#“I think him and Steve has a little more going on then what he thinks”

[scoops-aboy86]

Here’s an out of the ordinary career option for Steve: teppanyaki chef. You know, the guys at Japanese hibachi restaurants that do the whole show of cooking your food right there at a big grill on the table and tossing food into people’s mouths and flipping their cooking implements like it’s no big. 

Inspired largely by the fact that I had teppanyaki earlier this week and the chef, in addition to flipping eggs into his hat and then onto his spatula to break them, was making shrimp fried rice and spelled “I” with the shrimp, “❤️” with the rice, and “U” either the veg and egg. 

Just picture Steve, in the goofy tall hat that does even fewer favors for his hair than the Scoops hat, doing that with the same goofy grin on his face as during the lightsaber handshake bit.

Maybe rockstar Eddie comes in with the band and an entourage one night. He notices Steve making silly faces back and forth with Robin (one of the bartenders or a seating host or something) across the room, and thinks it’s cute. He joins in making silly faces at Steve, who is *delighted* and 100% starts doing it back because usually the customers are too wrapped up in their own lives to notice. 

Robin is a little annoyed that her work buddy has been co-opted for the night, but once she gets a better look at Eddie she just rolls her eyes and laughs under her breath because he is definitely Steve’s type. Then her eyes move a fraction to the left and she notices Corroded Coffin’s manager, Chrissy Cunningham, and immediately goes 😍 for the rest of their stay.

Steve is supposed to spread his attention equally around the table, and he sort of does, but Eddie definitely gets more food tossed in his mouth than anyone else. Maybe he brought a date (possibly a groupie, possibly just someone willing to put out for a celebrity, he’d just sort of shrugged like “okay, sure” when they attached themself to him) for the evening that he’s totally ignoring, because as far as he’s concerned no one else is as interesting as the pretty chef. The date gets visibly more grumpy, which the rest of the band definitely notices, but they all just sort of roll their eyes and sigh because Steve is definitely Eddie’s type, sorry friend, don’t know what to tell ya. Eventually the date gets up saying they’re going to the bathroom, but they take their coat. It takes Eddie, like, half an hour to notice. 

And Steve keeps doing those little flippy things, like with his ice cream scoop and the nail bat, all. The. Time. It’s not even a gimicky restaurant thing, he’s just Like That. He says he can do it with anything and Gareth immediately produces drumsticks (I have never met a drummer who did not have drumsticks on them at all times, often even when another pair has been confiscated), and Steve takes about three seconds to figure out how to twirl them like a pro. Eddie is already removing a ring to propose. Chrissy makes some sort of comment about being in the color guard for marching band (in addition to cheerleading) and speculating whether Steve could spin a saber or rifle and he’s so confident he could do it that Eddie is like, “When is your next break, that could be our honeymoon baby” because he is going to eat this man alive. 

Suffice it to say, Steve ends the night with his dick sucked and within a week he’s gotten Chrissy’s number for Robin, who he’s been talking up incessantly. A month later, he puts Gareth in touch with Will about some sort of artistic commission that Gareth wants, which eventually leads to Will finally ending his pining over Mike streak. 

Steve has to formally apologize to Jeff and Doug for not having any more single friends to introduce them to, but he promises to keep an eye out. In the meantime, have they ever tried Purple Palm Tree Delight? Because he knows a guy…

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

How could you love somebody like me?

Pairing: f!reader x Javier Peña Words count: 3032 Rating: + 18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Javi is under protection and has asked you to join him in the hotel room where he is confined. When you discover his secrets and lies, however, that room will become too small. Too small for both of you. Tags/warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, Javi is still a DEA agent but it's a modern setting so the man has a smartphone. Reader is described having female genitalia and breasts, no other description of her is given, she doesn't blush and her hair is not described. Mention of alcohol, mention of cheating, Javi is a cheater, no happy ending, we will go through the man's phone (you're not supposed to do that but I never said my reader could do no wrong, right?), use of pet names (gatita which means kitten in Spanish, baby, darling), smut, angry sex, unprotected p in v (do better irl), cream pie, of course a little nipple play ‘cause it’s still my fic, toxic relationship, self doubt, mention of Steve, a huge pile of lies, Javi is bad at feelings, some reader’s thoughts marked in italics. I think it's all, let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @jolapeno 's "Dear-uary" challenge. This was my prompt, I struggled a little bit at first but I ended up having a blast writing this ❤︎ Heavily inspired by this song (from which the fic also takes its title), I heard it randomly on Spotify one day and I thought "wait, this is perfect for Javi!" and I ended up being obsessed with two more songs by the same artist. LOL Many thanks to: - @aurorawritestoescape , my beta, for her help and advice, she will probably dream of elephants because of me tonight hahaha Kate I own you a big one, thanks baby so much, I love you ❤️ - The person who basically pulled this out of my brain and supported me throughout the process, my precious, my peanut @joelmillerisapunk. 🥰 Love you so much it's ridiculous🥹 - @milla-frenchy for letting me blather about this thing some days ago. Love you, bb ❤︎ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any.

Edited - because I forgot to change the most important detail, of course. I’m not myself if I’m not doing a mess. Yay. It’s okay now.

“Why the hell am I here? Was I the only available hole this week?”

“No,” he whispers. 

“So what?” 

Javier came back and found you in the middle of the room.

You were brandishing his phone like a sword in the air, the banner of everything that was wrong.

His face went pale when he saw you like that. 

Eyes wide open. 

Mouth agape. 

He tried to say something but you immediately hit him with a vomit of words.

“I know what you’re doing,” you hiss under your breath, feeling your eyes sting.

Javier is a marble statue in front of you, his lips pressed together, his absent eyes not even looking at you, staring at a spot behind your shoulders, his arms abandoned along his sides. 

He seems anchored to the ground. 

His last words to you still burn on your skin like a fire you cannot extinguish.

A heavy silence between you fills the air of the room and makes it unbreathable. 

“Fuck, Javier, talk to me,” you whisper angrily.

You clutch his phone in your hands, so tightly that your knuckles are white from exertion, as if you were clinging to it to keep yourself from falling off a cliff. 

“You knew I was no good,” he says sternly.

You have been in this room for two days. 

Officially, Javier has to stay here because henchmen of one of the new drug lords in town are set on taking him out. 

Unofficially, he has you infiltrating the room. 

Typical Javier, spending his time under protection fucking someone. 

You foolishly almost believed it was romantic, until this morning. 

“So you’re trying to say that it’s my fault? Is that what you want to say? It’s my fault that as soon as I turn my back you go and stick your cock in someone else's pussy?” You don’t even have the strength to scream right now. Your voice comes out rancorous but low, hoarse, like a blown growl. 

Oh, you’re not going to accept being lectured by him, fuck no.

“No, I’m just saying -” he tries to explain and you glare at him, making the words die in his mouth.  

"What?" 

“Fuck, I'll never change,” he shrugs as if it were a truism that only you can't grasp.

His eyes shift to the ground, dull and absent.

“You don't change because you are convinced that you can't,” you admonish him, feeling anger rising from your chest. 

"That's not true," he murmurs, keeping his gaze on the crimson and gold carpet that lies at your feet.

“Yes, it is,” you insist, ”and you seem to like to think of yourself as an incurable asshole.”

He still fails to see the real problem, the elephant in the room that lives and thrives among you. 

"Then you tell me, if you think you know me so well,” he asks with defiance. 

“You bet I fucking know you,” you lash out. “You think you're so mysterious and complicated?! Well,  news flash, I've seen plenty like you. You’re just another man. You're not even that, you're a child. A child who's afraid of his own shadow when it comes to relationships.”

“Don’t fucking analyze me,” he hisses, finally setting his eyes back on you. 

Raven, angry and fearful. He knows you can read him like an open book and this unleashes an awareness upon him that crushes him to the ground.

You bitterly laugh, “Truth hurts, huh? I know something about it”. 

The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens, his nostrils flare, and his mouth tightens into a line so thin you think he’s about to burst. He stays quiet instead, eyes back on the damask carpet decoration. 

_____________

“Yes, Steve, I'm fine. That jerk won't find me here, and anyway it's full of police outside the door.” 

A pause and a sigh. 

”No, no one followed her, they don't know who she is.”

You stood behind the half-closed bathroom door listening. 

You smiled. 

His voice sounded softer when he talked about you. You lulled yourself into that feeling. 

Until you heard something else. 

A booming laugh. 

Water ran in the shower, tiny droplets coated the wall as the mirror fogged up.

“Whatever. Of course I'm still screwing around. At least, I was doing it before that asshole started chasing me,” his voice suddenly lowered so you took a chance and opened the door a little more. You wanted to make sure you heard right. 

Your hand trembled against the doorknob, you grabbed your wrist to hold it steady. 

“You idiot,” he scoffed. “Yeah, we'll be in touch.”

Suspicion. The black wing of a crow that had been wrapped around your heart for a long time.

But then why did it hurt so much? 

You allowed yourself to hide it in a part of your brain where you never looked-that was a mistake. Making the hunch barely a firefly when it was supposed to be a bright neon sign.

He always places the phone with its screen down when you go out to dinner, softly smiling at it when he checks it after a few vibrations, telling you “it’s Steve” when you ask. 

But you know that crooked smile. 

He dodges when you ask him about his day "oh work, you know, just work." 

He tells you he is with Steve but you hear female voices in the background. 

Every time you try to confront him it always ends the same way, him telling you, “you’re paranoid, there’s no one else, just you, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

And then he fucks your doubts into oblivion.

You heard the thud of the phone on the blankets. And then Javier calling you. 

You swallowed the gall rising from the walls of your stomach and just smiled when he joined you in the bathroom and suggested that you shower together.

You wanted some proof before you charged him. 

If there was anything you had learned from being with him, it was that hard evidence was the key. So you played cool. 

He fucked you against the shower wall and you moaned into his neck. 

He licked your pussy like a man starved and you just bit your lips until you felt iron on your tongue.

He kissed you with that liar's mouth, and you let him.

And you fell asleep beside him, on the unmade bed of your uncertainties. 

This morning someone from outside called him into the hallway to report the latest movements of the guy who was looking for him. 

His phone was on the bedside table.

It was like a magnet, pulling your hand to it.

You were almost sure you knew his unlock code ‘cause you had watched the movements of his finger many times. 

You tried twice without success. 

The third time you let out a long sigh, visualized in your mind the movement one more time and unlocked it. 

You were in. 

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your fingers swiped and clicked on the screen. 

And there they were.

Dozens and dozens of messages and pics exchanged with 4 different women.

You scrolled through one of the chats with a certain Maria, who regularly sent him pictures of her tits and her legs spread wide, her pussy in the shot.

There was sexting, arranged dates, same promises he gave to you, things you never asked for but he kept repeating like a broken record. Even the same pet name. Gatita. 

Blood simmered in your veins, a jolt in your heart, throat dry. 

Your finger furiously scrolled through the chat, finding tons of messages he had sent her while he was with you.

You switched to another one and you found pretty much the same. And yet another, message after message containing flirting and explicit sex.  

“Oh Javi, you keep getting better and better with that cock of yours”

“My pussy needs you, darling, can you come over?”

“I can’t stop thinking about your huge cock dripping on me”

And the more you scrolled, the more a question formed in your brain, rumbling through your temples like a deafening drum. 

Was he ever sincere with you?

________

When he looks up at you again, you see it. A veil of fragility in the dense blackness of his gaze.

He looks almost helpless. “I know you tried,” he admits, ”You tried harder than anyone else.”

“Apparently it was no use,” you chastise him.

He doesn’t reply. 

Instead he comes closer and closer. 

You pull back, responding to his every step forward with a backward one. 

“Please,” he whispers. 

“No.” 

“Don't do that.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do,” you bark.

”I know...” 

“Fuck off, Javier, leave me alone.”

You pull back until you hit the wall behind you. 

Javier approaches, bending slightly to reach your mouth, his mustache brushes against your cupid’s bow and you don't even have the strength to turn your face away anymore. 

When your lips collide you let it happen. 

It’s like when you drink too much Tequila. 

It burns on your tongue, leaving you almost anesthetized as soon as you down it, and then an aromatic taste wafts into your mouth; it is lysergic, unusual, unmistakable.

You love it, so you keep doing it.

Javier is the same. 

He's sharp, stiff at the edges, burns like fire, but he has an aura that you won’t mistake for anything and he hypnotizes you. He’s not like anyone else, despite what you told him. There is an underlying despair in him, a cry dying in his throat, “How can you love someone like me?” 

He says it only with his eyes but you hear it clearly.

He is a time bomb that explodes in your heart every time he touches you. So you keep doing it.

“Fuck,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Yeah…I know. I’m not worthy.”

And yet, you’re still here.

You let him peel off your every layer of clothing, to leave you naked and vulnerable in front of him. 

You do nothing when he undresses too. Hastily taking off his shirt, fumbling with the button of his jeans, nervous hands and short breaths.

It is like some mind fuck game, intoxicating, dangerous, capable of leaving permanent marks.

He lowers his jeans just enough to free his cock, no boxers. Always ready.

His hands run over your hips and you groan. 

His tongue slides over your neck, his eyes closed, his breath heavy and warm on your skin. 

He makes you cry, but you don't say no.

His lips latch onto your nipple and adrenaline rushes through your veins up into your head, hitting hard like a jackhammer.

You don’t pull back anymore, you push your tit into his mouth so eagerly you feel his teeth closing on your bud and you whine in pleasure. 

His growing erection leaks against your center. You are trapped. Not so much because you are between him and the wall but because you no longer know how to get him out of your head. 

Right now it doesn't matter how much it hurts. 

He slides his hands down your thighs and you know what he wants, without needing to speak. You wrap your legs around his waist. He kneels on the bed with you still clinging to him, you lie back on the soft blankets that smell of you both, arch your back and press against his cock. You folds splayed and dripping for him.

His fingers go up your rib cage, stop under your breasts and grasp there, he draws you back to him and your mouths collide again.

You let his tongue enter. You let the fleeting pleasure of this instant take over all the no's you know you have to say.

There’s no right kind of love here, this room is drowned in angry sex.

Angry at how you can never say no to him, angry at how he makes you feel, angry because you know that no one has ever fucked you the way he did, invading your body with a pleasure so addictive that it makes you sick. Angry because maybe he's right, he can't change. 

You break the kiss and bite on his shoulder, a small act of revenge that really does no harm compared to your bleeding heart. 

Your hands grasp on the golden skin of his back, leaving marks with your nails digging into it, your miserable attempt to leave marks on him in return.

You moan convulsively under his touch, your mouth wide open against his, your tongue desperately seeking him out. 

His hands tighten on your ass, lifting you slightly, his cock slides over your wet opening, a guttural sound comes out of the back of your throat without you being able to hold it back. 

You want him inside you. 

You need him inside you.

And it’s wrong, and desperate. It’s masochistic.

You don’t even care for his jeans’s zip scraping your skin.

The thin line between pain and pleasure is so blurred now.

It’s a pathetic shit show of need and urgency. 

You’d walk away from any other guy but Javier is the person you can never have just for yourself and at the same time he is the only one you want. 

He is the knife and the wound at the same time.  

When he asks “Whose pussy is this?” in his deep groaning voice that fucks directly with your brain, you can only reply “yours.”

Digging your nails deeper, biting more, wailing louder but just pleading with him.

You take his shaft in your hand and rub it against you in blind desperation, wetting it with your juices. 

He groans into your ears while his hand reaches for your nipple and his big strong arm holds you close.

You are sitting on his thighs, your legs crossed behind his back.

His fingers pinch your nipple as you don't stop stroking his big throbbing cock.

Just put it in there. You think. I just need to feel your flesh against mine, inside me, claiming me like the rag doll that I am now. 

Stupid bitch trying to have you when you’re damaged like a shattered glass, when you can bring nothing than heat to my body and freezing ice to my heart. 

“Fuck me,” you groan. 

He pushes against your core, entering you with one deep thrust.

Your pussy is weeping so much it doesn’t even hurt.

You clench on him with all the strength you have, chocking his cock with your walls.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re gripping me so hard, baby. There’s nothing you want more than this, huh? Me fucking you raw?” 

“Shut up,” you hiss. 

He starts moving, pumping into you as his hand reaches for your clit, brushing it in circles.

You whine, clinging onto his back, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

You can’t look him in the eye, you can’t face your own shameful reflection in his pupils, you can’t think of anything else than this pleasure firing your body, your limbs, your mind.

Your pussy never gets the memo when it comes to him. She just clenches, and cries and asks for more.

At the verge of your brink, when you’re so utterly overwhelmed you could swear, you’re about to jump out of your skin, you hear it.

It’s the softest whisper on your skin, so low you barely catch the words, “I love you” 

You cry a single tear that slides down the column of his neck, it could be mistaken for a bead of sweat so easily and Javier doesn’t notice it. But it’s there. You’re crying again.

You come, weeping.

Grasping to him like your last shred of hope.

But there’s no hope anymore.

You know you can’t go on like that.

You cried before. You argued before. It’s all useless.

A devastating orgasm shoots through you, leaving you without defense.

It’s the last thing you want but you need to get it over with. 

You lie on the bed, feeling his last twitches inside you, his cum dripping onto your walls, his cock pressing against that spot that belongs only to him.

He lies down on you, gently crushing you with his weight, his sweaty skin against yours, the smell of your orgasm filling your nostrils.

You’re hopeless and breathless. 

He's still inside you, like he doesn't want to leave. 

You know you have to. 

Eventually he shifts, lying on the other side of the bed muttering, “god, you really are something else.” He takes the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and lights one, taking a long drag.

“I'm not enough,” you want to scream looking at him through the cloud of smoke enveloping him. “Or maybe you're not, for me.”

When he is about to fall asleep, you get up. You pick up your clothes off the floor and put them on silently.

“Where are you going, gatita?” he grunts. 

Does he think he has solved it? Does he think you will forgive him as you did the other times? 

You don’t reply.

"You only ever tell me the truth when you think I won't hear it,” you type on your phone and send it to him, before coming out of the door without turning your back.

You leave him there, wondering, lost as he makes you feel.

There will be two broken hearts. 

You know he loves you and you love him.

He is convinced that he doesn’t deserve you and pushes you away every time you get close to his soul. 

He knows that you see him clearly; that scares him.

You are tired of fighting for the both of you.

You push the elevator button under the gaze of an unsuspecting policeman who urges, “Where are you going, miss?”

“I'm leaving.”

“Do you need someone to accompany you?” 

“No, thank you.”

“Someone could follow you,” he counters.

“No one knows me, you don't have to worry.”

You wait for the elevator, still hoping to see his ruffled raven hair poking out the door, his voice calling to you, his hand tightening on your wrist. 

None of this happens.

The only ones who will follow you are your ghosts.

Tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @almostempty , @probablyreadinsmut , @thundermartini , @gothcsz , @cas-readsandwrites , @harriedandharassed

Archive tag: @pedrostories

If you want to be added or removed just let me know! Thank you very much for reading❤︎

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

"Yeah, I'm just a little nervous about you being behind the wheel, Eddie," Robin said.

"Oh, I'm not going to drive her. I'm just starting this baby up," Eddie grinned. "Harrington's got her, don't ya, big boy?"

Eddie was already so close to him, his lips near his cheek. Steve frowned. God. Was Eddie flirting with him? This didn't seem very fair. Eddie gets accused of murder, gets thrown into all of this, and now Steve has to reject him because he didn't like boys. Although, he appreciated the attention and the way he had slammed him up against the wall. . .It also wasn't hard to notice the way Eddie looked at him when he took his shirt off. Poor guy. Steve turned his head and was about to open his mouth when Robin moved. She tripped, falling onto Steve’s back. In the process, it caused Steve to fall into Eddie, their lips bumping against each other's.

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry!" Robin gasped.

"I guess I can cross that off my bucket list," Eddie said with a grin and winked at Steve.

Before anyone could say anything else, the owners of the RV tried to get in. Steve did it without thinking. They needed to switch spots and quickly, too. Steve patted him on his backside to get him out and rushed to replace him. He took off. The entire way to the War Zone, all Steve could think about was kissing Eddie. . .his hand brushing up against his backside just then. . .the hand pressed against the small of his back when they were walking in the Upside Down. . .the way he liked it when Eddie leaned in. He still tried to process it all when they got to the War Zone and even after in the clearing when he was making molotov cocktails with Robin.

"Hey. . .Robin, do you think maybe you can push me into Eddie again later?" Steve asked.

"What? Why?" Robin asked in disbelief.

"I need to test a theory," Steve said, his chest growing warm at the sight of Eddie with Dustin.

"What's the theory?" She asked.

"I like a boy," Steve said as he continued to gaze at Eddie.

"Oh my god!" Robin exclaimed as she nearly dropped the molotov. "You like Eddie!"

Robin slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Steve grinned. He couldn't help it. . .her expression was so comical. He couldn't be mad at her. Judging by the way everyone's head had snapped in their direction, they heard Robin.

"I told you! I knew you would like him!" Dustin shrieked. "Didn't I say that Steve would like him, Lucas?"

"Yeah, man," Lucas said in amusement. "You called it."

Steve smiled and shook his head. Once again, Dustin was missing an important part of what had just happened.

"I just don't know why Robin was so surprised," Dustin said.

"I like you, too, big boy!" Eddie yelled, winking at him again, and Steve blushed.

Robin leaned closer to Steve, smirking as she lowered her voice.

"Theory proven. Steve Harrington likes a boy," Robin said.

"It seems like the worst possible time to realize this," Steve said.

"If not now, then when?" She asked, and then she squealed as she leaned against him. "Neither one of us is straight! This is great! Ooh, I rhymed."

"Settle down, Buckley," Steve said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"You should do something about it," Robin whispered.

"I don't know," Steve said, glancing at Nancy. "There's still something there, too."

"We live on a gate to hell, Steve," Robin said. "I think it's okay to like both of them. Anything is possible."

"I think I'm going inside for a bit," Steve said.

"Okay, well, I'm here if you want to talk some more or freak out about it," Robin said.

Steve smiled at her, grateful to her before heading into the RV. He closed the door and sighed. It was all such a great distraction, but it was only momentarily. The pain was very much there. Steve shrugged out of his new jacket and camouflage shirt. He didn't have any time to change his bandages at the War Zone. He had to figure out how to change the bandages, but how could he possibly get the ones on his back and arms? Steve grabbed the first aid kid and started peeling Nancy's piece of torn shirt off of his stomach. Steve cried out in pain and wept harder at the wounds in his stomach. His flesh had been torn away and devoured. . .He could feel the road rash on his back and arms. It felt as though he had been kissed by fire. He tried to keep it all together, tried not to let anyone know how much pain he was in. . .the mission was too important. Steve collapsed on the floor and fell onto his knees. He tried to focus on what he was feeling emotionally. . .Eddie or Nancy? The door to the RV opened, and he jerked at the sound of their voices. . .Jesus, did they hear what he was thinking?

"Steve!" Eddie and Nancy yelled.

The door closed behind them as they rushed to his side.

"I was just trying to change my bandages," Steve groaned.

They quickly helped sit him up, and Nancy immediately started unraveling the bandages.

"Shit, these need to be cleaned," Eddie cursed.

"Oh, Steve, why didn't you tell us you were in this much pain?" Nancy asked.

"I didn't want to be a distraction," Steve said.

"You had no problem being a distraction when you ripped off your sweater, flashing Nancy and I your tits," Eddie grinned, and Nancy giggled.

"You know what I mean, asshole," Steve laughed. "I just - ,"

"You're not a burden. We know about this. You're important, and not just to the mission," Nancy said softly. "To all of us."

Steve smiled at her. Nancy and Eddie went to work cleaning his wounds.

"I'm just wondering how you expected to get the ones on your back? You would have had to twist yourself like a pretzel," Eddie said. "Mm, pretzels."

"Hey, I've got moves," Steve protested.

"He's a ninja," Nancy teased.

"Sounds like an inside joke," Eddie said.

"The first time he snuck into my room, he landed awkwardly, got up, and proudly declared himself a ninja," Nancy said.

"Sounds adorable," Eddie grinned, flashing his dimples as he looked softly at Steve.

"It really was," Nancy said fondly.

"So, letting me in on this, and letting me feel you up - ," Eddie said.

"You're bandaging my wounds," Steve said.

"Do I or do I not have my hands all over you?" Eddie asked.

"Well, then I guess that means Nancy's feeling me up," Steve said.

"I'm not going to lie, Steve," Nancy said seriously, and Eddie laughed.

"I guess that means we're friends now," Eddie said.

"No," Steve said quickly, and Eddie frowned. "I mean, yes. . .I like you, Eddie."

"I like you, too. What's the problem?" He asked.

"No, I like you," Steve said.

"Okay. . .you said like differently that time. What are you trying to imply here?" Eddie asked.

"I like-like you, Eddie," he said.

"Okay, so you really like me," he said. "So, why can't we be friends?"

"I'm romantically and sexually attracted to you," Steve replied with a loud sigh.

"What! But Nancy - ," Eddie said with wide eyes. "I thought - ,"

"Oh, no, I'm still very much in love with her," Steve said. "So, yeah, all very confusing. . .although, I guess not, really. I definitely have a type. . .nerds with big hair and big eyes that make you fall for them."

Nancy laughed.

"Now that I'm thinking about it, I definitely think you were crushing on Tom Cruise just as much as I was," Nancy said.

"Shit, I think you're right. I've never been straight," Steve said, laughing.

"What? Did you think I turned you queer?" Eddie asked.

"Like magic," Steve said with a goofy grin.

Eddie and Nancy laughed as they finished wrapping up Steve. They helped him up off the floor before helping him back into his shirt and jacket.

"You're good to go, bug boy," Eddie said, his hand caressing Steve’s collar. "I mean, big boy - fuck, I meant, well, you know what I meant."

"I just want you to know that you don't have to do anything about this or feel like you have to. . .I just thought I should be honest. I was just completely honest with myself, and I wanted to do the same with you guys," Steve said. "You both have inspired me to be myself and realize what's important. Eddie, more recently, and Nancy, well, back then, she gave me the bump on the head that I needed to see what it truly means to be a friend. I mean, I know that I'm slow, but I learn. . .according to my mother, I used to crawl backwards, I went so far backward that I ended up falling down the stairs. Eventually, I do move forward. So, I'll be okay."

Eddie smiled sweetly at him, playing with the collar of Steve’s jacket. Nancy placed a hand on Steve’s arm, also smiling at him.

"So, in that dream of yours. . .," Nancy said.

"With his six little chicken nuggets," Eddie said in amusement.

"Were you serious about that?" Nancy asked.

"I meant every word," Steve said to Nancy. "Left out an important part, though. . .the most important part. . .you were there. . .you've always been there."

Eddie wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulder, leaning in close to him.

"I know that we've just started getting to know each other. . .," Eddie trailed off.

"There's room in the RV. . .hm, I could use some convincing, though," Steve smirked.

Eddie leaned forward and kissed him. Steve smiled against his lips as he returned the kiss, placing his hand against the small of Eddie's back. Eddie ran his tongue over the bottom of Steve’s lip, and Steve opened his mouth with a gasp, letting Eddie slip his tongue inside. Suddenly, Eddie pulled back.

"That's what you meant by convincing you. . .right?" Eddie asked and Steve laughed.

"Yeah, Eddie, that's what I meant," Steve said.

"I think I'm definitely going to need some convincing," Nancy said, her cheeks red.

"You are?" Eddie asked.

"Well, Steve wanted me in the RV first," Nancy smirked.

"Trying to make this into a competition, Wheeler?" Eddie asked.

"What if I am, Munson?" Nancy asked as she stared directly into his eyes.

Eddie grinned and pulled her flush against him. They each kept a hand on Steve while they held onto each other. Eddie pressed his lips to Nancy's, smirking into the kiss. Steve felt the warmth inside his stomach grow stronger at the sight of them. He should have been jealous, but there was no jealousy here, only longing for the both of them. Their hands clutched each of his shoulders tightly as Nancy deepened the kiss. Nancy and Eddie's hands slid into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. Steve moaned softly as he felt them gently tug at it. Eddie pulled away with a gasp.

"Is that enough to convince you, or do you need more?" Eddie asked.

"I think we've both been convinced," Nancy laughed as she looked at Steve's face. "Haven't we?"

"Yeah, definitely," Steve said.

Nancy touched Steve’s face gently and kissed him. It was sweet and soft until Nancy pressed her lips further against his, eager to taste him again. God, how he missed her lips and the way she gently touched his face. He wanted to keep kissing her, but his head was starting to spin. He broke the kiss.

"What's wrong?" Nancy asked.

"I feel a little dizzy," Steve said. "I think I need to sit down."

Nancy and Eddie guided him to the couch. Steve couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, so Eddie quickly found a can of Spaghetti-os and a bottle of water. It wasn't the best, but it made Steve feel better. Yeah, it wasn't a good idea to forget to eat after losing all that blood, Steve thought as he scooped food into his mouth.

"You feeling better?" Nancy asked after he finished and set the empty can aside.

"Definitely," Steve said.

"I should have gotten you some food. . .I didn't think about the blood loss," Nancy frowned.

"Hey, I didn't think about it either," Steve said. "Don't beat yourself up."

"Honestly, I thought you were getting dizzy because of us, and I felt cocky for a moment," Eddie smirked.

"Hm, well, maybe a little," Steve grinned.

Nancy ran her fingers through Steve’s hair, looking at him fondly.

"I almost lost you," Nancy said.

"Eddie said that you didn't hesitate at all to jump in after me," Steve said. "Said it was. . .an unambiguous sign of true love."

"Well, he was right about that," Nancy said with a smile as she continued to stroke his hair. "I couldn't lose you. I spent a lot of time letting other people get in my head. . .as much as I try to tell myself that I don't care what others think, I do. I spent a lot of time letting those voices convince me that I was going to end up in a nuclear loveless family. I was so afraid of that happening. . .that I let it happen. Our relationship was wonderful, and I loved every minute of it. . .the one thing that got in my way was myself and the fact that those assholes got away with killing Barb. When you got yanked underneath the water, when the bats came after, I just couldn't you go. . .I realized that it was always you, Steve. So, yeah, I love you."

"I love you, too," Steve said.

Nancy leaned forward and kissed him, tucking a hair behind his ear. She broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against Steve’s.

"I am not quite there yet," Eddie said, grinning. "But I feel a great deal of affection for the both of you."

"There's no pressure, Eddie," Steve laughed.

"You know, I kind of like that you both are further along in this relationship than I am. It's almost like you two are the dungeon masters and I'm the player. . .," Eddie frowned. "I think I just turned myself on."

"I wouldn't even know how to be a dungeon master," Steve said.

"I'll show you," Nancy grinned. "It's not that different from leading a basketball team."

"You take that back, Wheeler," Eddie gasped.

"No!" Nancy laughed.

Eddie leaned back and crossed his arms, fake pouting. Steve and Nancy stared at him, watching the sun begin to sink down. . .a reminder for all of them that their mission to take down Vecna would soon begin. Eddie's face turned serious.

"You might be onto something. . .I kind of wish that I had gone to the game. Wish I had been more accommodating to Lucas, let him know that he wasn't turning to the dark side. . .it was a shitty thing to do. I think I was so afraid of forced conformity that I ended up feeling like Lucas had to choose one or the other when he didn't have to. As the leader of Hellfire, I was responsible for giving those kids a safe place for them to share their interests even if they didn't align with mine," Eddie said.

"Yeah, I think we were both afraid of forced conformity," Nancy said as she twirled a lock of Steve’s hair between her fingers.

"Hey, man, Lucas knows you didn't intend to be an asshole about it," Steve said. "He knows how protective you are of the game. As much as I tried to talk about it with him, Lucas just wanted the bullying to stop, and he still wanted to hang on to the game. You just don't know how much harder it is for him."

"Yeah," Eddie winced. "Jeff pointed that out as a possibility when I was complaining about it."

"He sees what kind of person Jason is now, though," Steve said. "And he also knows that he was wrong, too. . .which I think is something that you two really need to talk about."

"Yeah," Eddie agreed.

Steve could feel Nancy's eyes on both of them.

"Boys," she sighed happily.

"Aren't you glad Robin pushed me into Eddie's lips?" Steve asked.

"What?" She laughed.

"You didn't see that earlier? Eddie was getting the RV started up, and Robin tripped, causing my lips to meet with Eddie's," Steve said.

"Is that what made you realize you liked me?" Eddie asked, laughing.

"Yeah, I totally wanted to kiss you again," Steve said. "What made you realize that you liked me?"

"When you ripped off your shirt like a fucking stripper," Eddie said rolling his eyes. "You know you look good, asshole. It was the wrong fucking time to have a sexuality crisis and you gave it to me. Between you and Nancy. . .watching her swing that oar around like a sword. . .yeah, I definitely still liked women. So, thank you, you guys gave me a lot to panic about."

"You're welcome," Nancy and Steve said in amusement.

"The moment I realized I liked both of you, actually isn't that much different," Nancy said in amusement. "I both caught you with romance novels. . .of course, it was a long time ago with Steve and earlier this year with Eddie."

"Really?!" They asked, and they looked at each other. "You?!"

"I don't know why you're so surprised," Steve scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Eddie. "You heard about my dream. . .of course, I'm a romantic. I don't know why I'm surprised about you. . .cynical, my ass, of course you're a romantic. . .unambiguous sign of true love."

"I am never going to live that down," Eddie groaned and threw up his hands. "Okay! Jesus H Christ, I love love!"

"I think it's sweet," Nancy smiled. "Now, more than ever, we need to believe in love. Whether it's familial, romantic, or strictly platonic."

"Like me and Robin," Steve said with a goofy grin. "Platonic with a - "

" - capital p!" Nancy and Eddie exclaimed.

"Yes, we know," Nancy said. "It's strictly platonic with me and Robin, too. I definitely love her."

"Oh me, too!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Yeah, she's great," Steve grinned and then frowned. "But there's no one like me and Robin. . .I found her first."

"Of course," Nancy giggled.

Steve leaned back against the couch, smiling at the both of them. Eddie and Nancy were talking over him now, their hands over his knees. They were discussing the things to come, Vecna, and what had already happened. Steve listened to them both as Eddie talked about his guilt over Chrissy's death, his feelings, while Nancy did the same about her own guilt over Barb's death and how she had felt about Barb. Steve placed a hand over Nancy's and Eddie's back. They leaned into his touch, letting him know that they appreciated his silent reassurance. Whatever happened, they were going to get through it together.

[acowardinmordor]

Hold up a vision of the angsty admirer au just struck me. It’s a little skip ahead. Sorry.

The party still breaks into the counselors office and sees the records and puts together that it isn’t random. They put together that it’s about guilt and depression and self hatred.

They all, rationally, assume it’s because he’s repeating senior year.

Lucas, though.

Sweet, kind, supportive Lucas, who has a box of letters apologizing blindly to someone that Eddie had intentionally torn apart. Lucas, who has barely held his tongue since that day at Hellfire. Lucas, who admires the hell out of Steve, wants to be him, and who thinks he made it worse. Who thinks he’s at fault for Steve being cursed.

Somewhere in between Steve getting out of Vecnas powers, and this, Chrissy died (sorry babe) and it’s not pinned on Eddie, but that’s where suspicion is leaning.Nancy and Robin talked to him, convinced him that Steve is fine, explained a small part of the upside down, and told him to keep his head down, begged him to just stay in the trailer, and above all, not to get involved further.

Steve is shutting down on them, and after they saw the notes about Chrissy and Fred, they’re pushing him. Which is making it worse. Robin is spiraling, Max is furious. Dustin is on the edge of hysterical.

For whatever reason, they need to talk to Eddie again. Information about Victor Creel probably. Since most of them are freaked out by Steve, it’s only Nancy and Lucas that go. Yeah, Lucas should have been listening while Nancy talked through a plan of what they were and were not going to tell Eddie, but he wasn’t. He tells her that after Eddie’s, they need to go by his house, that he has something to help Steve.

Pull up at the trailer, and Lucas cracks down the center. He runs from Nancy’s car, shoves open the door, immediately steps inside, and fucking decks Eddie. Puts him on the ground in one hit and because his entire hand now hurts, Lucas is looking for something to use as a replacement for a bat. It’s easy math for him. He knows why Vecna was able to go after Steve. He knows that if it wasn’t for this asshole with his caste assumptions about high school, Steve would be safe.

Hawkins wouldn’t be, Lucas knows that, but they’d have Steve, and if they have Steve, then they — then Lucas will feel like they’re going to survive.

Nancy stops him before Lucas can actually beat Eddie with an ashtray.

“If you hadn’t said that to him! If you actually looked at people! If you listened to them and trusted us! If you could just understand that not everyone has to choose a side, he would be safe! He’s dying and it’s your fault, Eddie! He’s gonna die, and it’s going to be because you never really see anyone, just the person you think they’re supposed to be!”

Eddie hasn’t been looped in yet. He doesn’t know what Lucas is talking about, but it’s Lucas screaming at him, which is enough for the pieces to come closer. It’s not like Eddie hasn’t been thinking about the way Steve said he wanted to sleep. It’s been half his brain at any second of the day. He’d broken every promise to his secret admirer, thrown insults like blades at every soft spot Steve has, and until that Friday, he thought he was standing on the moral high ground.

Yeah. It’s enough for Eddie to realize that the curse is because of what he did to Steve. On the ground, looking up at a freshman who loves Steve more than Eddie had the chance to, Eddie can’t even find the words to start an apology.

Nancy yanks Lucas back farther. She doesn’t help Eddie up though. She’s also damn smart, and can put clues together.

“Man, you need to—“ Eddie starts, talking to the other person in the room who, Lucas entirely missed in the tunnel vision of his rage. “—you gotta come back later. Pay me later.” He scrambles to the bathroom and slams the door.

“Yeah, i guess I… Lucas, make sure you ice that hand, your form was no good.”

Finally, Lucas turns, along with Nancy, to find Patrick, fidgeting and uncomfortable, with a little baggie in his hand. He pulls some cash from his wallet, drops it on the table.

And look. Lucas would love to stop and talk to his teammate, who is looking very messed up. Who obviously needs someone. But Steve is going to die, and he can’t think beyond that fact. Honestly, Nancy is the same.

That’s why they’ve started a whispered discussion of how fast they can get answers and leave when they notice that Patrick is frozen in place, two steps from the door.

Link post

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

If you're up for it, I would actually love to prompt you a fic based off of the "Steve and Billy are element teachers" idea.

I'm thinking, what if you did a fic about them falling for each other but only set in the teachers lounge? Like one of those 5 +1 style fics?

Ask and ye shall receive (sometimes) 😄 Terribly unedited and sloppy but here you go 😘

Five

“Harrington!”

Steve fought the urge to faceplant against the table. Dropping his sandwich back into its bag, Steve tensed in preparation for whatever Hargrove decided to light him up about that day.

Robin didn’t bother to look sympathetic and Jason looked positively gleeful. He needed new friends.

“What?” Steve sighed, turning around in his seat to watch Billy stomp to the middle of the teacher’s lounge and blanched.

It should be a criminal offense to wear shorts that short. There were children in the building. Hargrove taught said children. In those shorts?

“Your class has been late to PE all three days this week,” Hargrove stated, arms crossed over his chest, brow furrowed in fury.

There was a long awkward pause as Steve waited for him to get to the point. Steve flushed when he realized that was the point. He fish mouthed when Munson cleared his throat, interrupting the oppressive silence.

“And?” Steve hedged, unsure of where this was going.

His class had been late to specials every day that week. Munson and Robin hadn’t complained though. Just Hargrove.

“And? Do I return your little gremlins to you late?” Steve opened his mouth to answer but Hargrove barreled on. “No! Because I have the common decency to respect people’s time.”

Steve cringed in his seat, words failing him as he pressed back against the edge of the table to get away from the absolute aggravation radiating off of Hargrove. He wasn’t doing it on purpose. He had made up a new game for the kids to help them memorize dates and they loved it so much it was easy to lose track of time.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Hargrove snapped before storming back out.

“Phew,” Robin exhaled before going back to her own lunch. “He really needs to unclench.”

Holloway’s snicker across the room did not help Steve’s guilt one bit.

Four

“Harrington!”

Steve clenched his jaw resolutely, turning in his chair and facing Hargrove head on this time. Steve had been caught off guard last time. Not today.

“Hargrove,” Steve replied coolly.

Hargrove paused his march into the teachers lounge, frowning. He narrowed his eyes before continuing his war path.

He was in those stupid little shorts again.

“I thought we established you were going to respect my time last week,” Hargrove told him, arching an eyebrow at Steve’s pinched expression.

“I didn’t agree to anything,” Steve shrugged, arching an eyebrow right back at Hargrove. “They were only late two out of three days this week anyways.”

Hargrove’s nostrils flared like an angry bull, “that’s two days too many.”

“Maybe make your subject more interesting and they won’t want to stay extra learning history facts,” Steve said, inflecting his tone with as much derision as possible.

He always told the kids to ignore bullies but Steve wasn’t one to back down from a fight.

Hargrove scoffed but a corner of his lips quirked in the hint of a smirk.

“Don’t let it happen again, Harrington,” Hargrove warned him, pointing a finger in his direction.

Steve rolled his eye and watched Hargrove turn on his heel before stomping off.

“He wants to fuck you so bad he’s about to catch a public indeceny charge in those shorts,” Jason remarked casually, smiling small and pleased to himself when Munson choked on his lunch across the room.

Steve might just catch a public indecency charge because of those shorts too.

Three

“Harrington.”

Hargrove didn’t so much as snap it that time as sighed it like a disappointed parent.

“I know, I know,” Steve groaned, already rolling his eyes. “They were late today, can we get the yelling over with in less than 5 minutes today? I’ve got a headache.”

Hargrove stopped short, mouth open as he frowned down at Steve. His hands were by his sides rather than crossed over his chest and it framed his awful little shorts way too well for Steve’s sanity.

“Well?” Steve prompted when Hargrove didn’t immediately tear into him.

“One day out of three’s an improvement, but I still expect better next week,” Hargrove told him, tone entirely too serious for an elementary school teacher’s lounge. And those stupid shorts.

“Whatever,” Steve scoffed, too tired and head pounding to truly engage with Hargrove’s bull shit that day.

The silence dragged on while everyone shifted awkwardly in their seats.

“Eat a cookie, your blood sugar’s probably low,” Hargrove told him, eyes roving over Steve’s face before he nodded to himself and stalked out of the room.

When Steve got back to his classroom after lunch, there was a homemade chocolate chip cookie on his desk. It was the best cookie he had ever eaten in his entire life.

He was grateful Claudia wasn’t there to see him be such a traitor as he nearly swooned biting into it.

Two

“Harrington?”

“What?” Steve drawled, slumping in his seat and fighting the itch of annoyance creeping up his spine. “The kids were on time every day this week, even to art and music.”

“Thank you for that,” Billy replied, shockingly earnest. “But your favorite little gremlin complained the whole time that you cut jeopardy short to do it.”

Steve sighed, raising his eyebrows expectantly at Billy, “you think I can control what comes out of Dustin’s mouth?”

Munson snickered from his newest seat next to Jason.

“No,” Billy admitted with a wry smirk. “That would take an act of congress, maybe not even then, but I do expect you to have a conversation with him about taking me seriously. Seems the lack of respect is a family trait.”

Steve and Dustin weren’t even actually related.

He rolled his eyes and gave Billy an assessing look, “you expect him to respect you in those shorts?”

Billy grinned, wide and sharklike, “I expect him standing at attention and saluting next week.”

With that, Billy departed with a resolute nod.

“Oh my god, save all of us the pain and just suck his dick already,” Holloway muttered across the room.

Robin cackled like the traitor she was.

Steve would be doing none of that.

He couldn’t fight the grin when he got back to his classroom and saw a homemade peanut butter cookie on his desk.

One

“Steve.”

Steve couldn’t stop the wild grin that tore across his face as he turned and watched Billy hesitantly enter the teacher’s lounge. His face was pinched with utter confusion.

“I almost sent your gremlin to the office today,” he told Steve, voice halting like he wasn’t sure of his reality just yet.

“For what?” Steve prodded, clicking his tongue on the “t” and doing nothing to hide how giddy he felt.

“Well,” Billy drawled, arching an eyebrow. “For calling me a fascist pig when I told him he had to play dodgeball or get an F for the day.”

Steve’s grin dampened a little bit at the words. He had definitely not told Dustin to call Billy that. That was so far beyond ‘butt head’ it surpassed comical into terrifying. He was seven.

“I am actually so sorry,” Steve whispered, grimacing as Billy’s face grew stormy. “I told him to call you a butt head not a - a -”

“Fascist pig?” Jason supplied way too gleefully.

“That,” Steve conceded, sending his most pleading look up at Billy.

Billy sucked on his teeth frowning at Steve for a moment before deflating with a sigh, “I believe you. Kid’s too smart for his own good.”

Steve exhaled deeply in relief at Billy not blaming him. In his relaxation he let his eyes drift down to the stupid little shorts Billy was sporting yet again. They were a nice dark green that day.

When his eyes drifted back up to Billy’s face, he was absolutely leering at Steve. Steve flushed and bit back a grin, peeking up at Billy through his lashes. He wondered what type of cookie would be on his desk that day when he got back to his classroom.

“Later, Steve,” Billy drawled, voice smooth and sticky like honey.

Steve’s flush spread down his neck.

“I don’t even like dick and I think I just got pregnant, those shorts are a crime,” Robin hissed.

Steve was pretty sure he just got pregnant too. The white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookie on his desk solidified exactly what he knew he needed to do.

Plus One

“Billy.”

Billy’s head whipped up, eyes wide as he took in Steve standing in his office doorway.

“Am I dreaming or is that you Harrington?” Billy asked, a lewd grin stretching across his face as he sat back in his chair spreading his legs.

His stupid little shorts pulled obscenely against his thighs.

“Yeah it’s me,” Steve vollied back, biting his lip, fingers tightening around a Tupperware container of Claudia’s famous homemade sugar cookies. “Don’t cream your pants.”

“I just might,” Billy quipped back easily, tongue coming out to lave at his bottom lip.

“There’s children in this building,” Steve warned him, zero bite to his voice.

“Not that I can see,” Billy replied, quirking an eyebrow.

Steve cleared his throat and set the container of cookies on Billy’s desk.

“We have dinner reservations at Enzo’s at 8:00,” Steve told him. “Wear something nice.”

Billy nodded, opening the container and pulling a cookie out. Steve’s knees nearly gave out as Billy took a bite in the most disturbingly sensual way as possible.

“I’ll bring the shorts for afterwards.”

If Steve choked on his next breath, it was okay. No one was around to see it and Billy definitely wasn’t judging.

Dustin cried when they told him they were engaged three months later.

[apomaro-mellow]

Let's get you that bingo🎉 has anyone requested phone sex yet?

Steddie Bingo Prompot: Phone Sex

Eddie had thought the most hectic things could get were fighting monsters from a parallel dimension but he was wrong. The five months that followed the Spring Break from Hell were the most chaotic of his life. Between healing from his injuries, finding out what the hell happened in California and Russia (goddamn), getting his named cleared, having a diploma thrown in his face, reconnecting with his uncle and friends, being brought into the weird little throng of resident monster hunters, it was all so overwhelming. And that was only half of it. The other half was all Steve Harrington. Eddie figured they'd have some kind of tentative friendship, a mutual respect for each other going forward.

He didn't expect to fall in love.

He also didn't expect Steve to reciprocate. For Steve though, it seemed as easy as breathing. The wrench in the works came when partway through summer, Steve found he'd been accepted at a college. One all the way in Virginia. Within a week of that, Corroded Coffin got discovered and a manager wanted them on the road right away.

Heading west of course.

Just as quickly as they had come together, things tried to pull them apart. But Eddie was tenacious and Steve was steadfast and together they made it work. Mostly through calling. Back in high school, Steve imagined college as bigger parties, looser girls, days running into each other. But reality was better. He stayed in more, with the hopes of getting a call from Eddie. He wasn't doing great in his classes but he wasn't failing either. And since admitting to being an idiot, his pride wasn't too high to attend tutoring sessions.

All to say, life had turned out so differently as he imagined, yet he wouldn't change it for the world. He was in the middle of reading (for fun!) when his phone rang.

"Eddie?"

"Hey angelface."

Steve swooned, suddenly feeling such strong longing. Last time they'd talked, the band was halfway through Wyoming. "Where are you guys now?"

"Just a few miles from Carson City. We convinced Merv to stop for the night."

Steve rolled his eyes. He wasn't the biggest fan of Merv. "He's got you guys all sharing a room again?"

"Actually...the guys decided to go out on the town." Eddie made a drown out sound like he was stretching, probably across a bed.

"Sooo, you're all alone right now?", Steve asked, twirling the cord around his finger.

"Yep. And I assume you're all alone too, handsome?"

"I assume your hand is already down your pants.

I haven’t even gotten to say what I wanna do to you.”

Eddie chuckled on the other end of the line. “Well don’t leave me hangin’, baby.”

Steve hummed in thought as he also got comfortable in bed. “You know what I’ve been thinking a lot about?”

“What’s that?”

“You, me, a really nice hotel room…”

“Hmm, how nice?”

“The nicest. It’s Vegas. There’s a fountain, valets, and you just finished a show, so you’re all amped up.” Steve’s hand went over his jeans and palmed himself, thinking of how Eddie got after performing. “I left the show early, I’m all ready for you in our room.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m in those shorts you like.”

“Oh baby~” Eddie’s voice held a shiver.

“You can’t wait to get on me”, Steve continued. “You’re already on top of me, hard.”

“Fuck yeah, my baby loves when I hump him like an animal”, Eddie growled.

Steve moaned, unzipping his pants. He was about to stick his hand down when he had the bright idea to use the pillow instead. It wasn’t exactly Eddie’s weight on top of him, but it was closer than just his hand. “Yeah”, he sighed. “You’re right on top of me. I’m spreading my legs and your cock’s on mine and it’s so hot and thick, Eddie.”

“Shit.” Eddie whimpered and Steve could tell he was getting close. “Gonna make me cum in my pants again, Stevie?”

“Mmm, you love it", Steve said, hips rolling against the pillow.

"Can't wait to have you again, have you under me again, taking it like you were made for it, fuck."

"I am", Steve breathed out. "I am made for it. Fuck, Eddie, I need you so muuuch."

"You got me baby", Eddie's hand was moving fast, stroking himself up and down and imagining his dick sliding against Steve's.

For a few moments, they simply breathed on the line, listening to each others moans and fantasizing about what they'd do once they were together again. Eddie came first, with a long drawn out groan that brought Steve over the edge too. Then it was just the sound of them panting.

Eddie was the first to speak up once he caught his breath. "You ever thought about spending Christmas in Louisiana?"

Steve smiled. "I'll mark my calendar."

@steddiebingo

Card:

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

"Can you shut the fuck up for a second!" Pony's fists are clenched so hard the knuckles are white 'n Steve thinks suddenly it's probably a good thing the kid bites at his nails or they'd be diggin' into his palms.

"No, you little punk. What's your problem?" Steve's not really angry yet. He's still pokin' half-heartedly mostly on instinct then any real urge to piss the kid off. The problem is that Pony is decidedly way over the aggravated line 'n into pissed without any help from Steve at all.

"I just had a shitty fuckin' day ok! How about you mind your business! Actually, why don't you hang out at your own house? You're wanted there just as much as here." Somethin' flashes across Steve's face 'n he narrows his eyes. Pony's flushed, chest heavin', a look of triumph on his face.

"You take that shit back." Steve balls his hands up, forces himself to stay down on the couch instead of marchin' over 'n puttin' the kid on his fuckin' head.

"No." Pony tilts his head 'n flashes a cold smile Steve just knows he picked up from Dallas. Steve takes a long breath. Remembers that Pony has a tendency to be cruel 'n not mean any of it when he was livid like this.

He's fourteen, Steve. Do you remember fourteen? Darry had told him after one of their regular matches. And he did. The problem was that Steve hadn't said mean shit. He just knocked the offender on his ass. Pony's mouth was too smart for his own good.

"You know what? You don't get to take your shit out on me, actually. Fuck off." Steve settles back on the sofa, turns back to the TV like he can pay any attention. God, where was Darry when you needed him. He'd probably collapse from the shock of it.

See, Steve contents himself with imagin' his face, I can be the bigger man. But then it's spoiled some since Steve can clearly hear Darry's took you long enough, you're only three years older than the kid.

"The fuck? Steve c'mon." Pony finally drops his school bag, right in the middle of the floor where Darry's gonna holler at him when he trips over it later, 'n takes half a step toward Steve. Like he's wheedlin' for a fight.

"C'mon? Glory, Pony. What's your fuckin' problem?"

"I don't have a fuckin' problem! Ok! You're the one with the problem!" Pony's voice is hittin' an all-time high, shrill note of frustration. Steve tears his eyes off the TV, rollin' 'em with a sigh, but now that he's lookin' at Pony he can see the way his eyes are rimmed red 'n his lip is bleedin' from him bitin' at it.

"Pony? Chill out kid, what's goin' on?" Pony does not chill out. In fact, it only serves to get him more frustrated.

"Nothin'! Nothin' is goin' on! Ok! I just don't know why you always have to be here 'n actin' like that 'n in my house- 'n- 'n-" Suddenly hot tears are streakin' down Pony's face 'n he's scrubbin' them away with nails bit down so far they're bleedin'.

"Pony?" Oh, Jesus. Where is Darry when you need him? Steve flies to his feet 'n Pony flinches back like he suddenly doesn't want the fight he's been askin' for. "Oh, glory kid."

"Just leave me the fuck alone. I'm fine!" Steve grabs Pony's wrists 'n hesitates awkwardly. He wasn't used to havin' to comfort the kid 'n he was way out of his zone. So he just moves on instinct, pullin' the kid to his chest like he's watched Darry do a hundred times.

For a moment Pony stiffens up 'n holds his hands out like he's not sure what to do with them, a weak little sob half caught in his throat. Then Steve wraps him up maybe a little too tight 'n Pony lets himself go limp.

"Let me go, Steve!" Pony wails like he doesn't have his face buried in Steve's shirt, leanin' so hard against him Steve's gotta work to keep him on his feet.

"Fine." Steve squeezes him again 'n then unceremoniously drops him. Pony's on the floor before he knows what's happenin' 'n Steve crouches down 'n puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him there. Pony goes to scramble to his feet 'n Steve pushes him back down, gently. "You wanna tell me what's goin' on?"

Pony blinks at him, eyes wide 'n hair wild 'n Steve can abruptly see him at eight, runnin' to Steve 'cause he'd scraped his knee 'n didn't want to tell Darry 'cause he'd told him to put on jeans if he was gonna ride his bike. Steve had made him give him his dessert in exchange for silence but had snuck the first aid kit out the bathroom window 'n wrapped it up real good.

"I dunno..." Pony scrapes again at the tears fallin' down his face 'n Steve bats his hand away, pullin' his handkerchief from his pocket 'n pressin' it none too gently across Pony's cheeks. "Knock that off." Pony snatches it from Steve 'n wipes at his own face.

"Glory, someone's in a mood." Apparently, it was too soon for that.

"I am not! Look, Steve, I can handle it myself. I don't need your bullshit." Pony pushes himself up 'n Steve easily grabs his wrist 'n yanks him back down.

"Fine, you don't need my help which, by the way, I wasn't offerin'. I just think if I'm gonna get hollered at on my day off I should get to know why." Pony narrows his eyes, scowlin' hard before droppin' his sulk down to his lap.

"It's nothin'. I just- I dunno, sometimes I just, when I-ugh!" Pony throws his hands up, makes a low angry sound in the back of his throat. "I just had a bad fuckin' day 'cause like, I just, it's-"

Oh. Steve thinks. Ok. I know that.

"If you don't know... like, what it is-" Pony goes to cut him off 'n Steve whacks him on the hand 'n barrels on. "Or if you know what it is but you don't know how to like... say it. Don't worry about it. I'm not gonna make you figure it out."

Pony blinks at him again 'n Steve drops his hand off his shoulder. "Well. Alright." 'N just like that Pony wipes the remain' tears away, clambers up, 'n offers Steve a hand. Man, if the kid couldn't bounce back from anythin'. Steve tries to remember if he'd ever been like that. But he remembered fourteen 'n he'd always been more of a sulker.

"We good, kid?" Steve eyes him 'n Pony shrugs, shoots him a mischievously little grin Steve knows he got from Soda.

"Sure, as long as you get me dinner."

"Oh sure," He pulls Pony under his arm 'n messes up his hair 'n Pony whines," as long as you're payin'. After all it is your house."

[lynxxjay]

guys here me out on Ronald and Steve Staleburger,,

[the-barefoot-hatter]

pediatricians are hard to find.

you aren't broken and other important things a triangle needs to hear

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

post apocalypse au where the plot of stranger things doesn't happen but vecna still tears the world open and brings the upside down right side up. and the scattered people who managed to survive the initial earthquakes and power outages and complete breakdown of society have to contend not only with creatures from the upside down trying to eat them, but also with what the bleeding of an alternate dimension into their reality is doing to their bodies

people with prolonged exposure to larger tears seem to be slowly changed into something else, like some radioactivity from the dimension is mutating them. people grow claws, or leathery wings, or their face peels open, or they turn into unrecognisable piles of eldritch goo. there's vampires, were-demogorgons, flayed, weird ghosts, and the number of super powered people like el was in the show skyrockets

other people who manage avoid this fate shun those that fell to it. and to an extent it's reasonable, some people who get changed in this way completely lose their humanity, like the flayed, and while others retain it it probably doesn't seem that way when a vampire-like person needs human blood to survive. but a lot of people are just as terrified of the changes happening to them as other people are, and while they may not be harmless, they'd much rather use their new biological advantages to keep people safe

despite this, people that have been 'corroded' by the upside down are ostracised, feared, sometimes outright hunted by regular humans. so sometimes, they band together. form their own little apocalypse groups

eddie is in one of those groups. he wouldn't say he's the leader, bc they don't really have a hierarchical structure and eddie likes to think he's managed to maintain his anarchic ideals even in the face of the apocalypse. but he is the oldest, and the most scary looking (if not the most actually dangerous), so the combination of everyone being younger and his ability to scare off corroded-hunters that come looking for them means everyone else kind of follows his lead

so no one really questions when he comes back to camp one day holding two passed out humans. a mole-dotted man and a freckled woman, probably about eddie's age, who were injured and had crawled into a ruin building to die. and like. what was eddie supposed to do, leave them there??? no, gareth, it has nothing to do with how pretty the guy is. no, eddie doesn't know how they'll react when they wake up in the middle of a corroded camp, they'll cross that bridge when they get there. el says she senses that they're good people, so clearly everything will be fine actually!!!!!

[nascenticity]

i have seen a lot of headcanons (& fics!) about bucky doing crochet or knitting that i LOVE but i also need everyone to consider --

steve watching his mother doing irish crochet; maybe she even teaches him some simple things when he's sick and needs something to occupy him so he'll sit still and rest; its a creative outlet for sarah and that artistic streak is something she and steve share almost a century later, crochet comes back into fashion with millennials and gen-z, and steve looks up a youtube tutorial. he doesn't have many physical things left from his mom; but he can make some stuff that she would have loved and it helps him feel close to her.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

post pitching everyone lives au / coconana treated seriously already getting too long lol like hmm then. imagine the So Niche You're The Only Fic possibilities

[himbosandhardwear]

"Look who's talking, Mr Ponytail and a Crop Top," Steve says with a smartass grin.

Eddie looks down. "Huh?"

"You," he waves toward Eddie's general vicinity, "looking like some kinda Metal Cheerleader." He noticably swipes his tongue over his bottom lip.

Okay. This is it, this is the perfect moment to tell Steve he's sending signals that he definitely doesn't understand he's sending.

"Steve," he has to clear his throat before continuing, "I need to tell you something."

He leans in, wide eyed and focused. "Yeah?"

That's not helpful. "Um. So, to guys like me... Gay," he chokes out, still hard to say aloud even though he knows Steve knows, "sometimes you say things or do things that come off as...flirty. And I know you didn't know," he rushes to explain, "but I wanted to make you aware. To not do that. You know, in case the wrong person overhears it. It's a safety concern," he finishes lamely. Safety concern! Ugh. More like 'You're breaking my heart, I can't take much more of it.'

He waits for Steve to say something but he's just blinking owlishly.

"Steve?" He prompts, concerned.

"......yeah?" He finally seems to come back to himself. His eyes drift away, over Eddie's shoulder. "So...you want me to stop flirting?"

"Yeah, just in case, you never know who-" Wait. What? "What?"

Steve still isn't looking him in the eye. "What?" He mumbles.

"Did you say..." He can't even repeat it, it sounds like putting words in his mouth, but he did say that, right?

"Yeah. Sorry. I'll stop. I didn't realize it was bad, I guess. I thought... It's stupid. Nevermind. I'm gonna, um, take off actually. I'll see ya around, maybe."

He hops off the back of the van and actually starts walking away, like they're not 6 miles from his house. That snaps Eddie out of the paralysis spell he was under, adrenaline taking over like a bump of cocaine.

"No!" He shouts, like an insane person, and then takes it one step further by jumping up and tackling Steve into the grass.

"Uggff," Steve grunts when Eddie accidentally shoulders him in the gut, but he ignores the embarrassment in favor of crawling up his body so they're eye to eye.

He gets Steve's face between two hands and smooshes it. "Were you flirting with me on purpose?" He shouts.

"Are you serious?" He mumbles, half coherent, through pursed lips. "I'm gonna jump into the quarry."

"Answer the question!" He rattles Steve's head a little bit, for good measure.

"I work for Scoops Ahoy." Steve deadpans, unamused.

Eddie is going to throw one hell of a tantrum in a second. "Steve."

He smacks Eddie's hands away from his face. Doesn't bother to move out from under Eddie, he notes absently. "Yes, dude, obviously I was flirting with you on purpose! I thought that was, like, an understood thing that was happening. Why are you surprised?"

He feels like he's losing his mind. Why are you surprised the grass is made out of taffy? Would've made more sense as a question.

"Because you're straight." The duh is implied.

Sensibly, he asks, "Why would I flirt with you if I was straight?"

Eddie becomes very aware of every inch they are pressed together. Aware of the sound of the leaves rubbing together in the wind, aware of Judas Priest still playing through his speakers. Love Bites is a hell of a track to be having this revelation to.

"You're not straight?"

"No."

"And you were flirting?"

"Yes."

"With me?"

He rolls his eyes, not an ounce of bitchiness lost to his embarrassment. "No, Eddie, with the crusty blanket on your van floor. Yes, of course with you- Mmmphh!"

They probably shouldn't be making out on the ground at Settlers Quarry in broad daylight but, honestly, the shambling corpse of Jason Carver could show up right now and Eddie would not give two shits. Steve slides a hand down the back of Eddie's pants, grabbing what little bit of ass cheek he has, and Eddie thinks, Hope you're watching from hell, you bastard. Enjoy the show.

[hairmetal666]

Steve wins the bat plush at a fair when he's seven. He doesn't care about bats, but it's the prize for making all five baskets in the basketball game, so he gets the little bat. Its eyes are a little crooked and one wing is slightly smaller than the other, but it being lopsided sort of makes it cuter.

He and his dad, they're supposed to be going on rides now, but his dad's pager keeps going off. He puts Steve next to a funnel cake stand, tells him not to move, and goes in search of a pay phone. Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve is bored under the flashing lights and tinkling music. He wants to play not sit and wait.

Eventually, he drifts back towards the midway, watches the people rushing by, searches for a sign of his dad's return. His attention is caught by another boy at the basketball booth. He has to be about Steve's age, with a mop of dark curls on top of his head and a jean jacket that's slightly too big, sleeves flopping over his hands as he lines up his shots.

This boy, he's terrible at basketball. Every shot is too high or too short or goes wide, but he's trying. Even from this distance, Steve can see how hard he's trying. He uses up his five balls, fishes into his jacket pocket for more money, and gets five more.

He misses every shot. This time, when he goes back for more money, he comes up empty. Steve thinks he sees his lip shaking.

A man, one in a leather jacket and boots that Steve thinks look mean, comes up to the boy, drops a heavy hand on his shoulder. He's too far away to hear the conversation, assumes the boy asks to play again and the man's response is a shaken head and a tight smile. They walk away from the games, right towards Steve, who slinks back to the side of the midway, not wanting to be caught staring.

"What was it you wanted? That stupid bat? Just another piece of trash you wanna bring in my house." Steve hears as they pass.

The boy nods, but keeps his eyes down and to the side.

He feels bad then. Felt bad before, but now he looks at his own bat, at its funny eyes and poorly attached wings, and wishes he could hand it over to the boy who really wants it. Steve almost does, then, makes to go after them, but his dad appears, dropping a hand to Steve's shoulder and saying, "ready to hit those rides?" And he knows the opportunity is gone, knows his dad will say it's too soft, not what men do.

Steve manages to lose himself for a while in the swirling lights and funhouse music and carnival rides, forget about the little bat in his back pocket and the boy who wanted one so desperately. But then his dad's pager goes off some more, he goes back to the pay phone, and Steve ducks into the low brick building that houses the bathrooms.

His eyes immediately land on the same boy from the basketball game. His eyes are red, face damp, obviously from tears, and Steve just--

"Here." He shoves the bat into the boy's chest.

For a second, the brownest eyes Steve's ever seen widen at him, before narrowing in a harsh glare, the boy's teeth barred.

"Why?" He snarls.

Steve thinks he may regret every choice that led him to this but he says, he says, "Because I want you to have it."

The boy blinks a few times, hand reaching out to gently pinch the bat's smallest wing. "You sure?"

Steve nods and the bat is slowly withdrawn from his grasp.

"No takesies-backsies?"

"It's yours."

The boy looks at the bat in awe, and Steve says, "see? It already looks happier with you."

The boy's beaming smile is cut-off by a voice calling from the door, "you in there,? I ain't got time to be waiting for your boohooing."

"Coming!" The boy carefully tucks the bat into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," he whispers, eyes big and glistening and happy, before he disappears out the door.

---

13 years later, give or take a few months, and Steve stands in the cracked shell of a bisected trailer, rummaging through what remains of a life well-lived, searching for anything whole. He's already found a few undamaged mugs and clean hats, but this room--it took a lot of damage. The brunt of it, really. Some sick sort of joke, after everything.

It's mostly rubble in here, scraps of fabric; slivers of notebook paper, magazine, poster; crumbled shards of vinyl and cassette plastic. A few times he comes across the disembodied limb of one of those dnd figures, and something weird happens to his throat.

In the far corner there's half of a dresser collapsed into itself, and he shuffles through the debris to see what he can find. There's something, soft and black, just the edge of it, peaking out from under half of a drawer face. He pulls it out, careful as can be and it's--it's a plush bat. It's a little dirty, but unharmed, though its eyes are a little wonky, and one wing is smaller than the other.

He holds it and he stares and he has to brace himself against the wall. It can't be--it's not the same one--but he remembers those big brown eyes and the curls and--

"Harrington," a warm, rich voice calls from what's left of the hallway. "You get lost in there?"

Eddie shuffles in, slow, careful with his crutches. And it--it took so long, months and months of convalesce and physical therapy, still physical therapy, but he's here. He's alive. He's perfect. And the something blooming between them, it's not spoken yet, but it's there, growing, and now, now--

"Oh my god, you found Lilith! I thought she was toast."

"Lilith?" He's still cradling the little lopsided bat in his hands, but moves closer to hand it over to Eddie.

"Yes, Lilith." Eddie takes the bat, presses it to his chest. "The first boy I ever loved gave her to me."

His heart turns over in his chest and when he swallows his throat clicks. Eddie doesn't notice, he's smiling softly at the bat, at Lilith, but then, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"First boy you ever loved?" He says. He thinks he sounds normal.

Somehow, Eddie's smile grows even softer. "Yeah. Roan County Fair, years ago. Tried to win her, but--" he clicks his tongue--"never had great hand-eye coordination. And then this kid just gave her to me out of nowhere. I used to think I was going to marry him."

"And now?"

Eddie laughs. "I grew up, Steve."

And for a second, he doesn't know what to say, but then, "I was right then, huh? That she'd be happier with you."

He stares at Steve, those same big brown eyes, wide and glistening. "Steve that was--Steve?" Eddie presses a hand over his mouth, overcome, before launching himself into Steve's arms. The crutches clatter to the floor, but Steve has him, will always have him, no matter what.

"I can't believe you kept her," Steve whispers.

"God, I carry her everywhere. She's Corroded Coffin's mascot, and you--Steve, I can't believe that was you."

"Surprise," he bumps Eddie's forehead with his.

They hold each other in the center of the destruction, but none of that matters right now, not when it feels like every moment since they very first met as children was leading them to this.

From the other half of the trailer, they hear footsteps, chattering, Wayne and Robin and Dustin, but Steve wants this to last a little longer.

"So, marriage...that still off the table?"

Eddie laughs softly, nuzzles his face against Steve's neck. "Are you kidding, sweetheart? No way I'm letting you go."

[devondespresso]

praying s5 gives us dustin and steve vibing out so it'll be more common for them to be actually friends in fanon again

[estrellami-1]

Ok so I saw a post about Steve as a teacher letting his kids control his Spotify which means his Wrapped is All Over The Place but the top artist is Corroded Coffin and Steve finds out from the thank-you video that Eddie is hot. I see it, I love it, it’s inspired.

I’m thinking something… a little different.

“Alright, class!” Steve calls. “Marcus, it’s your turn to choose the music, right?”

“Actually, Mr. H?” Amber pipes up. “Spotify Wrapped came out today!”

Steve blinks. “Spotify… what?”

Marcus is nodding. “Spotify Wrapped! It tallies up what you’ve listened to and gives you stats and stuff. It’s cool!”

“Ah,” Steve says, nodding, squinting at his computer. “And I see that… how?”

There’s a cacophony of noise until Steve holds up a hand. Everyone quiets, and Becky holds her hand up. He nods at her. “It’s at the top,” she says softly. “Where your recently played is.”

He smiles at her. “Thank you, Becky.” He navigates to it, clicking on it and letting the graphic play.

Their genre, apparently, is soft grass indie metal. He’s entirely sure that’s made up. Their top artist, making up sixty-four percent of the music they listened to, is Corroded Coffin.

There’s a video; a little thank-you the band put together. It starts with Eddie up front, as the lead singer. Gareth, Jeff, and Freak are slightly behind him, grinning at the camera. Steve recognizes the background as Jeff’s living room. “Hi!” Eddie starts. “Thanks so much for listening to our music this year.”

“We couldn’t do what we do without you,” Gareth adds on.

“And everything we do is for you!” Jeff says.

“It’s totally metal of you to listen to our music, and we appreciate it!” Freak finishes. They all wave, and the camera cuts off.

Steve is… gobsmacked. He loves his husband, truly, but he looks so uncomfortable, and the way he’s speaking is weirdly stilted. He was not made to stand still.

He shakes his head, knowing he’s about to make Eddie’s year, and blow these kids’ minds.

Eddie had always been more vocal than Steve about coming out, saying fuck it to the consequences. Maybe being gay was accepted in the metal community, but Steve had been too new in his current job to even think about the jeopardy this could put his career in.

But honestly. That video was terrible, and his kids deserve better.

He sighs, raises a hand to get the class’s attention. “I know that was cool,” he chuckles. “But if you can be quiet and patient, I could get you something even cooler.”

“Cooler than a video from Corroded Coffin?” Nick asks.

Steve tilts his head. “Cooler than that video, at least.”

Nick doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

Steve just smiles. “How about we find out?” He puts a finger to his lips and FaceTimes Eddie.

He makes sure his volume is low, enough so that he even has trouble hearing when Eddie picks up.

“Baby!” Eddie exclaims, then clocks the background and is instantly worried. “Wait, you’re still at work. Are you okay? Is everything okay? Did you hit your head again? Do I need to come get you?”

“Christ, you’re dramatic,” Steve mutters, grinning wide. “I’m fine. I’m with my class, and we just finished looking at our Spotify Wrapped. Guess who our number one artist for the year was.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle. He grins. Steve nods. “Corroded Coffin,” he confirms, then sighs. “I have to say, though, I was a little disappointed by the video.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back. Steve gets a great view up his husband’s nose. “I know! I know, it sucked, but the guys were happy with it and it was, like, our eighth go, and-”

“I get it,” Steve promises. “But how would you like to one-up it?”

It takes Eddie a second, but his eyes gleam. “Are you sure? Your career-”

“Is stable enough now,” Steve finishes. “I’m sure. If you are.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mouths, conscientious of Steve’s class. “I love you.”

Steve smiles, blows a kiss to the camera. He gets a smattering of awws from some of his female students.

He figures out how to connect his phone to his computer to the screen, pushes the volume button up, and nods. “Go, Eds.”

Eddie grins and waves at the screen. “Hi, Mr. Harrington’s class! I’ve heard so much about you guys. It’s totally metal that you’re listening to our music—that’s something your teacher neglected to tell me.” He grins at the screen, a private thing for Steve, who dutifully rolls his eyes.

“I hear your music every day, Eds, forgive me if I don’t think anything of it when I hear it here and at home.”

“Mr. H,” Nathan asks in a pseudo-whisper, “how the hell do you know Eddie Munson?”

Eddie bursts out in a laugh. “You must be Nathan,” he says.

Nathan goes white, then pink. “H-hi, Mr. Munson, sir.”

“I think you should be their teacher,” Steve says, grinning first at Eddie, then his class. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Nathan say sir before.”

Everyone laughs—including Nathan—and Eleanor raises her hand. “How do you know him?”

Steve takes a breath, glances at his phone. Eddie’s smiling patiently at him, and Steve’s own smile grows as he answers her. “I’m his husband,” he tells her.

“Ten years and counting!” Eddie crows. “Though we’ve known each other for… twenty… something.”

Steve chuckles. “Twenty-three, Eds. If you count high school, which I don’t.”

“But I do,” Eddie nods. “Twenty-three years. And counting.”

Steve chuckles again. “And counting,” he agrees.

As his room explodes into noise, he looks back at his phone to find Eddie already looking at him.

That’s the way it goes, he thinks. Eddie saw him the whole time. It took Steve a while to catch up, but now that he has, he’s never been happier.

Twenty-three years and counting, indeed.