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I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.

Thanks to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie

I’m astounded at the response to the preview I posted last week. Thank you so much for the love, I hope you enjoy all 40k (20k wtf did my brain go)

As you pull up to the little house at the end of the street, you look over to the sweet boy with blonde hair and green eyes nervously, curtaining a strand of hair behind one ear. He shoots you a smirk, white pearly teeth peeking from behind pretty pink lips. The date has gone phenomenally well, the conversation over dinner was easy and your date even easier on the eyes. You smooth your hands over the dress you’re wearing, picking at imaginary lint as you’re entirely unsure of what to say next.

Daniel, your date, leans onto the center console, the scent of his minty breath roping you in. “So, dinner was like, forty dollars.”

Your brows pinch together, the topic of conversation coming from left field.

“And the flowers were about twenty.” He says, his voice hinting at a subtext lost on you.

You think back to the flowers, a cascade of spring colours that drenched you in their floral scent. They sit on your dresser in a vase, waiting eagerly for you to come home.

“Okay…?” You ask, unsure of what he’s getting at.

Daniel sighs, suddenly the frustration you didn’t see before is clear on his face. “Well, I think I deserve some compensation for the princess treatment, don’t you think?”

He’s raising his brow suggestively, and the atmosphere in the car turns thick as you realize what he’s referring to. You feel so stupid. Suddenly the smirk on his face isn’t sweet, it’s sleazy. The cologne he’s wearing isn’t earthy, it’s gross. He’s not a good guy, and you feel foolish for thinking otherwise.

You think fast, lowering your eyelashes in a feigned blush. “Actually, I think it deserves just a little more than that. Be right back, I’m going to grab a condom.” You wink as you get out, the cherry on top.

Daniel lights right up, apparently not expecting his ridiculous method to work. The sound of him undoing his belt makes you nearly gag as you run in the front door.

Your dad, the sweetheart of a single father he is, welcomes you with a kind smile until he sees your crestfallen face. “You okay?”

“No,” you choke back, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “He’s demanding I repay him for dinner.”

“Repay?” You tilt your head, inferring what it means. “Oh. Fucking twerp. You need me to–”

“Can I have 60 bucks?” You interrupt him, avoiding his angry eyes.

He melts. “Sure.”

You walk back out the door, head held high right to the little corvette that sits at the end with the cheeky asshole sitting contently, waiting for his treat. The window is still open from earlier in the night, which works right in your favor.

“Here,” you toss the bills at him, allowing a small smile to grace your face at his confusion. “Since you’re so worried about being paid.”

As soon as he understands what you’re telling him, his face curves into a scowl, embarrassed, but too proud to say so. “Like I wanted to do it with Eddie Munson’s slut anyway!”

Halfway back up to the house, you turn back to the car as the engine growls into the night. How does that make sense? you wonder. Why am I being called a slut when I refused to put out?

The front door to your house slams shut again, and your dad receives the message that you would not like to talk about it. “Ed called just now, by the way,” he mentions as you reach the top of the stairs. Your pause in gait tells him you heard him, but you don’t respond because you can hear the smirk he wears, as much as you repeatedly tell him that Eddie is just a friend.

The flowers you thought so fondly of now have a looming presence in your room, like a dark shadow menacingly waiting in the corner. You ignore them as you lift the pastel phone to your ear, dialing the number you know by heart.

He picks up on the first ring. “Hi, sweetheart.” Relief washes over you, instant and comforting.

“Hey, Eds. How was your date?” You and he had the same plans tonight, you just hope it turned out better for him.

“It sucked,” he sighs, sounding like he’s rummaging through his messy chest of drawers. “She didn’t want a date, I guess.”

“Well what did she want?” You ask, going through your own drawers for something comfier to wear.

“Uh, to be shown a good time,” he answers dryly, the sound of rummaging coming to a sudden stop. “Heard the rumors of Munson’s magic fingers and apparently only wanted that.”

Yikes, you think. Eddie’s had many hook ups in the back of his van, but as of late he’s finding himself defeated when they don’t want him, just what he can do for them. Your heart hurt for him last week when he admitted they rarely, if ever, reciprocated.

You didn’t think it’d be an appropriate moment to tell him you would happily reciprocate for him.

“That’s extremely shitty. Guess it’s not all that different from my date though, who expected payback from spending a lousy sixty bucks.”

“Payback?”

“Asked me to suck his dick and pointed to it,” you say, a million times more bluntly than you could to your dad.

“I knew that Daniel guy was an asshole,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “I think our shitty dates deserve each other.”

You laugh, holding the PJs you plan on wearing as you sit cross legged on your bed. “To be honest, I don’t think Daniel would’ve been all that great in bed anyway.”

“I could’ve told you that. He looks like he would call thirty seconds a long time,” Eddie laughs. “Sit tight, princess, I think we’ve earned pancake night at Benny’s.”

“C’mon, I was just about to get comfy!” You whine.

“Nah, wear the pretty dress. It deserves to see a strawberry milkshake, don’t you agree?”

Honestly, a milkshake night with your best friend is exactly what you need. “Sure. See you in twenty?”

“Eh, ten.”

You throw out the flowers, tossing the vase full of water into the kitchen sink, shrugging when your dad gives you an apologetic look. You certainly are already over it, just another asshole in Hawkins, who would’ve thought? When the loud music from Eddie’s stereo pulls up, your dad nods in understanding, telling you to have fun as you leave through the front door.

The date night dress you wear is a summer dress that sits just above your knees, held together by spaghetti straps decorated with pretty blue florals. It's a dress you go to for formal events, and even saw a dance or two back in high school. Of course, you had to dust it off for the cute boy in your Psych class who ended up being a complete dickwad.

The fabric of Eddie’s beat up van is familiar. So familiar that you could argue his passenger seat has a permanent indent from your ass. Eddie has, in fact, pointed it out from one night stoned in the back with him, giggling as you vehemently denied it. At your sudden quiet shut down stature, he patted your ass gently, claiming that he didn’t want any other person’s ass planted on his seat except yours.

That conversation, as hazy as it was, stayed in your mind for days after the fact.

Eddie’s dressed in his own version of a date night outfit, tight jeans exposing his knees with jagged rips under a leather jacket and plain black t-shirt. He’s gorgeous, tauntingly so. It’s not much different from an ordinary outfit, but the faint smell of fresh laundry detergent and his best cologne is the best evidence he’s all dressed up.

The loud music speaks for him, loudly, pulling off before your seatbelt is even clicked into place.

The path from your house to Benny’s is well trekked by you and Eddie on late nights when you should’ve been doing homework but ended up goofing off instead. Martha, a waitress that’s been working there well over twenty years, smiles with smeared red lipstick and too much blue eyeshadow.

You walk in stride with each other, straight to the corner booth as the husk of 20 years of chain smoking barks over the gentle music, “Hey, you two! Eddie, are you finally taking this girl of yours on a date?”

Shut up, you silently beg her, avoiding either of their eyes as you stare at your lap, seemingly fixated on a loose thread at the hem of your dress.

“Oh, I’m not that lucky,” Eddie winks, throwing his arm behind you on the back of the booth. “We’re just recovering after shitty dates.”

“One day, you two,” she muses, tapping her pen rhythmically on her little notepad. It’s never been the same notepad twice, always decorated with a little cartoon sticker on the front. You’re tempted to run to the dollar store and grab her a larger one, but a part of you thinks she thrives on her many little notepads. “Alright, a large strawberry milkshake with two straws, pancakes with extra strawberry sauce and fresh strawberries on top, and waffles loaded with whipped cream and sprinkles. Correct?”

You nod in unison, both aware that she insists you will collectively rot the teeth out from your gums if you insist on overdosing with sugar every damn time you waltz in late at night. She’s given up offering other menu items, having ordered extra strawberries just to make up for your love of the fruit.

Less than five minutes later, following the blissful sound of a blender, the milkshake is wordlessly dropped off at the table, closer to you as even Martha knows you will be drinking 75% of it. The sweet, pinky taste flows easily down your throat, humming softly as you dip into the whipped cream with a finger. “Best milkshake in town,” You assert.

“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie answers, smirking, “you never let us get a milkshake from anywhere else!”

You giggle, licking some of the whipped cream that found a home in the corner of your mouth. “I could never! It would be like cheating! This milkshake would just know,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “it would smell the other milkshakes on me!”

“We couldn’t have that,” Eddie grins, grabbing the large glass to take a sip. “Sorry your date was such a jerk.”

You shrug, already having gotten over it. You’ll just need to sit on the other side of the lecture hall from now on. “He seemed so nice.”

“No offense, sweetheart, but I could’ve told you that Daniel Moore was a shitty person,” Eddie finishes another sip of the milkshake, making a large dip in the glass as the pink slush is pulled up the straw. “He likes to instigate.”

You rest your chin on your elbow, sad the milkshake is already nearly gone. “I had just hoped he would’ve matured by now…”

“In seven months?” Eddie asks you incredulously, raising his brows past his curly bangs. His expression quickly turns curious, tilting his head at you.

“What?”

“So, you’re willing to bet that Daniel Moore has improved just based on personal speculation alone but you’re not willing to believe me when I say Steve Harrington is no longer a douche?”

You roll your eyes. God, you should’ve seen this one coming. “That’s different! I only heard about Daniel. Steve Harrington actually sat back and laughed when Tommy asked–”

“You out as a joke, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it before,” Eddie mumbles, grinning at your shocked expression. “Well, that was like what, three years ago?”

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Steve Harrington now, of all people! Listen, I know he’s also Dustin’s friend, but I find it hard to believe that you guys even have something in common,” You shrug.

“I still can’t believe you refuse to give him another chance!” Eddie playfully retorts, licking some of the whipped cream that still sits on the rim of the glass. “He’s in your Sociology class, isn’t he?”

Yeah, and he seems to insist on forcing his friendship on you, too, no matter how much you resist it. If you found friendship in Eddie, it seems reasonable to find friendship with Steve, too. Yet, there’s a little part that remembers the cruel laughter, his carelessness with others’ lives, and it ripples down your spine in a violent shudder.

You haven’t gotten rid of the notion of being his friend completely, but it’s just not the right time for you, yet.

You shrug. The topic has too much nuance for a nice dinner with your best friend. Just in time, Martha wordlessly drops off the two plates, the smile that spreads across your face is effortless. Zachary, the night chef must’ve heard about the shitty night and added extra for you, because the mountain of strawberries on the table is huge, even for your standards.

Eddie smirks, reading your mind. “You gonna finish all those?”

“Absolutely!”

Eddie sits on one side of the open courtyard, flicking off ashes from his cigarette as he waits for you to get out of class. He mentally reflects on his crazy afternoon, taking another long, much needed drag. The car with the million symptoms was one thing, but the proposition he got right before, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

It’s been 13 days since Daniel, four awkward classes of avoiding his glare, and you’ve decided to give up on boys completely. The one you want doesn’t want you, and the dates you’re going on don’t seem to do well no matter who you say yes to. The two offers you’ve gotten in the last week were therefore denied, realizing that even if they are cute, you don’t want to lead anyone on when your heart belongs to someone else.

Before the aforementioned date, you were practically begging for someone to ask you out, but for some inexplicable reason, now you’re getting offers left and right. Somehow people just know when you’re playing hard to get.

At least Eddie’s dates seem to be going terribly for him, as well. That’s one thing you can thankfully count on.

The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be as gorgeous as it is. It’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.”

He flicks the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?”

He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.”

Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie, this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”

He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.”

Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to claw its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will.

It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”

A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?”

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tiled floors and fall into the depths of hell.

“She asked you out?”

“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!”

That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per se. But a girl like Chrissy, one with pretty blonde curls, adorable smile and a sweet disposition, it’s like your worst nightmare come true.

Thanks to living in such a small town, you can recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out.

This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing.

“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, walking in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”

“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.”

“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?” You try to keep your tone nonchalant, but bitter jealousy coats your tongue.

Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.”

This is also new. Even as his dates would happen, any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this doesn’t become a new habit of his.

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you try to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing.

Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what will probably be another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed.

You smoke more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong hit rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself.

A weight on your bed suddenly dips down and you sit up quickly to face Eddie sitting on the corner of your mattress with a small smile on his face. Your headphones, still playing the obnoxiously loud music that drowned out his knocks, fall off your head as you sit up. You press the STOP button, clicking loudly in the silence as you stare at your best friend.

The anxiety of his date has eaten you all night long, the only thing strong enough to distract it being music loud enough to hurt your eardrums. You always feel some sort of anxiety, but tonight was even worse, eating at your brain in fear of how painful it might be to be third wheeling with him after being his #1 for so long.

For once, you can’t tell how it went. A slimy, selfish part of you is hoping he shares bad news. His smile breaks. Into a bigger, much brighter beam. Damn.

“How did it go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

Eddie slams himself onto the bed next to you, hiding his eyes with his hands with his dimples deep, his pearly whites exposed. “Fuck, it was the best date I’ve ever had.”

Your heart shatters. “That good?”

“God, she’s– much better than I thought she could’ve been,” Eddie answers, peeking out from behind his hands. “It’s fucking crazy.”

Of course Chrissy Cunningham, a known sweetheart, is everything he’s ever dreamed of. Of course she lived up to his expectations. Just your luck. “I’m just jealous of your remarkable turn in luck, I guess.”

Eddie chuckles, turning onto his stomach to face you as he kicks his feet. “You’ll have your turn, baby.”

The pet name stings in the worst way. Instead, you raise your brow at him. “Look at you lookin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush. Pretty boy doesn’t even need makeup with all that blush.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching you on the shin. “You’re such a shithead.”

“Yeah, well you still choose to hang out with me anyway, so, that’s on you.” It takes everything in you to ask the following question, “So, tell me about your date, will ya?”

He does. He rattles on and on about how pretty she is, how easy the conversation was, how much she surprised him, how the night ended with a kiss that had Eddie giggling. He lays next to you, leather jacket put aside on the corner chair and boots next to your bunny slippers at the end of your bed. Your small twin mattress has you close in proximity, your side in direct contact with him as he rests his head on his hands.

“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”

You’re half asleep by now, allowing the exhaustion to overwhelm the slight ache in your chest. It zaps through your heart, overwhelms your senses and makes you dizzy. Your eyes flutter shut, but Eddie keeps talking softly next to you.

“Why were you blasting your 8-track, anyway?”

The question harshly yanks you out of the haze, failing to think of something that doesn’t seem completely false. You wish you were a better liar. “Just stressed out about your date.”

He gives you a strange look, eyebrows tilted. “Hmm?”

“We both haven’t had a very good track record, lately, and if things won’t turn around for me, then at least they should do one of us a favor.” Not, not the truth, but definitely an over exaggerated version of it.

“You’re so good to me, you know?” Eddie asks, intertwining his hand with yours. “Wasting your anxiety on me.”

The rings are harsh against your skin, squeezing your fingers tightly. The physical hurt is almost comforting in direct contrast to your emotional hurt.

His scent is comforting, as it lures you like the pied piper into the land of sleep. It’s about another twenty minutes until he realizes there are soft snores coming from you. He doesn’t care to drive all the way home, despite it only being a five minute drive away.

He falls asleep to your comforting breaths, allowing your hand to remain engulfed in his.

The loud ringing of your phone jerks you awake, quickly crawling to the side of your bed as you grab it from the dock housed on the floor.

“Hello?” Sleep sits deep in your voice, spelling out clearly to your caller that you just woke up.

It just occurs to you that you could’ve just allowed your dad to answer it.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Eddie’s voice is chipper, alarmingly so since you’re not even awake yet.

“You sound way too awake for someone that didn’t believe in waking up before 1pm,” you quip, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

“Ha,” he deadpans, yet it's clear he’s smiling. “Chris wants to meet you. I mean, I know you’ve already met her, but you know, as my girlfriend?”

Ugh. It’s been a harrowing three weeks. “Yeah, sure. What did you want to do with her?”

“I thought we could introduce her to pancake night,” Eddie sheepishly answers, like he knows you would be hesitant to invite someone into your holy ritual.

Yeah. You don’t want to invite her. But…you asked for patience last month and it seemed that the universe has answered with a lovesick Eddie Munson.

“I don’t see why not,” you lie, finding it rolls off the tongue much easier than it used to.

“You’re the best! I’ll see after you study in the library, yeah?” He knows your schedule. On Thursdays after the morning Sociology class, you opt to crawl up into a small corner and hermit yourself with snacks and a pile of books to get the work that needs to be done finished.

In high school, you could get away with doing minimum work and passing, but with your dad paying and barely able to afford it even with his second job, it sent the need to do your work to the best of your ability for once. You owed him at least that much from all the calls of missed classes for four years straight.

“Sure.”

As you stretch while hanging up the phone, you glance over to the alarm clock to see the time and it lurches you forward in bed to scramble for clothes, textbooks, and scattered papers as your lecture starts in less than twenty minutes. You’re usually already sitting in the seat by then.

On your way out the door, your dad is surprised you’re still home, offering to drive you. You don’t want to burden him even more than you already have, so you insist you can ride your bike and still get there on time. Well, at least you hope you can.

The bike rack is nearly full when you get to the college, six or seven locks messily put around the poles, most bikes already fallen over. You jam your bike in between two of them, hurriedly wrangling the annoying coil of sturdy cable between what you’re sure is entangled in someone else’s lock, too. Whatever, they should’ve been more organized.

The clock on the wall tells you class started three minutes ago and your heart falls to your stomach, knowing the professor is a stickler for punctuality. His words falter as soon as you enter the hall, the heavy door echoing its creak against the walls. He graciously allows you to sit and get situated before he continues. He makes examples of every late student, and you figured you would never be in his laser eyed focus. Well, before your alarm decided not to go off.

The last chair available is the corner chair in the front row, the one spot in class you love to avoid. It’s too close for comfort, a place he often chooses for students to answer his questions even if they don’t raise their hand.

That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.

His fingers raise from the desk as a greeting, sharing a sweet smile as you start to collect your textbook and notes. You awkwardly smile back at him, your attention snapped back to the professor as he pointedly talks right at your desk in his lecture. Fuck, this’ll be annoying.

By the time the three hour lecture ends, your hand hurts from the amount of notes you wrote down, one side covered in graphite from smudging the paper. Your stomach grumbles, asking loudly for lunch after neglecting to eat breakfast as usual.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve follows a step behind. “That lecture was brutal,” You hear from behind you. You toss your head over your shoulder to glance back at him before turning back around.

“I guess.” You say awkwardly. Here we go again.

“Out of curiosity, how are Eddie and his new girlfriend doing? Chrissy Cunningham, huh? I cannot say I saw that coming.”

Neither did you. “They’re doing great, from what I hear. Haven’t really met her, yet,” you answer, heading straight to the small cafe that has a home in the heart of the campus. “Listen, Steve, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Why not? You don’t think he’s happy with her, or something?”

You stop midstep, turning to face him. “It’s not that. I just don’t have the capacity for it, ok?”

“You like him,” Steve accuses, his brows meeting his hairline.

Your jaw drops, stuttering through an empty sentence. “I do not like him!”

“Really?” Steve laughs, crossing his arms as he watches you build a brick wall around yourself. “So you not wanting to talk about his new girlfriend has nothing to do with the way your face fell when I asked about it?”

How the hell did Steve Harrington pick up on it so fast, of all people?

“Even if I did, why the hell would I want to talk about it with someone I don’t even know?” You sigh, looking wistfully over to the cafe. “Besides, I’m not even caffeinated yet.”

Steve rolls his eyes, nodding towards the said cafe. “Here, if I treat you to some coffee will you talk to me about it?”

“If you add a wrap to the deal, then I’ll think about it,” You say dryly, pulling a laugh from him.

The barista, a student who you’ve gotten to know is somehow managing to do pre-law and work part time smiles nicely.

“I’ll get a vanilla latte with nonfat milk and an extra pump of vanilla, please.”

Steve raises his brow at you before making his own order, “I’ll get a medium black coffee with room for creamer, please, and whatever this lady wants from the menu.”

You scan until you reach the egg omelet wrap with mushroom, bell peppers, and tomatoes. “The loaded omelet wrap.”

After Steve pays he meets you on the handout counter. “Why nonfat milk and the extra pump of vanilla?”

“If I get nonfat then I can replace the sugar with the extra vanilla.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

You pick up the cup as it lands on the counter, wincing at the temperature on your tongue. “It works.”

Steve grabs his, shaking his head as he makes his way over to pour some creamer in.

The wrap is soon presented as well, steaming in its cardboard sleeve as the scent alone pools on your tongue with saliva. The only thing that got you through that lecture was just the thought of lunch.

Steve meets you at a two-top by the window, setting his own bag down as he sits right across from you.

The omelet, much too hot to eat, sits waiting for you on the chestnut brown table as you sip on the latte. The latte is much too hot as well, but you’ve never had enough patience to wait for that caffeine kick. If you weren’t so afraid of your professor’s wrath you would’ve shown up another ten minutes late with a coffee cup in hand.

Steve allows you and himself a few minutes of quiet before he speaks. “So, why don’t you tell him?”

You cough mid sip, mentally apologizing to your lungs for allowing non-oxygen to make its way in. “I’m sorry?”

“Stop pretending. Eddie was dead on when he said you were a bad liar,” Steve says, grinning with stupid smirk on his face.

“Why have you and Eddie talked about me?” You ask, narrowing your glance towards him.

“Are you kidding? You’re all he talks about,” Steve shrugs, so nonchalant that you have no choice but to believe him. “Kind of annoying, actually.”

“Why?”

“I have to hear about how great of a friend this girl is but also how she can’t stand me.”

You huff in laughter at how distraught he genuinely seems by it, his face contorted into someone who definitely isn’t used to rejection. You cock an eyebrow at him. “Can you exactly blame me?”

“Yes! I can! Everybody loves me!” Steve rolls his eyes playfully, and damn it if you can’t help but find it mildly amusing.

“Hate to break it to you, there, sweetheart, but the people who were picked on by you don’t exactly crave to be around your oh-so-wonderful presence.”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Picked on? I mean that’s a little harsh, considering–”

“Fine, yes, you didn’t exactly jeer, or outright bully even, but you watched and laughed along and sometimes that feels even worse,” you admit, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “Tommy and Carol said shit, that’s just what they did… But sitting back and watching sometimes is just as bad. You were nice, sometimes, I guess. But the fact that you had that capacity for kindness and chose against it just spoke volumes.”

“I met them in seventh grade. They weren’t as bad back then, mostly just somewhat belligerent. They got worse over time, but we all had terrible home lives, it was like we were the only ones that got what that was like…and somewhere along the way, I forgot that just because we had an excuse didn’t mean they had the right.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you answer, glancing at the omelet, debating taking your first steaming bite. “I mean, I’m not condoning it, but sometimes loyalty can be blinding.”

“I’m not that douche, anymore. I got that knocked out of me when I was seventeen. Literally. Now I spend most of my free time with a high school junior,” he laughs, taking another large sip of his coffee.

“Aah, Dustin,” you hum, thinking of the many instances where he had tried to convince you of what Steve had just told you. What made you so insistent on denying believing in either of your friends seems to dissipate, however, just in the friendliness that Steve radiates alone. Damn his charisma. “Would you believe me if I said he vouched for you many times?”

“The kid loves me, what can I say?” He shrugs, not hiding his laughter. “Now. Back to you. Why not tell him?”

No use in hiding it. If Steve can bare his soul in the middle of the day at a damn cafe just to get you to trust him, you suppose you owed him the same. “‘Cause he doesn’t feel the same,” you answer, starting to peel open the snack from the hunger pang. “Why make it weird when there’s nothing that could come from it?” You shrug, looking down sheepishly as the weight of your words sink into your heart like a stone.

“Doesn’t like you. Are you sure about that?” Steve asks, licking his lips.

You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”

“Nope. I just wonder if you truly believe it, or if you’re too scared to let yourself have something you’ve wanted for so long.”

“Where do you get off on acting like you’re some sort of expert on this?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest. The question rings out from the mere fact that he is dead on the nose. He couldn’t be any more right. The very idea that Eddie had even an inkling of what you had for him scares you to death. You would rather keep him as a friend and lie in wait than lose him from a great love and not have him at all.

“I’m more observant than most people give me credit for,” he admits, twirling his almost empty coffee cup. “I’ve heard countless hours of Eddie talking about you, yet I haven’t heard him speak once about Chrissy. That says a lot, don’t you think?”

“Well, me neither, and I’m his best friend. Don’t get down on your luck.”

“You are both idiots. Just tell him. Seriously. I’m sick of you both acting like a pair of love sick fools.”

“You seem to be very convinced of something that is not real,” you tell him, garbled from the bite of omelet you’re in the middle of swallowing. “If you keep this energy up when you’re studying, you would probably do pretty well for yourself.”

“Fine. Remain in denial. I don’t care. You can destroy yourself from the inside. Who cares? Just, let me in. I need someone to help me with these assignments. They are mind numbingly dull.” He throws his hands up like he’s admitting defeat.

“You need a study buddy?” You laugh, hiding the food that sits in between bites. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

“Sweet. Now are you gonna treat me to a coffee every now and then, or?”

“I have a single father, not an unlimited credit card from Daddy’s big business, Steve Harrington.” You say matter-of-factly, jabbing your finger towards him accusingly.

“Oh, so I have to provide the newly released movies and buy the coffee, I see how it is.”

“Privilege breeds responsibility, Stevie. I don’t make the rules.” You give him a half smirk. As you look at him, you’re finally seeing the person you thought could see all those years ago behind the mask of his terrible friends. Steve’s ambush would be the best thing to come out of the next few weeks.

Because it turned into hell.

As your hair runs wild behind you, there’s a grand attempt to allow yourself to let the wind distract you from the sinking feeling in your gut. It grows bigger and bigger, until it becomes unbearable as you reach the gravel lining the trailer park. You allow your bike to fall heavily on the trailer, taking a moment to collect your courage before knocking on Eddie’s front door.

It feels weird knocking. You can’t even recall the last time you did. But, you refuse to overstep any boundaries that might not be communicated yet. Being on Chrissy’s good side will make your life a lot easier.

Eddie answers the door, out of breath and sweating with wild eyes and even crazier hair. “Hey!”

“Hey,” you greet, stepping in right behind him. You blink, taking in the pristine surroundings. It’s like stepping into an alternate dimension, one where Eddie and Wayne regularly cleaned their trailer and preferred the smell of lavender over stale beer and greasy pizza boxes. The kitchen is spotless, the living room has a lit candle sitting on the coffee table, and the shelves containing the million mugs were dusted. “Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend?” You laugh.

He chuckles sheepishly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as protection. “Uh, is it too much?”

“Better warn her now so she doesn’t get used to cleanliness,” you answer, watching as the surfaces around you sparkle and shine.

“Ha, ha. I have to get dressed. I have some snacks on the kitchen counter. You mind starting the popcorn?” Eddie doesn’t bother waiting for you to answer, already walking to his room.

You get a glimpse of his bedroom as he shuts the door behind him, smirking at the clothes still scattered on his floor. At least one part of this little haven of yours remains normal.

The popcorn shakes in your hold as you continually stir it on the stove to prevent it from sticking to the bottom of the thin aluminum bottom and burning. Just as the first batch of kernels reach their limit, a knock from the front door hits, each one feeling like a crack in any normalcy you’ve ever had.

Things will never feel the same ever again. Not after tonight. On your way to open the door you try to tell yourself that it can be a good thing.

Right?

The door opens to the once head cheerleader of Hawkins High, wearing a pink dress that fits her tiny frame nicely with blonde curls and bangs that beautifully frame her face. Her hands are folded behind her back, standing meekly in white sneakers and long lashes and blue eyeshadow. It’s hard not to be envious of how pretty she is.

It’s clear she’s not expecting you to open the door. “Hey! Sorry, Eddie’s just in his room. He should be out any minute.”

“Oh. Ok,” she enters as you back up, wringing her hands together, probably out of anxiety. “What movie did he rent?”

“You know, I was so busy making fun of him for cleaning up for once I didn’t bother to ask,” you admit, hoping to make the atmosphere just a little bit lighter.

She looks around the place, seemingly taking it in. “Hmm,” she hums, walking over to the couch. “It’s cute when they try so hard.”

“Sure,” you answer, walking back to the kitchen, hoping the popcorn isn’t irredeemably burnt. “Do you want butter on the popcorn?”

“Yes please!”

You’re in the middle of mentally begging Eddie to come out already while the butter melts in the microwave, the hum of the microwave loud in the silence.

“Okay! I’m ready!” Eddie announces, opening the bedroom door with a flourish. “Sorry for the wait!”

As he gets to the couch behind Chrissy, he wraps her in a big hug and plants kisses all over her neck. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

You hold back the nausea as you pour the hot butter all over the popcorn in the large plastic bowl. You find it ironic that this is the same bowl you’ve held back Eddie’s hair over as he hurled into it. You just hope Wayne thoroughly cleaned it.

“Popcorn is ready, can y’all help me bring the chips and candy?” You ask, shaking the bowl to coat the butter over each kernel.

“We can do that,” Eddie answers, grabbing Chrissy’s hand as they walk to the kitchen.

“How can I help?” Chrissy asks, arms open as she looks around a kitchen she has no familiarity with.

“Um there’s some soda in the fridge, grab me and Ed a Coke, and you can grab yourself whatever you want,” you answer, pointing to the twenty year old fridge in the corner.

“Hand me some,” you command, holding a single hand for one of the many bags of snacks Eddie juggles.

The popcorn and a couple dozen little bags land on the coffee table in front of a blank tv screen. Chrissy sits with a soft grunt in between the two of you, cradling the cans of coke and sprite in her tiny arms.

She distributes the cans, handing them over to you and him. Eddie squats in front of the TV, pressing play on the tape which he apparently already prepared to watch. His plaid boxers peek out of his jeans, sitting above the studded belt as he adjusts volume and picture.

You share a smile with the blonde, opening your can and wincing at the loud hiss. You keep thinking about the days you and Chrissy will look back on how awkward this was. How the first days of this trio were so weird, and off putting, and how she thought you were a bitch when she met you.

Where she’s a friend.

You have to try.

“What are we watching?”

Eddie turns around slowly, that over exaggerated smile on his face that tells you he’s up to nothing but trouble. “Oh just a little somethin’”

“Oh god,” you wince, knowing that look on his face. You lean into her, whispering, “Hope you like horror.”

Chrissy turns to you with wide eyes and a queasy smile. “Not really.”

“Oh, this one is a classic,” Eddie promises, animatedly using his hands as he crouch-walks back next to her. “If any movie can turn someone into a horror fan, it’s this one.”

As soon as the music starts playing you recognize it. It’s a tune you’ve heard many times in his living room, subjected to it too many times if you had anything to say about it. Of course, you’ll watch it with him every time, regardless.

“Halloween? Seriously? The serial killer stalking the babysitter? You couldn’t think of anything else?” You roll your eyes. He could probably do a whole reenactment of the movie word for word if he tried.

“It’s a classic for a reason, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you, grabbing the bowl straight away. Of course, he will rip through the popcorn, he always does.

You feel Chrissy tense up, not that you can blame her. You suppose a talk about proper pet names will be necessary.

Each bag of snacks is eventually opened because you can’t stick to one bag long enough to finish it even if you tried. You get bored of the same taste too often. You have your favorite few, fuzzy peaches, M&Ms, Reese's Pieces, Swedish fish, and last and most controversially, at least where Eddie’s concerned, salt and vinegar chips.

He always has his own snacks at his disposal from nights of having the munchies, always on a dollar store run for said snacks. At each movie night he restocks, both yours and his alike, and suddenly you realize you will need to remember Chrissy’s too, if you’re going to be cordial.

With each bloody death that splatters the walls on screen, Chrissy grows closer and closer to Eddie. There’s a part of you that has considered using scary movies to cuddle up to him, but you’re just not genuinely scared of them enough to consider it. The ruse would’ve faded eventually. You try not to let the jealousy eat you up from the inside, no matter how much it burns your skin.

His arm wraps around her, petting her shoulder gently as she whimpers at the slash of his knife. “It’s corn syrup. Totally fake. You can tell by the color, it’s way too bright.”

Towards the end, the loud, chirpy, nauseating sound of kissing fills your ears. Your eyes can’t help it, they move towards the noise and immediately regret it. Oh god, they’re kissing. If you can even call that kissing. He’s practically engulfed her mouth.

Surely, with the company they have, they’ll stop, right? Their heads will remember and sheepishly get the fuck off each other? Right?

Two scenes and what feels like forever, later, you realize how wrong you are. “I’m glad you two are crazy for each other, really I am, but can we please wait until I’m gone?” You give an awkward laugh to try to stifle the discomfort coursing through your veins.

Eddie makes a surprised sound, almost like he completely forgot you were there. “Shit–sorry.”

Chrissy doesn’t make any apologies, in fact, you miss the way she rolls her eyes against his chest. She wanted to keep going, hoping you would take her hint to get lost.

Before long, the end of the movie finally arrives, the end credits rolling with that famous piano tune. Chrissy has practically stitched herself to Eddie’s side, her arms wrapped around his waist. The popcorn bowl is nearly full. All that work on it for nothing.

You sigh, about to claim that it’s your cue to leave when–

“I’m thinking we should show Chrissy one of our pancake nights, don’t ya think?”

No. You don’t want that. From the way Chrissy completely tenses up, neither does she. But for his sake, you both reluctantly agree.

Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.

As the ring of the bell against the glass door announces your arrival, Martha’s head snapping up from the magazine she’s buried her nose in. “Hey you two, I was wondering when I would see you again!”

You and Eddie walk directly to the corner booth, as per usual, Chrissy trailing a half step behind him with her left hand intertwined with his right. Before Martha walks up to the booth, she starts the blender, the sound oddly comforting for how uneasy you feel.

“Well, looks like we got ourselves a little straggler! What’s your name darlin’?” She asks, the notebook she now holds a dark purple instead of the red she had last time.

Chrissy stares blankly at her, curling back into him. You don’t remember her being this shy in High School.

“This is Chrissy,” Eddie introduces her, giving her a fond look. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Martha’s penciled brows raise straight to her ruby red hair, the chewing gum loud in her silence. Her surprise only lasts two seconds, shifting into hospitality for the new member. “Welcome to these two’s many, many nights spent here at Benny’s. In fact, could you make them come a little less often. We’re starting to get annoyed at them.” She jokes, throwing a wink at you.

You laugh with Eddie, taking note of the fact that Chrissy is still silent.

“Alright, well I already know what these two want, did you need a second to look over the menu?”

She nods.

“Alright, well, I’ll be right back with your milkshake.”

“Can you make it one medium, one large with two straws?” You ask Martha, sure it would get more awkward if she brought one for you and Eddie to share.

“Oh, sure,” she answers, her voice unusually soft.

Less than five minutes later she returns with two milkshakes and a menu.

“Oh,” Chrissy comments, looking curiously at the pink ice cream drink in front of her. “I don’t really like strawberry. Can I get vanilla instead?”

Your forehead meets the table, punishing yourself. “Shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think to ask.” Eddie apologizes.

“It’s fine.” Chrissy smiles sweetly at him.

“Oh, you gotta eat breakfast, it’s tradition,” Eddie mutters, switching her page to the all day breakfast menu.

“Hmm,” she responds, pointing to one of the menu options. “I think I’ll get the poached egg with the avocado toast.”

“Alright. Should be out quickly,” Martha answers, grabbing the milkshake from them.

“How often do you guys come here?” Chrissy asks, turning her face to Eddie.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Probably more often than we should. Like when shit goes sideways, or we need a hit of sugar, or when we just feel like bugging Miss Martha, over there.”

“When did you start coming?”

“My junior year,” you answer, smiling at the memory, “his second attempt at senior year, we both didn’t want to go to the stupid school dance, so we decided to get dressed up and come here, instead.”

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

Eddie shrugs, petting her shoulder with his thumb. “We thought it was dumb. Then, we ened up coming back when both of us failed this one really important bio test. Then, by the third time she remembered our orders and had the blender going by the time we sat down.”

Eddie asks how your day was, so you inform him you managed to have a civilized conversation with Steve Harrington. You have an audience for the conversation, one member animatedly interested, the other politely listening.

Polite is definitely the way to describe it, no spark in her eye. At least, not the one she wears when she listens to her boyfriend speak. In fact, you can practically see them glaze over.

Just as you nearly avoid explaining the main topic of the awkward conversation, Martha comes back over with two plates, one for you, one for Chrissy. It’s only half a moment until she’s back with the new milkshake and third plate.

The mountain of strawberries is bigger than average this time, this larger size becoming something you might get used to if the staff continues to spoil you like this. You take another flick of whipped cream from the top of the milkshake, suddenly realizing you’ve barely taken a sip the entire time. Damn, it’s usually half gone by the time you get your food.

“Do you guys order the same thing everytime?” Chrissy asks, looking at both of your plates.

“Yup!” You exclaim, spreading the strawberry sauce around your plate.

Her blonde brows furrow. “Maybe it’s not good to eat this much sugar every time you guys come here,” she comments, cutting at her squishy green toast. It doesn’t look appetizing to you in the least.

“It’s not like we come here every night,” Eddie laughs, spreading his sprinkled whip around the fluffy waffle. “It’s fine to indulge every now and then, you know?”

“Maybe you guys should try something a little healthier?” Chrissy asks, her voice having what you think is a little bit of a bite in it.

“People don’t exactly come here to eat healthy, Chrissy,” you laugh, thinking of the menu item called Heart Attack Jack, which is a burger doused in American Cheese with layers of bacon and a bucket of grease. It’s not going to be a soccer mom’s number one choice for health.

“You don’t have to bite my head off, it was just a suggestion,” Chrissy mutters, curling into herself.

“I-I didn’t,” you reply, very surprised at her knee jerk reaction. “I’m just saying, if we wanted to go somewhere to eat healthy, we probably wouldn’t pick a greasy diner in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I’m not sure anywhere in Hawkins really has the healthiest choice.”

“Chris, what she’s trying to say is that eating a crap load of sugar is just tradition at this point,” Eddie says, intertwining her hand with his. “It’s a part of our ritual. You don’t have to eat like us if you don’t want to, we just thought you’d want to be included.”

“It’s just a lot of sugar, is all.” She’s barely taken a chunk out of her food, resembling a bunny in the very small, very tiny bites she continues to take. “Maybe I won’t join you guys next time. I don’t really understand the point.” She says sheepishly.

In the depths of your soul, you feel at that moment you would probably never get along with her, have given up hope on her completely. It wouldn’t be for a handful of weeks until you acknowledge that you had sound reasoning.

The bill is paid, money hitting the table on your and Eddie’s parts, the vanilla milkshake just barely touched. If you knew she wasn’t gonna drink it you would’ve doubled down on the strawberry, Eddie hates vanilla.

As you walk out to the van, trailing behind them as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, you find yourself at an impasse. “Eddie, can you give me a ride home?” Chrissy asks. She moves on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I can ride you before you drop me off?”

The pancakes you wolfed down churn back up your throat, threatening to make their second appearance for the night.

Eddie’s cheeks flush, his eyes wide as he tugs her in. Guess that answers that question. “Um, do you need a ride?” He asks you, almost avoiding your eyes.

Chrissy’s death stare is plain as day, silently warning you not to take it. Fine, you didn’t want to sit in the van with these two, anyway.

“No, it’s fine. I can grab my bike from the back.”

Chrissy beams, her curls bouncing as she jogs to the passenger seat. You hope your ass imprint is uncomfortable for her.

Eddie returns with the bike, putting it gently down in front of you. “Hey, Ed?”

“Hmm?”

“Might want to teach your girlfriend how to whisper,” you tell him, grabbing the handles from him. “It’s not considered a whisper when everyone in a ten foot radius can hear!” It comes out harsher than you intend it, but with how horribly tonight has gone, you can’t bring yourself to want to apologize.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie swears, the pink in his cheeks now from embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t mention it,” you insist, dismissing it. You had a feeling she said it loud enough for you to hear on purpose, anyway. “Just use protection, ok? We don’t need any more Munsons in this world running around, creating chaos.”

If you got Chrissy pregnant I would actually be sick, is what you mean.

“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, wrapping you in a hug over the bike. “See you next time, slugger.”

That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.

There’s no whiplash like discovering your best friend is a completely different person when he’s in a relationship. On one hand, phone calls with him are as ordinary as always, teasing and jeering and flush with the familiarity of a best friend.

On the other hand, when you meet with him and his girlfriend, he seems to dampen his wild personality and slice it into ribbons for her sake. It kills you.

Reruns play on the small tv, old cartoons Wayne recorded for a rambunctious little kid in his mix. You’ve watched them enough to know some of them by heart, especially your favorite gags.

Eddie sits in the corner of the couch, curled up with Chrissy on his lap as they talk quietly. They’re low enough you can barely make out what they’re saying, but from the giggles alone, you have no interest in the nausea it would give you.

She was already in his lap when you got there, a sarcastic comment choked back having something to do with maybe getting off, opting to sit on the other end.

“Oh, Ed, the movie is next Friday,” you remind him, taking another sip of the ice cold coke in front of you.

“Remind me what that was?” Eddie asks you, peering his chin over Chrissy’s head.

You narrow your eyes, scoffing in incredulousness. “Uh, hello? I did not wait in line for hours for the Princess Bride just for you to forget!”

“OH, fuck I didn’t realize that was coming up so quickly!” Eddie exclaims, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, shit I’ll make sure to free my oh-so-busy schedule!”

“Sweet.”

“Oh, I totally wanted to see that movie!” Chrissy chirps, sitting up in Eddie’s lap. “Are there any more tickets for the night you guys are going for?”

“It’s been sold out for weeks,” you shrug, chomping on a potato chip. “I stood in line for like six hours that morning.”

“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.

You wish you could say it doesn’t give you great pleasure to know she won’t be able to crash your movie night.

“You think, uh,” she starts, turning around to face you. “You think I could have your ticket and Eddie could take me?”

You scoff, bewildered that this even crossed her mind. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, I really wanted to see it and it doesn’t really make sense for you two to go out for a date, now that he’s dating me…”

“I think you forgot the part where I stood in line for six hours to get these tickets,” you reply, trying to catch Eddie’s eyes. He’s avoiding you.

“And I’m sure we’ll all go next time!” She offers as an almost smug smile plays at her lips.

She can’t be serious. After watching her face, you realize she is fully expecting you to give up your ticket so she can go with him. Guess that Iron Maiden concert coming up this summer is off the table, too, you think, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

You look at him, waiting for him to say something to indicate how ridiculous his girlfriend is being, to stand up for you.

Oh. He’s not going to.

“I really don’t see the big deal.” Chrissy scoffs.

Of course you don’t. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you my damn ticket!” you snap. “If you really don’t want Eddie to come with me that badly then I can get Steve to take me.”

Which is ridiculous, Eddie was the one who wanted to see this movie in the first place. It looked like it was about adventure, something Eddie loves in movies. You decided then sure, since his birthday is right after the movie comes out, you’ll stand in line for the tickets then treat him to a fun movie night.

If Chrissy is uncomfortable with that, then that’s her prerogative, but she can choose something else to do with her boyfriend since she wants to so badly. You won’t let her walk all over you.

Chrissy doesn’t answer, but she’s clearly upset by yours. “It’s alright, babe,” Eddie hums, tugging her up against his chest so she curls into him. “I can wait until it comes out. We’ll just rent it, yeah?”

You’re not sure which makes you more nauseous, the fact that he just made a plan with her that won’t come to fruition for six months, or that he had nothing to say in the conversation.

You’ve never felt so unwelcome on his couch. “I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you later.”

Whatever comes out of Eddie’s mouth then falls on deaf ears as you fight the tears that irrationally threaten to spill over your water line. They’re stupid, your emotions are stupid, the movie is stupid.

Steve sits on the other side of the light brown table in the library, hunched over some notes as you explain the concept to him once more.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous, I’m going to forget this as soon as we learn it,” Steve whines, rubbing his eyes.

“Well you’re only taking Sociology because you haven’t claimed a major yet and sociology is required in most degrees.”

“That’s true,” he smirks, stretching his arms. “This still is all starting to look like gibberish. I get it, we live in a society in which the rules are not in our favor, why does that have to be studied to this intent?”

You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”

“To who?”

You roll your eyes, wondering how he grew on you like a weed. “Alright, we’ll take a break, then.”

“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”

“Uh, no, at least not that I’m aware of,” you answer, putting your highlighter down. “We were supposed to see the movie for it, but, well you know how that turned out.”

“I’m sure there’s something he’s planning,” Steve assures, tapping his pencil rhythmically. “It’s not like him to not make a spectacle of his birthday.”

That, you agree with.

“Dustin said he hasn’t heard anything about it, either. He almost planned a surprise party for him. You think he’s just taking it easy this year?”

You doubt it, he’s turning 21, after all. Not like hasn’t been going to bars since he was fifteen, but now at least he’d be able to go into a major city with his real ID without getting flagged. Last year he prattled on about plans for this one, how he was gonna have a big rager at Steve’s and drop a whole paycheck on kegs.

You’re sure if he was going to do anything in those next two days, then he would’ve told you by now.

That Wednesday morning, you rise early to the sound of your alarm.

The kitchen counter is already filled with the ingredients you need, preparing for a labor of love. You hook your Walkman to your jeans, listening to the music blaring in your ears as you add one ingredient at a time, watching the batter slowly come to shape.

It’s familiar, your mom’s famous homemade recipe for cake batter. After missing her many cakes and the familiarity of her food, you finally searched for the cards containing her neat print, clearly and concisely telling the reader what her recipes needed.

It became your favorite thing to do when you missed her.

As you pour the batter into each divet in the tray, you recall the first time you thought to make a birthday cupcake for Eddie.

Neither of you cared much for first period, so it was easy to catch him before he woke up. That day you presented a vanilla cupcake with a swirl of black and blue frosting. You learned that morning he hates vanilla.

Every other instance of making him a cupcake has been a litany of flavors, but never vanilla.

As they bake, you whip up the frosting with a hand mixer, hoping the low hum doesn’t wake your father. He works so hard already. Red food coloring turns it from white, the process all too satisfying.

A plastic sandwich bag with the corner cut off is always just enough for you to pipe frosting on, the skilled hand you’ve trained after trial and error working fast.

Your dad always knows on February 19th he will wake up to 11 cupcakes on a big plate.

The pastry sits in a comically large container as you borrow your dads truck, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as you climb the stairs to the Munson’s front door.

You balance the cupcake in your hand as you head straight down the hall towards Eddie’s room. The sounds filling the trailer take a moment to register, for some reason not realizing how quiet it should be on an early weekday morning. The only sounds should be that of an early bird or newspaper hitting the front door.

Dread finds home in your stomach, as if on a very instinctual level you realize what you’re hearing. Though for some crazy, masochistic reason, those instincts wanted to be sure.

His door, wide open, reveals him hunched over Chrissy with the blanket barely covering his broad shoulders as he’s rocking. He’s rocking…and oh, you can hear her, too.

She’s moaning, whining, clawing her nails up his back like a leech, or worse, a tick, digging itself in and refusing to give up the tight hold they have on their victim.

Your mind goes empty, numb, until you hear her faintly wish him a happy birthday. You blink yourself out of the trance, blindly stumbling back into the fresh air of the living room. The cupcake lands on the kitchen counter on your way out the door, not caring as it slams behind you, definitely alerting Eddie and Chrissy of the third unknown presence in the trailer.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to even care about it, the queasiness deep rooted in your stomach threatening to make itself known on the outside plants.

You have a class in less than an hour, something you need to continue into the second year of your Communications degree, but not something that requires brain power.

The simple question of how you managed to ride your bike all the way to the campus, take notes in your class and blindly walk over to the library will always escape you. You somehow watch yourself go through the motions until you meet Steve at the cafe.

The moment he sees you, he knows something is wrong just by the deadened stare that’s taken over your face.

When you break down into tears, he brings you to his house, letting you finally admit to him what you’ve been afraid to admit to yourself.

You’re in love with your best friend. And while you’re doing your best to be happy for him, your poor heart can’t handle it.

The cupcake isn’t mentioned until you call him two days later, still heartbroken, but missing his voice. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, despite the great ache that makes each and every day fuzzy.

Usually, more than half the cupcakes get eaten by him, which is why a dozen are made each year. There’s still more than half left, the very sight of the cupcakes depleting your appetite as his continued absence carves a bigger and bigger hole in you.

He answers on the fifth ring, sounding as if he’s in the middle of rummaging through items in some way, slightly out of breath. “Hey, Chris, sorry I can’t find–”

You swallow the pain. Maybe the lump of pain swallowed in your stomach will finally evict itself like the contents of stomachs should. Yet, the more you throw it up, the more it seems to gather. How does that work? “It’s me.” You say dryly, tiredly.

“Shit,” he breathes, the background noise coming to a sudden halt. “Hey, you.”

“Hey. How was the cupcake?”

“The mysterious appearing pastry was delicious as always, slugger.” Slugger. “What-what time did you drop it off?”

You know that he knows that you heard something. He doesn’t know how much you heard, but he knows the slam of his front door was you.

“I didn’t hear much. Just enough to know you had already received your birthday present for the year,” the attempt at humor doesn’t hit you very well. You’re not sure how it’s received, but Eddie laughs regardless.

“Sorry about that, she slept over the night before unplanned. I should’ve remembered your yearly morning cupcake.”

“Should’ve remembered you have a girlfriend,” you answer, wishing you had that better judgment. “Did you do anything for your birthday?”

“Chris took me out for dinner with her parents.” Honestly, that sounds like it was for her more than it was for him.

“Sounds fun,” you deadpan, earning earnest chuckles from him.

“They’re an acquired taste,” Eddie offers, allowing your slight criticism of his birthday party.

“You sure you still don’t want to go to Indianapolis and bar hop?” You can’t help but ask. It’s like you can hear his reluctance to accept the celebration he got.

“Nah. Besides, we can’t risk your fake ID, after all.” He pauses, an understated sigh passing through his breath. “How has school been?”

Small talk is not often something that passes through a conversation between you two. You’re aware of it, he’s aware of it, and it turns the conversation into something almost jilted.

“I miss you,” you admit, lying back on your bed.

“I miss you,” he parrots, soft and sweet.

“Can we do something? Just you and me?”

He chuckles, low and under his breath. “Sure. Pancake night. Just you, me, and Martha’s perfume.”

…that never happened.

The less you see Eddie, the more you end up hanging out with Steve. He seems to want to introduce you to his own best friend, but your admission of not wanting to be a third wheel again gets him to drop it. You can’t help but notice the only times you speak to Eddie are when you call him. He hasn’t called you since asking for Chrissy to join pancake night.

That alone wouldn’t entirely convince you to not call him anymore. The jilted conversations always ending with promises of time with one another never coming to fruition. It’s the equivalent of being skinned alive, one strip at a time.

Steve has watched the circles under your eyes darken, the enthusiasm in class deplete, and the lust for life dissolve before his very eyes. To say he’s pissed at his friend is to understate it, he’s ready to tell you to give up on him and forget he exists.

Yet, Steve knows how unlike Eddie it all is. Dustin has complained he hasn’t been called back for a long time, Gareth reached out to you asking if you’d heard from Eddie lately as they haven’t rehearsed for a while. He garners more concern than anger at times.

Steve’s living room has become a new choice of hang out space, but the unnatural cleanliness of the house, the lack of cologne that both Eddie and Wayne use, the familiarity of eight years of friendship, it gives this unrelenting feeling of emptiness. It’s worth trying to fill it with edibles and weed.

It doesn’t seem to work, but you’ve become more open, more free willing with him as a direct result. He doesn’t favor horror movies like you and Eddie, but you find common ground in action and slapstick comedy, instead. Anything but romcoms, you implore. Anything even close to resembling romance is rejected.

Steve spills the latest he heard from Hawkins’ elite country club group, a bunch of ladies with nothing better to do with their afternoons than spread rumors about the population as a whole and judge them for it. Steve knows for a fact which members of the country club have side women, bringing them in hours after walking in with their own wives.

It’s so nice to be concerned with the lives of others and to not care about yours falling apart at the seams. Well, really it's being ripped apart by Chrissy Cunningham’s greedy little claws.

Ironically enough, you get paired up with Steve for a major assignment in Soc class, one required to analyze social constructs that have been deep dived in class. Another little gift of irony is you were given Social Stratification, which is the hierarchical arrangement of individuals or groups within a society based on various factors such as wealth, power, and prestige.

Being from two very different classes, you and Steve find yourself uniquely qualified to discuss the topic.

It provides opportunities to hang out together, distracted by the collective want to not work at all, but driven by an looming due date. Your mind wanders to Eddie non stop, wondering how he is, if he’s ok, if work is still giving him a hard time, did he finally get the belt he was needing, if Wayne was taking it easier.

Your fingers itch for the phone to call and ask, always haunted by the memory of each phone call, the polite conversation and empty promises. You crave to remember what it was like before.

Steve seems to act as your voice of reason, disencouraging you every time you mention wanting to call him. He sympathizes, of course, but he recalls the last time you called him and the aftermath following it.

When the assignment is finally in the last stages, making final edits to clear up any loss in conciseness, the final second guesses if the point has been made clear, you sit on the floor of Steve’s room cross legged, going cross eyed as you reread it, again.

“I can’t wait for this thing to be handed in,” you groan, throwing your pen at him.

“I think we earned a celebration,” he sighs, throwing the pen back to you. “On Friday, after we finally hand over this paper to this asshole, I am throwing a big ass party in your honor.”

“A party will not make me feel better,” you reprimand, glancing at him under your brows.

“No, but a good excuse to drink the pain away, might,” he grins, leaning forward on his stomach and kicking his legs animatedly. He looks so innocent, as if he doesn’t have his own agenda. You’ve come to know him well enough that he really doesn’t. “C’mon. Let loose with me just for one night!”

You reluctantly agree to it after he pulls out his dumb puppy eyes.

News of Steve’s party spreads fast across campus, and you find yourself curiously excited for it when you usually dread dancing with complete strangers. The strangers at this point make it better, not needing to concern yourself with anything other than how the alcohol burns.

Your dad drives you to the party, the rain heavy on the pavement making it hard to bike in such weather. He’s noticed the way you’ve shut down a little bit as of lately, more than happy to bring you to a party if it means putting some life back into the eyes of his one and only daughter.

When you enter the door with slightly damp hair just from the walk from the truck, the party is already in full swing, music overtly loud, bodies bumping and dancing, empty cups already scattered on dusty surfaces.

As soon as you see Steve, he waves you over, talking to Robin, who he’s introduced you to. She became your friend the same way he became your did; ambush. Turns out, Robin is really cool. She hands you a beer, winking as you tilt your eyebrow out of skepticism.

“Beer, really?” You ask over the music, turning the bottle around in your hand.

“You’re drinking to forget, right?” She asks, an air of wisdom in her scratchy voice. “Then what does it matter what it tastes like?”

Well, you guess she’s right. You grab another from the fridge while you’re at it before they lead you to a couch. It’s surrounded by a crowd of people you mostly have never met before, more than happy to laugh with them at the particularly stupid topics of conversation.

You’re already pretty buzzed less than an hour spent at the party, having asked Steve to get you a third bottle. “Might wanna slow down, sweets.”

“I’m drinking to forget, remember?” You ask him, winking cheekily.

Time starts to meld together as the bottle gets emptier and emptier. Robin grabs you by the hand to dance with her and Steve in a circle, top 40 pop acting as a soundtrack while you forget any goddamn trouble that might have plagued you.

You’re chatting about some mindless gossip when something tells you to turn your head towards the door. The door opens to Eddie and Chrissy, holding hands as they look around the party that got even rowdier since your arrival.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, frozen in place as the emptiness his absence has left consumes you.

“Oh shit,” Robin mutters right next to you, but you don’t answer it as you stumble your way into the kitchen.

The internal debate on whether you need to drink water or more alcohol is roaring, so you drown it with more alcohol. Maybe you can shut it up. It’s too fucking loud. The ajar door opens and closes, a presence in the kitchen you don’t bother acknowledging. You don’t smell Eddie’s cologne, the momentary disappointment flooding your senses that he saw you and didn’t even bother talking to you.

Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.

“I was wondering when I would run into you,” it’s not Eddie, or Steve. Confusion takes over you as you wonder which male voice in your life you’re forgetting, turning to face the culprit.

Daniel.

“Here I am, I guess,” you mutter, taking another swig. “What exactly do you want?”

“Retribution.”

“Huh?”

He laughs, cruel and blunt. “I’m here for what I’m owed, sweetheart. I don’t get told no. Girls don’t say no to me. So, I think I’m owed some payback for the humiliation you put me through.”

What the fuck?

The laughter that leaves your throat is loud and abrupt, clearly not what he’s expecting. “Oh my fucking god, you’re just delusional. Girls don’t owe you shit for buying them dinner! You ask us out for a date, that’s on you, bud!”

“I don’t fucking think so,” he growls, slinking in closer. You can smell his breath, he’s clearly been drinking. “I will get what I want, I always do.”

Panic floods your brain, suddenly realizing he’s being dead serious. “Wait–” you protest as he leans in, the wall and your back colliding harshly. “Wait, no–”

“All you had to do was blow me, baby,” he chides, as if he’s reprimanding a small child. His hand harshly wraps around your waist, preventing you from weaving from between him and the wall. “Now look what you made me do.”

You try to push him off, panic continuing to push up your throat as he proves himself much stronger than you. Oh god, am I about to get raped in Steve’s kitchen?

His hand feels slimy as it pushes past your shirt, sending a jolt of shivers down your body. You’re shaking from fear, one cheek against the wall as you continue to resist him. “Stop– Daniel, please stop–” Your voice is frantic, eyes wide in terror as you try to push his hands away.

The harsh laughter directed at your pleas are cut off, an incredibly familiar voice slicing the air with malice. “She said stop.”

The heat you were surrounded by is thrown off, leaving the cold air behind Daniel to overwhelm you as he’s thrown onto the floor.

Blows of fists on flesh fill the room, watching in horror as Eddie has him pinned, delivering blow after blow to his face. You only see a portion of Eddie, his dark jeans and leather jacket as he hunches over his victim and blindingly delivers one punch after the other. Daniel has stopped fighting back, just a limp set of limbs as it jumps from each hit.

When Eddie has shown no signs of letting up you’re forced to jump into action, stumbling as you run into his line of eyesight. “Eddie, stop! You’re going to kill him!” You plead.

The sounds of brutal fists on soft flesh die immediately, Eddie huffing as he rises to his feet. “You okay?”

You blink as his hands frame your cheeks, petting them softly with his hands. A tear falls, splashing his hand. His concern is comforting, but the direct juxtaposition of his concern from the silence he’s fed you the last few weeks washes over you, confusing every emotion that has been hurting.

Despite the sweet shine in his eyes as they watch you, you back from his hold in a jerk reaction. “Didn’t know you still cared about me.”

He wears the hurt from this statement on his sleeve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You wander back over to the fridge, grabbing a beer from the second six pack you’re working through. You pop it open from the mounted bottle opener, taking a handful of sips. “You’re kidding me, right? You haven’t called me in weeks. Weeks.”

He stands there, blankly watching.

“I might be more forgiving if it weren’t for Dustin and Gareth and hell, Steve also saying the same thing. None of them have heard from you. You went from calling at least once a week to radio silence! I wanted to get along with Chrissy. I really did. I started all the conversations, offering snacks, asking questions about her, letting her set her boundaries, but she had something to say about everything we did together!”

Eddie stutters, blinking as he watches you talk. He doesn’t try to talk, doesn’t try to defend himself. You don’t give him the chance.

“She clearly doesn’t respect you, otherwise you would still be my best friend and I would remember the last time we had a normal fucking conversation. I get wanting boundaries, but at this point, I don’t think she even wants you to have friends! Is that what you want? A girl who makes you make yourself smaller for her sake and isolate completely? Really? Because that’s what you have. No horror movies? No more junk food? No heavy metal music? She’s making you shrink yourself so she deems you desirable! Fucking– I can’t watch it anymore.”

“Wait, what do you mean–” he’s interrupted by the door closing, a yelp filling the room as Chrissy runs to him.

“What happened to your fists?” You glance down to them, seeing bruises lining his knuckles.

“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he assures her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Alright. Well. I meant exactly what I said. I can’t do this one sided friendship thing with you anymore,” you take another swig, wondering how the bottle was already so light. “I can’t. Call me when you find my best friend, because I haven’t seen him in three months.”

You leave the room, ignoring the calls from his mouth that suffocate you. As you stumble into the living room, you catch Steve’s eye right away, chin trembling. The hot tears that trail down your face have already drenched your cheeks by the time you realize it’s even happening, choking on the emotion that drowns you.

Steve guides you into the guest bathroom, closing the door as he watches you attempt to stop the sobs long enough to tell him what happened.

“I think–” you hiccup, sniffling loudly, “I think I just lost my best friend–” tears rattle through you once again, just saying it out loud feels like lightning in its startling ability to shatter you once more.

By the time the sobs diminish again, you’re sat on the floor by the tub, head sitting in his lap as he pets your hair. You sit up suddenly, mid hiccup as you give Steve an odd look.

He almost asks if you’re okay when you spill over his lap, whimpering between gasps as you know what you’re doing, the toilet only a foot away, but it continues to explode from your stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” you explain, tears falling again, as he sits in shock.

He grins sadly, undoing his belt. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

He finds someone, Robin, to grab him a second pair of pants, ditching the ruined pair in the bathtub.

The dry heaving seems to stop the tears, now staring blankly with a wet face and lashes that stick together. Steve brings you upstairs, wrapping his arm around your waist as he brings you to his bedroom.

As your head hits his pillow your eyes fall closed, mumbling something about fucking up, about three months ago.

Steve locks his door from any stragglers, walking down each step to find a particular metal head to give him a piece of his mind.

From how your sobs shook your body, he might give him the whole thing.

The light cascading through the blinds hurts, like a dagger through your brain as you take in your surroundings. You don’t know how you got into Steve’s room under his blanket.

As soon as you sit up, the pain stabs you, pushing you back down. Ow. You don’t even attempt to get up again until the urge to pee hits you, when it’s too much to ignore. You rub your eye, tip toeing to try to get back under the dark blue comforter decorating Steve’s bed.

On the corner of the bed Steve sits, one foot resting on the other knee as he holds a jade green drink. “How badly does your head hurt?”

You wince at the volume of his voice, placing your hands over your eyes. “Not great.”

He winces sympathetically, offering the smoothie. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Blurry images flash through your mind, the kitchen, Daniel, half of the second case gone. You attempt to remember past that point but it comes up blank. “I remember running into Daniel.”

As you sip on the surprisingly delicious hangover smoothie, Steve watches you, wearing a clear expression of concern.

“Anything after that?”

You can tell he’s egging you on, digging for something with an unprecedented seriousness in his tone. But there’s no memory after that. You gingerly shake your head, which sends more needles of pain through your skull.

“Why?” You ask weakly. Steve pauses, ruffling a hand through his hair as he releases a long sigh.

“You really don’t, huh?” Steve asks, one last attempt. “Maybe it’s good you drank as much as you did, then.”

“Steve, you’re scaring me.” Images of worst case scenarios course through your mind. What did you do?

Steve pats the spot on the bed next to you, double checking you don’t feel the urge to throw up. You don’t.

“Daniel tried to force himself on you.” He’s gentle, compassionate in his admission as he watches your reaction.

Huh. “How far did he–” you stutter, breath hitching as you bite back the sobs that suddenly threaten to rake through your body.

“He was interrupted before he even got that far,” he comforts you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he caresses it. “Eddie sort of bashed his face in.”

Now that you think about it, the memory of Eddie hunched over Daniel as he delivered blow after blow to his nose, his cheekbone, his eyebrow. You didn’t see the final result of Eddie’s defense, but the bruised knuckles you vaguely recall spell out how brutal the retaliation was.

Eddie.

“What–” you pause, stuttering through your breaths, “what happened after that?”

“You yelled at Eddie. Berated him. I think you even told him you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. At least, that’s what I gathered from what you told me,” he admits.

Your blood grows cold. From the weeks of silence, the jilted conversations, the slow resentment that bloomed through your stomach for him. The ache already hurt just from the absence of your best friend, but it was good for you. Fuck, this hurt.

“Is that all?”

He laughs, pulling your head into his neck. “Just that you can’t hold back your liquor.”

That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.

From the extra strength tylenol he gives you, the rest of the morning is spent helping Steve tidy up the trash around his house. Only after spending twenty minutes in the kitchen on his hands and knees scrubbing up the red stains does he allow you to help him. You only catch a glimpse of the paper towel soaked in dried blood and bleach when throwing out red solo cups, a small hint of the mess Eddie made of Daniel.

The thought of his name is a self betrayal, and you work faster once it crosses your mind.

Once the place is clean, you allow Steve to drive you home at his insistence, repeatedly asking when he pulls up to your house that you’re sure you’re okay.

Your dad is at work, not there to ask any questions you wanted to avoid from the previous night, namely why your eyes are swollen from tears. The blinds in your room fall with a trill resembling a xylophone, blocking the sun from your intense migraine.

For the first time in weeks, you’re stirred awake from sleep from the ringing of the phone on the floor that has been pushed under the bed. You let it ring.

Just as sleep pulls you back in, you’re abruptly startled as the phone alerts you again. You roll over, ignoring it as you wrap your head in your hands, curling into the pillow. No one has to get a hold of you that badly.

This person does, it seems, as they call you again. You groan, crawling over the edge as you grab the phone from your receiver. “Hello?”

You refuse the want to chew them out, to take your emotions and friendship breakup out on the person who has interrupted your sleep.

“It’s me.”

You lurch forward in your bed, still tethered to the receiver by the tightly coiled wire as it forces the receiver to scuff against the hardwood floor. Eddie.

Eddie’s sat on his couch, limply resting his head on the couch arm as the shrill voice of the main character complains over a problem that could be solved if she had just told someone. His hand rests on his eyes, shielding himself from the light to prevent the headache he can feel coming on. He’s given up on suggesting other movies by now, but she somehow seems to only play the movies that get on every last nerve.

He would probably be more willing to watch the romcoms in question if they weren’t the bottom of the pack. Last time Eddie even suggested a romcom he actually doesn’t completely hate he had to hear about it for an agonizing twenty minutes. Fine. She could watch her movie, he can practice on his guitar, right?

You would think.

So he dissociates and focuses on the gentle petting of his calf as he rests his leg on her lap. His mind floats to his best friend, how much he misses the smell of your shampoo, or when you make fun of the cheesier horror movies he loves to watch. If Chrissy wouldn’t make a near temper tantrum every time your name is mentioned in conversation, he would’ve called you weeks ago. He missed your voice.

Chrissy continues to insist that you like him, that you’re trying to steal him from her. It turned into many fights where Eddie felt like he was losing his mind, insisting he just wanted to see his best friend. There is a stubborn, immovable force still holding hope that something will just click one day and realize just how wrong she is. There’s a little nagging part of him, eating at his brain, warning that it probably won’t ever come true.

The possibility is almost too much for him to mentally handle, because when it blows up in his face and you decide not to forgive his radio silence, he doesn’t think he will be able to handle the absence in his life. So he procrastinates the detonation.

“I’m surprised you’re not going to Steve’s party,” Chrissy chirps, interrupting Eddie’s disarray.

Eddie blinks, trying to recall any mention of a party that might’ve slipped his mind. That might’ve been the reason for his ignorance if he could remember the last time he even spoke to Steve. He’s sure Chrissy knows that.

“I didn’t even know he was having one.”

She grabs at the extra material of his jeans, pulling his attention. “Did you want to go?”

He mentally rattles through the mechanics of going to Steve’s stupidly large house, knowing damn well his distance has managed to drive you straight into the arms of someone new, even if it’s only platonic. You’ll be there, the chance much more likely than not.

He wants to see your face, even if it’s in passing. He wonders if Chrissy sees you there if she’ll decide to leave early or just avoid you altogether. But it’s just the chance that drives him to agree.

By the time he gets there, vehicles have already littered the streets surrounding his house, some even audaciously blocking his neighbor’s driveways. Chrissy’s hand is in his as he walks in, anxiously looking around the party for you.

He peers into the living room, to the couch containing members of some of Steve’s closer acquaintances and it wasn’t long until he saw you, sitting right next to Robin holding the bottleneck of a beer bottle.

Your eyes are already on his, wide and still as you stare at him. You’re even prettier than he remembered, any polaroid he’s ever had of you does absolutely no justice to your radiant smile or vibrant eyes.

Fine, you’re staring at him like you would rather be anywhere else for the moment, panic flooding your features, but it’s a breath of fresh air for him compared to his last few suffocating weeks. As you stumble to your feet, Eddie tricks himself into believing that you’ve gotten up to talk to him until you pass the front entrance straight into the kitchen.

He supposes he deserves that, fading as Chrissy tugs him to the dance floor. His hands find her hips, allowing himself to get lost in the relentlessly catchy pop tune. He can’t help but allow his eyes to float back over to the couch every now and then, something in him carnally needing making sure that you’re safe.

Alarm bells go off, goosebumps trailing over his skin as something in him screams that you’re in danger. You could very much just be avoiding him, which he wouldn’t blame you for, not for one moment, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he found out his worry had any footing.

“Babe, I’m gonna grab a drink,” he mutters, blankly kissing her sweet scented blonde hair before his long legs take him to the kitchen.

His stomach drops as your voice fills the kitchen, asking the asshole with wandering hands to stop as he forces himself on you.

The next thing he knows, Daniel is under him, his back slammed on the floor with a face scrunched up in pain as Eddie’s fists are flying. His fists, his jeans, the floor, the whining little shit’s face, it all gets painted with blood.

Eddie doesn’t realize when the pair of arms stop trying to push him off, or when the green eyes no longer stare at him in horror, shut from the trauma of one blunt hit after the other. He just continually bashes his face in for even daring to attempt to force himself on the woman he loves.

Fuck this guy. Fuck him.

Eddie’s blind with rage, but he’s also blind with his own regret.

Your voice cuts through the anger, a warning that seeps in his brain like a sponge. If he keeps hitting him like this he will end up taking his life.

He stands up, facing your trembling form as you seem to be in shock. You melt in his hold, tears spilling over his hands as he caresses you, doing his very best to take care of you. He knows the answer when he asks, but he has to hear it from you.

Finally, the words seem to sober you from wanting his comfort to the hurt that you’ve felt from his silence. You lurch yourself from him, staggering blindly to the fridge as you grab another beer. The scent was harsh on your breath, the sight of you glugging back as much as you can sends jolts through his system.

Then you tell him everything. And he deserves it. He wants so badly to tell you how badly he wanted to call you, but the excuses sound lame even in his own mind.

When you tell him you’re done is when he finally snaps out of his own trance. He knows what you mean, but surely, you don’t really mean it? Before he can ask, Chrissy comes into the picture, doting over his bruised knuckles, ignoring you completely as she asks what happened. He’s fine. He’s not, but he’ll say anything to get back to what you were just saying.

Choked back sobs escape as you tell him with absolute finality that you are done, tripping over your own feet when you leave through the kitchen door.

No, this has gone too far. Eddie hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol but feels as if he’s wasted from stumbling after you, blocked by his girlfriend.

That conversation goes as well as can be expected.

In the hours following, he doesn’t seem to find you anywhere. But without Chrissy trailing after him, he finds himself free to converse with friends he’d missed, meeting their snide remarks of coming back to the land of the living with grace. Eddie stays for hours, half heartedly partaking in any conversation he finds himself witness to just in case you make another appearance.

Steve walks down the stairs after what feels like forever, wearing a grim look on his face. Eddie approaches him. “Hey have you seen–”

“She’s upstairs,” Steve answers, sighing. “Passed out. She’ll wake up tomorrow morning.”

“Is she okay?”

“Didn’t choke on her own vomit, at least,” Steve quips, his voice harsh. “Physically, she’s okay.”

Steve moves to walk around Eddie, seemingly done with the conversation.

“Physically?”

Steve sighs, angry, frustrated. “She just sobbed on the bathroom floor for an hour and a half, Ed. I literally watched her heart break! Safe to say, I don’t think she’s doing so well emotionally.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, feeling hopeless, like he should’ve been there to take care of you instead of being the cause of your suffering. “Steve, I–”

“Listen, Eddie. I just heard a bunch of shit from her that I’m not even sure she knows that she said. Other than her I guess telling you to fuck off, what else happened?”

Eddie gulps, not exactly wrapping his own mind around it, yet. “I found Daniel Moore trying to force himself on her.”

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, passing Eddie straight into the kitchen.

“Steve–” Eddie tries to stop him, or warn him at least, wondering how no one else has seen him, yet. There is almost no reason for most to make their way into the kitchen as the drinks station is in the living room, but usually a straggler or two, especially couples would make their own way in. He’s definitely not up and partying from the blood that seeped through the shirt he was wearing…

Should Eddie have called the ambulance?

“What the fuck–” Steve barks, taking in the crumpled form before him. “Jesus, Eddie, what happened?”

“You listen to your best friend beg someone to stop assaulting them and not beat the shit out of him?” Eddie retaliates, watching as Steve double checks to make sure he’s still breathing.

“Well, now I gotta get him out of here before someone has you fucking arrested,” Steve mutters, wracking his brain through old morally questionable friends of his that would help with no questions asked. Fuck. He has a few favors to call in. “Where’s Chrissy gone?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Eddie spits.

“Considering she has control over who you’re allowed to spend time with, probably somewhere nearby with binoculars,” Steve mutters, a fragment of seriousness in the joke.

“Well, not anymore,” Eddie shrugs, feeling surprisingly pragmatic about it.

“Oh.” Took you long enough, Steve thinks. “I’m gonna get him out of here, but I suggest you do the same.”

“Can I stay? I wanna be here when she wakes up.” His eyes pleading to Steve.

Steve’s brows raise. “Respectfully Eddie, I don’t think she really wants to see you.”

“I haven’t been able to tell her anything for weeks, I’m staying!” he insists, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Steve shakes his head, leaning on the counter. God, he wished he hadn’t invited a few dozen people to come to his house for the night. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re an idiot. You’re both idiots, but, man I think you’re the bigger one.” Steve walks around the kitchen island, getting unreasonably close to him. “I don’t know if you’re blind, or just selectively ignorant. She loves you, dude! She was willing to support you getting a girlfriend, but then you just shut her out. It’s gonna take more than an apology to be back in her good graces. When she wakes up with a killer hangover, I think the last person she’ll want to see is you. God, if one of you just made the jump years ago this never would’ve happened!”

Eddie’s heart drops at Steve’s angry words, refusing to believe any of his feelings for his best friend are reciprocated. “Sure, because three months of friendship tell you everything you need to know about a person.”

Steve chuckles, walking over the snoring asshole as he steps out to the living room. “I would have to be blind not to see it. She talked about you one time about this stupid fucking movie she watched with you and I could tell. Rather than telling your girlfriend that you have a best friend and she has to get over it, you shut her out. For weeks. And left someone else to pick up the pieces.”

“Steve, I know. I know I was being an ass–”

“Then why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you give her a call? You had to know she wasn’t going to forgive you so easily–”

“Of course I fucking knew that, Steve! Why do you think I put off letting it explode in my face?”

“Because you’re an idiot! She loved you. She loves you! If you can’t see that then I really don’t know what to tell you. Listen, if you call her tomorrow, I’m not all that sure what would happen. It’s gonna be a while before she’s ready to forgive, bud. For now. Maybe you should go.”

“Oh,” you sigh, hugging your knees into your chest, feeling small. A war rages in your mind. You were hurt enough by him to break your friendship off with him, but you don’t even remember it. The other side of you just wants to be close to him again, willing to sink into the apologies that he owes you and happily accept them.

But you shouldn’t. And you know you shouldn’t.

“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”

You want to come over and watch a movie so badly, it wraps around you and constricts your airflow. “Will she be there?”

“No. Just me and you. I promise,” Eddie swears, voice low enough that it resembles a whisper. “She won’t be, uh, crashing our movie nights anymore.”

You diminish the pulse of hope that threatens to bloom. “What do you mean?”

Eddie sighs. “I was hoping to tell you in person, but we broke up last night…come over, I’ll tell you more. I just need my best friend…and a horror movie…and junk food, god, I miss junk food.”

You miss him so much it hurts. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The bike ride sends pulses through your head, worsening the ache of the hangover. If the pain isn’t gone by tomorrow, you might just ask someone to shoot an arrow through your head to put you out of your misery.

It’s been more than long enough since the last time you were on his front door step, nervous as you hesitate to knock. Eddie’s footsteps are rapid and loud as soon as your knuckles hit the door, the opening to him, wide eyes, graphic t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. He appears unlike himself, almost tired. You wonder if you noticed it last night.

Before either one of you says a word, he tugs you in, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace in his scent. Overwhelming emotion takes over, his shirt absorbing the tears that fall. He feels like home, every part of him. His scent, the muscles flexing under your grasp, his steady breaths.

“I missed you,” he mutters, his voice low, choked, even.

Then why didn’t you call me? “Me too–” you whimper, squeezing onto him even tighter. You sniffle, curling your head into his neck.

The hug lasts forever, or at least long enough for your arms to become numb.

Your butt lands on the couch, the spot that was once permanently marked by you now weirdly lumpy from the lack of use. Did Chrissy know she was allowed to sit in her own seat on the odd occasion? On the coffee table, Eddie has already prepared the popcorn and your favorite snacks, only your favorite snacks. Three movies are laid out, all awaiting their turn in the VCR.

“What’s this?” You ask, rubbing your nose from the snot.

“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”

You read the titles, Back to the Future, Friday the 13th, and Labyrinth. “What happened to wanting to watch horror movies?”

“I have a lot of sucking up to do before I get to be picky with our movie night,” Eddie answers, his voice gentle and careful. “Pick one.”

If he says so, then you’ll have to pick your favorite, rather than his favorite. “Alright, then, Labyrinth it is. David Bowie in leather pants, here I come!”

As the movie plays, a teenage girl desperate to find her brother, you sink into the comfort of the ratty old couch. Through Eddie, you found out that the rattiest couches are actually the most comfy. The more tears and rips, the better. Eddie stands up, running to the kitchen to grab fresh cans of soda from the fridge.

He sits back down, handing you a Diet Coke while popping open his own. Two things you notice when he sits. One, he’s remarkably close, his ass nearly planted in between the cushions. Two–

“Since when did you start drinking diet coke?” You ask him, wincing at the aftertaste.

“Since Chrissy was such a stickler for sugar,” he answers casually, grabbing a bite of the popcorn.

His simple tone, emotionless and understated, squeezes your heart. “What happened with her, anyway?”

Chrissy blocked him, staring at him with wide eyes as she held his shoulders. “What–what is going on?”

“I need a minute,” he stuttered, attempting to walk around her.

“Did you do that?” Chrissy asked, pointing to the lifeless piece of shit on the floor.

“Chris, it’s really not a good time, right now. I will tell you later, I promise. I’ll be right back.” Eddie promised.

She blocked him again, hands pushing on his broad shoulders. “You’re not seriously thinking of going after her, are you?”

“Chrissy, she’s my best friend! That creep just tried– I have to go check up on her, make sure she’s okay!”

“You mean the girl who is pathetically in love with you?” Chrissy asked, belligerent and full of sass. “Sure, go and give her more false hope! She was practically all over you at the diner, mooning over you, desperate to take you out on a date, I mean, don’t give her fucking hope!”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his face angrily. “I don’t know how many times I need to fucking tell you, Chris. She is just my friend. She was being nice, trying to include you. I’m so fucking tired of this conversation!”

“So am I!” Chrissy crossed her arms, popping her hip out. It was times like these Eddie was absolutely sure of why Chrissy and Jason dated for so long. “You know what? Fine. Me or her.”

“What?” Eddie was unsure if she was being serious.

“Pick! Me or her? Because when you pick me maybe then she’ll get the fucking hint!”

It was the easiest decision he’s ever made in his life. “Her.”

Eddie finishes explaining it, mostly nixxing the parts where she berated you or talked shit. You just needed to know the part where she practically had a temper tantrum.

“Wow,” you mutter, remembering how you called Chrissy sweet when they first started dating. “And…you, you picked me?”

“Of course I did.” Eddie pops a kernel into his mouth, leaning back into the couch. His body heat is warm, his scent intoxicating. “You’re my best friend.”

“You haven’t called in weeks, Eddie.” It comes out quietly, the hurt overflowing in your body and pouring out your mouth. “I thought you had a new best girl.”

Eddie sighs, grabbing your hand. “If I could take back the last three months, I would. I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I missed you so fucking badly,” you admit, focusing on how your hand feels intertwined with his.

“I missed you. I know– I fucked up, but believe me when I say, I missed you so fucking much.”

On one hand, it’s hard to believe him. It seemed like it was so easy for him to cut you off. On the other, the glint in his eyes, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, gentle and unequivocally vulnerable.

Eddie leans forward, connecting his forehead to yours. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”

“You have a lot of making up to do, mister,” you inform him, pulling away from him to lightly nudge his hair.

“And a million strawberry mountains covered in strawberry sauce,” he answers, kissing your forehead softly.

“You really had me worried,” you admit, taking a good look at his face. “I believe you when you say that you missed me, but Eds, you hurt me. I want to trust you, but–”

His movement is swift as he grabs your face with his hands, pulling you in close. “I know, baby, I know.” The pet name takes your breath away, music to your unsuspecting ears. The name wraps itself around your like a warm hug, melting all those months of worry and panic away. “I’m so fucking sorry, if I could just–”

Maybe it wasn’t the right timing, months of silence, unanswered questions, hurt, but all that just conveniently disappears the moment his lips touch yours. You startle, jerking backwards as you look at him curiously, looking for something that’ll tell you he’s not kissing you out of pity, or obligation.

You’re met with the exact way that he always looks at you, but this time, it’s radiant. How did you miss it this whole time? You smile, wrapping your hand behind his neck as you tug him in, entangling his lips with yours and chasing that emotion that ran through you the first time.

Eddie meets your kiss with enthusiasm, grinning madly as he pulls you in closer, your body flush against his as he pulls you down with him.

It’s maddeningly enchanting, the way you can taste his minty breath and his hums against your lips, buzzing and tickling. His tongue sweeps along your bottom lip, pulling a gasp as you happily meet his with yours. Your skin feels electric as his hand sneaks under your shirt, as if he’s just getting the feel of you.

You sigh, curling your arm around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. His kisses trail along your jawline, down your neck, pressing sweet kisses down your jugular. “You taste like strawberries,” he mutters, audibly smiling. “I should’ve known, all those damn strawberries you eat.”

“Before we go any further,” you gasp, clutching at his t-shirt, “and believe me, I want to, you owe me a proper date.”

“Taking you out for a date, baby?” He places more rapid kisses on your neck, letting himself absorb your laughter. “God, I’m lucky.”

You’ve learned one thing for absolute certainty, Eddie Munson knows how to grovel. Between the many kisses you’ve shared that night you tell Eddie with surety that just because he knows how to kiss doesn’t mean he’s suddenly forgiven. Eddie relishes in that, grinning just because you’re kissing him.

The previous night he was losing his mind at his ex-girlfriend’s terrible movie choices, and you, his best friend, the person who has always known him best, you’re finally here kissing him. You could ask him to write a 1000-page apology letter entirely in rhymes or haikus and he would do it heartbeat, but all he’s required to do is prove it?

He’s more than willing.

When the date is proposed, he swears he would love to take you anywhere. He provides a list, with all of the restaurants you know he can’t afford. When you ask him and inquire about such, he shrugs casually. There’s a silent question there, wondering if Chrissy had even considered his wallet size before their date nights.

Instead, you answer with, “Our first date should be the diner, no?”

You’ve never been so nervous before, looking through your small arsenal of date night dresses. He’s seen all of them, whether from a school dance or the aftermath of a date gone sour. One dress catches your attention, at the very back of your closet covered in plastic, just waiting for the right time.

White, with blue flowers hand embroidered on the bodice, a sweetheart neckline and bubble gum pink ribbons tied together as the straps. Periwinkle blue that bleeds into mint green leaves along the hemline, fanned out into a hoopskirt. You’ve stared at this dress when it sat in your mom’s closet, asking when it might be your turn to finally wear it.

The dress fits you like a glove, looking remarkably close to the photo on the easel downstairs, a first date 25 years ago that ended up being one of your favorite bedtime stories.

As you finally make your way down the stairs, hair half up in curls in a ribbon matching the ones on the dress, your dad looks at you with pride and glossy eyes. Whispered words of the resemblance as he hugs you, eyes too tired for a man in his forties from loss and stress, a whiff of gratitude hits you.

It’s a warm spring evening, no need for a coat as the van pulls up with the usual melodies of heavy metal and drumming. You make your way down the sidewalk to his passenger side, butterflies erupting as you open the door.

The volume is turned down to a background noise, the heavy metal feeling oddly out of place at such a low volume. “Hi, sunshine.”

You grab his hand, petting at his calloused skin. “Hi.”

You feel his eyes on you, taking in the dress that is on its first night out in decades. “I don’t know how you show up looking this good and expect me to act normal.”

You grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and sniffing at the leather. He can’t say shit like that and expect you to go on like normal. “C’mon. I haven’t had a strawberry milkshake in ages.”

You open the window just a crack, appreciating the scent of fresh grass in the spring. New beginnings, fresh starts, rebirth. It seems oddly poetic.

He pulls up to the diner, bright neon lights against an evening sunset. It looks as if it’s painted, yellow into orange into blue. A lonely diner isolated sitting against a watercolor sky, but one of your favorite places in the world.

The bell ringing feels like an old song you haven’t heard in years, bringing some bittersweet nostalgia.

Martha perks up, the diner even deader than normal with only a lone man sitting on a bar chair holding a milkshake like a beer. The comparison sends a gag reflex through your body, never wanting to even smell another beer in your lifetime. As you sit next to Eddie, in such close proximity that the other side of the booth is useless, Martha appears with a cheeky smile on her face.

“If you two aren’t on a date, I’ll eat my notebook,” she sighs, hands on her hips as if she’s chastising two kids.

You and Eddie glance to one another, debating on fucking with her. It’s all the approval she needs.

“Finally! If you came in my diner again with those puppy dog eyes of yours I would’ve about had it with you two. Now, are you getting your regulars again?”

Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulders, his thumb petting the bare skin of your shoulder. “I’m disappointed you haven’t already brought the milkshake, Martha.”

“Smartasses. The both of you!” She walks off, a brand new pep in her step.

His thumb turns under your chin, pulling your face towards his. “C’mere. I need to make up for the times I just wanted to kiss those pretty lips in this booth of ours.”

“Why didn’t you?” You ask him, breathless as you stare at his eyes.

“I didn’t think the prettiest girl I know would want to kiss a goofball like me,” he chuckles, self deprecating and vulnerable.

You shake your head sadly, sighing happily. “You are so wrong.”

His chuckles are interrupted by your kiss, clutching onto the cotton t-shirt clinging onto his chest. It’s like you to forget how to breathe, taking the moment to take a deep breath before kissing him deeper, harder.

Your tongues meet, wrapping together with his and leaning forward to be as close to him as possible. His hand lands on your thigh, petting it roughly as he teases you. You hated yourself, hated how you told him you wanted to wait, because it’s becoming too much. The need for him sits deep in your stomach and begs you for any resolve from his teasing hands.

His kisses keep you only so satiated, whimpering by the time your make out sessions are done and ready to beg him to touch you already.

The glass of pinky sweetness hits the table, interrupting his electric lips on yours. “If you two do it, at least have the decency to take it to the bathroom like every other patron.”

You yelp, avoiding Martha’s eyes as Eddie tugs you in against his chest, kissing your temple. “Yes ma’am,” Eddie obeys, saluting with two fingers. Two, very distracting fingers.

You take a sip, humming. After weeks, you will proudly proclaim that this is still the best milkshake in town.

Eddie kisses your cheek, pulling you even closer. “If you lick that whipped cream off your finger, so help me god.”

It’s a habit of yours, one you’ve done at least once a visit just to get a taste of it before it sinks into the milkshake. The numerous times you’ve done it sinks in, unknowingly teasing him. “Something wrong with tasting whipped cream, Eds?”

“When you do it with that tongue of yours, yes,” he mutters, nipping on your jawline.

“Why don’t you have a taste,” you hum, taking a scoop with your pinky, licking it up.

Eddie pulls you in, humming as his tongue reaches out for yours to grab a taste of the cream melting fast in your mouth. He pulls back all too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he tuts his tongue. “Mmm. Yum. Thanks, baby.”

The milkshake is nearly gone by the time Martha rolls around again, pancakes and waffles in hand, interrupting soft conversation and sweet nothings.

He finally tries a taste of your pancakes, eating from the fork you offer him. His face winces, screwing up as he chews on it. “That strawberry sauce is sweet, ain’t it?”

“A little sour, I guess, but it’s my favorite. The fresh strawberries are a nice little addition.” You tell him, cutting up the pancakes.

“I’ll stick to my sprinkles,” Eddie mutters, dipping a piece of the big fluffy waffle in the whip. “They are the best.”

“I have a question,” you mutter, relishing in the taste of the sweet strawberry sauce. “How-how long have you liked me? Was it more recent, or have you liked me for years?”

Eddie smirks, placing a stand of hair over your shoulder. “Years.” He chokes back the correction of the word like, cause it’s so much more. “The first time I saw you, you were giving one of the football dicks hell for picking on one of the scrawny little freshmen. And I mean, berating him. You’re shy, baby, but not when it comes to others.” He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “I knew from that moment.”

Oh. It was a handful of months before you found yourself sitting by the hellfire table, shaking your head at their antics. Plus, Gareth was just plain wrong in his opinion, you shook your head disapprovingly as you dug your nose in the book. Eddie caught on to it, demanding you join their group and inform him of how wrong he was. You did. You didn’t realize how charming Eddie was, how welcoming and genuinely kind.

It took your breath away, especially how gorgeous he was. The crush was kindled from then on, only being nurtured as you continued to debate him and his friends on their nerd culture.

Eddie followed up with the same question, asking how long ago for you, too. You tell him that very story, of how he enamored you just from being around him.

“You know, by then I was already head over heels for you,” he admits casually, sipping the last of the milkshake. “Something about sticking it to the man just does that to a guy.”

“Those dimples of yours are a weapon.” You admit in kind, and he laughs. You drop your jaw incredulously. “They’re a weapon! You think your hands are the only things those girls call magic?”

Eddie leans in, hot breath on your ear sending ripples down your neck. “And have you thought about these magic hands of mine, sweetheart?”

You gulp, licking your lips as your heart races in your chest. “Maybe...” You say softly.

He hums, tentatively kissing your skin. He really shouldn’t be doing this in a public space, you think, attempting not to wiggle at the uncomfortable feeling of arousal pooling in your panties. “I can’t wait to show you just how magic they are.”

You hold back a whimper, choking on it as your eyes flutter shut at his tentative kisses.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” You nod, watching as he places the right amount of bills with a decent tip for Martha.

On your way out the door, Martha shouts her goodbyes, happily yelling out her congratulations as the glass door slams behind you. Eddie’s lips find a home on the back of your hand, holding it as he kisses loudly, tickling the skin.

The trailer sits alone in the park, all lights off as he pulls up. With the turn of a key, his arm wraps around your waist as you walk in sync. It’s familiar as you help him turn on the lights, domestic, even. His jacket is off, tossed on the couch as he tugs you by the hand towards his room.

You’ve thought about it so many times, whisking away into his room with him to devour him completely. Usually it occurs when you’re mad stoned, happy and horny, but too blizted to make a move.

Your hands curtain the back of his neck, thumbs petting the nape of his neck and tangling themselves in his curls, rubbing in small circles. His lips connect to yours, stumbling over dirty laundry as he guides you to his bed. “Hmm, strawberries.”

He yelps as lands on his back, laughing as you collide with an oof. The playful moment is quickly replaced with intensity, staring down into his brown eyes, darkened by desire. Across the years of being his friend, he’s darkened his eyes in many moments, right before he decides to pin you down and tickle you senseless or when you talk down on yourself.

There were moments when his intense gaze took you aback, mostly when you innocently used too much enthusiasm in eating ice cream or put your hair up in a ponytail.

Or when you wore a sundress that sat a bit too high on your thigh.

All these moments suddenly make sense, filling you with a gust of emotion as you grab at him, tugging him harshly for a kiss much more powerful than you knew you had in you. He gasps into it, deep and desperate against your lips as you pull him closer. One of his hands travels downward, hiking under your skirt and grabbing at your thigh, your knee pulled up against his stomach.

Eddie turns you over on your back, hands grabbing at the skin harshly, his rings pressing at your skin hard enough to create an indent. Your leg wrapped around his waist tugs him down, his chest landing on yours.

“Question, my love,” Eddie mutters, words intertwined with his kisses. “Why the hell haven’t I seen this dress until now, it’s…oh my god.”

You grin against his lips, pushing your hands past his cotton shirt. “Waiting for a special occasion.”

“You telling me I could’ve seen this ages ago, baby?” He gasps, wrapping your tongue against his, delicate but enough to make you mewl into his mouth.

“Probably.”

He nips your lip, a punishment for your cheekiness. “It’ll look better on the floor.”

Your hips grind up, meeting the bulge in his pants just right. “You can’t say stuff like that–” you gasp, arms wrapping around his neck to hold on to him pathetically.

“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you.” His hand travels further up, passing the waistline of your panties and spreading on the skin of your tummy. “All the things I’ve held back…”

The admission is thrilling and terrifying, giving you almost everything you’ve ever wanted.

Now if you could get that bike you wanted for Christmas when you were twelve…

“Can you tell me now?” you ask, smiling up at his pretty, bewildered face.

“Hmm, patience,” he tuts, using his hand to explore. “Right now I just really want to touch your pussy, please, baby, please.”

It’s your turn for bewilderment. He’s acting like touching you is this great honor, instead of a means to an end like anyone else you’ve slept with. “Uh, yeah, I want that. I really, really want that.”

Eddie sighs, using his traveling hand and dipping it under the waistband of your panties. As his best friend, you’ve gotten so comfortable around him, arguably too much. Late nights in his room with a t-shirt and panties as his room fills with smoke. Eddie is only human, appreciating them too much as as you sat cross legged with the strip just a tad too thin for what it was supposed to cover.

This particular pair is decorated in lace up the front, a sheer lace for the bum, a light blue to match the flowers. His fingers latch to your pussy, delicately moving them up and down the folds.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, playing with the slick and spreading it. “You’re so wet, all this…all this for me?”

He adds more pressure, rubbing small circles and watching you throw your head back and melt in the heat that spreads across your thighs and takes form in a tremble, in a shake. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, placing his thumb on your clit and rotating it in tiny circles. “You like the way I play with your pussy, baby?”

You frantically nod, grinding up against him. “Need..need more. Please? More?”

“What does more mean?” He leans in, decorating your neck with sucks and bites and licks. “You want me to lick it, baby? You need my fingers, you already beggin’ for my cock? C’mon my girl, use your words.”

You might just beg for his cock, but you don’t want it to be over so quickly. “Want–want your fingers, Eds.”

He giggles, planting a nice wet kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.” He doesn’t wait a second, curling one finger past your entrance and pumping it slowly, building a slow momentum that pulls at your stomach. He sighs, husky and deep, “Fuck, it’s so tight.”

He removes his finger without warning, not commenting on the moan in disappointment that escapes your mouth. He sits up, grabbing at the waistline as he tugs them down your legs, slowly, carefully, savoring in the moment. He lifts up the skirt, exposing the landing strip that sits waiting for his eyes.

“Did you decorate your pussy just for me? It looks so pretty… Thank you, baby girl,” Eddie is borderline emotional in his gratitude, showering you with praises.

Your legs attempt to close back together in embarrassment from his intense stare. He notices it, pushing your legs back down. “Do me a favor, won’t you? Keep these legs open while I eat your pussy.”

You drench your thighs, turned on even from the mere idea of being with him. “Mmkay.”

“You–” he gasps, delicately licking at the mound. “You taste so good. Wanted to bury my face in this little cunt for so long.”

His hands lift your thighs up and over his shoulder. His mouth tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing, listening to the cues you give him through your quivers and whines. The dress is completely covering his face, hiding the man that is eating you out, slowly and carefully, as if wanting to taste every drop of arousal you feed him.

Before long, your legs start shaking in his hold from the pleasure that has your hands tangled in your hair, eyes squeezed tight as he pulls whine after whine from you. One finger slides right back in, facing no resistance, sucking on your clit simultaneously. That arches your back and curls your toes, gasping from his build up, his words, god just from the years of mental torture.

You cum against his lips without warning, for him or yourself, twitching around his fingers and crying out his name.

He coaxes you through it, kissing your pretty pussy lips gently until your legs stop convulsing. Sweat beads on your forehead, spreading on your back and neck and making the thick fabric of the dress too hot. You untie each ribbon, desperately grabbing at the neckline to pull it up and off.

He kisses up your torso, laughing as you get stuck with the dress half off. One heel digs in his back in retaliation, whining as you gesture to him to help you. “I’m sorry, you’re just so cute.” Eddie giggles.

You whine, kicking your legs for him to hurry up. Your hair is stuck in your dress. It lifts over your head, a light bra covering your tits acting as a tease for him. The dress lands on the floor, nice and splayed out as it’s done its purpose.

You roll your eyes, tugging him in for a desperate kiss by the neck, wandering hands moving south to tug at his t-shirt. “Wanna see you, too,” you confess, helping him rid of his shirt. “Show me those tattoos.”

“You like the tatties?” You nod enthusiastically although you know he’s just teasing you. “Oh, I bet ya do. Probably ogled them while I wasn’t lookin’ huh?”

With a chest like his, you don’t imagine he could blame you. You let your eyes speak for you, raking over his covered chest and openly staring. “Wanna suck your cock.” You look up at him with big doe eyes, silently begging.

Eddie’s eyes widen at your admission, groaning as you start to undo his jeans. “Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll last that long…I need to be buried in you, wanna feel that pussy around my cock.”

You gulp, wrapping your legs around his torso so his jeans meet your pussy, probably drenching a wet spot on the front. “Me too…but I remember you said you didn’t really get reciprocated very much.” You inhale, gathering courage. “I remember thinking how I’d love to spend hours with your cock down my throat.”

Eddie keels over you, curling his face in your neck as he whimpers. “You were holding that back from me?” He punches the mattress right next to your head, a mild temper tantrum. “What other depraved thoughts have you been hiding from me?”

“You want me to tell you, or show you?” You’re not sure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but you’re running with it, especially if it means you can hear him make that sound again.

“Sh-show me- want you to show–” he nods, whimpering into your neck and shuddering.

“Mmkay,” you muse, smirking at just how easily the shoe falls on the other foot. “Get on your back.”

He complies promptly, wrapping his arm around the small of your back and turning the two of you over. You straddle him, grabbing at his chest carefully as you plant kisses all the way down his lean torso. You bring teeth into the mix, sucking and biting and marking your territory.

You’ve been itching to do so since he showed up one morning with bruises decorating his neck, claiming his hookup got a little too eager.

I'll show you eager, you begrudgingly think, wishing that all the boys were teasing him from bruises you gave him, instead. God, there was one planted on his collarbone that was excessively large, annoyingly so.

You mark your way down his chest, his stomach, lapping greedily at his treasure trail as he whimpers at your enthusiasm. This is power, you think to yourself, wondering what other noises you could conjure from him. As your mouth moves, so do your hands, undoing his belt slowly, taking your time as you unzip his fly.

The evidence of his arousal is strikingly clear, his boxers bulging out of the open fly and begging for your attention. While your subtle glances downward gave you an inkling of his size, his hardened cock presenting itself to you, even disguised in its plaid wrapping, had you letting out a gasp in unbridled lust.

You wrap your hand around it, gleaming as he hisses, a hushed swear passing through his lips. You watch his face, observing him as you place your lips on the covered shaft, just letting him feel the heat of your breath on it. “Oh, fuck–” Eddie chokes, letting out harsh shudders.

The sight of his face is borderline angelic, all of his walls down as he focuses on you. You can’t help but smile at that, at how you desperately wished for nights like these, only paying attention to one another. You poke your tongue out, drenching the cotton fabric with your spit, working your way down the length.

At his little whines, you finally curl his fingers under his waistband, drooling at the taut cock that pops out, giving you a friendly hello, swaying from the spring. You smile ear to ear, delicately wrapping your hand around the base.

You kiss the tip, lapping at the pearl of precum that gives the clear indication of his arousal, as if his hard on wasn’t enough. “Mmm,” you hum at the salty taste, leaning in to suck every last drop from his flushed tip.

You let the saliva that has pooled on the surface of your tongue drool onto his cock, spreading it down the shaft, absorbing the moan he rewards you with. “Shit, that feels–oh my god.”

You smile with pride, finally taking him into your mouth, enthusiastically bobbing up and down on his length. Your eyes remain on his, watching him as his face melts, committing it to memory.

“Oh, Jesus,” he swears, hips rutting up, clawing further into your mouth. You take him in further, gagging on it as you wrap your tongue around it experimentally, choking loudly and purposely. “Ch-choke on it, yeah, ch-ohmy god, just like that–”

Your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth, slobbery sounds of spit on flesh, his and yours, deliciously wet. He tenses up beneath you, whines growing more desperate, moans huskier, deeper. It’s a marvelous melody, one no composer could make even if they tried their hardest.

“St-st-stop,” he stutters, curling over himself, writhing under you. “Stop–I-I’m gonna cum.”

Reluctantly you listen, lifting your head off him with a pop and cheekily smiling at his heaving chest. You crawl upward, yelping as he wraps his arm around the small of your back and tugs you in for a kiss, more powerful, wrapped in an unnamed emotion you couldn’t possibly let yourself be delusional enough to define as. The one hand crawled up your back undoes the clasp of your bra, tugging it off your arms and flinging it across the room.

“Gimme those tits,” Eddie sighs, kneading them in his hands and toying with the flesh and nips. “Oh, they’re so pretty, baby. I love them, I‘ve wanted to play with them for so long.”

Eddie’s legs move under you, kicking off his jeans while holding you close to his chest. You sit up, tugging him up with you as you hover just over him.

His skin directly on yours, close and toe curling as you straddle his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you stare into his eyes. There’s a glow in them, eyebrows relaxed as he holds your hips, staring up at you with such enamour. “Want your cock,” it’s only a whisper, but loud in the intimacy between you two. “I want you.”

His brows furrow, only a moment. The thought passes through him quick as a flash, but you see it.

“What was that?”

He smiles, relieved and tender. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He leans in, pressing kisses on your clavicle, your neck, your shoulder, the swell of your breast. “Not-not just like this. I mean, fuck, I wanted it, so, so bad. But…I’ve wanted you, wanted your late nights and early mornings, to help you when you need to study, wash the dishes…sorry, I’m rambling.”

You pet his cheek, shaking your head. “No. Keep going.”

“I mean, we’ve always sort of had that, you know? It was just torture, not kissing you stupid whenever I wanted…because I wanted to. I wanted to, so much, baby. I love you. So much. You’re my best friend, my person, and I just love you so fucking much.”

A breath of a laugh passes through your lips, attempting to absorb what he had just told you. “Really?”

You smile, holding him tightly as you kiss him, sighing happily as he confirms, nodding frantically. The head brushes against your entrance, pulling a whine from you. “Eds, I-I love you, too.” The kisses get more fierce, Eddie clinging onto you harder and nearly attacking your lips. “But…if you don’t fuck me soon I might actually lose my mind,” You giggle.

He laughs, combing his fingers through your hair, away from your face, from the sweat. He slaps his cock against your clit, teasing you with his head. “Of course, baby, you wanna ride me, hmm? Hop up and down on my big fat cock?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip, hissing when he pushes his head in, watching as your jaw drops. “Oh, look at you, I knew you could take it like a good girl.”

You choke back a whine, swallowing hard as his words have such a strong effect on you. ‘Fuck, f-feels so good.” You stop, mewling as the burn of his girth becomes too much.

“Don’t rush yourself, baby, it’s okay.” He puts his hands on your hips, digging into the soft flesh. “So nice and tight, fuck.” His eyes practically roll to the back of his head.

You sink further, taking him deeper as the burn bleeds into bliss and back to burning again. “Jesus, s’good.”

“Mm, almost there, baby.”

“Move, please. Eds. Need-need you to move.”

Eddie chuckles, large hands holding your back. He lifts his hips, slowly filling you to the hilt and bringing it back out, one hand landing by his side to use it for leverage. You chirp out his name, mewling as he slowly rocks his hips. “Love the way you say my name,” he gasps.

You start rocking, slowly lifting your hips as you assist him. “You gonna make me scream it?”

“If that’s a challenge, then I will happily accept,” Eddie growls, gripping onto your hips harder and pulling you down so the union of where your bodies meet hurts in the best way. “Wonder when those legs will give up, hm?”

“I’ve thought about riding you on the couch too many times to give up easily,” you admit, giggling at his wicked grin.

“Oh, have you now? Been wearing those little panties just so I’d snap and ravish you, hmm?” He asks, hair wild as he watches you bounce on him.

“Maybe,” you admit, though that was mostly just out of comfort and trust of your best friend. “You have stronger will power than I thought you would.”

“Hmm, you think too much of me, baby,” Eddie mutters, framing your face with his hand and pulling you in for a kiss.

Admittedly, your legs are growing tired, but you soldier on, connecting your forehead with his desperately and watching his eyes glaze over. Your head already feels hazy, heat building in your stomach as you rapidly climb towards your climax. “You getting close? About to cum on my cock?”

You nod, startling in your movement as he starts to move you quicker with just the tightening of his grip on your hips. “Eds,” You whimper as he rubs his thumb on your clit, rapid movements as he hurdles you towards your orgasm, your cunt tightening around him as your eyes roll back.

“Lemme feel you squeeze my cock, baby, wanna feel you cum all over it.” Almost as he demands it into existence, you finish with a start, twisting your toes together and hunching over his shoulder while he rolls his hips, gasping and whining and mewling. “Oh, that’s my girl. Here, bet those legs’re gettin’ tired, hmm?”

You nod, giddily giggling as he maneuvers you on your back. “God, I love you. I really really do. I don’t–I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been thinking–”

You slap your hand on his mouth, giggling at his wide eyes. “Sorry, but…shut up. Rail me. Destroy me. We have time for all that later, now quit getting all emotional on me.” You take your hand off his mouth and pat his cheek. “Be a good boy and make me scream your name, won’t you?”

He chuckles deeply, his jaw dropping as he nips on the palm of your hand. “‘Be a good boy,’ hmm? Yes, ma’am.”

Okay, this turns you on too much not to eventually dissect it, but Eddie’s hips start moving, harsh and raw and brutal, just as you asked for. With each collision of his hips comes a whimper from the force, each one louder than the last.

His head curls down into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin as he sucks and bites and laps his tongue over the pain. “Look at your neck, all marked up. All mine,” He rasps.

“All yours,” you whisper, choking on the emotion that fills your throat.

“My good girl who loves to get fucked hard, hmm?” He chuckles, curling his arms tightly around you. “Oh, listen to those pretty little noises you’re making, so pathetic for me, oh fuck.”

“Ed-keep-oh-oh–” you gasp, whining higher and higher.

“Yeah, just like that. Pathetic little princess.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in close, skin to skin, all sticky and sweaty as the smell of sex fills the air.

“You’re moaning like a desperate little slut but you’re not screaming my name, yet. Can’t wait for it. Hmm? Why you makin’ me wait?”

“Maybe you’re not hitting hard enough,” you gasp, a smile spreading across your face.

Eddie’s eyes widen, lifting his body off yours quickly. “Oh yeah? Hands n’ knees. Turn around.” He sends a jolt of fear through you, eyes widening as move into a crawl position. “That’s a girl.”

His hands tighten on your hips, lining himself up and pushing in all within the span of 3 seconds. He’s relentless with it, lurching forward as he grabs a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, I can’t hear you.” He taunts you, pulling deliciously at your scalp.

He starts moving faster and harder, clumsily planting his lips on your back, messily trying to take any claim he can on you. One hand slaps your ass, Eddie hums, appreciating the print of his hand on your skin. Moans pass through your lips, the loud ones that Eddie was asking of you. HIs name is added into the mix, cross eyed and desperate as he somehow increases his force.

“There we are. Where do ya want me to cum, baby, I’m so fuckin’ close.”

“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”

“Fuck-you, y’sure?”

“Fill. Me up.” You say again, getting your point across.

“Oh fuck–” he stutters, jaggedly rutting into you as he bends over you, filling you up with sticky white ropes. “You feel that, baby? Fuck. You feel all full?”

Eddie releases the hold on your hair as you fall forward, breathing heavily as you collect yourself. He pulls himself out, collapsing right next to you. His arms easily wrap around your back, pulling you in against his chest. You curl into him, sighing happily as you listen to his racing heart.

You lay like that for a while, listening to his breathing even out as he pets your hair gently. He plants a kiss on your forehead, humming. “Why did that take us so long to do?” You ask, still trying to regain control over your breathing.

“Hmm?” He pulls away, processing your question. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re idiots.”

You tug him back in, feeling sleepy as you smile against his chest. “Yeah. Big, big idiots. I love you, idiot.”

He hums, pulling you in tighter. “Love you too, ya idiot.”

It’s strange. You thought it would change everything if he were to finally be yours. It doesn’t change anything, banter traded as always, only with a caressing hand that tugs you in for a kiss when he teases you. Hormones go wild, finding resolve in one another as movies are no longer watched, just a nice background noise.

Thank you so much for reading, remember replies and reblogs are the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

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translatemunson · 10 days

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THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]

Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)

word count: 7.9k

trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.

authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.

previous chpt | next chpt

'Doctor, look into my eyes.

I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'

The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.

Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.

Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7.

Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.

Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now.

They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included.

Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings.

Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up.

Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt.

But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t.

He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around.

So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help.

Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover.

“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,”

“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.

“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”

“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,”

“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her.

He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard.

Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her.

She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside.

“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?”

She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again.

“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”

“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”

Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her.

“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”

He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances.

The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece.

“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare.

A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching.

“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up.

She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms.

The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly.

“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help.

Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face.

The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried.

“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing.

She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home.

But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her.

He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic.

And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed.

Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.

It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it.

It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking.

JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed.

Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.

So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her.

JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more.

So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he’d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm.

So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few.

It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book.

“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,”

She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation.

“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?”

“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.

“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend.

She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words.

She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised.

So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.

JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse.

Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out.

Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit.

Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t.

He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,”

Nothing.

And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of.

“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot.

He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver.

He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.

“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,”

“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then.

“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,”

“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out.

She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle.

“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.

“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before.

“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”

“No body needs me,” She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise.

“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,”

And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished.

He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack.

And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.

If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese.

Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this.

It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her.

So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).

“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,”

“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”

“Do you mean julienne?”

“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid.

“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty.

“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”

David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there.

Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her.

“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”

David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now.

“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”

“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"

“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound.

She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too.

Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning.

“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol.

She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.

“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.”

“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile.

“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,”

And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks.

While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.

She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway.

It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in.

He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later.

“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing.

“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months.

She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was.

But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again.

Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door.

It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time.

But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years.

“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab.

She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed.

It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was.

“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans.

“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!”

Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”

“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”

They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with.

Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought.

This never happened.

Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning.

That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s.

So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage.

Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more.

He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom.

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”

And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit.

She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down.

It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her.

“Bug, I’m getting you-”

“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought.

Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her.

“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke.

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,”

“Hm?”

“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks.

“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,”

His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her.

He felt like a fool.

“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.”

“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,”

It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth.

He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly.

“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.”

He would be lying if he said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.

“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder.

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock.

She kissed him. She had kissed him.

And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.

“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again.

Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together.

But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep.

He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow.

–

taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions@the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @sadbae-33

#spencer reid

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translatemunson · 11 days

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i’ve started watching 911. hope i’m not signing in for more pain

#i just need something to pass the time #effie talks

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translatemunson · 12 days

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The 'I don't know why, but it's making me feral' gifset (Cinema Con '24 edition) - Part 1

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translatemunson · 14 days

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The culture is so bad all the songs are made from samples of old songs all the movies are remakes of movies that didn’t need to be remade everyone gets surgery to look the same

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translatemunson · 21 days

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gonna treat myself with some authentic pizza, gin tonic, my favourite playlists and some romcoms bc i deserve it

#effie talks

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translatemunson · 22 days

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I’ve never moved past this

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translatemunson · 26 days

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btw. by the way. By The Way. BY THE WAY. if you gleefully boop you can also gleefully reblog edits. you can gleefully support content creators. you can gleefully leave compliments in the tags. i know you are all capable of pressing buttons now!!!!!!!!!!!!! REBLOG.

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translatemunson · 26 days

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JOE KEERY as KEYS FREE GUY (2021) dir. Shawn Levy

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translatemunson · 26 days

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i see a boop and i press it, not thoughts, just boops

#i’m sorry if i spam u #i just wanna have some fun #effie talks

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translatemunson · 27 days

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ok, i have no idea what this boop thing is, but it’s on

#boop #boop o meter #effie talks

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translatemunson · 28 days

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Spence in Perennials

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translatemunson · 1 month

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do you have a minute?

oh, hi, hello! how have you been?

i need to talk to you guys, and i really tried to avoid this, but i don't wanna lack any transparency with you. so everything will be under the cut (from the whole text to the TL:DR)

you've noticed that love-struck (my spencer reid social media au fic) hasn't received an update since february.

i have a few years as a fic writer under my belt, and sometimes the worst happens to me: i'll feel like i'm in the mud and even tho i'm feeling ok, life is not that much of a weight, my creativity suddenly goes "nah, another time, fella."

i'm not gonna go into extensive details of what happened in the last few months (just to sum things up: i had a surgery, got sick, dealt with a withdrawal issue with one of the meds, had to deal with shitty friends, move back to finish my studies), but it definitely took a toll on my mental health and how i work as human being.

so yeah, even tho i can read, study, do my chores and everything else, writing and creating have been challenges. and nothing i do is good enough. i've tried over and over again, did small exercises, tried to create something else... yup, didn't work.

with all that said, i'm gonna put love-struck on hold. for how long? idk. i'll let you know when i'm back.

thank you for all the support and love you've showed for the fic so far. love you guys.

effie.

TL:DR - i had a few health problems in the past months and can't write or create anything i like. love-struck is on a hiatus for god knows how long

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds au #social media au #spencer reid au #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #effie edits #lovestruck

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translatemunson · 1 month

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OK EVERYONE THE BEST BIG BRO X YOUNGER SIS IS BACK!!!!!! i have so much love for this fic, i can’t even put it into words! it’s so refreshing seen a fic that explores steve and max’s connection to this degree

Soon You'll Get Better

Chapter Three: Neon Kitchen, Bright Sky

↢ chapter two | series masterlist | chapter four ↣

summary: Max can never seem to catch a break and things are no different when Billy's dad comes back into the picture. When everything takes a sudden turn and the one person who was supposed to have her back fails her, you and Steve don't hesitate to step in.

word count: [16.7k]

: ̗̀➛ pairings: big-brother!steve x max & big-sister!reader x max

: ̗̀➛ romantic pairing: steve harrington x fem-college-student!reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings: angst, physical altercation, mentions of slapping, cursing, billy's abusive dad, mentions of death (billy), bruises, and mentions of absent parents (max & steve)

“Get the fuck out!”

Her shouts echoed against the walls of the trailer, resounding off the metal as she pointed at the door and stood face to face with the man she didn’t want to see. He snarled at her, face practically red as he turned to her mother who stood off to the side, not daring to get in between them like she should’ve been doing in the first place.

“Are you going to let her speak to me that way?” He asked ridiculously knowing that she didn’t have a backbone, and when it came to him, she would ultimately betray her own daughter.

The thumb she had been biting down on dropped from her mouth, shaking her head vigorously. She turned to her daughter and looked at her with wide, pleading eyes.

“Maxine, he’s staying. End of discussion.”

Max rolled her eyes, glaring just as harshly at her mother for this bullshit that she was putting her through. The last thing she needed was to see her former stepfather right before her eyes, claiming he was back in their lives all of the sudden. The same one who abandoned her and her mother after Billy died and couldn’t even be man enough to stay for his funeral.

What possessed her mother to think that Max was ever going to let this slide was beyond comprehensible. Maybe it was some sort of mid-life crisis she was going through or desperation, but over her dead body would she allow this man to live under the same roof as her and her mother after everything that had happened in the past.

Max clenched her fists to her sides, reminding herself that she wasn’t going to get physical no matter how angry she was. The most important thing that she needed to do was try to stay somewhat composed and get it through her mother’s head that this wasn’t going to happen.

“No, he isn’t! Did you forget everything he put us through? What about what he did to Billy? All those years of abuse and you’re letting him back in!” She protested, unclenching one of her hands to point brutally at the man who towered over her.

Her mother wasn’t a stranger to the abuse Billy’s father had inflicted on his son. Verbally, physically, and psychologically — he was horrible to him, the same way that Billy had continued the cycle and was horrible to Max.

She looked down guiltily, shaking her head as if she was trying to believe her own lie, “He—He’s changed Max…you don’t know how hard it was for him to lose his son—”

“And I lost my brother! I watched him die with my own eyes, so what about me?”

Max didn’t mean to get emotional so quickly, but it felt like this was all something that was building up from last week’s events that were just as heavy as this. Even more so, she wished she had spent the night at you and Steve’s apartment, taking you both up on that movie night you had suggested, but instead she picked to stay home for once and try to spend more time with her mom.

Just for the night to turn into this bullshit.

Billy’s dad swatted at her pointed hand, slamming it back down to her side where she clenched her fist, wondering if this was a free pass for her to plant it towards his jaw — but she stayed calm, ignoring the stinging feeling on her skin.

“You’re the child and we’re the adults, you obey us!” He roared, causing Max to flinch slightly, yet she knew this game he was playing.

Threatening — the same thing he used to do to Billy.

But if there was one thing she learned from her late brother, it was that sometimes the best thing to do was strike back…with words of course. Because while his father usually always started it, Billy was the one to finish it.

“You’re not my fucking father and I don’t have to obey shit you say.”

She didn’t mean to look so smug after she said that. Max was actually supposed to be putting on that signature glare, but she couldn’t help it. Watching the sorry excuse of a man’s face drop before her and the vein in his neck nearly about to combust over the harsh truth she had spat right at him.

SLAP!

But the palm that connected with her cheek surely replaced the smugness with shock. Tears instantly pricking at her eyes as her hands clutched at the skin that prickled with a hundred nerves burning beneath the surface.

Her mother gasped, but not daring to scold the man for his actions, too frightened to do so. Instead, trying to grab at Max’s wrists to pull them away from her cheek in order to assess the damage that had been done, but that wasn’t what Max wanted of her.

She wanted her mother to scream.

To yell.

Fight back.

Tell him to get the fuck out of her home.

Call the cops.

Put him in jail.

Then hold her in her arms and apologize.

But she didn’t.

Max nudged her mother’s hands away, blinking wildly, and the tears rolled down her skin.

“It’s me or him.”

The ultimatum she laid before her mother should’ve been an easy one to answer. Obviously her blood, the girl she had given birth to and raised all by herself seemingly fine before she met Billy’s dad.

But the only thing in the eerily quiet trailer was now silence.

She could see her mother’s hesitation through the blur of salty puddles in her eyes. The eyes that darted between her daughter and her ex-husband’s, as if he was worth more than her even after she was the one that had stuck by her mother’s side and held her up even when she couldn’t even keep herself together.

All of this for a man.

Max swallowed the lump in her throat, disappointingly shaking her head as she brushed past her mom, heading down the narrow hallway to her bedroom, slamming and locking the door shut. There was no way in hell she was going to spend the rest of the night or the upcoming days with him in her presence.

She wasn’t going to before and she sure wasn’t going to now after he had just put his hands on her. Easily, she could’ve reached for the phone that laid on her bedside table, dialing El and asking for her father to come down to the trailer park to arrest the son of a bitch, but the first thing on her mind was getting out.

And she knew where she was going.

Stuffing a drawer full of clothes into her duffle bag, it was enough to last her a few days before she would need to borrow some, but it would do for the meantime. The excess space was filled with her childhood stuffed animal: Bubbles the Dino and the rest of her tapes and Walkman that would get her through.

She zipped up the oversized jacket that once belonged to Billy, pulling the hood over her head, hoping this was enough to keep her warm for the journey. She walked out of her bedroom back into the living room where he was still berating her mother as she sat on the couch with her head in her hands not knowing what to say or do.

Max didn’t pay them any mind, heading straight to the front door so she could make her exit before anyone tried to stop her. The creaking of the hinges prompted their attention, but she was already down the front porch steps before they could move.

“Maxine, you’re not going anywhere!” Her mom hollered, frozen in the doorway with the man right behind her.

Max rolled her eyes once more, hands tightening on her bike handles as she turned her head and looked towards the one person who was supposed to choose her all the time.

“You can both go to hell.”

With that, she ascended on the night, leaving everything that she thought was supposed to be her home behind her. The tears she had been holding back to avoid humiliation now falling out of her orbs and rolling against her cheeks. Her feet pedaled faster as each second went by, hoping to get to her destination before it was too late.

Your body twitched at the sound of knocking, eyes slowly blinking to unblur them from the sleep that overcame you suddenly. The movie that you and Steve abandoned still playing through the television while your boyfriend slept soundly beside you with Ollie cuddled to his chest.

“Steve,” you yawned, stretching your arms out and nudging his shin with your foot.

He moved slightly at the contact, groaning out without opening his eyes. Another set of knocks sounded through the front door and this time you were sure it wasn’t the movie playing tricks. Your heart raced instantaneously, not knowing what was real or not.

“Steve, someone’s at the door.” You hissed sharply, letting your arms fall to his chest where you shook him firmly.

His face scrunched up, one eye opening to see you hovering above him looking back at the door, “Baby, it’s just the movie—”

Another set of knocks followed, this time accompanied by a small voice just loud enough to pierce through the wood of the door.

“Are you guys awake?”

Neither you nor Steve could mistake her voice. Instantly worried, you didn’t hesitate to jump up from the couch, startling Ollie who jolted up from his slumber and raced towards the front door where you were already unlocking the latch.

Steve threw off the blankets, blindly shutting off the tv and slapped on the light switch, brightening up the living room with the yellow fluorescence.

You pulled the door open, Steve right beside you as you both were greeted by the anxiety inducing sight of Max all cried out with her bags weighing her shoulders down.

Her cheeks were a bright crimson, which you would assume was from the cold of the night, however her bloodshot eyes told a different story that it was a combination of the weather and crying. Her lips looked frostbitten, almost chapped as the soft teetering of her teeth rang in the wind.

“Hey, it’s okay…get in, c’mon.” Steve ushered, reaching out and grabbing her wrist gently as you opened the door wider and wrapped your arms across her shoulders where you could feel her shivering.

She instantly dropped her bags, letting them rest on the floors as she collapsed onto the couch. Her elbows going to rest on her knees as she covering her face with her hands.

You were next to her in an instant with Steve reaching over to grab the stray blanket, draping it over her body as he sat on the other side. His hands squeezed her shoulders over the thick fleece in order to try to warm her up quickly, hoping she wouldn’t catch a cold.

You caught his eyes, quietly voicing your concern, as he nodded swiftly and looked back down at her. Soft sniffles coming from behind her hands where she was trying to hide it.

Not that Max ever liked crying in front of both of you, but she never tried to conceal it like she had been doing now. It all seemed so odd and out of character for her as she knew you and Steve would always be all ears in a heartbeat and listen to whatever she had to say, but not tonight.

“Max, honey, tell us what’s going on.”

Your voice was on the verge of pleading, not knowing how much longer you go could without knowing what had her this upset that she had to bike all the way here.

“J—just some stuff a-at home.” Her voice gave way.

Stuff at home could mean many things and you both knew that Max and her mother weren’t necessarily on the same page considering how their relationship had faltered with her mom prioritizing work more than raising her daughter.

Steve gulped, rubbing his hands over her shoulders warmly. “You can talk to us, bug. Could’ve called, and I would have come over and gotten you… it’s dark out and—”

She pulled her hands away from her face, swiping her fingers along her cheeks harshly before looking up at the two of you and nodding, understanding your concerns.

“Billy’s dad was over… he came back.” She said dryly, moving her eyes to her lap not knowing how you both would receive it after so long with him gone.

The silence was telling. Clearly the two of you were shocked seeing as though Billy’s dad, Neil, left before his son’s funeral procession, leaving it all up to Max’s mom who was devastated and had to deal with two losses she wasn’t anticipating.

“H-he’s back?” You stuttered, swallowing back your distaste as you kept your focus on the girl.

“He showed up while I was at arcade and my mom let him in and n-now she’s saying that he’s gonna stay with us and I—I just…I couldn’t….I w-won’t.”

And like that, her chest rose nimbly, tears beginning to well in her eyes once again before she could even try to piece together her broken words that already told a story of their own. Hunching over, her face found solace behind her hands again and the cries rattled the walls of the apartment and broke the hearts in your chests.

Steve leaned closer, guiding her into him as support. “Bug, take a deep breath…in and out, you got it. Everything’s alright, we’re right here.”

His hand rubbed her back gently as you cooed more words of comfort. The two of you working together to try to ground her and make her feel as safe as possible. Neither of you took it personally when her cries didn’t die down and only got heavier, a kind of sadness that you knew she was feeling deeply and needed to feel instead of trying to fight back.

If your hearts were just broken by the scene of her so frantic, you couldn’t begin to imagine what she was feeling. Her breathing only got more ragged, struggling to catch it with her mind racing with the flashbacks.

Steve noticed the signs before Max could even fathom them, rising up from the spot next to her, he hurriedly charged towards the kitchen for a glass of cold water and a warm rag before he was back at her side in an instant.

“Shhh…s’okay, let’s get you a sip of water yeah?” His fingers wrapped gently around her wrists, bringing her hands away from her face, as he showed her the glass.

She sniffled roughly, nodding her head as she took the cup from him — the water that had been beading around the surface meeting her hot hands zapped her nerves, bringing her back as she gulped it down. The warm rag rested on the back of her neck calming her down a bit as the hiccuped cries began to shallow out while the seconds passed.

She had nothing to be afraid of when you two were here right beside her. You both had seen her at her worst and even then neither of you left her side. It was going to be no different now or ever, even when she was unsure of it all. She had you both and that was what mattered most to her.

You took the empty glass away, placing it on the coffee table, “You wanna talk about it some more? Or we can talk in the morning if you—”

“He hit me. J—just slapped me once, but still…”

She dropped it like glass, letting it shatter without trying to cushion its fall because there was no way of doing so. The truth was all she had left in her and the sting on her cheek was a biting reminder of what he did and most importantly what she didn’t deserve.

The room was quiet, only Max’s sporadic sniffles and the whirling of the ceiling fan above you filled the heart-stopping silence. So many things spun through your heads, questions that Steve wanted to ask, and answers that you desperately wanted, but all you could muster to say was—

“I’m sorry.” You exhaled at a loss for words, skeptically reaching for her hand as she nodded and slotted hers in yours giving you the permission.

She squeezed yours securely as if she was trying to reassure you, like you were the one who needed the strength as you sat there and broke internally, trying to stay strong when you knew you were moments away from breaking down but that wouldn’t be fair to her — not right now.

Steve pulled his brows together, confusion splaying his features despite the anger brewing inside of him.

“What did your mom do?”

He knew her mother wouldn’t let anything happen like this slide, sure she had taken the hits from Billy’s father herself and watched helplessly when Billy became the punching bag, but she couldn’t have just sat around and watched him do the same to Max.

“Nothing.” Max said quietly, nearly hushed as she did, too ashamed to say it out loud because that would mean that her mom became the enabler of the behavior she swore she’d never tolerate.

The silence was even louder then. More questions wanting to be asked, on the tips of your tongues just pleading to be babbled out, yet you both could tell that now wasn’t the time.

Max was clearly traumatized, put through something incredibly heartbreaking yet was sitting right before you as stoic as ever — not feeling anything inside because she’d been so numb to the feeling of sadness and disappointment for a while now.

You swallowed the lump in your throat to keep from crying though your voice still cracked.

“Y-you’ve had a night. Why don’t you take a hot shower and take our bed tonight? Ollie can cuddle with you, yeah? He’s missed you so much.”

“Please.” she said, nodding at you with a sullen face.

You nodded, standing up and reaching out for her, “C’mon, let’s get you some clean clothes.”

You wrapped your arms across her shoulders, guiding her along to your bedroom in hopes that a goodnight’s sleep would bring her a dream to forget about the real life nightmare.

Steve ran a rough hand up and down his face, sighing heavily as his chest ripped out a quiet sob not knowing how something like this could happen. He’d done everything to protect her to the best of his ability and the one place that should have been her safest, her home, was the place she had been hurt and the one where he wasn’t at to shield her from it.

He tore his hands away when he heard the bedroom door shut softly, followed by your hushed cries that made its way closer to him. He stood and wrapped you in his cages, letting you cry every angry and heartbroken tear you had out.

“H-How could she let that happen?” You tried to keep your sobs down, letting them die against his clothed chest to prevent Max from hearing it, but you couldn’t help but to feel so helpless and frustrated.

Steve could only hold you, cooing away your anguish and wiping the tears away because there was no answer he could give you. Everything in his soul wanted to tell you what he knew and give you all the answers in order to piece it all together, but there was nothing left to piece.

The harsh reality was that something terrible had happened to Max, and no one tried to stop it.

“Everything is gonna be okay,” He told you, holding your face in his hands as he thumbed away the remnants of tears. “She has us and we’re gonna stick by her side and try to make this better.”

It was the only thing in Steve’s soul that he knew right then to be true. You both were always going to be there for her and if it took months maybe even years to right this situation, then you’d both be there every step of the way, no doubt about it.

“I know.”

His lips pressed in a tight line, giving you a firm nod, making sure that you were alright before he spoke, “I gotta go for a little, okay?”

You stared at him confusingly, not knowing where he would be off to at this hour. “Where?”

“Clear my head.” He said it plainly eyes dead set on yours.

You read between the obvious lines, knowing exactly where he was going. There was no use in trying to stop him because you knew he had his mind set on the very thought of making sure things were done right by Max, no matter what it took.

He was her protector and in many ways he would do anything for her — even kill if he had to.

You grabbed at his hand, squeezing it in a stern yet tender manner, “Promise you won’t do anything stupid? Max needs you, you know that.”

To be quite honest, he feels that he needs her more than she does him. Steve didn’t know what he’d do with himself if Max had suffered worse tonight. The slap itself left a bitter taste in Steve’s mouth, but if Max had shown up battered and bruised, he’d be sure that a death wish would be granted tonight.

Despite his anger and the things that he could do to make him pay, there was a way to get it done, and he wanted it done the right way so that Max wouldn’t need to suffer more than she already did.

He cradled the back of your head, pulling you into a hug, nodding his head against the top of yours and placing a kiss there.

“I swear, just… just make sure she gets some sleep, and you, too. I’ll be back in a bit.”

You locked up as he gave you one last look through the screen door, mouthing, “I love you,” before you shut the wooden door and he was jogging down the steps towards the car park.

The second he slammed the door shut, the shouting began as instantly as the salty tears he’d been holding back poured from his eyes. This wasn’t about him and the last thing he wanted was for Max to hear and worry about his own wellbeing when she was supposed to put herself first.

“Son of a bitch!”

He cursed, beating his palms against the steering wheel, breathing hard as he cried, so heated and disheartened at the world because why did it have to be her?

Why couldn’t the universe give it to him?

He could take the anger, he could take the hits, he could take it all and deal with it if it meant that Max got to finally go a day or two without worrying when the next breakdown or anxiety attack was going to occur.

She had already gone through so much and she deserved for it to be over by now.

“She’s okay… she’s okay, c’mon Steven.” He roughly wiped at his face, sucking in deep breaths, talking himself through it.

He started the ignition, his foot pressed firmly on the pedal as he made his way to the trailer park, his mind echoing the faces of you and her — the people he needed to make it back home to safe and sound.

It was a scene, Hopper police car parked out front of the trailer with its driver’s door swung wide open and the vehicle still running, headlights flashing brightly. The neighbors who should have been asleep were wide awake, gathered outside their homes, and rightfully so when there was a ruckus going on.

“Where is he?” Steve demanded loudly.

He didn't even bother to take the keys out of the ignition, placing the car in park behind the police car and hopping out to get his hands on the suspect.

Across the Mayfield trailer lived Eddie and his uncle Wayne, the both of them taking notice of Steve’s presence, aware of how close he and Max were and how he must have known something that the entire park didn’t.

“Fucking shit…” The metal head cursed, throwing his cigarette the ground and calling out to his friend, “Harrington! C’mon man, let the chief handle it!”

Eddie's voice was nothing to him. Steve instead made a beeline for the front door of Max’s trailer, bursting through it, catching everyone off guard. Her mother looked as though she had seen a ghost, Billy’s dad was confused with the intrusion, and Hopper knew that something was about to go down from the death stare Steve was wearing.

The only thing Steve heard in his mind was the voice telling him to get him.

“You son of a bitch!”

Lurching across where Hopper stood, Steve threw a fist in the air over towards the disgrace that sitting on the couch acting holier than thou beside a mother who failed her child.

He hoped it connected, spreading pain across his jaw for payback, yet the arms of Hopper and his friend Eddie encase his effort, hauling him back with all their might.

“What the hell, kid? Are you out of your mind?!” Hop shouted.

The flimsy notepad and pen dropped to the ground, and he hastily grabbed ahold of the boy whose fist was millimeters away from connecting to Neil’s jaw.

“Steve, that’s enough! C’mon, relax!” Eddie attempted to deescalate the situation, knowing it wouldn’t do Max or you any good if Steve left there in handcuffs.

“Did you tell him, huh?” Steve spat, still struggling in the grips, glaring at the two on the couch.

Neil sat up, pointing a finger at him.

“Listen, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you better get—”

“He hit Max.” Steve declared, completely stopping the struggle and moving his eyes towards Hop who stared at him confused, tight grip loosening only so that he could move and look back at the man.

“That true?” He asked, raised brow taking in a sharp breath.

Neil scoffed, turning to look at her mother, who sat emotionless, neither confirming nor denying the accusation, but she was just as guilty as him.

“Chief, I have no idea who this boy is… we called because our daughter is missing.”

He tried to lie, looking over at her mom with the most sincere and worried look that would’ve been convincing had Steve not seen right through it.

The audacity that the man had to call Max his daughter when he was barely even a father to Billy? It only made Steve’s blood boil even hotter, the anger dissipating into something uglier that dared to do more than just sock the son of a bitch in the jaw, but to make sure he never saw another waking day.

“She’s not your daughter, and she isn’t missing. She showed up at my doorstep crying her eyes out after she biked miles to come and tell me and my girlfriend that you put your hands on her and you did nothing about it.”

His eyes skimmed from the man to the woman, who guiltily broke into tears, covering her face knowing that the truth had been unveiled. Steve would have had more remorse for her if she at least defended her daughter and tried to do something to stop it. But knowing that Max stood in that very spot in the trailer almost an hour ago left with no one to help her made his fuse blow short.

The cries of the woman nearly set Neil off, turning back to her with a hardened look on his face like he was silently threating her to shut up before he gave her something to really cry about. Yet with the presence of the other three in the trailer and the neighbors that began growing curious with the shouts — he caught himself whipping his head back to the men, staring indifferently.

They could hear a hairpin drop with how eerily quiet the trailer became after Steve’s admission. Eddie cursed under his breath, closing his eyes as he got filled in on what he missed. Hopper swallowed so thickly, not knowing if he was going to put Neil into cuffs or give him a taste of his own medicine first.

The chief knew something wasn’t adding up when he got the frantic call from her mother. Sure, Max was a rebel at times, but even then, the chief knew that the girl wouldn’t just up and leave in the middle of the night for no good reason.

His daughter was her best friend, and they told each other everything, the good, the bad, and the ugly — granted he never liked to stick his nose in anyone business, but El had always voiced her worries for Max and that stuck with him, especially now.

And Hopper was a father himself, a true and present one. It just didn’t add up that Neil had bailed when his son died and now that he had returned, it just so happened that Max had run away.

Neil spoke lowly eyes shooting daggers through Steve, “You ain’t got any proof,” he started before turning his sights to the one wearing the badge.

“And even if it was, don’t you ought to agree, chief? Children who give their parents lip should be disciplined?”

Hopper and Eddie tightened their holds, feeling the small inch that Steve had moved, ready to lurch once again, but he stayed glued to the floor, knowing neither of them would be letting go.

“Is that why you hightailed it after Billy died? You lost your punching bag, so you decided to leave only to come back and try to make Max your next?” Steve seethed, not letting the fire die out so quickly.

“Shut your damn mouth!"

The man stood, pointing a sharp finger at him, but Hop pushed a hand out, creating distance between the two.

Steve scoffed a sarcastic laugh, eyes squinting pointedly. “Or what? You’re gonna hit me too? You’re a fucking deadbeat disgrace of a father who should’ve been the one in the ground, not your son.”

He knew what he was doing, granted it wasn’t the original thing he had planned to do, but if Steve was right about the kind of man Neil was, it would only be a few more seconds until he would strike.

“Don’t talk about my son,” Neil warned, stepping closer and ignoring the hand and demands that Hop gave him to step back towards the couch.

Steve jutted forward just an inch, smirking because he knew what exactly he was going to say next.

“So I can’t talk about him, but you could beat him to a pulp?”

The pang isn’t as nearly bad as it could’ve been seeing as though Hopper had tackled the man to the floor the second his fist grazed his cheek.

The entire trailer shook with the tussle happening on the ground, cursing flying off the walls as Hopper held his hands behind his back and pressed his cheek roughly to the ground.

Eddie stumbled back, arms remaining wrapped around his friend, wringing his face forward to check for damage. “You good, man?”

“Fine.” He replied, running his tongue over the inside of his cheek, only a slight sting that would probably become a little bruised by morning.

“Shut up, Neil. You’re under arrest for assault.” Hop grunted, clicking on the metal cuffs as tightly as possible.

Even as victorious as it should have felt to see him getting what he rightfully deserved, Steve didn’t feel an ounce of victory knowing that Max had gone through what she went through tonight. At the end, something terrible had happened and now it was going to be about her working through it.

Eddie pulled his friend out of the trailer, fresh air being breathed in followed by the gasps of the onlookers who didn’t know what to make out of all of it. Making their way to his car for some privacy, Steve leaned against the door, rubbing at his face while Eddie stood in front of him, arms crossed not knowing what to say.

“H-how is she?” He dared to ask, wondering if it was too touchy of a subject or not.

Steve looked up, frowning with a shake of his head. “Not so great. Did you hear anything before she left?”

Eddie shrugged, trying to remember anything that stood out, but the trailer park was used to fights and yelling but never to this magnitude. If anything, everyone around there avoided calling the cops as much as possible.

“Just a few shouts, but nothing too clear. Her mom started knocking on every trailer, asking if we saw where she went and before you know it Hop was here.” Eddie replied.

Steve nodded still trying to piece together everything. Both of their eyes trailed back to the trailer, as Hopper read aloud the Miranda rights, walking the cuffed man to the police car.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.” He spoke before throwing him into the backseat, slamming the door to finally silence the hissy fit Neil was throwing.

The man was obviously exhausted. The last thing he wanted to do after he had already clocked out for the day was to drive all the way to the trailer park for some runaway. But when he heard that it was Maxine missing, he couldn’t stay at home knowing his daughter’s best friend was out there, probably scared and alone — the same way he found El.

It hit too close to home, and he was going to do everything he could to get her back home safely.

“She’s still at yours?” Hop called out, walking over to Steve with his notepad out for some info.

Steve nodded, backing off his car to look at his watch. “She should be asleep now, but yeah, she’s got to ours almost an hour ago by bike.”

Hop grunted out a disapproving curse, jotting everything down for the report. He clicked the pen closed, shoving it in his pocked before pointing up at Steve.

“Good. I want you to keep her at yours and I’ll stop by in the morning to ask some questions, alright?”

There was a sort of silent understanding between them both, one that even Eddie could read despite the missing words. They all knew how close Max was to you and Steve, and if she was going to be anywhere tonight, or maybe for a while, it was going to be with you both.

“What about her?” Steve pointed his chin at her mom, sitting on the steps still crying to herself. Hop took a deep breath, shaking his head.

“She’s gonna get an earful right about now, but you should probably go before then.” He advised, knowing that it would be best if Steve weren’t around despite his understandable anger.

All of the mean names and insults that spun in Steve's head and dared to leave his mouth but never did. Honestly, the sight of her crying alone was hopefully the wake up call that she needed to be a better mother, a present one that would pick her before anyone else, even kill for her if she needed to.

“You hurt her you know,” Steve declared out loud, knowing it was the least he could say for Max’s behalf.

Her face hidden behind her hands not knowing what to do with herself. She pulled them away, staring at him guiltily as she sobbed some more. But he didn’t have anything else to say to her and even if he did, he was sure the only words that would leave his mouth would be fueled with anger and disgust.

Eddie garnered his attention, patting the hood of his car gently.

“Go on man, it’s getting late.”

As a friend, Eddie cared a lot about you both. He even had a special place in his heart for the redhead who sometimes fed the strays with him when she was bored at home. It wasn’t often, but it was enough for conversations to begin where Max bragged about having Steve wrapped around her finger, ready to fight anyone who got in her way.

Steve and Max had an undeniable sibling sort of bond that tied them together — everyone could see it.

Max grew up with a step-brother who was dog-shit nothing, and Steve practically raised himself once he turned thirteen. It was clear that the both of them were fated together, a kind of chosen family that not even blood could touch.

“Tomorrow, okay?” Hopper said once more, patting him on the back and ushering him to get in the car.

Steve nodded, offering a kind handshake to both men before he got into his car, and took one last look — all the neighbors heading back into their homes after Hop waved them off, and Eddie wielding another goodbye before he jogged back to his trailer.

The drive home was a stark contrast, no more tears shed or shouts leaving his mouth. Just pure silence as his blood simmered down and his mind thought of you and Max — and of course, Ollie. His little family that he would vow to protect no matter what.

He parked the car, locking it and jogging up the short flight of stairs towards the apartment door. He dug the keys out of his pocket, quietly opening it, hoping to not wake anyone up. But of course, Ollie was already at the door waiting as Steve smiled, bending down to pet him as he shut the door behind him.

The floor lamp was left on, illuminating your sleeping figure on the couch with two layers of blankets pulled over your body. He thanked all the gods in the universe that you were asleep, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good if you had stayed up waiting even if it was out of love.

You knew that Steve would handle things and keep his promise. He always did.

He shrugged his shoes off, propping them on the rack before rounding the hallway towards your shared bedroom where the door was left open. Stopping in the doorway, he let out a sigh of relief, glad that Max was also asleep and safe. All the while Ollie hopped up on the bed, snuggling into her side for the night.

There were a lot of things that Steve was unsure of, so many questions still desperately wanting to be answered, but he knew that whatever was going to happen next was going to be in the best interest of Max.

No more of her feeling like she was second place or her own mother’s second choice. He was going to do everything in his power to give her the life she deserved — full of love and safety.

Heading back to the living room, he lifted the blankets up slowly, squeezing in beside you, doing his best not to wake you up. But it was nearly impossible as you stirred slightly, peeking your eyes open just enough to decipher his figure through the darkness.

“W-was everything okay?” You croaked softly, wrapping your arms around his midsection and pulling him closer to you.

“Yeah," he nodded, kissing your temple as he settled his body into the cushions. “Hop was already there when I arrived and he’s gonna stop by in the morning.”

“Where are you hurt?” You sought, already knowing that Steve was going to try to hide it from you for your own sake if you didn’t ask yourself.

He gulped, turning his jaw to show you where he was hit. “Just grazed me a bit…I’m gonna be fine.” He assured you as your fingertips skimmed over the area, trying to feel for a forming bump.

“Okay,” You took a deep breath nodding as your hand fell away from his face, “Let’s get some sleep…we’ll talk more in the morning.”

There wasn’t possibly anything more that you could’ve asked nor did you want any of the full details of what Steve had done to get things handled. He knew it too — that sometimes ignorance when it came to this sort of situation was bliss to you.

Your focus was on Max, and as long as Steve was safe and sound back in your arms, there was no need to worry about him. Right now Max was the person you needed to be thought of the most — and neither you nor Steve were going to stop doing so.

Max woke early the next morning, rubbing sleep and dried tears from her eyes as she was aware of the sun beating down past the curtains and the voices talking softly down the hall meaning you and Steve were already up.

She tossed around the duvet for a few minutes before mustering the strength to throw them off and let her feet hit the floorboards, taking her to the kitchen.

“Morning,” she croaked weakly, wincing at the pain in her cheek where her fingertips had slid against the skin carelessly.

You and Steve looked over your shoulders. Her sleepy figure taking a seat at the kitchen table and resting her face in her hands. Clicking off the burner, you both quickly gave her your attention.

“Hey bug,” Steve said quietly, reaching over for a clean glass, filling it up with water before he approached, sliding it over to her.

“How’re you feeling?” You sought, taking a seat beside her and smiling gently as she laid her head on your shoulder.

“A bit better. It’s the best sleep I’ve gotten in a while.” She admitted, with a weak laugh, happy that she didn’t have to endure a night of a loud TV playing or her drunk mother whining about the cable cutting out.

But she’d be lying if she said she was out like a light after she got out of the shower. Sleep didn’t come to her so easily, playing back the memory of what had unfolded and knowing that Steve wasn’t home. She didn’t have to peek out of the living room to know it, but she could feel it in her bones that he had left.

“What happened to you?” Max asked him. Her gut already knowing the answer to her own question, yet she just wanted to see what he’d say.

Steve shook his head, tapping his cheek, “It’s nothing, just a little bruise. I took care of it.”

She couldn’t be upset with him, even if she wanted to. The energy in her body was completed depleted and the last thing she wanted was to act as if she didn’t need the help. Steve was protective of her and she knew whatever he did to “take care of it” was coming out of the goodness of his heart.

“Thanks,” She pursed her lips into a tight line, tilting her head at him to which he nodded.

You stroked the hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ears as she turned her eyes up towards you.

“Hopper is gonna come over and get some statements about the situation. He said it’s gonna be easy peasy.”

“Will you guys be able to stay in the room?” She crossed her fingers, hoping that she wouldn’t have to endure it by herself.

“Of course,” Steve nodded assuringly, rubbing her arm up and down, “He might bring some other people from the department, but they’ll be in and out before you know it, I promise.”

“Okay,” she breathed, relieved that it wouldn’t be so bad with you both there.

Max had only spoken to the cops one other time in her life — obviously talking to Hopper casually didn’t count. But after the fire at StarCourt, she and her friends were all questioned by law enforcement, even the FBI. They showed her pictures of the damage and asked about Billy and the details of his death.

She went home that day feeling numb as everyone else, not knowing if she’d ever be the same, and to know one’s surprise, she wasn’t. A few days later, her mom had planned out the funeral with the help of Karen and Joyce who tried their very best to pick up the pieces while her mom struggled to deal with the loss of her stepson and the sudden departure of her husband.

Max would never forget that week. So much chaos, heartache, and guilt that would only continue to follow her wherever she went, no matter how hard she tried to get back to normal, it just wasn’t possible, not with the emotional abuse of life that she had endured.

She tried not to think about it so much, knowing that Hopper was gonna make sure no lines were crossed. If anything, the questions would go straight to the point that way it wouldn’t force her to relive every single detail of the night.

The three of you ate breakfast together, her and Steve occasionally feeding Ollie bits of scrambled eggs while you weren’t looking, lightly laughing to themselves as you went on about something that you wanted to do with the kitchen.

After you cleared your plates, she suggested she did dishes, but you and Steve waved her off, telling her to relax and watch some television or read some magazines before Hop arrived.

A little after eight, there was a knock on the door, a firm and loud one indicating that it was most definitely the Chief on the other side. Max switched off the TV, getting up to join you and Steve at the front door, greeting him warmly.

“Hey kid,” Hopper greeted, widening his arms as she grinned and walked into his side, hugging him — hugs from Hop weren’t typical, but she knew it was his dad side coming out and comforting her.

“Hey, Hop.” She patted his back before stepping away and letting you and Steve greet him.

You peeked back out the door to see if any other person from the department would be joining, “Just you?”

He hummed out an ‘mhm’, removing his hat and taking a seat on the couch before pulling out the same notepad and pen from last night.

“Didn’t wanna overwhelm her with too many people 'round. I know it’s a touchy subject, still fresh and all.” Hopper spoke thoughtfully, eyes darting over to Max who was very relieved as she plopped down on the opposite side of the couch.

“Thanks.” Steve nodded, going to sit beside her.

The pen clicked, and Hop jutted his chin out towards the kid, silently asking if she was ready or if she still needed a few minutes to prepare herself to speak about it. She nodded quickly, wanting to rip the bandaid off and get it over with.

“Where were you before you got back home?” He began.

“I was at the arcade with Dustin and Mike. I biked there at 6 p.m., left at 8:30 p.m. and got home at about 9ish.”

He jotted everything down as she went, knowing that while the details weren’t about the scenario that took place, he needed to know everything that had happened before and after.

“And when you got home what happened then?” He proceeded, looking up from the notepad.

Now the hard part, getting into the details that she wanted to bury in the back of her mind and forget. She knew that Hopper was here doing his job and the last thing he wanted was for her to revisit last night, but in order to make sure things were done correctly, he had to get some insight.

You patted her knee encouragingly, while Steve murmured kind words, “you’ve got this,” and “it’s gonna be over soon.”

“I—I noticed a car out front, but it didn’t look familiar, so I didn’t think anything of it. Thought that maybe mom had gotten a ride home from a coworker and they were inside talking, or that maybe one of the neighbors had a guest and they just needed parking.” She explained simply.

“And when you walked in?”

“Neil was there sitting on the couch and my mom was making dinner in the kitchen. There were a few empty beer cans lying around, but they could’ve been my moms, or his…I d-don’t really know, but they were there.”

“Okay,” Hop nodded, pen moving quickly against the paper, occasionally looking up to give the girl a warm look, telling her she was doing great so far.

“How did things escalate?”

“I told him to get the fuck out and that he wasn’t welcomed in our home.” She said bluntly not caring about trying to lay it down easy.

“How did he take that?”

“Not so well,” She shifted, sitting up and swallowing thickly, “for some reason, my mom wanted him to stay, and I kept going on about horrible he treated us—how he treated Billy, and he didn’t like that I was talking back.”

“And it’s from my understanding that he hit you?”

Max nodded, “He slapped me across the cheek,” She turned her face, showing Hopper the side that was hit, though the red hand-mark had waned through the night, “Just once, but it was pretty hard.”

“M’sorry that happened, kid.” Hopper shook his head, huffing out a deep breath as he took it down.

“I gave my mom an ultimatum… him or me, but she didn’t say anything, so I knew—I knew I had to go and leave.” Her voice died with a whisper, hating the fact that repeating the words out loud was just as hurtful as seeing her mom do it to her face.

You and Steve could tell that it was starting to get heavier for Max. The mere thought of retelling what she had gone through was like reliving it again. Steve reached for her hand, giving it three encouraging squeezes.

“S’okay, we’re right here bug, not leaving okay?” You whispered, wrapping your arms over her shoulder, letting her lean it toward you.

“And you biked all the way here?”

She nodded, watching as Hopper mentally did the math of the times, knowing she didn’t bother to check it once she left. “So would you say you left Forrest Hills at about 9:30 and got here at almost 10?”

“Maybe 10:30,” she clarified, “I got tired halfway and stopped for a second to catch my breath.”

“And when you got here?”

“I knocked on the door, and they answered and let me in.” Max spoke gesturing to you both.

Hopper nodded, turning his attention to you and Steve now.

“What was she like?” He asked looking between you both.

You swallowed, going first. “Shaken up, cold obviously, but most sad and shaken.”

“She gets um, panic attacks sometimes?” Steve looked over at Max apologetically, but she nodded, letting him know it was okay to go on.

“S-she said it was just some stuff at home, and it kinda triggered one, so she got her a glass of cold water and warm rag to help calm her down.”

“What happened after that?”

“I told them what happened…about the slap, I mean.” She clarified with the tilt of her head as Hop nodded and jotted it down.

“Got it.”

“A-are we done, now?” She furrowed her brows, shifting a bit in her seat just enough to catch the notepad that was filled with his writing, not even room left in the margins.

Hopper flipped the pad over, clicking his pen shut as he nodded. “Yeah, no more talking about it. Got everything I need to keep him behind bars.”

She let out a breath of relief, sinking into your side as you smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to the side of her head lovingly. You hated that she had to go through this, but you knew it was the process to make sure everything was handled properly and Neil wouldn’t be able to get out easily.

“I’m assuming you’re not wanting to go back?” Hopper proposed, smiling a bit at Max’s comfortability that was visible now that the hard part was over.

Max nodded sternly, looking back at him. “Not if I don’t have to.”

“You guys okay with letting her stay here for a while?” Hop asked you both.

Without hesitation, you and Steve nodded. That wasn’t even up for debate. Your door would always be open for Max no matter what.

“Then it’s best you go back over there, let Max pick up a few things and try to get her mom to sign this.” He reached into his pocket, slipping out a folded piece of paper that he handed over.

Steve grabbed it, unfolding it to read the contents as you and Max leaned over to do the same.

“What is this?” Steve shook his head confused.

“It’s to have you and Steve become Max’s legal guardians. Her mom is obviously still going to be her parent and I doubt she’d sign away her rights, but this is mainly to protect Max. To make sure that she has people she can go to when she doesn’t feel safe at home, and things to get messy with the court and stuff like that.”

“So, we just get her to sign this and then Max can stay with us?” You questioned.

“For as long as I want?” Max added with an excited glint in her voice causing Hop to push out a laugh.

“Obviously, I’d encourage that your mom tries to make things right with you eventually, but I can understand that you don’t want to be near her right now. So yeah, if she signs it, you can stay here as long as you want.”

Max perked up at the thought, sitting up straighter and looking at you and Steve with hopeful eyes — it was as if she was brought back to life for a moment just at the idea of getting to stay with you and Steve.

You smiled softly, rubbing her back, “Why don’t you go get ready and we’ll head out to get this done, okay?”

“Okay!”

As the bedroom door closed, Hopper turned to you both wearing an apprehensive expression, sighing deeply and rubbing his hands together.

“It isn’t going to be easy.” Hopper spoke softly, not wanting Max to hear, “She’s gonna be a little hesitant to sign it, but I gave her a little spiel about it last night.”

“How’d she take it?” Steve wondered, scratching the back of his neck.

“Telling a mother that she isn’t fit to raise her child and that her child was going to be better off in the hands of two early twenty-year-olds?” His forehead creased as he lifted his brows, shaking his head, “She was pissed.”

You rolled your eyes, tsking because she had done this to herself and you had no remorse for her, at least not after what she had done to Max.

“Well, she should’ve thought twice before letting an abuser back into her and her daughter’s home and letting that same man hit her kid.” You retorted sharply.

Hop nodding sympathetically, understanding your indignation.

“I know you’re upset, but you’ve gotta try to make her understand that way Max is put first.”’

Steve rubbed your knee gently, doing his best to calm you down knowing that while you were visibly upset at the entire situation, you both had to see it through for Max’s sake.

“We hear you.” He spoke, giving Hop a grateful look for the time and energy he was taking out of his day to help you both with the process.

“The kids are worried about her…” He revealed with a sigh, “They basically stayed up all night and grilled me when I got back home.”

Hopper didn’t mean to overstep his place and tell El and Will about it before Max had the chance to, but the second he received the call, the only thing he could do was burst through their bedroom door and ask when they had seen her last.

Safe to say that once they were awoken with the news that their friend had runway, they couldn’t bring themselves back to sleep — pacing the living room restlessly as Jonathan and Joyce did their best to soothe them while Hop had drove down to the trailer park.

“Do you think they could by a little later? They just want to check up on her and give her a hug.” Hopper proposed, since it was the one thing El and Will had made him promise he would do for them.

“That’s sweet of them.” You smiled with a nod, “After we head out, I’ll ask Max and have her call them up in advance.”

“Great.”

Hopper left after saying goodbye to you all, wishing you luck on getting the paperwork signed and reminding you and Steve that you guys could give him a call anytime if you needed anything.

The last place Max wanted to go was back to the trailer park, but she knew in her heart that avoiding it forever wasn’t something that she could do considering that she still loved her mom, but right then, she just couldn’t stand to be around her after everything.

You three agreed that you would do most of the talking in hopes of getting the signature on the forms while Max headed inside to pack her stuff. Max had nothing to say to her mother, nor did she have to even utter a work to her — she owed her nothing.

The only thing keeping Max’s hopes up was getting to finally pick up somewhere else, somewhere safer where she knew you and Steve would never put her in danger and give her the home that she was always longing to have.

Her blood started rushing quicker as Steve turned into the park, driving up to the trailer and placing the car in park. She closed her eyes, leaning head back against the seat, taking a few deep breaths attempting to prepare herself to face her mom.

“Hey,” Steve looked back, tapping on the console to grab her attention, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll be in and out as quick as we can be.”

“You don’t have to say anything at all, just go in there and grab whatever you need, alright?” You added, twisting your body to face her, grabbing her hand gently.

She took a final deep breath, nodding as she glanced out the window, “Let’s get this over with.”

Steve jogged up the steps, knocking firmly on the metal before heading back down with you and Max. It felt like forever for her, hearing her mom’s voice call out from the inside and footsteps moving across the floors, but it was only seconds after the creaky door swung open.

A look of relief washed over her mother’s face, hands resting over her heart as she walked towards her daughter.

“Maxine! Oh honey, I was so—”

Your hand came out, blocking her from getting any closer than she already was, putting distance between her and Max.

“She’s here to get a few things, then she’s leaving.” You said sternly, locking eyes with her keeping your gaze hard.

Her mom looked between you and Steve, eyes wide as she swayed her head puzzled.

“L-leaving? To where?”

“Ours. She’s gonna be staying with us for a while.” You told her, not missing the way the confusion instantly spread to denial.

Max took the opportunity to push her way in, brushing past her mom through the door and making a beeline for her room. She shut and locked the door, quickly moving and grabbing bags to stuff full of the things while you and Steve waited outside.

Max’s mom shook her head, eyes pleading to you and Steve, “You can’t take her away from me. She’s my daughter. Please.”

You didn’t even look affected by her begging, still keeping your composure with your arms moving across your chest.

“We’re not taking her away. She’s picking us, and we’re choosing her. The same way you should have last night.”

Steve had never seen you be so cold as you were being in that moment. It was totally out of your character to act out that way, but he knew this was just as hard for you to do. You weren’t doing this to punish her mom.

You were acting this way because Max needed someone who wasn’t going to just give up on her and let her fend for herself. She had done enough of that already, and with you and Steve there was no need for her to do it anymore.

“Please, you have to know that I didn’t mean for him to hit her.” She reasoned, clasping her hands together like a magical prayer was going to change your view.

“But you did know how violent he could get, and you still let him in. You put your life and Max’s in danger. For what?” You scoffed, shaking your head.

“He said that things were going to be different.” She whispered, furrowing her brows trying to get you to understand where she was coming from.

“And you really fell for it? After all of this time, you would think that you would know better.”

“We could be an actual family.” She said, pointing into the trailer where Max was gesturing to you both that it could finally be a home with a mom and dad waiting for her.

That ticked you off beyond everything she had pervious said. You couldn’t keep your composure any longer, tightening your fists to your sides, doing everything to keep the anger at bay and remember what you and Steve were here for.

“Just stop it!” You yelled louder than you had anticipated, prompting Steve to lay a calming hand on your shoulder, murmuring out for you to take it easy.

“Max doesn’t need anything more than a mother. Someone who is going to put her and her needs first. Not some delusional idea of a family that never existed in the first place.” You retorted sharply, bursting the bubble around that stupid dream of hers.

“That’s not true—”

You pointed your finger at her, nearly seething at that point.

"You dragged her into this town, and you left her to fend for herself when Billy treated her like crap and you did it again when Neil did the same thing. As much as it hurts you to admit, you know you’re not fit for the role. At least not right now.”

You didn’t mean to be so harsh, but it was what she needed to hear and she didn’t even bother to defend herself. Shrinking back, you could see the way her eyes washed over with a sheen of tears, jaw quivering slightly as you went on without missing a beat.

“Do you even know anything about your daughter at all? Do you know that Steve and I are her emergency contacts? He had to drive down there last week for an incident that you should have been there to handle, but you weren’t.” You explained to her, trying to keep your voice low for Max’s sake.

“You’re barely around, and on the rare occasion that you are, you don’t even try to be apart of her life, or even try to scratch the surface of everything she’s been hiding because she wants to protect you.”

You had gotten worked up by then; the anger floating away and instead replaced with pure disappointment for the mere fact that you and Steve even had to be here in the first place. Had she done her job as a mother, none of this would have happened, and she wouldn’t be standing here getting an earful from you right then.

“But you’re her mom.” You swallowed, shaking your head at her sobs leaving her mouth.

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be protecting her, and you failed at that.” You said, letting your voice die, watching as she broke down even more at those words.

You felt terrible for making her cry despite knowing she deserved it. You weren’t an evil person; you didn’t gain anything by making her feel bad about the way she parented, but every single thing you had said played a role in how awful thing had turned out for Max.

Her daughter, a girl going through the most pivotal developmental years of her life, was protecting her own mother who was neglecting her. She could have easily picked up and left long ago, even before Billy died, but she didn’t. She stuck around and beared the weight of everything else meanwhile she was the one suffering most.

“I’m her m-mom…she only has one mom, and that’s me.” She croaked, pointing to herself while the tears ran down her face.

“So if I were you, start acting like it and get your shit together so you can be the one she trusts again. The last thing she needs is forcing herself to live with her only mom who shattered her heart.”

You took a shaky breath, reaching behind you to retrieve the papers that Steve was holding onto. Passing them over to her, you watched as she looked over them, seemingly having no objections any longer.

“Y-you promise she’ll come back home?”

You and Steve looked at each other, neither nodding nor shaking your heads before you finally mustered the strength to look at her again.

“Prove she should first.”

Before you knew it her signature was printed on the pages, the three of you standing awkwardly outside listening for the bustle of footsteps and drawers shutting before finally the door whipped open. Max wobbled as she made her way down the short stairs, keeping her eyes on you and Steve.

“She sign it?” She finally spoke, watching as you both smiled and nodded.

Steve stepped forward, taking the bags from her arms and going to put them into the trunk of his car as you stayed near the porch with Max and her mom.

“Max, I’m sorry.” Her mom sniffled, going to reach out to her before quickly pulling her hands back to her chest understanding that she didn’t want to be touched.

Max looked over her shoulder, staring almost emotionless as she muttered, “I hope you are.”

“I—I’m gonna change, I promise…I’ll be better for you.”

They didn’t share a hug or a kiss on the cheek goodbye, Max simply opted for nod not wanting to keep her hopes too high when it came to her mom. You three loaded back into the car, watching from the rearview as her mom waved goodbye while you all set off back to the apartment.

You met her eyes in the mirror, heart warming at the small smile that splayed over her face, leaving the park without looking back.

“Why don’t we have a day with El and Will, huh? We can go shopping for your new room.” You suggested cheerfully.

A short gasp left her mouth, a little confused and surprised. “My own room?”

Steve chuckled nodding as he glanced back at her for a second. “You’re gonna be living with us for a while, so yeah, you’re own room. We’re gonna turn her study into a bedroom for you.”

“Thank you, thank you thank you!” She bubbled, unbuckling her belt as she reached forward and draped her arms over your shoulders as you and Steve laughed, urging her to buckle back up.

“Give El and Will a call when we get home and then we’ll swing by to pick them up, okay?”

It surprised her just as much as it did you, how upbeat she was despite the events that had unfolded less than 24 hours ago. Perhaps it was just her running on the high of actually getting to stay with you and Steve, but you had a feeling that it was the genuine relief she felt knowing that she’d get to come home to a safe space every day from now on.

Steve had given you the keys to his car, steering you and Max out of the apartment right after you had dropped off all her belongings and she had phoned her friends. The second you made it to the Hopper-Byers residence, El and Will were already waiting on the porch, racing towards the passenger side to greet their Max with the biggest hug in the world.

Joyce even came out, pulling Max into a sweet hug, murmuring even sweeter words that a mother would give her child. A little sliver of your conscious felt guilty that you were depriving Max of that mother-daughter connection that she always wanted, something every girl craves to have.

“Do you want to tag along?” Max extended the invitation, looking back into the car where you nodded with a smile, patting the empty passenger seat that you would hope Joyce would occupy.

And alas, she did, which was a great excuse for you and her to talk about adult things while the kids helped Max pick out stuff for her bedroom. They ran off to the knick-knack section of the thrift store, hoping to find some decor, while you and Joyce sorted through the hangers of curtains trying to find something that would suit her style.

She nudged with her elbow, causing you to looking over at her as a small smile took over her features before she whispered softly, “You and Steve are doing the right thing.”

You inhaled deeply, giving her a shaky laugh as you exhaled. “You think so? I’m honestly a little scared.” You admitted, hoping she wouldn’t think you were second guessing it because you weren’t.

There was just a lingering worry living in the back of your head, wondering if you could actually do it. Without a doubt, you knew that Steve could. He practically handled all six children by himself at one point in time, but you were still new to it. You were always there for all of them, but Max’s situation meant not just being there, but being present and ready to be at her side at any moment.

You couldn’t stomach the thought of her bottling up her feelings and hiding away in her bedroom while you went on unaware of it in the next room over. You didn’t even know what you’d do with yourself if she came home in tears not wanting to talk about what happened before shutting the door in your face.

There were so many things you weren’t prepared for and that was what made you the most scared: the thought of not knowing and it ending up hurting Max more than she already had.

Joyce had been in your shoes a few years earlier, taking in El, a child she didn’t birth, but felt immensely protective over. Though her circumstances were different from Max’s, there were more similarities in the fact that all they really needed was a safe space with people who loved them for who they were.

She reached out, giving you back a comforting rub while you shifted to face her completely.

“They say people are never really ready to be parents and it’s the same way for you guys, but you and Steve are the perfect fit for her.” She said softly, watching as you took in her words with a nod, continuing to listen for what advice she had left to graciously give you.

“She trusts you enough to tell you about everything in her life without being scared that she’ll be in trouble. She chooses you guys because you choose her. I know it’s not an ideal situation, but sometimes things happen for a reason…for the better.”

It was a motto that Joyce Byers lived by, the fact that things happened for a reason and even if it wasn’t the way things were envisioned, it was always for the better. She would have never thought that she would be a single mom of two kids, leaving behind Lenny in order to give her two boys a better shot at living a life without the risk around. But she also would have never thought she’d find love again and adopt a girl like El, who completed her life in so many ways.

Their families meshed together like one without even skipping a beat. It just felt right even after all those years of going through it without each other. When they were finally found on another, it was like the missing puzzle piece finally being put back in its place—a kind of harmony that was difficult to replicate.

You saw it covering her face, the certainty and confidence she had in you to do it.

“I needed that.” You closed your eyes, wrapping her up in a tight hug. “Thank you so much.”

“I’m here for you all, no matter what. We all are.” She reminded you, rubbing comforting circles over your back.

She smiled where you couldn't see, catching Max from afar as she watched on with a grateful look, giving Joyce a thumbs up before running along to find her friends.

You realized that it was a lot of pressure, and right now it felt like the weight of the world on your shoulders to make sure you were giving Max everything she needed, but sometimes it wasn’t as complicated as you were making it out to be in your head.

Giving Max a place to stay and the knowing that she was cared for was already enough for her and all the rest were just extras she was glad to be given by you and Steve.

After a few hours of strolling through countless stores and picking up the right pillows and bedspread, Steve’s car was officially packed to the brim. You weren’t sure how you all managed to Tetris fit everything, but it worked perfectly and by the time you had dropped the kids and Joyce back to theirs, the empty seats were occupied by everything that was once on their laps.

“My arms are dying!” Max huffed dramatically, slogging up the apartment complex staircase as you lingered behind her, trying to catch your breath with each slow step.

“I’m getting too old for this. I should’ve picked the apartment on the first floor instead.” You fretted with the shake of your head, finally making it up to the top with a loud stomp.

You and Max stood at the top of the stairwell for a couple seconds, deep breaths filling the silence as you pressed yourselves up against the brick wall. Then suddenly, as your eyes locked, laughter erupted not being able to take each other seriously over the silly situation.

Despite the cramp that you were surely going to catch in your leg at any moment’s notice, it was all worth it knowing this was going to be a memory you’d both look back on and crack up at.

Taking another deep breath, you tilted your head down the hallway.

“C’mon I bet Steve and Ollie miss us.” You both walked the short way to your front door.

You let your arm’s weight down, bags falling softly against the concrete as you fished the car keys out of your purse, beginning to unlock it. Ollie’s little barks came from behind the wood door, getting louder when you unlocked the screen and finally pushed the second one open.

The second the gap was cleared, the pup excitedly jumped up on his hind legs, greeting you both with a few more barks.

“Oh, hi boy! I missed you so much.” Max quickly stepped through, placing the bags down and going to her knees in order for him to surge into her lap.

You grinned sweetly, bending down to pet behind his ears while you toed your sneakers off, lugging the bags behind you.

“Where’s your dad, huh? Did you keep him company the whole day?” You wondered aloud, mostly talking to your dog who wasn’t paying you any mind with the pets he was getting from Max.

Before you could even call out his name, Steve strolled from the hallway, dusting off his hands as he smiled at the both of you. His hair was slicked back more than usual, which you assumed was because of the sweat that accumulated from all his hard work.

He didn’t tell you much about what he was going to do before you left, just that he was going to fix up the bedroom for Max and get everything in order.

“He did keep me company. In fact, he couldn’t stop following me around, that is until he heard you guys all the way from the stairwell.” He snickered, knowing that Ollie could hear your combined laughter from a mile away, instantly darting towards the front door the second he heard it.

You walked over to him, placing a peck on his lips before pushing past him into the living room in order to get yourself a glass of water.

He turned his attention to Max. “Did you have fun today, bug?” He proposed, scanning the shopping bags, which wasn’t even half of what you had picked up.

She nodded, bringing Ollie closer to her chest as she waddled over to the couch to get comfortable.

“The best day ever! Joyce even joined us and we all got ice cream afterwards as a treat for all the sale findings we did.”

Steve glanced over at you with a suspiciously raised brow not believing either of you could be gone for as long as you were and only have a couple of shopping bags.

You were especially good at finding the items that were somehow always on sale or marked down, which is how you justified every purchase claiming you were getting a bang for your buck—Steve didn’t know if that was always true or not, but who was he to argue?

“I’m assuming there’s more in the car?” He looked back and forth between the both of you.

You gulped down your water, nodding with a wide grin.

“You are correct!” you said, tossing him the car keys that he quickly caught and stuffed into his pocket with a grin.

“Before I lug whatever the hell you guys bought up here, let me show you a surprise.” He announced with the clap of his hands, motioning for you both to following his lead.

Max’s ears perked up, shuffling off the ground and following him closely. “A surprise?”

“You heard that right.”

The three of you stopped in front of your old study, now Max’s bedroom where the door was pulled shut. You and Max had no idea what was behind the door, but you both were excited to see what he was hiding, knowing he could have done anything while you were gone for the day.

In true dramatic Steve Harrington fashion, he shot Max a semi-worried, yet semi-cheery look, placing his hands on her shoulder as if he was bracing himself for a bad reaction already.

“Now Max, if you hate it by all means, don’t be afraid to tell me,” He cautioned.

She glared playfully, flicking his arm in a scolding manner.

“Stop, I’m not gonna hate it!” She guaranteed to him, waving her hands out in the air as in telling him to hurry about revealing it.

“Fine, then…surprise!” He blurted, reaching back to twist the doorknob and press the door open, revealing its interior.

Shock wasn’t even enough to describe what Max was feeling, let alone fathom the work Steve was able to pull together with just a couple of hours. She wasn’t even sure how he managed to get all the furniture, considering he was left without a car all day, but she was sure he had pulled some strings to make it possible.

The rattan bedframe was pushed up against the wall to maximize the space along with a newly packaged mattress laying within it. Beside it was a small two tiered bookshelf that would also act as a bedside table. Even though it was still empty, he was sure all her comics and little knick-knacks would find their home there when she officially got unpacked.

A tall oak wood dresser stood on the opposite side of the room, and while the room itself did come with a small closet, Steve just wanted to make sure there was enough room for her to store all her things. And last, on the adjacent wall, was a small desk that used to be yours, one that you had told Steve to leave in there for her so she could have a spot to do all her studying and whatnot.

The walls itself were bare, Steve wanting Max to have the creative reign to do whatever she wanted with them or if she wanted to paint it a different color, then they could make plans to go to the store over the weekend and pick a few swatches to choose from the.

Steve anxiously waited as she quietly looked around the room, taking it in without saying a word. She hadn’t even seen the room all too much to remember what it even looked like before all the furniture was put in. The only time she would ever come in there was to grab some pens and markers from your desk, but it was never long enough for her to notice how much natural light and space the room truly had.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest nervously. “Do you like it? I know it’s not much, and it’s still kinda bare, but we can—oh!”

Before he even had the chance to discredit all his hard work more than he already did, the young girl launched herself into his arms, hugging him like her life depended on it.

“Thank you so, so much! This means the world to me. You don’t even know how thankful I am right now!”

You clasped your hands together, heart warming at the sight as you watched how slowly the relief covered Steve’s face before being plastered with complete and utter joy for successfully doing something special for her.

To be fair, you were sure Steve could have blown up an air mattress for her, and Max would have the same reaction since it was the utter thought that counted the most—but this was definitely better.

“You’re welcome, Max.” He smiled, patting her back kindly, still reeling from the reaction he had received while you flashed him a big smile and a thumbs up.

“How did you even get this on time?” She finally pulled away, going for the bed and jumping back first against the mattress with the plastic covering crinkling beneath her. “You didn’t even have a car to pick this up.”

Steve beamed proudly, beginning to explain how he made it all happen. “I made a few calls, and I got Eddie to come and pick me up and we were able to go grab it. And Hop was getting rid of some stuff from the cabin and he let me keep some of the furniture for you.”

Surely getting Eddie’s help was the easy the part, the hardest was convincing him to stick around and help carry it all up the flight or stairs. Steve promised to give him a discount on all the tapes he wanted for a full month just for the favor alone—but Eddie could have gone without it, knowing that Steve was doing it not for himself, but for Max.

“Look at you being resourceful,” you half teased, poking him in the arm while he rolled your eyes at your chiding.

Max sat up slightly, arms spreading out towards the both of you as she jutted out her chin. “Come on. Group hug.”

You and Steve laughed, practically toppling into her side when she pulled you both into her, hugging with all her might trying to physically push all the gratefulness she had into it. She was sure that she could never repay you and Steve for all the things you’ve done for her, but if she could hug you both every day and make you feel it, then she would be doing it forever.

“I’m so glad you love it.” You hummed, laughing through it as she hugged you tighter for just a split second more.

“Well, thank you guys again… for going out of your way for me and giving me a place to stay.” She said kindly, patting the tops of your heads before your dog had jumped up, wanting to be included,

“And thank you, Ollie, for letting me crash at your parents’ place.” She cooed with a giggle, placing the dog on her chest where he settled snugly.

“You’re always welcomed here, you know that.” Steve ruffled at her hair, sitting up on his elbow to watching how comfortably Ollie was already liking the new room as much as Max—you were both certain, he would be crashing there every night instead of the living room or at the end of you and Steve’s bed.

After a few minutes of Max taking in her new room and getting spoiled with cuddles from Ollie, she began unpacking all her belongings, starting off with the clothes since it was the easiest to get sorted. You helped her with folding and organizing them in the drawers, while Steve placed all her heavier jackets and coats on hangers to store in the closet.

Once that was done, you all decided to take a break to snack on food, since neither of you had yet to have a proper lunch. But after a full day of being on your feet and having little to know food in your system, you were pretty much out after finishing half a bag of Doritos and a can of Coke.

Your fatigued body sprawled out on the couch where you had settled, claiming your back needed the extra cushion that the kitchen chairs didn’t have. Max and Steve decided to give you a break, doing their best to not wake you as they cleaned up and headed back to the room to finish unpacking and decorating.

It was a bit of a challenge for them to get the plastic wrapping off the mattress without your help, but they managed to find a way—Steve lifting one corner at a time as Max carefully ran the box cutter over the tarp and tugged it away section by section. The fitted bedsheet also gave them a bit of trouble but after 10 whole minutes of fighting the stupid elastic and getting confused on the right corner, it was done and her bed was properly made with the pale quilted bedsheets.

While Steve went to search for screws and the drill, Max occupied herself by filling the bookshelf bedside table with her collection of comic books and magazines. The ceramic jewelry dish she found at the thrift sat on the countertop, filled with friendship bracelets El made for her and some spare hair ties. On the bottom shelf, she shoved her Walkman and headphones into a wickered basket she also picked up at the thrift that surprisingly matched the rattan bedframe.

Some of the posters she managed to pull off the trailer walls without ripping but were bit crumpled and creased from her rushed packing, found their new homes on the walls in a collage like arrangement.

She was sure Steve would laugh and tease her when he saw the Karate Kid, Ralph Macchio, hanging right beside her dresser, but she also knew he would eventually pick her up tape and suggest it for movie night in a few days. She continued on, taping the rest of the posters up before she heard Steve’s footsteps coming back in.

He did, in fact, chuckle a little teasing her a bit at the way he knew she and El had a crush on the actor due to the fact that they screech every time he came on screen and the sole reason that had gone to see the movie in theatres three times in the same day.

Finally, they worked together to put up the hanging shelf that you had found for a deal, but without any instructions. Steve was totally going to lecture you about how no matter how good the deal was he wasn’t an instruction booklet that just knew how to put things together on the spot. But thankfully, this one didn’t give him too much trouble, at least in the beginning.

“How about now?” Steve gently lowered his hands, backing up from the wall with a single step.

With no level in sight, Steve had to continue readjusting the shelf’s position to make sure it was sitting perfectly flush and leveled against the wall. Neither he nor Max was sure how you slept through the shrill of the drill gun going through the drywall, but they were successful—in not waking you up and finally getting on the shelf right after three attempts.

Max tilted her head from where she sat on the floor. “Yeah…yeah, that looks about straight.” She shrugged not seeing it tilt to one side more than the other.

“You sure? I don’t want your tapes to fall and crack.” Steve frowned, stepping back up more to it to see if it was leveled correctly.

“They’ll survive, Steve.” She snickered at his concern, going to grab the small shoe box which contained all her adored belongings.

Her beloved, always on repeat, Kate Bush tapes found their place in a short stack, not too high in case they accidentally fell and the plastic casing cracked. A few drawings Will had sketched up for her, clipped together and stored in a folder for safekeeping. A few of Billy’s items that she kept like the ashtray that was now used to hold her spare change. And, of course, the koala plush that Steve had won for her at the arcade.

But there was one more thing at the bottom of the shoe box—a framed photo of her and her mom, from way back when she was a little girl in California. Her father took the photo, the two of them standing with wide smiles right in front of the Ferris wheel on Santa Monica’s pier.

Trips were always rare since they were on a tight budget, but her dad always claimed it was the perfect excuse to be stuck in traffic together and then get to stretch their limbs by riding all the rides.

The photograph sat at the bottom of her drawer back at the trailer, and she hadn’t even realized she packed it in the haste until now. Steve who had been sweeping up the dust that fell on the floor from the drilling, noticed her unmoving figure staring into the pit of the shoebox.

He set the broom aside, peering in to see as his lips curled up curiously, “What is it?”

Her lips pursed together into a fine line, picking up the frame and handing it over for him to see. Young Max, no older than six, smiling cheekily beside her mother with an ice cream cone in hand. Her front teeth were missing, but she still sported her signature plaits and freckled cheeks—a lot had changed, but still she was the same spunky girl who just got taller and got all her adult teeth in.

Steve looked up, glancing over at her. “Santa Monica, right?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, wondering how he could’ve known without seeing any specific signs in the photo.

“Do you miss California?” He wondered aloud.

Max shrugged her shoulders not really knowing how to go about it.

“Sometimes. I used to miss it more back when we first moved here, but after a while I kinda stopped because I had made friends and it wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

Steve chuckled, jabbing his elbow gently into her side. “Until you found about the alternate dimension?” He half joked to which she snorted with a roll of her eyes.

“Obviously…but even then, at least I wasn’t alone.” She said, nudging him back at the memory where he was the one who saved her and her friends during her first run in with those demodogs.

She twisted her fingers through each other, shoulders lifting curiously, “I—I do miss my dad sometimes, though. I always wonder what he’s up to, if he ever misses me or my mom.”

“You don’t really talk about him.” Steve said, tapping his foot on the ground suddenly aware of his limited knowledge on her dad’s side.

She nodded understandingly, knowing she didn’t share a lot about him with other people in the first place. Even El didn’t really know too much about him.

“Part of me wishes I could’ve stayed back with him, but I guess he just didn’t want to bear the full responsibility of a kid all by himself.”

“Did you ever try calling him?” Steve wondered, looking at her watching as she nodded with a small smile, recalling those moments for him to hear for the first time.

“We used to talk all the time when we first moved. He would call super early in the afternoon because of the time difference, and he didn’t want to miss me before I went to bed. He used to ask about my day at school and tell me that he was saving up to come visit…” Her smile faded, eyes darting down sadly.

“But he never did.”

“I’m sorry, bug.” He apologized quickly, hating how he had to ask such questions when she was already going through a lot. He didn’t mean to trigger anything, it was just pure interest to learn more.

“No, it’s fine,” she assured him, shaking her head when she finally looked back up at him.

“I know it probably wasn’t easy for him to see his only daughter get up and leave to live with her mom and her new husband who was practically replacing him. I just didn’t think it would mean he’d stop being my dad you know?”

Max knew Steve didn’t have much of a father's presence in his life either, let alone parents at all. It was one of the many things they had in common, something they were both painfully self-aware of.

Their parents were so far away, literally and figuratively. Steve didn’t even know when was the last time he saw his parents’ faces in person, while Max didn’t know when was the last time she had a proper conversation with either her mom or dad.

At some point in time, they became even more self aware that they had to look out for themselves—Steve obviously realizing this first. He hated to know that Max was essentially going through the same thing he did, and it was as if the cycle was repeating, but in other ways the curse was also breaking.

Steve placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing tenderly.

“Sometimes the people we love stop trying and no matter hard we want them to care, it’s not up to us to make them.” He said delicately, hoping his words would travel deep within and stick with her.

He wasn’t always the best with words and by a long shot he felt like most times he never made the most sense, everything getting misinterpreted or coming across the wrong way. And while Max never liked the idea of unsolicited advice, she really appreciated Steve’s knowing he gave some of the best and most straightforward ones of them all.

“Do you think the same thing is gonna happen to my mom?” She wondered, hoping he would have an answer for her, but Steve didn’t want to compare his parents to hers.

Steve shrugged his shoulders unknowingly, not wanting to give her a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when he could never truly know for sure. “I think one day she’s gonna come around and she’ll make up for not trying as hard as she should have.”

She took a deep breath, thankful for the careful words, before feeling another squeeze upon her shoulder as Steve spoke again, “But for now, we’re here and we’re not gonna stop trying and we’ll never not care for you.”

That was all that she needed to hear for the waterworks to begin. A trail of happy tears pooling withing her eyes as she sunk into him, letting him bear her weight as he hugged her tightly. It was the kind of hug that replaced the words “thank you,” and “I love you,” because the action alone spoke volumes—in fact it screamed it out loud without even uttering a peep.

Steve Harrington and Max Mayfield surely did not share a drop of blood, but what they did was know that they had each other to lean on. He was always going to be that protective older brother who hated to see her grow up so quickly, and she was always going to be that little sister trying to give him the childhood he never fully got to experience himself.

You didn’t let yourself be seen or heard, back pressed against the hallway wall, biting down on your lip to keep you from letting out a weak cry. You had awoken minutes ago, about to wander into her room to check their progress, but hearing their little heart to heart on your way there made you stop in your tracks and listen.

They needed that moment more than you did, and you’d be damned if you cut it short. As they pulled away, you took a quiet deep breath, swiping your eyes gently to clean the teary look before you knocked softly on the door, letting them know you were there as you walked through, letting out a short gasp.

“I fell asleep for an hour and this place is already looking complete!” You said, looking around in amazement.

Max chuckled, gesturing to the walls, “Don’t you like my Ralph Macchio poster?” She wiggled her brows while Steve muttered an “oh god,” under his breath.

You pointed at her with a nod before winking, “Get one of Matthew Broderick and that’ll complete the whole thing.”

Steve pretended to gag as if he wasn’t once a teenager with all the hot bombshells up on his wall. “What do you guys want a shrine of all the heartthrobs or something?” He accused, peering at you both with a comical look.

You pouted, going towards him to ruffle his hair. “If it makes you feel better, I think you actually resemble a little of Matthew Broderick just with better locks.”

“You think,” Steve blinked self indulgently, looking down at himself while you and Max repressed your laughter, shaking your heads at each other.

“Okay seriously though, I need some real food.” You stated, patting your stomach as they hummed in agreement.

Steve checked his watch, realizing how much time had passed and the sun that was setting sooner than anticipated.

“Too lazy to cook.” He groaned not wanting to do more work.

“But too lazy to go out.” Max added, plopping down on her bed.

You grinned, clapping your hands, “Why don’t we order some pizza? I got that coupon in the mail for an extra topping for free.”

“Pineapple!” they declared in unison without skipping a beat.

You laughed, shaking your head at how much they were truly long lost siblings in this lifetime and probably all the other ones out there.

“I’ll go call it in.” You sing-songed, spinning on your heel about to walk out towards the living room as Steve followed behind you.

“Oh!” Max sat up, looking at you both with a hopeful smile. “Can we at the table and use fancy plates and drink Coke out of the nice glasses?”

You and Steve smiled, nodding your heads at the simple request that seemed like such a big deal for her. Whatever it was that she wanted you and Steve would do the best to give to her.

In this lifetime and on this day, it was a neon kitchen filled with the laughter and smiles as you three ate dinner like royalty and the bright sky faded to night before it’d greet her again in the morning.

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a/n: hello hello hello sygb lovers -- the new chap is finally here!!! after months and months and months of on and off working on this chapter i finally finished it and i really hope you all enjoy it. i dont write angst as much but getting to dive deeper into max's life has allowed that for me and defintely challenged me as a writer who primarly sticks with fluff. i love writing steve and max's sibling dynamic but i also really love writing steve's gf's dynamic with max -- they both love and care for her so much as if she is their own. i really hope you guys like this chapter and let me know what you think <3

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @the-alchemys @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3 @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean

#kay is a mastermind #steve harrington #effies favs #fic recs

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