#Period Typical Sexism | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redlikerozez · 11 months ago

Text

悪魔の巫女 | Akuma no Miko | The Devil's Shrine Maiden (08) written by RedLikeRozes

Chapter 8: Gladiolus (approx word count 5k)

Summary: Matsumae, upon remembering past victories, now has to face the consequences of winning the game.

Gladiolus - victory, pride, remembrance

Content warnings for this chapter: abuse (like a lot… her father is basically just evil), period-typical child brides

(Masterlist)

She should’ve known better, really. Things never turned out too well for her when she bragged about winning.

Matsumae had never been one to boast very often. The first time was when she was a girl of only eleven years old.

“I won! Mama, look! I won!”

A light chuckle escaped her mother’s mouth and she patted the head of the victorious little girl. Her dark brown eyes sparkled brightly up at her mother with immense pride in the golden sunlight of the afternoon.

“That you did, my little flower,” she replied warmly.

“Again, again!” the girl demanded, already scraping the Go stones from off the wooden board to set up again.

While her daughter may have boundless energy and motivation to play Go nonstop for hours, her mother was beginning to lose her interest — and, most importantly, her patience with the strategy game — especially with her young daughter for an opponent. Her mother hadn’t lost a game since teaching her daughter how to play up until now. Of course, she’d only let her win to end the game quickly, but her daughter didn’t need to know that.

“You have finally bested me,” her mother resigned. “Let’s take a break so I can regain my strength to play you again tomorrow.”

The little girl crossed her arms and frowned at her mother’s proposition. “No. I want to beat you again, now. If we don’t play right now, I may never win again! It has to be right now, Mama!” she huffed indignantly.

“My dear-” her mother tried to reason before being interrupted.

“Listen to your mother, you insufferable brat,” spat her father’s voice from the doorway where he had appeared. “Wife, you spoil your daughter too much, filling her head with useless things like games. She’s become wily and stubborn. She’ll never be a good wife.”

Both figures in the room who were so full of life and gaiety only seconds before became instantly demure and stiff at the presence that entered the room.

“Maybe I should find a better wife who would actually give me a son and properly discipline children.”

The slap to his wife’s face was one without mercy.

“Forgive me,” she said, bowing her head and holding her hot cheek with a cold palm. The girl, upon seeing her mother bow, did the same.

The girl suddenly felt her hair tugged upwards roughly and winced in pain, shutting her eyes tightly for what usually followed. Go stones spilled out of the girl’s lap and clattered onto the floor.

“Stop this nonsense, child,” he ordered harshly. “If I see this stupid game again after I leave this room, you’ll be sorry.”

“I understand, Father,” she whispered in a small voice, holding back a choking sob in her throat.

The iron grip on her hair released and she dropped to the floor with a sigh of relief. Two terrified eyes watched his figure walk out of the room with a small bug-like monster buzzing around his head like always. Her mother never seemed to notice it. Before he left, he made sure to kick over the wooden game board, scattering what was left of the stones all over the tatami mats.

Once she was sure her father was out of earshot, a silent tear fell from her once-sparkling eyes and she crawled over to her mother’s lap.

“I’m so sorry, Mama,” she whimpered into her mother’s chest in a barely audible voice.

“Shh, little flower,” her mother comforted, stroking her back soothingly. “Why don’t you go find Lady Yoriko and resume your studies for the evening? Your father and I would be grateful.”

“Yes, Mama,” she acquiesced after a deep breath.

Lady Yoriko was their family’s live-in teacher and mentor for their daughter. She was a high-born lady of the court and was instructing the Byouma’s daughter in the ways of being a proper lady, something her mother had very little experience in, being born and raised in a wealthy farmer’s house. The Byouma’s had only recently gained wealth from the father’s successful and shrewd business as a merchant, finally making a name for himself after being injured in battle when he was a young man. His injury had gotten him honorably discharged from the shogunate army, and despite struggling for some years, it seemed that his luck had finally turned around.

With this newfound prosperity, his only focus was on maintaining and prolonging his legacy. Marrying off his only daughter to some lord with either land or title was of the utmost importance if his wife continually failed to conceive a son. So employing a home tutor to ensure this future for his clan was a necessity. However, his daughter was a stubborn and impudent thing, frequently running away from her lessons, much to the chagrin of Lady Yoriko and the girl’s mother.

Even after being taught many skills required of a lady, her koto playing was nothing special. Neither was her singing, nor her calligraphy. But Lady Yoriko assured her father that she was a bright young girl with an active imagination and passion for poetry and reading. Lady Yoriko knew that with time, perhaps lots of time, the girl could become an elegant and proper lady fit for any wealthy man or even lord to marry, but only if she actually applied herself to her studies.

Taking off down the hallway, the girl found her teacher out in the rock garden painting a delicate scene of sakura in bloom. She approached cautiously and quietly, hoping not to disturb the stern older teacher.

She bowed her head behind the woman and spoke with a soft monotone and even voice, “Lady Yoriko, my mother and father request for me to go back to my lessons for the evening, if you’ll have me.”

The lady didn’t even look back. She only paused her brush stroke and raised a plucked eyebrow upon hearing the girl’s voice.

“Is that so,” she said flatly, not really phrasing it as a question. “Begin by reciting ten times,” she ordered.

The girl internally groaned upon hearing the order and raised her head, careful not to show any emotion on her face and began reciting:

“Although its scent still lingers on the form of a flower has scattered away

For whom will the gloryof this world remain unchanged?

Arriving today at the yonder sideof the deep mountains of evanescent existence

We shall never allow ourselves to drift awayintoxicated, in the world of shallow dreams.”

“One,” counted her teacher, smiling softly at the perfect recitation. She picked up her brush to resume her painting. “Continue.”

The girl continued reciting Iroha nine more times, each more perfect than the last. When she had finished, Lady Yoriko finally turned around to gaze upon the girl with a pleased look on her face.

“What was it this time, then?” she asked the girl.

“Go,” she responded solemnly, scrunching up her nose slightly before remembering herself and correcting her face. “Father has forbidden me from playing the game ever again. And I finally won against Mother, too.”

Lady Yoriko’s plucked eyebrows raised again upon hearing this. “Go is a popular game in the court, even among ladies. I will speak with him about this matter. It will be useful for your studies to continue learning the game.”

The girl’s eyes widened, smiling brightly at her words. “Really?” she asked a little too enthusiastically for her teacher’s liking.

Lady Yoriko scowled and said, “It is improper for a lady to show such excitement. Please, remember yourself.”

The girl schooled her expression instantly and apologized.

“Perhaps I can teach you some popular strategies if you promise to practice koto.” Lady Yoriko posited, clearly planning on bribing the girl to comply with her lessons.

The girl’s eyes were sparkling with excitement at her words, but tried her best to keep her face as still as possible.

“I promise I’ll do it,” she swore to her teacher.

She was already hiking up her kimono layers and scampering down the hallways to fetch the stringed instrument.

“Lady Byouma!” her teacher called after, horrified. “Ladies do not-”

But she stopped herself. It was no use. The girl had already sprinted off into the manor out of sight. She shook her head disapprovingly and sighed heavily.

“This child…”

The next instance was several years later, when she was newly fifteen.

Lady Yoriko had just slid open the shoji door to the room where the girl was currently practicing a melody on the koto that her mother had requested her to learn. She had no time to criticize her posture or finger placement, but shuffled through the doors holding two letters and began to announce the news.

Her father had requested a special performance later this evening before him and several important guests.

Upon hearing her mentor’s words, the girl struck a wrong, sour chord on the koto and stopped playing instantly.

“He said what?” she asked, absolutely bewildered, but trying to regain her composure. She cleared her throat and tried again, “Pardon me, Lady Yoriko. Can you repeat what you said?”

“Your father has requested a koto performance and recitation tonight at dinner to show off to several guests your progression in ladyship,” she said again, delicately.

It took her a moment to resume the song again, mind racing at her mentor’s words. Her father had never requested something like this before.

“What is the occasion for Father to request such a thing of me?” she phrased carefully.

Lady Yoriko hesitated and listened to the girl play music for a moment before speaking. “My lord has informed me that he has begun to receive potential offers for your hand in marriage, the most interesting being the son of a wealthy general close to the shogun. Consider it a test to see if you are a presentable option to your suitors. They are concerned about your aptitude as a lady and wife given your family’s background.”

She stopped strumming the instrument, taking in Lady Yoriko’s words and mulling over them in her head.

“Lady Yoriko, couldn’t you have told me this earlier?” she asked, trying not to sound as terrified as she felt. “I need time to prepare… I need-”

“Everything has already been arranged, but I only found out this morning,” she said grimly. “Your father only just told me or I would have undoubtedly told you sooner. Trust me, I am just as displeased with the timing of this affair as you.”

The same moment, her mother came in with two attendants trailing behind, panting and out of breath. They looked like they’d been running.

“Have you heard?” her mother asked. The girl nodded. “Then we must begin preparations immediately!”

It seemed like her father really hadn’t told anyone about this affair. Maybe he was secretly sabotaging the poor girl just to beat her for messing up later. Whatever the reason, the house suddenly became lively with servants bustling about trying to clean and make the house as suitable as possible for the important guests tonight.

As for the girl and her attendants, her mother and mentor, there was much to be done to make her presentable to men of such standing. Eyebrows needed to be plucked and drawn on, teeth needed to be dyed black, white foundation needed to be applied, and red lips needed to be painted. As for her clothes, she was dressed extensively in around fourteen layers of silk, each more intricate and lavish than the last.

It was the girl’s first time she’d ever been dressed up like a proper lady before. The first time she was being presented as a potential bride for wealthy suitors. Though thoroughly terrified at this proposition, she knew in her mind and heart that there was no room for error tonight. This was her one chance to prove to her father and the world that she was a lady and an adequate bride.

She could only dream of finally being taken away from her father’s house to live with a new man and start a family of her own, full of love and gentleness. She had no idea what any of her suitors would be like, but truth be told, she didn’t think anything could be worse than her father.

Standing in the shadow of the paper screen door, she practiced reciting every poem she knew off hand and ghosted her hands over phantom koto strings.

“Presenting Lady Byouma Matsumae, only daughter of Lord Byouma Kojiro,” Lady Yoriko announced as she ushered an attendant to open up the shoji door to reveal the girl.

Matsumae blushed feverishly, hoping the foundation caking her skin would hide the uncouth color on her cheeks. She entered the room gracefully whilst covering most of her face with an ornate fan and quickly flashed a glance at the guests.

Her father sat in the middle with her mother at his side. There were two elderly gentlemen at his right and left, each with a younger man sitting at their right hand side, presumably their sons. The left men looked to be from the shogunate, with stiff posture and determined gazes, wearing the typical military robes of swordsmen currently off duty. The right men looked more relaxed and were wearing fine silks, similar to the dress of her father, probably merchants as well.

Everyone watched her with anticipation as she floated to the center of the room and swished herself down in a flash on a floor cushion.

The two older men gasped and one son had his mouth slightly agape.

“So elegant,” the military general breathed.

“Like a swan!” the merchant exclaimed.

She slowly lowered the fan covering her face and bowed to everyone in the room before her. Lady Yoriko took a seat a little ways behind her, watching with pride. When the girl picked her head up, she just stared at her father, waiting for his instruction with a practiced serene expression.

“As you can see, she has graceful features,” her father remarked. “Cheeks full like apples and lips thin like reeds.”

“Her eyes are as big and bright as a koi fish’s,” the merchant noticed, thoroughly entranced.

“Yes, but her nose is a little low and a bit too wide for my tastes,” noted the general.

Her father’s eyes narrowed at Matsumae briefly, as if blaming her for her own features.

“What, are you blind?” the merchant retorted. “She is quite beautiful, Lord Byouma.”

“Just wait until you hear her play!” her father encouraged the men who waited eagerly for the performance to begin.

He made a motion to Lady Yoriko. She shuffled over next to Matsumae and helped her carry the koto into her lap. She nodded at her pupil, whispering inaudibly to the rest, “Begin.”

She takes a deep breath and swishes her kimono sleeves out of the way and places her hands gently above the strings. Her heart was thrumming in her chest as she began plucking out the melody she’d practiced for years, nothing like the complicated melody her mother asked her to learn a couple weeks ago.

She was nearly finished with the song when suddenly her mind fell blank. What on earth was the next chord? She couldn’t remember. She’d never messed up this part of the song before and for the life of her, she just couldn’t figure out the next note.

She paused her shaking hands and even shakier breath and stared down at the instrument in her lap in painful, awestruck, confusion. Wracking her brain for anything she could think of, her face twisted in horror and shock as she continued to draw a blank. It had been a couple seconds of silence at this point, surely not gone unnoticed by the guests.

Her panicked eyes searched around the room for answers. Instantly locking eyes with her mother, she found sorrow and disappointment staring back at her. Gazing to the figure next to her mother, her father was glaring daggers and curses into her heart and soul as the sickening high-pitched laughter of the bug-monster tittered about around his head. No one else seemed to notice or hear this.

The merchants to the left of her father looked worried and concerned while the military men to the right, especially the general, looked disgusted. He wasn’t even looking at her, his gaze was set on the floor, shaking his head.

“See? This is what I was worried about, Kyotaro,” the general mumbled to his son viciously.

And with that, he actually stood up and began walking out of the room.

“I’ve seen enough of your daughter,” he mentioned. “We will be rescinding our offer. Thank you for your time, Lord Byouma.”

The son, Kyotaro, looked over to Matsumae with a sorrowful look in his eyes and nodded slightly to her before bowing to the host and taking his leave as well, following after his father.

Matsumae was trying to hold back tears at this point. There was no way she had fumbled her one chance at freedom so stupidly. She gently pushed the instrument off her lap with still shaking hands and reached for her fan to cover her face in shame.

Lady Yoriko was already taking the instrument away, a brief hand on her shoulder as condolences.

Her father was chasing after the general and his son, spouting numerous apologies and was practically begging for them to come back to no avail.

She flashed the fan in front of her face and looked away to Lady Yoriko who nodded at her. She moved to get up and leave the room.

“W-wait!” the merchant spoke up. “Will you still recite for us?”

Matsumae locked eyes with the eager man. His words stuck into her skin like knives. A part of her wondered if was only asking for pity’s sake. She looked back at her mother who nodded silently.

“If my lord wishes to hear me recite, then I will recite,” she said as evenly as possible, trying desperately not to let her voice break.

She silently racked her fluttering heart for a poem that she could definitely remember.

The ever-vigilant Lady Yoriko spoke up upon seeing her start to panic again, “Does my lord have any requests? Lady Byouma is quite well-read.”

The merchant also began racking his brain for a while, which Matsumae was thankful for. It gave her some time to calm down and begin remembering titles and lines of poems and novels that she was familiar with.

The silence broke as a soft voice spoke up, “Does my lady know Genji Monogatari? It’s my favorite.” It was the son of the merchant.

She flashed a quick glance to the son and nodded gently. He was a plain, but handsome man, maybe eighteen or twenty. His eyes were bright and kind. He leaned slightly forward on his calves, eager for her to begin.

Neither of the two merchants seemed phased that she had just bungled her koto playing. Maybe she could still save herself.

She began in earnest, reciting each word perfectly. The two merchants perked up and leaned in even closer, dazzled with her storytelling. She grew more confident upon seeing their reactions and began adding voices and small actions to add more color to different parts of the story.

Her father eventually came back in and returned to his seat. He didn’t bother looking up at his daughter or even listen to her recitation. She tried to block out the laughter of that cursed bug-monster that would chime in every now and then.

“...on rare occasions, despite all resistance, love did gain a hold upon him, it was always in the most improbable and hopeless entanglement that he became involved,” she recited.

At this line, she made direct eye contact with the son of the merchant. She saw a faint blush come to his cheeks and he looked away, embarrassed.

Maybe she really had saved herself.

Suddenly, her father spoke up, “Ok, that’s enough. We’ve heard enough of that, yes.”

She shut her mouth quickly and shrank back into her skin.

“Does the Lady Byouma possess any other notable skills other than koto and recitation?” the elder merchant asked. “How about haiku?”

“I believe we have heard quite enough out of the Lady Byouma,” he interjected bluntly, clearly still unsatisfied with her performance earlier.

“Can you play Go?” piped up the merchant’s son.

Matsumae looked at him and then to her father with bright eyes, hoping to be granted permission.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea-”

“I would very much like to play a game of Go with Lady Byouma,” the man said confidently but not rudely. “With your permission of course, sir.”

Her father narrowed his eyes for a moment and silently considered his options. The despicable bug that buzzed and swished around his head was laughing uncontrollably as he stayed silent. He made a motion to Lady Yoriko and she motioned a nearby attendant to go grab the wooden board and stones. Her father nodded to the son who thanked him in return.

The attendant came back with the game materials and another servant helped move up a cushion for the merchant’s son to sit on next to the board.

“Shall we begin, my lady?” he asked, sitting across from her with a nervous smile on his face.

She nodded, smiling back at him.

After several minutes of near silence as the two played the game, only occasionally glancing up at each other to smile and then hurriedly look away.

Finally, there was a winner.

“I believe that is the game,” she said, placing a final stone with pride in her eyes.

The merchant’s son looked at the board in awe, suddenly aware of his grave situation.

“I resign. You win, my lady.”

“Indeed, my lord,” she said, smiling boldly. “I have bested you.”

He let out a chuckle and bowed his head. “That you have,” he spoke, intrigued with her confidence.

Her father said a couple more words to the merchant and his son, thanking them for coming and bidding them a safe trip back home. The son wasn’t listening to any of it. He was utterly enchanted with Matsumae, practically gawking at her the whole time, stealing glances whenever he could feasibly do so.

Matsumae was hiding her blushing cheeks with the fan. The son was enamored. There was no doubt he was still interested in her as a bride, even if the general and his son weren’t, even if she had completely made a fool of herself with the koto performance.

“We will be in touch, Lord Byouma,” the merchant assured her father. “We are very impressed with your lovely daughter.”

They left with their attendants and promised again that they would send correspondence of their decision in the coming days.

Matsumae, Lady Yoriko, her mother, and several attendants were helping Matsumae undress in her room. All fourteen layers of silk were whisked away to be cleaned and hung back up on the kimono racks, called ikou.

Without warning her father suddenly slammed open the shoji door, causing everyone inside to jump in surprise.

“Leave,” he commanded the servants.

The attendants bowed and left hurriedly. Same with Lady Yoriko. But her mother refused.

“She did nothing wrong, Kojiro,” her mother pleaded. “It was only a small mistake. Please, do not punish her for this.”

But he wasn’t really there. Left in the room, it was only Lady Byouma, Matsumae and her father’s wrath.

“Wife, leave,” he threatened.

“I refuse.”

He looked at her with an intense gaze before he slapped her so hard she fell to the floor.

Matsumae tried to remain calm. Internally, she knew the moment she messed up that things were bound to end up like this eventually. But what she didn’t expect was her mother trying to persuade him out of it.

He started with insults first. Calling her all sorts of names under the sun like “useless, screw-up, idiot,” she just closed her eyes and listened, trying to block out any emotion on her face as his words seared into her ears like burning hot coals.

Next began the worst part. His punches and kicks to her still-growing body, never failed to heal in more than a couple of weeks at most. It was lucky that she wasn’t allowed out of the house much or else people would see her skin and face decorated with bruises in various stages of the healing process. Only once had he broken her arm by accident, but even that seemed to heal fairly quickly.

Today, however, he seemed hell-bent on actually causing real damage to her as punishment for bungling her most promising marriage prospect. His blows had more anger to them than ever before, and more power. Sometimes it even felt like as he punched her, there was almost a second, slightly delayed impact to his attacks.

He was aiming mostly for her nose, spouting curses about how ugly and misshapen it looked. Next, he targeted her arms and hands in particular for forgetting the melody to the song. When he was finished, several of her fingers were twisting in directions that shouldn’t normally be possible.

She squinted through her already blackening eyes as he kept going. Usually he only did this for a couple minutes, but with his newfound anger, it seemed like he really wasn’t going to stop until she was dead or dying.

Seeing this intensity and animosity in her husband's eyes, her mother jumped in front of her daughter, shielding her from the onslaught for a brief moment.

Almost as if he had predicted this, he slammed his wife's head down, but he had miscalculated. The edge of her temple hit the edge of a piece of furniture before she crashed to the floor, growing still.

This seemed to halt him for the time being. He backed off and looked at his work, satisfied. He turned around to leave the room and call for a doctor, but he paused briefly to spit back in their direction as he left.

Her mother was never the same after that. She mostly sat still and had to be fed and bathed and carried everywhere. There were moments when sometimes she could recognize Matsumae or her surroundings, but for the most part these were fleeting minutes of clarity in a new forever of quiet stillness.

Matsumae prayed that her marriage would go through soon with that son of the merchant. She wanted to get out as quickly as possible and take her mother with her.

It was two agonizingly long months later that the rejection notice came, saying that they heard of another maiden of similar beauty that had a larger dowry. That was the final breaking point for her father, his anger boiled over and he ran for the vitriol.

The last instance was just now.

She should have known better, really. Nothing good ever comes from her boasting.

Even encased in ice, she still found a smile across her lips as she heard the retreating footsteps of Uraume and her master.

It only just dawned on her that the game was over. A euphoric string of laughter escaped her mouth, something she hadn’t heard in a long time.

“I won!” she realized. “I won the game!”

Sukuna stopped walking upon hearing her outburst. Uraume looked back with indescribable fury and narrowed eyes at such disrespect.

She couldn’t stop laughing at the irony of it all. Neither of the two participants really expected this outcome.

But she was technically right, Sukuna concluded.

He had promised not to kill her if she won the game. However, he never said anything about Kenjaku. Who knows what that creature would do if he got his despicable fingers on her. At this point, Sukuna didn’t really care what happened to her. As long as she was out of his sight, he couldn’t care less what Kenjaku or anyone else did with her.

Kenjaku, who had been watching the fight from further up the mountain, was grinning with malicious intent at the girl. He watched Sukuna and Uraume disappear into the mountains and slowly descended before the girl, approaching cautiously.

He toppled over a couple of limbs with his foot from the pile that had formed and smiled even wider.

“Truly remarkable,” he admired.

Matsumae stopped laughing at hearing an unfamiliar voice and whipped her head around in the direction of the new signature of cursed energy that had approached. His cursed energy left a sting in her eyes and an acidic and bitter taste in her mouth, like she was about to throw up.

Sukuna’s cursed energy reeked of death and pure strength and power, but this person’s cursed energy felt downright vile and evil. She’d never encountered anything like it before, and instantly snapped out of whatever mood she’d let consume her momentarily.

“Who… Or what are you?” she asked, still not sure if what was in front of her was even human or a curse.

“No one and everyone, I suppose. I am whoever I want to be,” he replied. This only served to confuse her further. “But who I am does not matter. I want to know, just what are you? And what is it that you can do?”

She didn’t know how to respond as she heard his strangely calm footsteps slowly walk up towards her trapped form. She started to panic internally, not wanting this person to come any closer and tried in vain to wriggle out of the ice trapping her lower half.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

There was a swift chop to the back of her neck and she fell unconscious.

A/N:

(Masterlist)

Words to know:

Ikou - kimono stand Go - Chinese strategy game played with white and black stones, sort of similar to chess Haiku - a traditional Japanese form of poetry composed of three lines with a pattern of 5-7-5 syllables each Sakura - cherry blossoms Iroha - a Japanese famous poem written at some point during the Heian era, it's a perfect panagram of the different kana in the Japanese syllabary (linked in works cited for the translation I found) Genji Monogatari - The Tale of Genji, one of the most famous early novels written at some point during the Heian era by Murasaki Shikibu (linked in works cited for the translation I found)

Works Cited

“Iroha.” Translated by Ryuichi Abe, Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 17 Feb. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iroha.

Murasaki, Shikibu. The Tale of Genji. Translated by Arthur Waley, eBook #66057, The Riverside Press Cambridge, 1925, The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Tale of Genji, https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66057/pg66057-images.html#Footnote_I_1, Accessed 4 May 2024.

Thanks for reading this far! Comments and kudos are always appreciated and I will try to reply to all that I can. Feel free to ask any questions in the comments below! xoxoxo

Tags: @chaoticwinnercupcake @kariatenoh

Cross-posted on tumblr and AO3.

All writing and art posted by this blog is original work by ©RedLikeRozez. Do not reupload, translate, copy, or claim as your own work.

35 notes · View notes

schrijverr · 2 years ago

Text

I Found Myself a Cheerleader 1

Chapter 1 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

He befriends Chrissy and grows as thick as thieves with her. Over the summer he adds Robin to his friends as well. Meanwhile Eddie seems to have taken an interest in the fallen king, but Steve can’t figure out quite yet why Eddie is talking with him. Flirting with him?

On AO3.

Ships: eventual steddie & buckingham

Warnings: period typical sexism, period typical homophobia, internalized homophobia, child neglect mention, bullying, f-slur

~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: The Deal

Steve has quit the basketball team after winter break. Before winter break he was technically still on the team, but not allowed to play due to his concussion. Now he is healed enough to get back on the court, but Billy has turned most of the team against him, which makes playing impossible. Hence the quitting.

However, now he has a slot he needs to fill if he wants to make it into college. He can’t join some braniac team, he’s barely scraping by. Going back to swimming also isn’t an option, since the swim team is practically the same as the basketball team and he doesn’t fancy drowning.

He wishes he could just continue playing basketball. That it wasn’t that bad. That he could man up and make it through. But he can’t, he really can’t. He likes his bones in one piece and the doctor said another concussion might be the end of what his brain can take.

So, he sits longingly alongside the court and watches the team train, aching to just have an activity he is good at again. To not feel like such a failure.

A loud and frustrated sigh pulls him from his thoughts and his eyes are pulled to the cheerleaders that are also practicing in the gym. The captain of the cheer team, Molly, throws up her hands and says: “It isn’t gonna work like this.”

“No need to snap,” Heather, one of the other girls, scowls. “Mary can’t help that she’s sick. She’ll be back after the weekend and then we’ll train the whole thing properly.”

“I know that,” Molly snaps. “But it’s throwing everything off and we need to get this routine straight. We can’t afford to have anyone missing.”

“We know,” Heather rolls her eyes, still posed to fight.

Molly sighs and says: “I just need this competition to go well.”

Heather softens at that and places a hand on Molly’s shoulder and smiles: “We’re gonna kill it. Don’t worry too much, Molls. Lets just run it again, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Molly smiles, before loudly clapping her hands and getting everyone back into position to go from the top.

Without realizing Steve has ambled closer to the cheerleaders. He startles a little at the loud clap, before watching at the routine starts up again. He has often watched the cheerleaders, they’re at the sides of big games and the team always stared together.

However, he has never really paid any attention to their training. Right now, though, he watches in awe as they toss each other in the air and keep smiling as they tumble about.

Since he is aware of it, he can clearly see where one of the girls is missing. When some of the girls are lifted some shapes are uneven and a few stay on the ground with an annoyed look. Certain formations are also incomplete. At one point one of the girls nearly falls, because someone who is supposed to be there isn’t.

The routine comes to an end and Steve can clearly see Molly, who is on the cusp of breaking down again. In Steve’s opinion it doesn’t look that difficult, well, what seems to be missing that is. It’s just holding someone up. Not like he has to do a back flip.

He hasn’t consciously realized what he’s doing until he’s tapping Molly on the shoulder. She startles and turns, before getting big eyes and smiling softly as she greets: “Hi, Steve.”

While Steve’s popularity has gone down considerably since Billy showed up, he is still well liked under the female student body. He smiles back at her and says: “Hi, Molly. Uhm- This is really stupid.” He rubs the back of his head, suddenly aware of how much he is not allowed to do what he is about to do. “I-” he lets out a breath and decides to go for it. “I heard you talking earlier, about missing someone. Can I help?”

It’s quiet and Steve immediately regrets even looking in their direction.

A boy doesn’t do cheerleading, it’s a girls sport. Barely even a sport. Just a thing they do to look pretty. He has no business being close to it beyond asking a cheerleader out. He has already plummeted vastly in popularity, the last thing he needs is gay rumors floating around. No matter how true they’d be.

He just wants to be helpful, do something he might be able to for a change. But he didn’t think it through and now he’s done something stupid. Like he always does.

Steve is about to take it back, play it off as a joke or just walk away if nothing comes to mind in the next second, when Molly lights up. “That’s perfect!” she grins. “Mary is a base position, which should be easy to teach. Thank you so much.”

Some of the other girls send him some weird looks, but after Molly’s relieved thanks, he doesn’t have the heart to turn away. So, he awkwardly shrugs: “It’s no problem, not like I have anything better to do.”

He is ignored by Molly, who turns around and addresses the others: “Go over parts you’re struggling with for a little. Lisa, Karen, Susan, come here!”

Three girls come their way as the others devolve into doing their own thing. Molly asks him: “Are you warmed up?”

Steve doesn’t think this will be that much effort, so he nods. It’s honestly his mistake, along with staying in his jeans and shirt.

He is shown the proper way to hold up a flyer. He hadn’t even realized before now that there were multiple positions in cheerleading. However, here he is. He is filling in for a base, so he’s holding Karen, the flyer, along with Lisa, the other base. Meanwhile Susan is the back spotter, she is the first to catch Karen should it go wrong. It’s important to catch the flyer properly or one can risk hurting the flyer quite badly.

Within a few minutes Steve gains so much respect for cheerleading, something he and the other guys have always put aside as some easy girly thing.

As he lifts Karen, he can feel her muscles under his hands as she has to keep everything tense as to not loose her balance on just their hands. Lisa is also a lot stronger than she looks, holding half of Karen’s weight along with Steve. He is already sweating through his polo and he definitely can’t keep smiling as he does this.

After a while he is able to get it. Molly is satisfied with his progress and deems it enough to call everyone together again. She says: “Okay, we can’t go through the routine, because Steve doesn’t know it and he isn’t going to learn this quick. So, we’re just going through the pyramids slowly, alright?”

She gets cheers back and instructs Lisa to make sure Steve knows what to do as everyone moves back to position.

Lisa is his saving grace, because Steve can’t keep up with how easily they all shift between position, creating structures out of just their bodies, before flipping down, tumbling around and doing it again.

He hadn’t realized how much mental space it takes to keep track of everyone’s position. He is very impressed with all the cheerleaders and he is genuinely having fun.

Cheerleading is a physical activity that he’s actually quite good at, throwing Karen around with ease and watching her fly. And for once he isn’t being pushed around.

A part of him knows that he shouldn’t be having fun, that he should have never even offered to do it and play it off as trying to get a date if someone asked. But it’s hard to keep the happiness away or not reply to the high five Lisa offers when they pull off a tricky stunt.

So, it’s not until the basketball team takes a break and he is spotted that the pit in his stomach, that he felt when he first offered, returns. He’s holding one of Karen’s legs when he hears Billy sneer: “Look at that, Harrington’s turned from a king into a princess.”

He can’t risk hurting Karen, so he grits his teeth as he hears the rest of his former team snicker. The stunt still needs to be completed, so Steve tries to tune them out as they bounce so Karen gets the height she needs for a flip.

Once she is safely on the ground, Steve looks at his old teammates, who have all collected to laugh at him. His cheeks burn with shame and he looks to the ground. He just wanted to help, do something nice for a change.

A hand on his arm, makes him look up. Lisa is looking at him with a kind and concerned look. She quietly says: “You don’t have to stick around. We get it. Mary will get better and we’ll pick up training Monday again.”

Steve is quite tempted to take her offer. To just run and be a coward, because a coward is better than being tossed for the tigers. Being a coward is better than being a queer.

However, before he can, Molly is speaking up. She overheard what Lisa said and doesn’t want to stop training. She needs Steve there. She crosses her arms and says: “All of you stop laughing right now, or you’re not getting a date from a cheerleader for the rest of the year. Steve was gentleman enough to offer help when we needed it. Maybe take an example.”

That shuts the boys right up. Steve knows what they talk about in the locker room, almost all the boys there want a date with a cheerleader. A bit of fun at Steve’s expense isn’t worth blowing that chance over.

Billy’s face goes through an amusing journey of emotions. In the end he scoffs and turns away with a: “Let the ballerinas do their thing.”

Molly’s face contorts in a hateful look, before she takes a deep breath and lets it go. Steve honestly admires her ability to do so.

She turns back to Steve and puts on big eyes as she clasps her hands together and says: “Please, Steve, stay for a little. We really appreciate your help. You’re such a gentleman, I mean that, you know. A knight in shining armor. Please, stay a little more, we’d all owe you.”

If he hadn’t grown up around his mother and seen how Molly plastered on the dainty, pleading eyes, he wouldn’t have realized this was a manipulation. She is playing into his masculinity and implying he could score a date if he stays.

Luckily for Molly, Steve is having too much fun to turn down a reason to continue, so he pretends to fall for it. He puts on his best smirk and replies: “I mean, how could I refuse a lady in need of help.”

She brightens up, this time the smile is genuine and Steve feels even better about his decision to fuck what anyone thinks. He has already been kicked to the bottom of the ladder. If he has to be here, he might as well do something fun.

He discovers that cheerleaders train almost more rigorously as the basketball team. He is there for another hour, running through the drills again and again. By the time they go home, he at least knows where to stand to not be in the way, though the arm movements escape him.

As he leaves, Lisa gives him a soft smile. She isn’t the loudest, but Steve quite likes her calm and steady presence. Throwing Karen around together has created a bit of a bond. So, he smiles back and says: “Bye, Lisa.”

“Bye, Steve,” she says. “Thank you for staying. Molly has been really stressed about practice lately.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” he tells her, looking around for a second, before he admits: “It was quite fun actually. You girls are crazy strong. I never realized.”

That makes Lisa let out a laugh and she grins: “We’re full of surprises,” before they truly say goodbye and go their separate ways.

Steve has been avoiding showering at school with the basketball team out to get him, so he gets into his car in sweaty clothes. Today he’s relieved his parents are never home. Explaining why he’s sweaty in his day clothes to his father would likely be the last thing he did.

Another thing he is relieved about, is that it is weekend. He hopes that it either doesn’t go the rounds that badly with no one stuck in one building and that by the time Monday rolls around the excitement will have died down.

He gets radioed by Dustin, asking him to drive him and the rest of the nerd squad to the arcade. He agrees easily, needing the distraction.

Because what Steve hadn’t counted on, is how the cheerleading would get stuck in his head. He had expected it to be a one time thing, something nice that would keep his mind of basketball for a bit, but instead he can’t help but think back on how much fun he’d had.

Cheerleaders have a very different team dynamic from basketball. There is more yelling of good jobs and needing to work together, instead of people trying to steal the spotlight and pushing each other around. It was quite nice.

Plus, it felt great to exercise again. And it felt much more like a team sport with Karen needing to trust him and Lisa to keep her upright and to count on Lisa to do her part, while Steve did his. He can’t deny that a part of him wants to do it again.

So, he drives up to Dustin’s house, then the others and listens to them gush about the campaign Will is running, making the shy boy blush. Then they move on how Max still has the high score, but she’s gonna meet them there and Dustin will observe her strategy, then beat her.

Steve doubts that, Max is a beast in the arcade. However, he lets Dustin live in his world as he watches them go nuts, lending the group quarters when they start to come up short.

He muses that these kids have a hobby they like. He used to have that, but basketball is kind of off limits right now. Even playing just for fun is ruined, since those games are mostly the basketball team or people who are friends with the basketball team. All of whom now hate Steve.

He still shoots some hoops alone in his backyard and swims laps in the pool (albeit with less ease after Barb), but he wants to do something with other people again.

Once more his mind drifts to cheerleading, but he quickly pushes that thought away. Cheerleading is for girls, he already got enough shit as is, he doesn’t need more. Besides, Mary will return and they won’t even need an extra person.

It’s not going to happen, so he should let it go and find something new.

“For the last time, zoomer isn’t a thing,” Mike complains loudly. Lucas jumps to Max’s defense at that, something that isn’t appreciated and the group devolves into squabbling over DnD categories again.

Steve wonders if he should pick up DnD. Dustin has explained it to him a few times, but it sounded hard and the thought of having to face Eddie Munson and his crew made Steve’s stomach churn.

He knows it’s his own fault that such a group will probably not welcome him with open arms, but it still isn’t a great feeling. Now that he is paying attention to others than the basketball team more, he can’t deny that the Hellfire club seems to like each other a lot more. Something that Steve will never get to experience, because he burned those bridges before they could even form.

Maybe he could join band. His parents forced him to learn piano when he was younger, though he doubts piano is part of band. Besides, he has seen the people at the band table. He likely won’t be welcome there either.

Honestly, at this point the only place he might not get shunned is the Hawkins High school newspaper, but that will be because of Nancy and Jonathan, which will only make it all the more mortifying. No thanks.

Contemplating his position, he lets out a deep sigh. Then yelps when a voice next to him suddenly asks: “Are you okay, Steve?”

He looks down to see Will looking up at him with concerned eyes. Steve forces a smile onto his face and assures the kid: “Yeah, baby Byers, I’m okay. You doing good? Need a quarter?”

“No, it’s fine,” Will tells him. “I was just asking, because you look sad. Mom told me to keep an eye on you. She wants to make sure you know you can talk to her about what all happened. You sure nothing’s bothering you?”

Will says it with the ease of a kid, who isn’t fully aware of when they are sharing too much, but the words hit Steve right in the chest.

After the Upside Down bullshit, he hasn’t been sleeping as well and there is no one really to lean on. He is distracting himself with school and driving the kids around. His parents aren’t home to notice anything, yet here Joyce is, showing more care than any adult ever has for Steve.

He has to swallow as to not break down and ruffles Will’s hair as he clears his throat. “That’s sweet, kid, but I’m good. I promise. Just thinking about school.”

At that Will nods with understanding and it hurts that this little kid knows more about what Steve is going through at his age. No one should have to struggle with kids being mean, but Will especially doesn’t deserve it with all he has been through.

To distract from the moment, he holds up a quarter and says: “Wanna bet I can beat Dustin’s Pac-Man high score?”

Will giggles: “He’ll be so mad if you do. It’s his only pride after Max took over everywhere.”

“Lets go boil his blood,” Steve tells Will, even though he isn’t even good at Pac-Man. However, it will make Will laugh and then he can make the kid try, paying for it, because he saw how Will ran out of coins a bit ago.

The weekend passes further until it is Monday and he is parking at the school. He isn’t looking forward to walking in there, not able to predict what he’ll find. He doesn’t like being unprepared in social situations.

As he walks down the hall, he gets a few weird looks, but no one says anything about it. Maybe Molly’s threat about the dates worked and no one is daring. Steve hopes so.

His luck doesn’t hold up, sadly. During first period a note is handed to him with a crude drawing of him in a cheering costume, the word princess written above it. The door to a classroom is opened for him with the comment: “Ladies first.”

Steve honestly finds it more childish and annoying than hurtful, except that it keeps hitting home what he already knew. That he wasn’t supposed to do that and there is something wrong with him, because he actually enjoyed himself, because he even thought of doing it.

Because cheerleading is for girls. It’s not for boys and the fact that Steve did it and enjoyed it means that somewhere in his brain there is something wrong with him. He already knows that there is something wrong with him, but having it spelled out for him?

It’s soul crushing.

By the time lunch period rolls around, he already knows that he doesn’t want to be in the cafeteria right now. It’s still too cold for anyone to sit outside, besides stepping out for a smoke. So, he sets up camp on a wall outside and eats his lunch. Rather cold than a target.

About halfway through lunch, he hears someone approaching. He steels himself for whatever is coming his way. He turns around, surprised to see it’s Molly and Heather, Lisa running after them as if she is trying to stop them.

She doesn’t make it in time, because Molly is already there. She is staring him down and Steve wonders what she has heard to make her look like that. Uncertain, he asks: “Can I help you with something?”

“Emma broke her leg,” Molly says in lieu of an answer.

“Okay?” Steve replies.

“We need someone to take her place in the competition two weeks from now,” Molly explains further and it starts to click what she is asking.

“No,” Steve denies immediately. He wants to say yes, he would love to do more if he were to listen to the little voice in his head, but he can’t. He has already seen what just one time helping out did to the tatters of his reputation, he can’t imagine what everyone will think or say if he took part in a competition.

Frustration creeps into Molly’s face and she protests: “But Lisa said you told her you had fun. You were good at it. Why not?”

“Molly, no.” Lisa is finally there. She looks apologetically at Steve and says: “I didn’t know she would do this when I mentioned it. I’m sorry, Steve.”

She looks genuinely distraught and Steve instantly feels bad for her. They had built up the most camaraderie together. She obviously felt the same and despite the fact that they needed someone, there was already enough solidarity between them after one practice that she would stick up for him against the cheer captain. That never happens in basketball.

“Let her try,” Heather cuts in, backing up the cheer captain. From what Steve had seen, Heather isn’t afraid to stop Molly if she thinks the other goes too far. Right now she apparently agrees with her friend, though.

Lisa sends him another apologetic look that he answers with a reassuring smile.

Molly gets the attention back on herself and says: “Look, I know why you’re saying no. Trust me, I get it. But this competition is the biggest of the season. It’s statewide and there will be college scouts there. You don’t understand, I need this competition to go well.”

She looks at him with intense eyes and Steve knows this so well. Right now she isn’t trying to manipulate him, she is talking to him as a fellow athlete, whose only chance to get into college is a sports scholarship.

And a part of Steve wants to think fuck it and say yes. He is already hanging on the bottom, might as well do whatever he wants. But he can’t be like the party, like those kids who don’t care and just have fun. He can’t be anything but a Harrington.

“It’s just two weeks,” Heather pleads. “The competition is in two weeks. We’ll train every day so you get it down, you do it once and then you can walk away. We won’t ask more than that.”

“I can’t,” Steve says, sounding apologetic. “You know, I can’t. I should have never offered to help Friday. I don’t even know why you would want to associate with me. You’d be better off trying to convince one of your own friends.”

Molly huffs: “All of our friends are already on the cheer squad.”

“And most girls aren’t able to get strong enough to do the lifts in two weeks,” Lisa adds quietly, joining her friends. She obviously also wants him to say yes, even if she feels bad for how his words were being used against him.

Heather agrees too: “And we can’t teach them how to stunt or catch either in that time. We already know you can fill in as a base. Emma is a base too.”

The more they beg, the harder it is for Steve to say no. He doesn’t want to say no, they all know it, but he has to. He will only be here for half a year more, then he’ll be off to college. He’d like to say in one piece until then and this will be counterproductive.

“Think of it as a deal,” Molly tells him.

“A deal?” he repeats.

“Yeah, the cheer squad is big,” Molly explains. “At least one of us is in all of your classes. We can offer you protection, a social barrier and you can pay us back by doing the competition.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Steve scoffs, though it is quite obvious to everyone in Hawkins High that Steve is a prime target without backup. Now that he stopped performing King Steve, it’s like everyone can see all that is wrong with him.

Clearly Molly thinks the same, because she raises her brow at him. She says: “I’m serious, Steve. I know it’s nonsense, but we’re the girls the guys want to get with and the other girls want to be. And cheer squad sticks together. When Tommy harassed Karen at a party, we all agreed he wouldn't get a date. And look at him. He’s with Carol now.”

Steve remembers the cheer squad turning against Tommy, neither of them had ever figured out why until now. Carol has always considered herself too cool for the cheer squad and Steve wonders if her dating Tommy is a rebellion against them.

“If you say yes, Billy won’t have another date with a cheerleader ever. You’ll sit at the cheer table surrounded by girls. If one of the basketball boys wants a date, they have to be nice to you,” Molly lays it out again. “Just think about it for a second.”

Molly is terrifying, Steve decides. If she ever decides to go into business, she’ll be unstoppable. It’s hard to find reasons to say no. He likes it and his father isn’t even home to be mad about it. His parents will be back next month, by that time everyone will have forgotten about this. They’ll never even have to know.

“Does the deal still stand after the competition?” Steve asks. He is also the son of a business man, he might not like it, but he knows the trade well.

“It sticks till the end of the year and if I make it into college and you have to repeat a year, it extends to next year too,” Molly promises. “Lisa will ensure it.”

“I don’t think that will happen,” Steve protests, but he feels quite relieved. He holds out his hand and smiles: “You got yourself a deal.”

“Yes,” she cheers, shaking his hand, before using the movement to pull him from the wall. “Come on,” she tells him. “No more moping outside. It’s way too cold.”

The four of them make their way inside. Steve is a big believer in seeing is believing, so he still braces himself when they enter the cafeteria. However, no one is willing to risk a cheerleader getting caught in the cross fire.

He gets many glares, but he has long since learned to keep his head up and ignore it as he follows the girls to their table. When he gets there, multiple faces erupt in smiles and Karen excitedly asks: “Did you agree?”

Steve is taken aback by how happy they all are with the news. All of them practically cheer when he nods and they pull him in their midst as they start explaining the competition to him. It’s overwhelming in a good way. Their excitement is infectious and it’s the best lunch period he’s had since before Halloween.

When lunch period is over, Heather hooks her arm around his and smiles: “We have History right now, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, a bit stunned how seriously she takes it without making a big deal out it. He should probably be embarrassed that he is being protected by a group of girls, but he can’t bring himself to care much when Heather rips up the note before it reaches him and he isn’t tripped up again in the hallways.

He has an escort for the entire day and after the last bell has rung, Susan walks with him to cheerleading practicing, because that is what he has agreed to.

This time, he knows better than to try and do this in his normal clothes, so he changes in a toilet stall, feeling a sense of solidarity with all the less sporty kids he’s seen doing that throughout the years.

They start with a warm up, which Steve takes very seriously after how sore he’d been all weekend, as he ignores the looks of the basketball team when they see him stretching with the cheerleaders in his gym clothes.

Those fucker probably thought he would be running far away from them and not dare to do anything they would dislike ever again. Steve feels a smug sense of defiance as he moves to touch his toes.

The others easily slide into splits and Steve honestly has no clue how they do it. Lisa makes eye contact with him from where she is relaxing in a split and quirks a brow at his confused expression, like she can’t understand what is weird about the situation.

“How do you do that?” Steve asks as an explanation. “How are your legs not killing you right now? That’s so fucking impressive.”

Understanding dawns on her face and she softly laughs: “Practice and patience. I’ve been doing cheer since middle school.”

“Wish I could do that,” Steve comments.

“Don’t let coach hear that or she’ll make it her mission to get you there and let me tell you, she is a hardass,” Lisa informs him.

Steve honestly hadn’t considered the fact that the cheer team would also have a coach and anxiety creeps up at the idea of having to face her. Before he can bolt, they’re interrupted by Ms. Miller, who teaches geography. “Everyone gather around,” she calls.

Reluctantly Steve follows after the girls, trying to stay out of sight of Ms. Miller. However, it’s for naught, because Ms. Miller asks: “Molly, have you found someone to replace Emma?”

“Yes, coach,” Molly says. “Steve is helping out.”

Ms. Miller frowns and Steve feels the heat gathering in his cheeks as everyone parts so she can see Steve. Awkwardly he smiles at her and waves. “Uhm, hi, Ms. Miller.”

“It’s coach Miller here,” she tells him. “I expect you to take this seriously. Are you able to do that, Steve?”

“Yes, coach,” the answer comes naturally.

Coach Miller smiles: “Good to hear. Do you have any clue what we’re doing?”

“Uhm, I subbed for Mary Friday, but other than that, no clue,” Steve answers honestly. “Except that it’s for a competition.”

Surprise flashes over coach Miller’s face at the confession, but it is quickly replaced by glee. She claps her hands together and blows her whistle: “Alright everyone, we’re going through the whole thing from the top. Slowly. Make sure Steve knows what’s happening next.”

Everyone immediately starts moving. For a second Steve stands there unsure of what to do, then Heather comes up to him and smiles: “You’re in my group. Come on.”

He easily follows her as she walks towards two other girls. She introduces them both. First she points to a Latina girl with a high ponytail. “This is Sofia, she’s the other base. Look to her for clues.”

Steve nods and shakes Sofia’s hand. He doesn’t have any classes with her, because he thinks she’s a junior. But he has seen her around in Nancy’s AP Honor courses when they were still dating.

“And this is Chrissy, our flyer,” Heather introduces a red hair shy looking girl.

“Hi,” she greets.

“Hello,” Steve replies with a smile he hopes is reassuring. He’s pretty sure the girl is a sophomore, who knows him only by reputation. He doesn’t want to scare her.

After the introductions, Steve is positioned into the starting position. They go through the entire routine at a snail’s pace to ensure Steve can follow along. Today they’re just focusing on being at the right place, tomorrow they’re primarily running through stunts and he’s told that the arm movements will come later.

Like Friday, Steve is having a blast. Sofia is super smart and hilarious. She makes all sorts of jokes under her breath that have all of them struggling not to crack up under the harsh gaze of coach Miller.

Chrissy is also nice and very caring and enthusiastic when she gets out of her shell a little. The only thing is how tiny she is. Steve feels like he’ll break her ankle if he holds her too tightly.

The atmosphere is also so much more fun. Coach Miller is strict much like the basketball coach is, but she still yells out encouragements too. And between the cheerleaders themselves, they’re constantly calling out: “Well done!” or “Oh my god, that was so good!”

If anyone in the basketball team were to do that, they would’ve gotten weird looks and called a fag or something. Steve doesn’t miss it, but he’s sad that all of them are told not to even encourage each other. The most they are allowed is a slap on the back. It doesn’t seem fair.

But he alone can’t change anything about that, so he finds himself in the limbo of smiling when he gets a compliment, but being too awkward to say anything himself as practice goes on.

At they end they all do their cooling down together. Molly takes a place close to Steve and grills him the entire time about how confident he is he can get it before the competition. Steve assures her that he will, though he adds that he doesn’t know if he can keep smiling. “I don’t even know how you all do that,” he tells her.

Molly laughs at that and answers: “Oh, Steve, you are such a guy, you know.”

“What?” he asks, a bit confused and unsure what could have gotten that response.

“Come back to me when you walked a day in heels,” she says instead of answering. “We’re used to smiling through the pain.”

Steve privately thinks that doesn’t sound very healthy, but he keeps his mouth shut, unsure he wants to have this discussion.

They disperse to the changing rooms. Steve contemplates going home sweaty again, but he’s in just his shorts now and it’s still way too cold outside for that. Plus, the basketball team is still going, so he hurries through his shower, hoping he’ll be done, before they get there.

However, they’re done quicker with their punishment laps than Steve expected. So, he’s in the middle of pulling his shirt on when they flood into the changing room.

For a second both Steve and the team freeze, staring at each other in some sort of stand off. Then play is pressed again and Steve is suddenly face to face with Billy, who spits: “What, hanging out with the freaks and little girls wasn’t enough for you, Harrington?”

Steve takes a deep breath, trying not to let it get to him. He replies: “I’m just helping out, Hargrove, you know, doing something nice? Ever heard of the word nice? Or did you skip that lesson in kindergarten?”

Billy bristles and steps forwards, pushing Steve back onto the bench. He gets right up into Steve’s face, who is hit in the face with the stench of teenage boy sweat. He wrinkles his nose, which is the wrong thing to do, because he is grabbed by the front of his shirt and Billy spits: “Those girls can’t help you here. I’m not done with you.”

“Well, I am done with you,” Steve answers coolly, reaching for his bag. He has tried fighting Billy before, that didn’t work out. Now he just hopes he can flee. Let him be a coward, it’s not like anyone here still respects him.

Anger flares up in Billy’s face again and he reels back, probably to hit Steve. However, he is still holding Steve’s shirt, but Steve never managed to put it on properly. So, before the hit lands, he slithers out of it and onto the floor, rolling away and snatching bag as he shoulders his way through the rest of the team, who are luckily too stunned to stop him as he breaks free.

In the hallway, he runs into Lisa, who looks at him in surprise. He looks downs, realizing he’s shirtless and gives her an awkward smile. “Uh, this is intentional?” he says.

“Harrington!” they hear Billy bellow from the changing room and Steve starts power walking away from the changing room, pulling Lisa with him and putting his sweaty shirt on again.

“Are you okay?” Lisa asks with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve smiles at her. “Just going to change at home next time.”

“For what it’s worth, I think it really sucks that they’re treating you like that over this,” Lisa tells him genuinely.

“I get it,” Steve shrugs. “I mean, it’s not exactly conventional, you know. Everyone probably thinks it’s a little weird. Hell, I don’t even know why I offered Friday.”

“Still, you’re just doing something nice,” Lisa argues, a small frown on her forehead. She isn’t the fighting type, but she does get frustrated.

“Don’t think they care,” Steve laughs. “They already didn’t like me before this either. They just have something else to hold against me now.”

Lisa’s frown deepens, but she doesn’t say anything.

Steve honestly doesn’t feel like talking about it, so he changes the subject by asking: “You have a car, or want a ride home?”

“I mean, if you’re sure,” Lisa says.

“Of course,” Steve says. “It’s no trouble. And you can tell me more about the terms on the way. I have no clue what coach Miller is telling us 90% of the time.”

That makes Lisa laugh and they set off towards the parking lot together. Luckily, Billy doesn’t try anything with Lisa nearby. Steve tries not to question it too much. He’s tired of trying to figure out what Billy is thinking.

55 notes · View notes