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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

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Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 5

A/N Now the long chapters are really starting

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

Avalon’s purse was left on the kitchen island right by the door. It was on its side as if it had been thrown there in some sort of haste when she came inside. I picked it up and ruffled through the small bag; pushing aside the tube of lipstick, small medicine bottle, few feminine hygiene products, and her wallet before accessing her phone.

Her lockscreen was a photo of me, taken on our honeymoon some time by the resort pool. If I didn’t feel the breath of shame and guilt on my neck, that certainly sealed it in. I typed in her passcode but was met with ‘incorrect pin’. I tried again, only to receive the same message. Since when did she change her passcode and not tell me?

We must ignore the fact that I changed mine a few weeks back without telling her as well.

The last thing I wanted to have to do was facial recognition, but it seemed that was my only option.

So I found myself back in the studio, patting softly over the blood soaked rug to the body of my wife to stick her iPhone in her face. Jonah watched from the doorway as I crouched down carefully on the balls of my feet and held the screen towards Avalon’s blank expression. The phone unlocked and the home screen appeared. I didn’t look at her for too long – honestly I couldn’t without risking being sent to empty my stomach again – and I simply took her phone over to the studio couch and sat down on the arm. Jonah stood beside me to watch over my shoulder as I opened up her contacts app and scrolled down to J.

You can imagine my surprise when the very first contact under that letter was simply the letter itself. It was too easy. I brought up any messages she had with that person and scrolled to the top of the reasonably short text thread. They had messaged her first,

Hey. Thanks for reaching out. I’ll have the stuff together for the end of the week as promised.

Great! Looking forward to it.

When’s your fiancé out next? I can drop by your place if you want.

He usually works late every day so whenever is good. Lunch tomorrow maybe?

Yeah, sounds good. See you then :)

There was only one other date that they had messaged – at least by text – and it was also a short yet cryptic conversation.

If you’re ready today I can come by. Daniel’s held up in meetings so I’m alone.

Yeah that’s fine. I’m at the Lincoln Motel in Pasadena. Room 19. Come by whenever.

1559 Lincoln Ave

Okay! I’ll head over now. I’m excited! :)

The green monster was never a kind friend, dear reader, and I couldn’t help but feel near sick again with the question as to if my wife had been cheating on me. Sure, I was no perfect man and I seemed to put a lot of my efforts into my work – maybe more than I should have – but never would I have dreamt about being unfaithful to her. Seemed as though she had thought differently. I locked Avalon’s phone and slid it in my pocket as I stood up, trying to act like it was something that just rolled off my back.

“What the fuck.” Jonah breathed.

I pushed a hand through my hair and rubbed the back of my neck tensely, ignoring his rhetorical question.

“You okay?” Jonah asked, setting his hand on my shoulder.

“Fine.” I nodded stiffly.

“Do you want to stop by the motel?”

I contemplated his offer for a moment. It was on the way out of state anyway and it would have been nice to get some answers. Maybe it would even help me figure out what happened to Avalon. This mysterious J person wasn’t necessarily in my good books at the moment.

“Yeah. We should.” I finally answered.

The first step before we could leave was to clean up the brutal scene that I had found myself amidst just in case anyone was to come past while we were gone. Our safest bet was to keep Avalon with us until we figured out what had happened; this was imperative especially if it came to the possible outcome where I had killed her. I grabbed an extra towel from under the sink in the studio and Jonah and I stood beside the body.

“Jesus Christ.” Jonah breathed as we stared at her.

I held the towel out to him, “You tuck this under her. I’ll lift her up.”

He nodded silently and watched as I stepped over my wife who was still laying out over the ruined rug. With one foot on either side of her, I bent down and slid my hands under her armpits and just around her back. She was terribly cold and I could feel it through the shirt she was still wearing. Ironic choice of words, but it was chilling.

Jonah slid the towel underneath her and the strain of me holding her limp body up caused more blood to trickle out of the gash across her neck and I looked away to keep from seeing any more. Waking up in it was enough. We moved down her body and I held up her hips so Jonah could tug the towel completely underneath her.

“Let’s move her to the hardwood.” I instructed flatly and we each took two corners of the towel to hoist her up off the blood-soaked rug.

Jonah and I shuffled across the studio and gently set her down on the hardwood in front of the front door to keep her off the rug. The knife still rested on the carpet, glinting teasingly in the late morning sun and I finally worked up the nerve to bend down and pick it up.

“I’ll leave you alone when you get it through your head what a psychotic bitch you’re being!”

“I’m psychotic?” she shrieked, whipping around to face me once we both entered the studio and I flicked on the light. The large collection of wedding gifts was piled neatly along the kitchenette counter and on the couch, the rest of the small single room building taken up by all of my music equipment. Avalon got right up in my face, pointing her finger at me behind furious brown eyes, and screaming until the minimal soundproofing almost muffled the edges of her voice, “Look at yourself! Screaming at me for simply missing my husband on our honeymoon! You’re so fucking psychotic it’s nearly goddamn comedic!”

“I’m not going to keep having this same argument with you, Avalon! I’m getting so sick of needing to defend myself against you time and time again! You just don’t respect me or my job!”

“Who even are you?” she scoffed humourlessly, “It’s nothing about respect, it’s about you being a decent human being – a decent husband – and actually showing me that you care about me!”

“Avalon, I swear to God if you don’t-”

“If I don’t what? Shut up? Be a good little wife and shut up and look pretty for you? Big important business tycoon Daniel Seavey is going to…do what exactly?”

With the knife in my hand, my eyes drifted to the stack of wedding gifts on the studio couch, the thin polished wooden box on the top capturing my attention. The lid was left open, revealing the velvet trimmed interior and the rest of the silver knives resting in a row inside. It was a wedding gift from my brother, the high-end knife set purchased and engraved with our surname on each dark wooden handle until they looked no less than ridiculously expensive and classy. The one empty slot in the velvet box had its assigned subject resting in my hand, the largest knife from the box weighing down in my fingers.

How strange and ironic it is; Avalon killed by a knife wielding her own surname. The surname only given to her a mere three weeks earlier. I had no time to stew on that, however, as I was sure that the fact she wasn’t at work that morning (and that neither was I) would start to raise suspicions. We had to get out of there before someone came looking for us.

I took the knife to the sink in the kitchenette along the far wall of the studio and turned on the hot water to rinse the blood off the blade. I found myself trembling slightly as I scrubbed, my hands struggling to keep still even under the warmth of the water. The red stained the water and flooded around the base of the stainless-steel sink as the drain pulled it down and soon my hands and the knife were left clean and spotless.

Jonah had the rug rolled up from the floor by the time I finished cleaning the knife and I thanked him quietly as I set the chef’s knife back in its slot in the wooden box. The handles stared back at me, twelve identical silver engravings of my surname staring back at me as if they knew what I had possibly done. I closed the lid and snapped the silver clasps shut.

“What do we do with the rug?” I asked my best friend.

Jonah exhaled deeply and brushed the back of his hand over his forehead. He thought for a minute before replying, “Bring it with us?”

I nodded in agreement, “Okay. I’ll grab my keys.”

I headed back into the main house quickly to grab my keys and anything else I might want to bring with me. My laptop case was an obvious and I tucked Avalon’s letter in my bag too just in case I might need it again while figuring everything out.

I was ready for a quick getaway but of course that would have been too easy. Another thing that drove my wife insane? The fact that I constantly was losing everything. My keys were usually the victim of my carelessness and this moment was obviously no exception. I couldn’t find them anywhere, along the front console table or in my laptop bag or on the kitchen counter.

Jonah stepped inside the back door again, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah.” I rushed back down the hallway to the master bedroom, scanning the side tables and the front pocket of our packed suitcase hurriedly.

Time wasn’t on our side and my tendency to misplace everything I own certainly wasn’t helping. On my way back down the hallway, I caught myself on the doorway to the walk-in-closet when I saw a glint out of the corner of my eye and stepped back to see my keys peeking out of my jean’s pocket. You would think I would have checked their first. Well, sorry to break it to you, but nothing was going as expected that morning.

I grabbed my keys from my blood-stained jeans and stuffed the hoodie and pants into my laptop bag too. I stopped to grab a baseball hat and set it on my head followed by my darkest sunglasses I had in my closet to try and keep some sort of physical neutrality for going into public before meeting Jonah back on the porch. I held my keys up to him as I walked right past him and around the side of the house to the gate. He followed right behind me with the expensive box of knives in hand.

The driveway backed right onto the side gate and I unlatched it and pulled the white pickets open to let ourselves through. Ah yes, my pretty expensive Los Angeles house and my white picket fence and my dead wife. Really living the perfect American dream, huh?

I unlocked my Tesla and yanked open the back door to toss in my overflowing laptop bag and Jonah’s heavy work bag while Jonah opened the trunk and tucked the knife set in the corner. We hurried back down the driveway towards the studio door and slipped back inside, stepping over Avalon to grab the rug first. We each took an end of the heavy rolled up vintage Persian and took it down to my car. I was lucky my car had been parked in reverse in the driveway which prevented any neighbours from possibly seeing us loading the trunk with questionable items.

The last thing we needed to take care of was Avalon but we couldn’t necessarily carry her outside in a blood streaked towel. We stood over her in thought of what to do next. We needed something to keep it discreet while still being able to keep her in one piece. There was no way I would be able to stomach cutting any limbs. I had gone through enough that morning as it was.

My eyes scanned my studio for any possible solution to our situation and quickly landed on one of the large travel cases I used for my production keyboard. I looked back down at Avalon’s body and then back to the long trunk.

This was insane.

I stepped over her and walked over to the corner of the studio where the travel trunks were stacked up. I moved a few smaller ones from the top and Jonah came over to help me once he caught on to what I was doing. I flipped open the top of the trunk and made sure it was empty except for the thin plush padding that lined the interior.

I refrained from making a joke about it at least being a comfortable place for her to lay.

Jonah and I each took an end of the towel again and hoisted her stiff body up and over to the trunk and lowered her in slowly. I made sure the towel was tucked inside and that her arms and legs were resting flatly before closing the lid and buckled up the case. Jonah and I met each other’s eyes over top of the trunk but didn’t speak a word before picking up either end and made our way out of the studio.

The walk down the side of the house to the driveway felt like forever. There we were, in broad daylight, on a regular Tuesday morning, carrying a dead body into the trunk of my car. The production case fit nicely into the trunk – I knew it would from the amount of times I had to bring it into work or over to Jonah’s house – and I shut the trunk over top of it. I let out a shaky exhale and Jonah and I glanced blankly at each other.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee @randomlimelightxxx @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @tempus-ut-luceant @br4nd1s @xkelsev @hiya-its-amber @sexyseavey15

#🔪#daniel seavey #jonah marais #why dont we #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #why dont we fanfic #daniel seavey fanfic

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drawacharge · 7 years ago

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insecurities.

a little dose of jealous!steve because there’s not enough jealous!steve and i feel like season one has proven that steve has jealousy issues. this is dedicated to my boo @benalras who had a bad day and i love her and wanted to give her something that maybe makes her smile. enjoy! also read on ao3.

Steve never had jealousy issues until Nancy. Until he actually had something he cared about losing. His parents barely gave him the time of day, and any girl before her had only been good for a couple fun romps in the sack, nothing more. Hell, he didn’t even experience platonic jealousy, never giving a shit what Tommy did or who he did it with.

But then Nancy showed up and she was beautiful and sweet and so fucking good, too good for Steve. Maybe he was insecure about it more than he thought. Maybe that’s what made him see red when he saw her and Byers sitting on her bed. Byers who took pictures of her while she was undressing. Byers who had creepy eyes, always kept to himself, and walked around like he thought he was better than everyone in this town. God, Steve had hated him, and he’d hated the idea that maybe Nancy wanted him more than she wanted Steve.

He didn’t hate him anymore, but it hadn’t done shit for Steve’s insecurities when Nancy ended up leaving him for the guy. He could hear that nasty voice in his head going i told you i told you i told you, over and over again. But.

He got over it.

He got over it because he cared about Nancy, and he ( eventually ) cared about Jonathan, and he wanted them to be happy and he was trying so fucking hard to be a better person than he used to be.

Then he became friends with Billy Hargrove.

Then he became more than friends with Billy Hargrove.

Billy didn’t give a shit that he had jealousy issues, or insecurities. Billy wasn’t perfect, and that was good because Steve wasn’t either and he was so tired trying to pretend like he was. He had to be good for everyone. His parents. Nancy. The kids. But with Billy he didn’t have to be all that. He could be an asshole, or he could just be tired. Either way, the blonde held on tight and took it all in stride.

Of course, it helps that, for a while, there’s nothing around to make Steve jealous.

The girls who made eyes at Billy, or touched his arm, or giggled when he said something that wasn’t all that funny, didn’t bother Steve. They weren’t threats. Billy was as gay as he was blonde, and as far as they both knew, Steve was the only other resident queer in Hawkins that was their age. That made him feel safe. That made his insecurities sit comfortably in the back of his mind, sated.

And then Billy turned eighteen.

He turned eighteen and Steve was staying over because Neil was out of town and Susan didn’t give a shit; far too trusting and too oblivious to ever think her womanizing step-son liked dick.

It was ten am and they were on the couch eating breakfast, Max sandwiched between them and looking toward the window every five minutes impatiently. Steve thought nothing of it. He figured maybe Lucas or one of the others was coming over since Neil wasn’t around.

Then there’s the sudden sound of a van pulling into Billy’s driveway and Max is launching off the couch. Billy stops too, mutes the TV and cocks his head like the sound is familiar to him before he’s getting up. He gets to the window just as Max gets to the door and goes, “Holy shit.”

Max grins, opens the door, and Steve can make out five varying faces as Max goes, “Happy Birthday, Billy!”

Turns out, it’s his friends. His best friends from California. Max had stolen their numbers from the little box under Billy’s bed and called them up. They took a road trip all the way here just for his birthday.

Billy looks like how a kid is supposed to look when their parents tell them that they’re going to Disneyland. He’s grinning from ear to ear, and once he’s over his shock, each of them are pulling him in for separate hugs, laughing and greeting him.

Steve stands there and just feels... stupid. Like he doesn’t belong.

They look like Billy too. Or, at least, the kinds of people Billy would hang out with if he had the option. They look like they fit him.

Billy introduces them to him. He calls Steve his friend, and Steve has to remind himself that it’s because Susan is only two rooms away and not because he doesn’t want his super cool and amazing California friends to know he’s dating some small town asshole.

The first hand he shakes belongs to a blonde dream boat. He’s not as beautiful as Billy, but he’s a close second. He’s got green eyes, freckles, and a smile that makes you immediately want to be his friend. It almost looks wrong on the leather jacket, ripped jeans, and combat boots wearing body his head is attached to. He also has one earring dangling from a lobe. A feather.

His name is Cal, he’s the oldest of the five, the owner of the van, and-- as Steve finds out later-- the guy who pierced Billy’s ear for him when he was sixteen.

The second hand belongs to a girl, and maybe the most intimidating girl Steve’s ever laid eyes on, including the telekinetic thirteen year old he babysits sometimes. She has long, straight black hair that’d probably go passed her ass if she didn’t have it tied up in a high pony-tail. She’s wearing big earrings, dark lipstick, an army jacket, and when she greets him she pops a bubble in his face and grins when Steve jumps.

Billy tells her don’t be a bitch and she cusses him out in what Steve is pretty sure is Spanish.

Later, when they’re eating at the diner with the kids, Billy says, “Camilla here is what we call a dyke--” and, without missing a beat, Camilla tosses a ketchup covered fry at him, cackles when it stains his shirt, and goes, “S’cuse you, mamahuevo. We prefer the term carpet muncher,” and everyone laughs except for Dustin who goes, “Uh, Steve, what’s a carpet muncher?” which only makes everyone laugh harder.

Third person to shake his hand is another chick. This one’s head is totally shaved and she’s got some sort of tattoo sticking out from the neck of her cut up shirt that says FUCK OFF across the front. She’s got an unlit cigarette between her lips and holds Steve’s hand for a little too long, looking him in the eye like she can read his fucking soul.

Billy rolls his eyes, shoves her off and goes, “Quit it with your weird pagan shit, Hannah.” Which makes her grin and step back.

The next guy is called Ant, ( “it’s short for Anthony and a joke 'cuz he’s so fucking huge, Steve, get it?” ) and even though he’s about the size of Hopper he seems friendly enough, but Steve isn’t giving him much attention because he’s finally realized why the last guy looks so fucking familiar.

It’s Daniel. The Daniel. The one Billy would hook up with, the one he lost his virginity to, the one his fucking father caught him with.

They’d hugged the longest, Steve remembers, and he hates himself for it.

His eyes are just as pretty as Billy once said, his hair is cut down into a Mohawk, and there’s a jagged white scar standing out against brown skin under his jaw. Steve knows that has to be Neil’s handiwork after he caught them together.

His smile is warm ( it puts Cal’s to shame ) and he smells good. “You’re a pretty one,” he remarks and Steve hates himself for blushing. To his side Billy-- only half-serious-- goes, “Watch it, D, he’s spoken for,” and even thought it’s not a blatant he’s mine, it still makes Steve feel all warm and keeps his insecurities at bay.

At least for a while.

They hang around at the house for a while. Ant gives Max noogies and Camilla teases her about becoming a lady and laughs when Max wrinkles her nose and tells her to fuck off. Susan comes out at some point, looks surprised but greets them all anyway, and then they head out because the California Five are starving and Steve and Billy had just smoked a joint before they got there so they’re pretty starving too.

Max asks if she can call the guys to meet them there and Billy shrugs, so when they get there there’s a bunch of loud brats waiting for them, the loudest-- Dustin-- going, “We saved the good booths!”

Jane seems fucking enamored with Hannah and her lack of hair which is real cute. She goes, “My hair was gone once too,” and Hannah replies with, “Yeah? I bet you looked real bitchin’,” and Jane looks damn near ready to shave her head again right there.

Daniel compliments Will’s jacket with the rainbow across it and Will blushes red and thanks him with a soft smile and his eyes in his lap. Lucas gets into a very heated discussion with Camilla about some sort of science mambo jumbo Steve doesn’t understand, and even Mike-- who hates just about everyone-- seems to enjoy himself.

The kids approve of Billy’s friends faster than they ever approved of Billy ( and even that still ranges from day to day ). They spend far too long in the diner, talking too loud and eating too much. Steve feels a bit bad so he figures he’ll leave Keith a nice tip for putting up with them.

Steve and Dustin are returning to the table with another round of milkshakes when they pass Billy and Daniel. He pauses, goes, “What’s up?” and Billy shrugs while fishing his pack of smokes from his pocket.

“Nothin’, we’re goin’ out for a smoke.”

Without thinking, Steve says, “Oh, gimme a second and I’ll join you,” and he knows it’s a mistake before the last couple words leave his lips. Billy and Daniel exchange looks, there’s a pause and then Billy licks his lips.

Daniel says, “I’ll head on out,” then keeps walking.

“We uh... kinda’ wanted to talk alone.” His boyfriend says, and he glances at his feet for a second before looking back at Steve. “There’s a lot of shit left unsaid between us and after what Neil did I--” Steve feels like a fucking idiot. He wants the floor to fucking open up and swallow him whole, “No, yeah--” he shakes his head, offers a smile that’s completely forced and hopes Billy doesn’t notice. “-- that makes sense--” thing is, it really does, he’s just being an insecure baby. “--I’ll... see you in a minute?” Billy nods, they look at each other. Steve wants to kiss him. Steve can’t kiss him. The pause passes and he steps away, but fingers catch his wrist before he can completely turn. He looks back at the blonde and notes the crease between his eyebrows, “You good?” Billy asks, because Steve can’t be subtle worth shit and he feels like a fucking ass because here it’s Billy birthday and his best friends are here and Steve is feeling bad for himself.

God, he’s selfish.

So he smiles again, tries to make this one seem a little more sincere, and turns his hand over to brush his fingertips over the pulse of Billy’s wrist. “I’m good,” he lies and wishes for probably the hundredth time that he could kiss his boyfriend. “But I’m drinking your milkshake.”

It seems to work, because Billy chuckles a little, goes, “Go ahead,” and then walks outside.

Steve takes his seat back at one of the booths and tries not to steal glances out the window to see if he can spot Billy and Daniel. He can, which he realizes is worse because that means he can see how close they stand to each other. He can see them share space as Billy helps Daniel light his cigarette. He can see Billy laugh at something Daniel says. He can see Daniel touch his arm like the girls at school do. He can see, and he loses his appetite, feels like he might throw up, and just wants to get out of there.

His fingers flex under the table and he thinks about Nancy and Jonathan in her bedroom. He thinks about her telling him nothing happened and you got it wrong. He thinks about her calling him bullshit a year later and running out of town with that same person. He thinks about them having sex. He thinks about Jonathan holding her close and kissing her nape after their done. He thinks about her smiling all soft and happy and just for him.

Then Nancy is suddenly Billy, and Jonathan is Daniel and Steve wonders if Billy and Daniel would be together now if Billy was still in California. He wonders if Daniel would be his boyfriend instead of himself. He wonders if Billy’s ever smiled at Daniel in the mornings like he smiles at Steve, or if Daniel’s ever woken up to Billy making him coffee and breakfast. He wonders and wonders and wonders.

He wonders until he realizes someone’s saying his name and finally comes back to earth, blinking in the direction of the noise. It’s Dustin, staring at him like he’s grown a second head, and then Steve realizes everyone’s kind of looking at him like that. Then he finally notices the cold, like he shoved his hand into the freezer, and looks down. The cheap plastic cup that says Coca-Cola across the front is pretty much crushed in his grip and there’s vanilla milkshake pouring over the edges like lava out of a volcano, covering his hand and wrist, dripping onto the table. He’s pretty sure there’s plastic cutting into his palm, too.

“Uh, “ he says, then adds, “sorry,” then finishes with, “my bad.”

Dustin goes, “Dude,” and Steve suddenly gets up, excuses himself, and heads for the bathroom, cradling his soaked fist in his hand to try and catch what milkshake he can so Keith doesn’t give him the stink eye.

He wishes he can lock the door, can’t, then goes straight for the sink, flipping the tap on cold before shoving his hand under it. He slowly opens his palm and winces when a piece of plastic pulls off skin. Eventually the vanilla shake and water combo turns into just pink water, and there’s a couple pieces of Coca-Cola cup in his hand, but nothing bad enough to warrant, like, stitches. A bandage or two would be nice though.

He focuses on cleaning off, feeling stupid and cursing himself out under his breath. He can’t believe he did that in front of Billy’s friends, in front of the kids. Losing his cool like some kind of neanderthal that can’t control himself.

He’s pulling a particular small sliver of plastic out when the bathroom door opens and Steve lifts his head, meeting Billy’s gaze in the mirror. For a second they just look at each other, and then Billy’s stalking across the room and taking the wrist of Steve’s injured hand. Billy brings it up and under the shitty lighting and goes, “Christ, Harrington.”

Steve frowns, looks away, and jerks his hand out of Billy’s grasp, pushing it back under the water. It stings, he winces. “I know-- sorry. I’m handling it. Can you tell Keith I’ll pay for the cup?” “Harrington.”

“Because if you don’t he’s going to throw a fit, as if the cup didn’t cost him like the fraction of a cent to buy.”

“Steve.” “I mean, my dad owns a company for God’s sake, I know how cheap you can buy something when you buy it in bulk. The whole set probably cost--”

“Steve.” Billy drawls low and close, baritone voice in his ear. Suddenly, he’s looking at Billy in the mirror again, and Steve can’t remember when Billy had grabbed his wrist again, but there it is, sitting firmly but harmlessly in his grasp. They stare a little longer, then Billy’s face softens and he goes, “Hey,” and pulls Steve until he’s facing him.

“Sorry,” he says and Billy frowns more.

“You gonna’ tell me why you Hulk’d out on a shitty plastic cup, baby? Or do I need to tell Henderson to test you for gamma radition?” Steve thinks about making fun of Billy for being a secret geek.

Instead he goes, “I... got distracted.”

An eyebrow quirks, “Distracted, huh? With what?”

“With... thinking.”

Billy snorts in a bemused kind of way and takes Steve’s other wrist. He brings them in close and rubs his thumbs over the pulse points underneath his skin. “If you keep answering like this I’ll be turning nineteen before you get it all out.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shoves at him a little, but it’s halfhearted. “Nothing, man, don’t worry-- I was just being stupid. You know how I get.”

Blue eyes watch him for a moment and then Billy nods, “I do know how you get.” Steve frowns, feels a lump in his throat, and thinks this is when Billy’s going to tell him how insecure and annoying he’s being. Instead he goes, “Like how I get when you’re around Wheeler.”

Steve blinks, “Mike?” He barks out a laugh, “No. Nancy, you fuckin’ idiot. The way you look at her sometimes, or smile at her.” Billy licks his lips, glances away, then back. “Makes me wanna barf half the time and crawl in a hole the other half.”

Oh, Steve thinks. He’d never even considered the notion, even when they hung out with Nancy and Billy had a sour attitude after. He always figured it was because Billy didn’t like Nancy, not because--

“Oh my god,” he looks at the other boy then goes, “Wait, please don’t tell me that’s why you hate Nancy--”

Billy shoots him a glare, “No, asshole. I don’t like her because she’s a snobby little princess who broke your heart. The fact that she’s also your ex is just an evil little bonus.” He’s jealous too. Of Nancy. It was laughable really. Since the first moment Steve ever got close to Billy, Nancy had been a far away memory. His relationship with her was only ever connected to his insecurities now, nothing else. He loved her, but not in the way he once had. She’d always be important to him, but he didn’t love her. Not like he loved Billy. Not even close.

“She doesn’t even compare to you,” he says, a little too awestruck at the idea that Billy was jealous of Nancy to consider how disgustingly romantic the words are. Billy does, though, and his eyes widen a fraction before the tips of his ears get pink like they do when Steve gets sweet and soft and all the things Billy isn’t used to.

“Yeah,” he finally lands on and leans in until their foreheads are touching. Until they’re sharing breath. “And Daniel ain’t even comparable.” God, Steve really loves him.

“Outside--”

It’s vague, and Billy reads him like they’ve been together for years anyway. “You wanna’ know what we did outside? We smoked and I apologized about my dad almost killing him since I never got the chance to before. Then he asked me when you and me started dating, ‘cuz apparently that shit was obvious from the get-go. Somethin’ ‘bout the way I look at you.”

The way Billy looks at him? He’s never noticed--

“So I was tellin’ him the whole story.” Oh god, Steve thinks. The whole story is embarrassing and not really romantic at all, just super duper awkward. “‘Cuz Daniel’s a sap for that shit. Then know what else I told him?” Steve shakes his head, “I told him that I love you,” Oh. Oh oh oh. “You big, jealous, idiot.” Thing is, there isn’t anger in Billy’s voice, or judgment. He sounds exasperated, maybe, and amused. But he also sounds understanding; like this doesn’t lessen his opinion of Steve. Like this doesn’t change the way he sees him.

“I... love you too,” because, honestly? What else do you say to that? “And I’m an idiot,” Steve agrees,”I’m sorry, I was being so stupid--”

“Ain’t a thing, pretty boy.” Billy interrupts, “If you’re stupid ‘bout this, so am I.” And then he leans in and kisses him soundly, fingers slipping into Steve’s hair as Billy first slots their lips together then claims his mouth, teasing him open so he can taste him. When they pull back, Billy takes a deep breath and takes Steve’s injured hand, grabbing some paper towels to wrap around it. “Let’s go. They probably think you fell in.” And tugs Steve out of the bathroom.

They get back to the table-- which someone was kind enough to clean up for him-- and sit across from each other. Everyone’s quiet for a moment, and then Dustin says something dumb and Max throws a french fry and him and Jane laughs and everything goes back to normal.

Except that, sometime during all that, Steve realizes Billy’s staring at him, meets his gaze, smiles, and then stares in sudden surprise as the blonde leans over and kisses him. Kisses him. Like in public. Like where people can see. It’s short, nothing big, but everyone at the table notices it. The diner is mostly empty, filled with half-passed out drunks trying to get sober off coffee, and Keith went to the back, so-- it’s just the table.

It’s not the first time the kids caught them kissing, and after a beat, Mike screws up his nose and goes, “Ugh, guys, can you not--” and Camilla hits Ant on the bicep a little hard and says, “Hah, told you! You owe me fifteen bucks, fucker!”

Billy and Steve are still staring at each other as Billy goes, “Did you two bet on my love life?” His voices sounds exasperated and vaguely annoyed, but his gaze never wavers.

“Hey, I voted for it. Ant’s the one that didn’t agree with me.”

“Only ‘cause he seems too good for you,” the big guy answers and offers a shit eating grin that almost rivals Billy’s. The blonde looks away long enough to land a solid punch in Ant’s arm that barely seems to affect him. Everyone who’s listening laughs, Billy included.

Then he meets Steve’s gaze again, and Steve wonders if these are the looks Daniel meant because Billy’s kind of looking at him like a wolf stares at the moon. It makes Steve’s insides feel warmth in too many different ways, and Billy goes, “You ain’t wrong though,” before tossing Steve a wink and slumping down in his seat, slotting their legs together under the table.

Steve smiles, knocks his heel against Billy’s and goes, “Shut up, stupid,” in the kind of way that sounds like I love you.

Billy grins wide and a little feral, licks his lips, and replies, “Make me,” in the kind of way that sounds like I love you, too.

#harringrove #my drabbles #cw homophobic language #mentions of abuse #but no actual abuse depicted #can u spy #my secret guilty hc that #billy's a geek #bc its not subtle lmao #i need to write smut #ive written too many feely/angsty things

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mavengers · 7 years ago

Text

Laugh Again

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: angst, angst, cheating from both sides, weird fluff? Loosely based by “Just Give Me A Reason” by Pink

Words: 2k

All credit to Marvel.

I rolled over to face Bucky, sound asleep and lightly snoring. His eyes fluttered as he dreamed, but as of lately, they weren’t nightmares anymore. Each morning he would wake up happy, he’d shower, he’d cook breakfast and make coffee for us, kiss me on the cheek, and leave to go to the compound. But then he wouldn’t come home until well past 11 pm. By that point, I was usually already asleep, so he’d kick off his shoes, his jacket, unbutton his dress shirt and pull it out from his opened slacks. He’d do his best to wipe off the dark wine-colored lipstick that marked a trail from his throat all the way down to the “v” of his stomach. He’d inhale the scent that lingered on his clothes and on him, hoping I wouldn’t smell it on him in the morning.

But I would smell it. At 11:08 when he’d crawl into bed with me, uncharacteristically sleeping distant from me. His hands would interlock behind head, and he’d cross his calves, falling asleep like that. His tight boxer-briefs were tainted with a stain from the woman, Jasmine, who laid underneath him, or maybe on top of him.

Letting out a silent but harsh exhale, I slip out of bed and make my way towards our closet, pulling out the tight red dress that I had bought a few days ago. I had told Bucky that it was for a charity banquet that my company was throwing, but he didn’t question it, much like I hadn’t questioned his whereabouts. I watched Bucky as I pulled the dress on, my heels and coat following. His slumber was undisturbed, and I slipped out of the door to our home. My phone chimed, it was Alex. He was waiting for me at the docks.

The docks were a fifteen minute walk from our house, but there was a back alley that shortened the hike to seven minutes at most, and while it was sketchy, Bucky had taught me how to fight. He was an Avenger after all. I worked for Stark, too, but I wasn’t an agent by any means. I only recruited them and handed them off to Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff to train. That was how I met Bucky. He had taken over training for a month while Steve and Nat took a mission in Peru. On the first day, we had both gotten lost in each others eyes while I attempted to brief him on the recruit. On every day that followed, he’d always find an excuse to pass by my office, and I would always find an excuse to pass by the gym.

Soft Italian music and the aroma of marinara pulled me out of my trance and I smiled warmly as Alex extended his hand, helping me onto the boat and untying the rope that connected us to the dock. The boat was big, but not a yacht. It was modest, but it still boasted a homey interior and a full bar. On nights like tonight, he’d hire a separate captain to steer the boat while Alex and I got lost in each other. Most times Alex would steer the boat, and I would sit at the bow, a blanket wrapped around me as I looked ahead towards the seemingly endless miles of water. But tonight would mark two months since we first started seeing each other, so tonight called for the separate captain.

Alex knew about Bucky, which was why he never told anyone he was seeing the Winter Soldier’s best girl. He knew that James would have his head in seconds if he heard. I knew that Alex knew one of my motives for being with him was to get back at James for his infidelity. But Alex didn’t seem to mind. The reason we got along so well is that we both needed an escape. He loved boating, something he didn’t get to do much of aside from when he saw me, he’d always tell me. And I needed an escape in general. I didn’t rely on Alex to stay loyal because I wasn’t loyal to him. I was just someone he met up with a couple early mornings out of the week. And he to me.

I graciously accepted a glass of white wine and drank Alex in as he sat across from me at the small table, candlelit and all. His white button up shirt made his tan skin seem even darker, and his bright green eyes glowed with the reflection of the candle. His black hair seemed simultaneously tousled and neat. My smile dipped when flashes of Bucky passed through my head. I wondered if he had woken up and noticed me missing. If he had, would he even care? Would he call Jasmine? Would he have her come over and take up my unoccupied space in our bed until I got home? I looked back at Alex, who looked at me concerned. “Everything alright?” He asked, his voice as light as a feather, yet seeming to echo in my head.

“Alex, I think I need to go home.” He paused to take in my words and nodded slowly.

“I’ll go tell the captain.” He said softly. As he stood up to pass by me, he cupped my cheek in one hand and placed a kiss to my temple. I relished in his touch for the split second, but I couldn’t help but wish that Alex’s warm hand was replaced with Bucky’s metal one.

When we docked back on shore, Alex helped me off the boat one last time, and I looked at him, our eyes seeming to communicate what we never could aloud. Thank you.

I closed the front door behind me, sighing softly as I ran my fingers through my hair. I slipped out of my heels and the dress, tucking them into my side as I approached the bedroom. Bucky was still asleep, but he had shifted closer to my side of the bed and I briefly wondered if he had woken up while I was gone. I slipped my dress and heels back into the closet, and pulled on the tank top that I normally slept in. Bucky’s phone chirped quietly on our nightstand with a text and I picked it up, unplugging it from the charger and making my way towards the living room.

The text was from Jasmine, and it read, “okay.” I typed in his password- my birthday followed by ‘v3’- and the text thread opened up. The last text from him was at 6:30 pm, hours before he even got home.

Bucky:

Can’t keep doing this.

Jasmine:

Doing what?

Bucky:

Us. I can’t keep seeing you. I’m with Y/N.

Jasmine:

You mean Y/N, the one who sneaks off

to rendezvous with a guy on a boat?

Bucky:

Wanda said she only does it because I

haven’t been faithful to her. She’s seen her head.

Jasmine:

Are you trying to tell me she knows

about us? And that you know about her

and Alex?

Bucky:

I’m not trying to tell you. I am

telling you. I need to make things right.

I can make things right with her.

I fucked up and so did she, but I love her.

She loves me.

Jasmine:

okay.

My lip quivered and tears began to pool in my eyes as I focused on Bucky’s last message. If he had sent that at 6:30, where had he been before coming home? I knew he couldn’t have found someone else to start sleeping with, and I didn’t buy the chance that he was just lying to her. I plucked a tissue from the box on the coffee table and dabbed the corners of my eyes with it. The phone screen turned to black as it timed out, and I couldn’t find it in me to even turn it back on, to continue reading, to see if there was something that I had missed. But I knew that I’d come up empty. Soft footsteps padding against the carpeted floors had me cursing quietly to myself.

I saw Bucky’s reflection in the dark screen of our television without turning around. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and he had put on a pair of navy blue sweatpants. “I called in sick for both of us tomorrow. Figured we could talk about this after breakfast,” he said, slowly inching closer to me. I didn’t respond; I couldn’t respond. “I can’t justify what I did, I know that. And judging from the fact that my phone seemingly disappeared,” I could hear a small smile in his voice. “I’m assuming that you know that I know why you cheated.”

“I could’ve just sat down and talked to you.” I said, setting his phone down on the table and pulling my knees to my chest, staring blankly at the floor. Bucky sat on the opposite end of the couch, not quite sure of where it’d be safe to sit.

“Doll, we both know I wouldn’t have given you the time of day. I would’ve just picked a fight with you, and God knows where we’d be after that.” He said honestly.

“What changed?”

“What changed? Everything. I’d wake up every morning, and you’d be sleeping peacefully on your side of the bed, and all I could see was you smiling and laughing. You stopped doing that with me. And I knew it wasn’t because you had fallen out of love with me, hell, all I see when I look in your eyes as I’d walk out the door every morning was love, even when you knew why I never came home until late. Then I had Wanda look inside your head, to see if you were even happy at all. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when she told me, but it killed me. And instead of blaming you and getting mad at you, I knew it was all my fault. I was the one that hurt you, I was the one that drove you to another man. And as badly I was hurting, I had been hurting you for much longer and much more. I don’t want to be the reason you cry anymore.”

I sniffed, wiping away the tears that spilled from my eyes with a quick flip of my hand. Bucky slid closer to me on the couch, wrapping one arm around my back as he knelt on the floor in front of me. Two of his metal fingers guided my chin up for me to look at him, and I could see every flooding emotion behind his steely blue eyes. There was regret. There was longing. There was heartache. There was love. Beautiful and pure and passionate love. “I won’t ever be able to make up for how much I’ve hurt you, but I want to spend the rest of my life trying. I want to be the one who makes you smile and laugh again.” He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants, and pulled out a burgundy velvet box. He sighed, looking at me with a hopeful glint in his eyes but also a hint of fear. He flipped the top of the box up, and inside it sat a small but beautiful pristine diamond ring. The band was detailed to look like a branch and there were even two intricately carved flowers circled the diamond.

“Marry me. Let me prove to you how much I love you.”

“Okay.” I whispered. He had barely gotten the ring on my finger before his lips were on mine, and I finally felt the passion that I had been craving for so long begin burning between our bodies. I felt the love that we had missed.

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