with each gasp that slips from his mouth. It feels good against his overheated skin, a contrast to the solid wall of heat that is Billy pressed up behind him, fucking into him with enough force Steve finds himself lifting up on his tippy toes trying to squirm away. Or, Billy fucks Steve with an ice cream scoop.

I Couldn’t Help It, It Had To Be You by moonflowers / @eatingmoonflowers (4k, T)

Determined to overcome a summer of boredom and too much ice cream, Steve joins the Hawkins running group. Unfortunately, it turns out the secondary purpose of said group is for the ladies of Hawkins to gush about the effect Billy Hargrove is having on their rosebushes. But maybe if Steve wasn’t so busy being offended by Hargrove’s mere existence, he’d realise he’s completely missing the point.

Holy Shit! by harleygirl2648 / @somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds (2k, T)

There’s no swearing on duty, even if those are the only words that apply to a sudden realization that is going to ruin/better your entire summer.

Back Atcha, Pretty Boy by XxmerthurcatxX / @callmelilyshameless (2k, E)

Steve goes to the pool to pick up the kids still in his Scoops Ahoy uniform and is less than thrilled to find out that Billy is the new Hawkins Pool lifeguard. Honestly, who thought putting Billy in those tiny ass swim trunks was a good idea? It was doing things to Steve’s brain that he’d rather not think too hard about. But he doesn’t have to worry since it seems like Billy is pretty taken with Steve’s sailor uniform…

Hopeless by LazyBaker / @granpappy-winchester (400, G)

Steve Harrington has chest hair.

wicked little town by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (20k, E)

The summer after graduation stretches before Steve, seemingly endless and utterly empty. He can’t remember ever being this bored in his life. But when he runs into Billy one night, after hearing a rumour about him at a party, it feels like summer might not be so boring after all.

Tacky Tattoos and Red Trunks by mAadMax / @c0bblenygma (2k, E)

Steve keeps hearing about Billy’s new tattoo and can’t help but being curious about it.

Billy, Steve, Robin and the Not-Obsession by williamastankova / @samaraclegane (3k, G)

In a nutshell, Billy is convinced Steve and Robin are secretly dating (even though they’re really, really not) and it starts to get on their nerves - especially Steve’s.

A Simple Plan by flippyspoon / @flippyspoon​ (5k, T)

Billy has a plan. Steve hanging out at the pool is definitely not a part of it.

Lets hear it for the boy! by nipsu / @nipsus (1k, T)

It’s raining and without thinking Billy gives Steve a ride home. Steve’s shirt is see through and Billy drools like a baby.

You Are What You Eat by XxmerthurcatxX / @callmelilyshameless (800, T)

Steve eats a banana. Billy likes it. A lot.

Won’t You Lay Me Down in Tall Grass (and Let Me Do My Stuff) by moonflowers / @eatingmoonflowers (6k, T)

Fourth of July BBQ at the Byers’. Billy takes out a demodog with a lawn chair while wearing red speedos and smoking a cigarette. Other things happen too, but that’s a highlight.

Ocean of Flavor by itscrybabyharrington / @itscrybabyharrington (700, G)

Billy shouldn’t even be back here, if they get caught it would only add on to the multitude of reasons Steve should rightfully be fired.