#Time for a Ficlet
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I have no idea how long ago you wrote that Martha Manning fic but can I just say it is my favourite thing Iāve ever read- Iām not exaggerating. I canāt help but want more lol. Ur so talented :)
Then more you shall have! I'm glad you liked it!
The second time it happened, Martha was just as surprised as the first. They were at another party, weeks later, and somebody had brought port wine, which the company had drunk in the study, getting progressively more rowdy until they were playing rounds of pull-a-book-down-from-the-shelf-and-read-a-passage-as-if-to-a-lover. This was most amusing with textbooks.
"Let's have another bottle!" someone suggested, and they went out as a trio, in order to make sure that the bottle made it up the stairs safely.
"I should like some air..." muttered someone else who Martha didn't know, a friend of a friend who was using his lady's fan quite vigorously to cool his face. Ah, the perils of sitting closest to the fireplace.
He left the room, and the she was, alone again with John Laurens. The last time this had happened... she dared not think of the last time. He'd been too kind. He'd probably only held her because he felt sorry she seemed to like him, or because he was lonely, or most likely of all, both. She picked up her glass again and looked at him sort of sideways, just to see if he was looking in her direction. He wasn't. He was staring out the window, but whether drunkenly or pensively, she wasn't sure.
She took a sip. The port wine was good. It was as thick as syrup, and still tasted like grapes.
"I have a confession to make," she said, feeling the need to fill the silence with something amusing. Instead of preparing himself to look amused, however, a brief look of terror crossed John's face. Oh dear. Oh, she had not meant to do that. "I must confess I like port much better than regular wine - it tastes as if the grapes still exist and are not... dead, you know?"
John looked relieved. "I do know!" he said after a moment. "Though I wouldn't go so far as to call the grapes 'alive'." He swirled it around in his glass for a moment, and then smiled. "There were grapevines on the shed, back home in South Carolina," he said. "I once climbed up the roof to paint them."
"What, do you mean to paint on the leaves?" Was it just her imagination, or was he leaning slightly closer as he told the story? This only made amusing comments more imperative - they might make it seem as if she wasn't focussing solely on his position on the couch-
"No," John laughed, "To paint a picture of them!" He was definitely leaning at least a little in her direction. "Anyways, I fell off the shed. It... hurt. I really don't know why I'm telling this story."
Martha laughed and turned as if she was turning her knees towards the fire. It brought her just slightly closer to him. And indeed, it seemed to be just past the distance where it was obvious what she wanted, because there his arm was, just around her shoulders from behind. His hand held her arm so softly she almost couldn't feel it through the silk layers of her dress. She wanted to interrogate his motives. She wanted to never speak of it, and just take what he evidently wanted to give. She sort of wanted to cry.
Instead, she leaned back towards him. "Did you ever do something ridiculous as a child?" he asked quietly.
"I'm sure I did," she replied, equally as quietly. "Before I understood how seals work, and, I must have been only three or four, but I was determined to send a letter. So-" she bit back a laugh. His arms were so warm around her. "-so I opened up and envelope and just upended a candle into it, squished it closed, drew a few lines on it, and proudly handed the still-warm mess to the postman."
John laughed so hard she could feel his shoulders shaking.
"You-" he snorted, drunk and undignified, "I've no idea what you're talking about, that's genius! Imagine recieving such a letter! The mystery you would generate..." he held her tighter, basically an embrace, for just a moment. "I admire your amusing stories," he said. "I hope you know."
Then foosteps sounded on the stairs. Time was up. They both sat bolt upright, personal spaces suddenly expanding to a reasonable size.
"More port?" the host asked, swinging around the doorframe, gleefully drunk.
"Why yes, thank you!" said Martha. I admire your amusing stories. I admire. I admire. She was certain she'd be thinking of it for weeks.
#Writing#History#Time for a Ficlet#Martha Manning Laurens#John Laurens#This ficlet is also projecting but not because I'm pining anymore just because I also think that port is superior to any other type of wine#Wine tastes like it's gone off#Port just tastes like cough syrup#And they would have had it in England at the time - I checked
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Gotham has always been weird, so when the groundskeeper at the cemetery noticed the Wayne kidās plot was disturbed, he just chalked it up to more of the same olā. Alright, so ādisturbedā may be a tad too light of a word, but whatās an empty grave in the grand scheme of Gotham? God knows in a city like this one, they could use all the burial room they could get. He figured heād just jot it down on the website and hope nobody noticed for a while.
Too bad he didnāt account for the 13 year old boy in Bristol who periodically checks the cemeteryās website when heās feeling particularly lonely.
Plot Removed.
Tim Drake stared at the two words under the heading for Jason Toddās plot number. Removed? What do they mean āremovedā? They canāt just remove a plot? Thatās a person down there! Thatās Robin down there! You canāt Remove Robin!
Calm down. Deep breaths. Assess the situation.
Robin has been dead for 5 months and 14 days. There is no reason for a grave to be removed that early, especially one of a member of such an affluential family. Chances are likely itās a simple clerical issue. He can call first thing in the morning and make them aware of the mistake. He can have it all fixed in 5 hours.
Just a phone call.
In 5 hours.
ā¦
Tim hates talking on the phone almost as much as he hates waiting.
Well it wonāt be the first time heās snuck out to head to Gotham proper at 1am. It canāt even really be considered sneaking out if thereās no one home to catch you.
Buses stop running at 2, so he layers a couple sweaters under his coat and grabs his best running sneakers so he can comfortably make the trek back.
Just a quick trip to settle his nerves. Maybe get a few shots in if he spots Batman, but really he just wants to see with his own two eyes that things are okay and Jason can rest.
Itās 1:37 by the time he gets to the headstone reading āHere Lies Jason Toddā and the gaping, muddy pit in front of it.
This- This doesnāt make any sense. This is not removal. This is destruction. Desecration. Somebody did this. Somebody-
Assess the situation.
A hole in the ground, approximately 1.5 feet in diameter.
Mud and grass flung outward but with little force.
Large chunks of earth turned over and shoved away.
No signs of tool marks or clean lines of entry into the dirt.
Dragging claw marks.
Staggering, shuffled pairs of foot prints in the mud.
A trail of dirt.
Somethingā¦ Something large clawed its way out of the ground here. Something large and bipedal and- and humanoid.
Tim refuses to jump to any conclusions he can see all the facts laid in front of him. Heās going to cautiously follow the trail and simply hope to any god listening that he isnāt the worldās first line of defense against the zombie apocalypse.
Heās been walking for 23 minutes and thereās good news and undecided news. Good news: heās closing in on the target and the trail isnāt taking him out of the way so his trip home wonāt be prolonged. Undecided news: The potential Zombie Robin is heading directly for Wayne Manor.
As zombie apocalypse news, this is very bad. From Timās collected observational evidence, his not-so-professional opinion is that Batman, faced with a horror movie level zombie of his dead son, would not respond well, and would likely not fight back.
In Batman and Robin news? Timās unsure. If Jason is simply back? What could that mean for them? Batman can have his Robin. He wouldnāt have to continue nearly killing others and himself every night in his grief. Jason could-
No. Stop. Do not jump to conclusions.
Hope only brings heartbreak.
What would Batman do? Get close and see if the target is a threat.
Target is male. Mid-teens. Dark hair. Pale skin. Leaning against surfaces as he walks. Appears injured and disoriented.
Minimal risk assessed. Approaching and attempting contact.
Target identity confirmed: Jason Todd.
āJ-Jason?ā It comes out as a croaked whisper. Jason shows no sign of acknowledgment.
Tim clears his throat, steps right in front of his path, and tries again.
āJason. Jason, stop I want to help you.ā Still nothing.
āPlease, Jason. I can help, I promise I can help!ā
Why isnāt this working?! Why canāt he just do something right for once?! He wants this to work, he wants to help Bruce, he wants to fix Batman, he wants to not be alone, he wants-
āRobin!ā
Robin jerks to a stop.
Tim reached out his hand.
āRobin. Robin please, Iām sorry youāre going through this, itās really scary, Iām really scared. But I just want to help you. Help you find Batman. Help you get home.ā
Jason just stares at him. Of course he does. Of course itās not going to work. Why did he even bother hoping he could help?
Hope only brings heartbreak.
His sight blurs as his eyes fill with tears and he starts to lower his outstretched hand.
His arm is slowed as a cold hand weakly grasps his own.
āDonātā¦ scaredā¦ Batā¦ helpā¦ Dadā¦ help.ā
A relieved sob tears out from Timās chest and he gathers himself together. He yanks his extra sweater off and gently pulls it over Jasonās cold shoulders. Jason lets Tim drag his arm over his shoulders to try and carry some of his weight.
āOkay, Robin. Yeah. Your dad will help us.ā
Batman will solve everything once Tim gets Robin home.
#Hello Mr. Batwayne forgive me for waking you but I brought your Jaybin home#Tim: Iām not jumping to conclusions!#also Tim: Holy fuck itās the zombie apocalypse weāre all going to die#I know it seems like Tim might have some bat detective training but really he just watches a lot of cop shows and asks āwwbd?ā all the time.#writing this is the first thing I did as soon as I turned 27.#this was my birthday present to myself ig#not a ship pls n thx#batfam fanfic#batman#dc robin#dcu#batman and robin#jason todd#tim drake#red hood#ficlet#batfam#jason todd and tim drake#robin#red robin#shut up grandpa#fanfiction#āāJASON! JASON STOP! LOOK AT ME! look at me. please. this isnāt youāā ass dialogue š
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"I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he declares to all and sundry (Steve and Robin) in Family Video.
Steve laughs, ducks his head, hair a bountiful cascade that doesn't move an inch. He's blushing but it's not, like, a reaction to the sentiment of marriage. Steve knows Eddie is just like that, flirtatious and over-the-top and incapable of not speaking his thoughts as soon as they enter his head.
Robin roles her eyes, goes back to flipping through her magazine, something about cinema, and Eddie swipes his just rented movies off the counter.
"You think I'm joking," he twists so he's facing them, walking backwards to the door. "But I swear it, oh, beloved purveyor of movies and deleter of late fees."
"Yeah, yeah." Steve's face is pinker than before and Eddie recognizes and immediately forces himself to forget how cute it is. "But get out of here before I change my mind."
And Eddie, he loves to push his luck and also has very little filter between his brain and his mouth, so he says, "aw, don't be that way, Stevie, you love me."
Robin looks up, then, mouth a pursed twist as she tries not to laugh. "Gross, Eddie." She throws a Sour Patch at him. "Keep all that mushy stuff to when you two are alone."
It's his turn to blush, fierce and raging, and Steve whirls, squeaking, to whack Robin with a Twizzler.
Eddie points at her. "Rude, Buckley. You know I love you too."
"Again, gross." She sticks out her tongue, tinged blue from the Sour Patch.
"We really need to work on your ability to accept affection," Steve tells her.
She scowls, kicks him, makes Eddie laugh.
"I think that's my cue to leave, children." He says. He, quite literally, bows out of the store, just missing the barrage of candy thrown his way.
---
Three Months Later
Eddie stumbles into the Harrington house, kicking his boots off by the door. Steve's in the kitchen, fussing around the stove. His hair's askew and he's--
"Harrington, are you wearing an apron?" He ignores the kick in his chest at the sight. "You'll make a sweet little housewife one day."
"Shut-up," Steve says without any heat. "Try this."
He brandishes a spoon filled with red sauce in Eddie's direction, and Eddie--heart always on his sleeve--eagerly leans in to taste. He closes his eyes, savors, and it's good, truly. Perfect fresh acidity with just a burst of sweetness.
"It's amazing, baby," he says without thinking. He opens his eyes right in time to see Steve turning back to the sauce, blush high on his cheekbones.
"Thanks. You're making me nervous though, hovering." Steve hip checks him. "Go sit somewhere."
And Eddie does, jumps onto the island--the Harrington's are the kind of people who have an island--and chatters to Steve about his day, about his new campaign, about the new song he's trying to learn.
All the while, he's watching Steve cook, in his apron, with such care and thoughtfulness, with true command. Maybe it's the domesticity of the scene, maybe his raging crush, but he has this flash of the two of them in the future. In their kitchen, Steve cooking dinner, and Eddie's arms are wrapped around his waist, he's pressing kisses to his temple, complimenting all his hard work and--
Steve feeds him a bite of the finished pasta, and it's so good that he groans, full-throated, unembarrassed, and says--he says, "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington."
He laughs, face pink, batting Eddie's shoulder. "Go sit down, man. It's time to eat."
---
Two Months After That
Eddie's working on a new campaign when the storm rolls in, wind rocking the trailer, thunder and lightning crackling in the sky. The power doesn't go out, but only just barely, the flickers making his heart pound for reasons that have nothing to do with weather.
There's a knock on the trailer door, and he opens it to find Steve Harrington standing on the porch, hair plastered to his head, clothes soaked. Robin's bike is propped against one of the awning supports. Familiar panic snaps to life in his gut.
"God, Steve, are you okay? Did something happen? That's Robin's bike, where's the Beamer? Is it--is it Vecna? Is--" He's blabbering can't stop, so he shoves his palm against his lips.
"It's not--not Upside Down stuff." He runs a hand through his soggy hair. "Can I come in, man? I--I want to tell you something."
This snaps Eddie out of his panic, and he's moving aside, saying, "Oh my god, get in here, you're soaked. Let me get towels. Do you want a change of clothes, I can--"
Steve catches him by the elbow and he full stops at the look in those big hazel eyes, fearful and sad and he doesn't know what, but his anxiety amps back up.
"I was with Robin and we were--we were talking, you know? And I told her that I like somebody, like really like them, but it was unexpected and--and--it's a guy. He's a guy but I still like girls? Robin said--she said that I'm probably bisexual. That I like guys and girls and--and everyone, I think."
It sends shockwaves through him, and he hopes it doesn't show, doesn't think it shows, but he's having trouble processing. Steve is bi and he likes someone and--Eddie stuffs down the jealousy that claws at him, knows it's more important that he's here for his friend.
"Thank you for telling me, sweetheart." He reaches out, slow in case Steve doesn't want to be hugged, but he launches himself into Eddie's arms.
Eddie holds him tight, heedless of his wet clothes, can feel his shoulders shake, and it tears Eddie's heart in two. All he can do is hold Steve and offer comfort, jealousy be damned.
"You're so brave, honey," he says once the tears taper off.
Steve gives a wet chuckle, face still buried against Eddie's neck. "I don't know about that. I think I got snot in your hair."
"It'll wash out." He laughs. "Is now the time to welcome you to the family? Apparently, we're growing exponentially."
"Does the welcome include a cake or something? I could really use cake."
And God, Steve, is so fucking cute, so sweet, so--everything Eddie has always wanted, and he--it's an accident, or at least, thoughtless--he presses a kiss to Steve's temple. More than one.
Steve pulls back fast, and Eddie lets go immediately. "Sorry, sorry. I--that was stupid. You like someone already, and I--"
His words are cut off as Steve kisses him. Steve kisses him? His brain can't process, but he kisses back. Can't not, not with Steve. Like, he doesn't know anything, head empty, but his body is with the program.
They break apart, he's breathing hard. Steve is beautifully flushed, mouth red and swollen. "You like someone," is what Eddie says.
Steve laughs. "I like you, Munson. Fucking crazy about you."
He smiles, so big it hurts, so big it grows into a delight laugh. "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he says.
---
Six Years Later
They're in bed, Saturday morning, rain pattering softly on the window.
Steve places slow kisses against his naked tummy, makes him tremble, shiver with overstimulation.
"Baby," he whines. "Sweetheart."
Steve smiles up at him, something cold pressing against his ribs, then into his hand.
It's a ring, black metal, shiny and iridescent as he turns it in the light. "What--Steve?"
With one last kiss to his hip bone, Steve sits up, slips the ring onto Eddie's finger. "I'm going to marry you one day, Eddie Munson."
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#fluff#sweet#soft#friends to lovers#mutual pining#post vecna#3+1 things#3 times eddie promises he's going to marry steve#one time steve proposes#coming out#bisexual steve harrington#feelings realization#feelings confession#first kiss#eddie has a crush on steve#domestic steddie
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siffrin starts the game with oddly empty pockets for a rogue who has a habit of stashing away every little trinket that isn't nailed down
and a hardy pocketwatch is an indispensable tool for oceanic navigation
#loop slinking off from the other half of the party to go jump a random rival rogue before The Morality Squad can get on their ass#anyway this is once again me playing with How To Do Comics Literally At All. no real deeper message just a random ficlet basically#ALSO YEAH. MAP MEN LINK. YOU FIND ANOTHER CONSISE EXPLAINER ON THE CHRONOMETER LOL#isat#isat fanart#in stars and time#in stars and time fanart#isat spoilers#sifloop#isat siffrin#isat odile#isat loop#lucabyteart#the compass is there mostly to make the pocket watch navigation thing more obvious + because i like the staging of loop presenting 2 items#big dipper/polaris is the most basic choice to get across NAVIGATORY USE OF CONSTELLATIONS but . beggars cant be choosers#also the return of the Vague Postcanon Loop Outfit. love to just put them in a vague toga or whatever.#implication wrt odile's questioning is they still havent come clean about anything. but she's got suspicions.#theyre playing Truth Confession Chicken. psychological warfare#+ bonus artist's insight: loop odile up top there is me channelling the pop team epic GOGOGO DANGER ZONE comic#[odile voice] careful. danger zone. [loop voice] but i love danger zone.......
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āBruce is Timās Biological Parentā AU Idea #4
The fact that Bruce was Timās biological father was something of an open secret in the Drake household. Both Jack and Janet knew it. They both passed away before Tim ever met Bruce, but Janetās parents had known as well. However, they never openly acknowledged it. Jack alluded to it the most often (usually when he feeling pissy about something or other) but but even then, he never outright said it.
Tim caught on early enough to subtly make comments here and there that Janet could confirm or deny (or ask what he was talking about). She confirmed while also making it clear that it was a family secret without ever explicitly stating that Jack wasnāt Timās father.
Once he started spending time at Wayne Manor, Tim figured out that Bruce was his biological father (based mainly on some comments Jack made when he heard his parents arguing about whether to let him continue to do so). Since he was used to it being a shared but unspoken secret, and since Bruce was supposed to be the worldās greatest detective, Tim figured Bruce knew, too. He made similar comments alluding to it early on and Bruce, not in the state of mind to truly pay attention to Tim, just didnāt catch on to ask questions or realize what the boy was saying. Tim took his responses as confirmation that Bruce was aware of the situation and it would just be more of the same (donāt ever say it aloud) at Wayne Manor.
So Tim never said anything.
Until Damian came along. Because Damian obviously wouldnāt know and his whole ātrying to murder Timā issue was rooted in the belief that he was the only blood son who needed to eliminate the interloper. Therefore, Tim figured that telling Damian would be the first step to them coming together as a family (and him no longer having to watch that the little jerk wasnāt trying another attempt against his life).
āI think we need to tell Damian the family secret.ā
āHe already knows.ā
āHe does? Since when?ā
āTalia told him Iām Batman from the beginning.ā
āNo, I know that. I meant the other family secret.ā
āWhich one?ā
āThe one we donāt talk about.ā
āHng?ā
āLook, I know itās gonna be weird ācause of the whole thing where we never talk about it, but he needs to know.ā
āNeeds to know what? What are you talking about?ā
Which is how Tim realized that Bruce had no clue the whole time and how Bruce learned that he had two biological sons.
One of which he let live with an asshole and then a hired actor before he legally adopted him because he hadnāt figured out that the boy was already his. The other of which his ex managed to hide from him for ten years.
Dick and (later) Jason will never let him live it down.
Alfred will be so disappointed to learn they could have kept Tim like he'd wanted, after Jack woke from his coma.
#dc#comics#AU#fic ideas I haven't the time for#ficlet#tim drake#tim wayne#robin#bruce wayne#batman#janet drake#jack drake#damian wayne#bat family#batpups
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thinking about how edwin wore the confession outfit and niko told him he looked nice and charles gave him a onceover. thinking about how charles thought edwin dressed up nice for monty. how charles thought he dressed up nice.
for someone else - or maybe even simply for the sake of telling charles he had feelings for someone else - to make a good impression - to give himself more confidence while sharing a truth about himself with his best mateā¦
and edwin never had time to correct him, to say: āi dressed up nice for you. this is for you. i am for you.ā
and only in hell does it all make sense - edwin is in love with him. but did it click for charles - maybe not right away in the moment on the staircase, but maybe later - that edwin had changed outfits for him? that edwin had been trying to impress him. to look good for him and catch his eye and make it special.
thinking about charles - after he realizes his feelings, realizes he reciprocates and finally tells edwin as much - looking back on that moment and thinking that was for me. charles being unable to let it go once he understands. asking edwin if he still has the jumper; asking if heāll wear it again so he can appreciate it properly.
i just think charles would love that edwin did that. that edwin, who has worn the same thing for decades, put that sort of thought into the occasion of admitting his feelings to charles, even without any expectation that charles would feel the same.
thinking about charles who has perhaps in the past been used to not being the forever choice, loving that edwin takes loving him seriously, wanting to let edwin know the effort wasnāt in vain. charles unable to take his eyes off edwin the second time that edwin wears the outfit, looking so besotted that anyone could see how much he adores edwin from miles off.
and edwin, feeling wanted, feeling loved in return under charlesā attention, not realizing how much heād appreciate having charles see him in this outfit as intended and how much it would settle something in him. perhaps edwin getting to say the words heād planned to say, in the comfort of knowing they will be received and returned in kind.
simply - charles having a whole Experience about the confession outfit and getting to revisit it while they are in an established relationship, and it bringing them both this sort of closure and thrill and happiness, at getting to be in love, at getting to communicate their love to each otherā¦
#dbda#dead boy detectives#dead boy detective agency#payneland#tbh i want to make this a fic but god i have so many ideas so little time. but the concept is living in my brain so i figured i would#at least put it out as a bit of a headcanon/ficlet ā¤ļø
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The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.
"You're not going."
"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"
"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."
"Steve-"
"And if you throw up in my car-"
"Oh my God-"
"I'll kill you."
Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.
"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.
He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.
"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.
"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.
"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.
He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.
(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)
"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.
"You baited me into it."
"I did no such thing."
Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"
Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."
"Sorry dude."
"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."
Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.
"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"
"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."
"All I'm saying-"
"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."
Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.
"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.
"Five more minutes," Anna tries.
"Nope. Clean up and roll out."
"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.
"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"
Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"
"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"
Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.
"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."
Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.
Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.
But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.
Success by all metrics, really.
Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.
They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.
He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.
The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.
At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:
Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.
-Eddie
Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-
Hang on.
He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-
No way. No way in hell.
It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-
"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.
Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.
Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.
"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."
Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.
"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."
Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.
"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"
Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.
"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."
At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.
Because what the fuck is happening right now?
His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.
Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.
Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.
When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.
"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.
"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.
The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.
And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.
Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.
Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.
Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.
He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.
Sweet Jesus.
"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"
The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.
Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.
Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"
"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"
"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.
"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."
"How do you even-"
"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"
Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.
"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."
"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."
"Well, I have it now."
"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.
"He left me his number on the seat."
"Text him."
"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."
"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."
Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."
"Have you looked at him?"
"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."
"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."
"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.
"Text-"
Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"
"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.
"I bought them."
She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."
Steve stares. She stares right back.
He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.
With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:
I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.
He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.
Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?
Part 3!!
#ria writes#this au needs a tag#uhhh#d&c au#there we go#dilf & concert#this was inspired by me seeing ice nine kills open for metallica#in case you couldn't tell#as well as the really cool dad and kid i sat next to#at fall out boy#shoutout to them#they were awesome#anyway#real tags time!#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steddie ficlet#st#st ficlet#stranger things#stranger things ficlet#corroded coffin#rockstar eddie munson#dilf steve harrington
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Danielle and Danyal's meeting... very, very quickly goes very sour from, basically, the moment Danny steps into his room and finds Ellie sitting on his bed (strike one) and reading the comic books Tucker introduced him to (strike two). By the time she's looked up to address him, Danny has the door locked, and a hand hovering near the knife hidden under his shirt.
She gets her third strike when Danny, in a voice that could make the mountains tremble, demands to know how she got into his room, and she lies (with uncertainty of her decision growing in her chest) that Jazz let her in. Danny's hand shifts closer to his weapon, and he turns towards her fully, and says that Jazz would never let someone he didnāt know into his room, and who was she.
(Vlad Masters had underprepared Danielle for her meeting with Danny -- not out of any completely direct malicious intent, but he failed to mention just how... 'touchy' Daniel could be -- he failed to mention the scars littering up his arms, unhidden by the hoodie tee he meets Ellie in. He failed to mention that along with those scars, that Danny was visibly lean, capable of doing very real damage without the use of his powers.)
(He tells Ellie that heās adopted, and that he is observant and clever, but ungrateful and has a bad attitude.)
Her final strike occurs when Ellie, trying to keep her facade of cheeriness, tells him that sheās his third cousin once removed. Immediately, Danny has his dagger pulled out, and Ellie finds herself with the cold metal of a blade pressing against her throat.
Danyal 'A.G' Fenton hasnāt killed since he arrived in Amity Park. At first it was because mother told him to keep a low profile, and killing would do the opposite of that. But, he's been slowly learning from his sister and friends over the years the value of human life. So it's become a combination of keeping his head down, and also that life has value to it.
But. That doesnāt mean he canāt kill, nor is he opposed to doing it if the situation calls for it. It just means that he doesn't do it. And āDanielleā is an unknown in his room, claiming to be family to him, and appearing uncannily similar to him and his family. Either someone hired her and she was trying to pass herself off as a relative to him because that someone realized Danny was the biggest threat, or, his false death has been compromised, his mother was unable to tell him, and the league was aware he was alive.
No matter how he looks at it, this Danielle was a threat to him, his sister, his friends, to Damian, and to the Drs. Fenton. Danyal Fenton doesn't kill, but he has no problems doing so.
(Ellie, pinned under Dannyās knee and the blade to her neck, is too terrified to think of phasing out of his hold. Not that it would help, he would just chase after her.)
āYou have broken into my home, dared to lie to my face, and when I demanded to know the truth, you dared lie to me again." Danny's scowl could cower even Skulker, his glacier blue eyes burning. "Your continual breath has been a favor from me, that I have graciously allowed, from the moment you entered my room, dahkil."
"So I will ask one more time," he hisses, "who. are. you."
Danielle, only a few months old, unprepared for the ice storm that is "Daniel" Fenton, and his clone in only flesh and blood, and not memories, immediately breaks. And tells him that she was his clone, that Vlad sent her to come capture him, and to please not kill her.
Danny's face twists with anger, Ellie thinks he's going to kill her anyways. Instead, he withdraws his knife and gets off her, stringing out curses in Arabic as he sheathes his weapon back into its hiding place faster than Ellie can blink.
He switches to English as she is collecting her bearings (and contemplating fleeing), and Danny paces the room like a tiger in a cage. "--of course that wretched, arrogant, peacocking little ingrate would do something so infuriating. I should have driven my sword into the shrivel of his heart when I had the chance--"
Ellie, for a moment, thinks of leaving while he is distracted. And starts to slowly creep away. But Danny notices instantly, and whirls on her. His too-bright eyes bore into her head: "Where do you think you're going."
"...I'm leaving."
And Danny scoffs at her, "Why? So you can fly back to Masters and tell him that you failed to capture me, and that I know that he cloned me?" He says, and Ellie remains silent -- that's exactly what she was going to do. "He will destroy you within seconds."
Of course, Ellie rears back in offense, and she finds the footing to glare at him. "He would not! He's my dad, he loves me!"
Danny gets in her face, glowering back with an equal intensity. "He does not." He snaps, "Vlad Masters has not a soul in his body nor a heart in his chest. He would sooner cut off the hand that helps him stand, than to take it along with him."
"If you're really made of my blood, then I will teach you only this: we bow not our heads nor our hearts to anyone." Danny's too-blue eyes narrow, and his voice dips into a hiss, "Especially not to a conniving snake like Masters. Your heart: cut it off, or cut it out. He will sooner leave you to bleed."
Then, he unlocks the door and drags her out before she has much time to act. And as he drags her down the hall he shoots Sam and Tucker a text, and they meet up at Nasty Burger. Ellie is a spitfire, but Danny has her too intimidated to leave.
"This is Danielle," he tells them bluntly as he corners her into the booth, "she's my clone. Masters created her."
Ellie is with them for a week, and somehow throughout that time, Danny manages to actually get her to like him throughout that time. He's callous, blunt, and full of sharp edges that you can cut yourself on. But when he's not spitting venom, he's fretting.
When he drags her back to the house after being with Sam and Tucker, he pulls her to Jazz's room and opens the door to tell her the same thing. "This is Danielle." He says upon abruptly opening the door, interrupting Jazz's studying as he pulls Ellie inside. "She is my clone, Masters created her. She needs clothes."
Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Ellie, in that moment, thinks that now's her chance to flee. But Jazz then squeals, and she is trapped in new arms, shaken around by Jazz Fenton, excited for a sister.
(Ellie finds herself complaining to Jazz that night, shoved into old pajamas. She's in utter disbelief that Jazz could care about a jerk like Danny.)
("He's rough around the edges, but Danny does care." Jazz tells her, combing through her hair with her fingers. "We've been working on it ever since he joined the family, but Danny warms up slowly. He's usually less stoney; I think your arrival spooked him.")
("Spooked him?" Ellie repeats, she doesn't believe it at all. "He has a funny way of showing it, he threatened to kill me!" And she turns around just in time to see Jazz's press her lips into a line.)
("He's... very protective. He'll deny if you ask him, but he worries a lot." Jazz's fingers find her hair again. "What I do know for certain though, is that he wouldn't have kept you here if he wasn't worried about you at least a little bit.")
(Ellie doubts it.)
But Ellie is indeed there for a week, and the day after her initially rocky introduction with Danny, he is a little bit kinder to her. Still kinda a bitch, but he's less harsh to her, if... almost uncomfortable around her. Flighty, kinda.
Whenever she gets mouthy at him though, he looks oddly smug about it and, infuriatingly enough, praises her attitude. He is very, very annoying. And still kinda terrifying. But hearing him shout insults via puns at someone during a ghost fight that happens that week lessens the intimidating factor,,, a little bit.
Things go about,,,, relatively,,,, similar to canon. In the sense that it ends with Ellie defecting from Vlad because she finds out that Danny was right and that Vlad didn't actually care about her. (And that Jazz had been right too; Danny, in his weird, mean way, had been worried about her as well)
Danny looks out of his depth as she talks about how he was right, and he cuts her off with a vaguely uncomfortable clearing of his throat. And gives her the most awkward, but genuine apology he can muster.
"I should've used more tact when telling you about Masters, and I... apologize for threatening you when we met. I was..." he makes a face like he's sucked on a particularly sour lemon, "worried. First about my family, and then later about you."
(Ellie will be damned: Jazz was right)
Before Ellie leaves, Danny puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her: "I wasn't kidding about what I said to you when we first met: you are of my blood, and as such, you do not bow your head nor your heart to anyone."
Ellie looks at him, thinks about the last week, and smiles like she's caught him in a trap. "What about Sam and Tucker then? And Jazz?"
Danny smiles, it's awkward and tilted, like his face isn't used to the gesture. "We bow not our hearts, but that doesn't mean we can't share."
#danny speaks in formal english when he's pissed. he goes full on 'i shall eat his heart in the marketplace' levels of formal#not quite a ficlet not quite a post talking about the idea but a secret third option: its both of these at the same time#dp x dc#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#danyal al ghul au#dc x dp crossover#dc x dp au#dpxdc au#dcdp#dpdc au#dp dc crossover#older brother danny#danny is an asshole with a heart of gold#the writing feels all over the place but since its not a fic i dont feel that self conscious about it lol. very much spitballing here#morally gray danny fenton#poc danny fenton#look ellie MIGHt - and thats a big if - have gotten away with the cousin lie if it weren't for the fact that she's danny's clone#danny who is not white nor remotely white-passing in this au. she might have gotten away if he had been and she claimed she was#from jack's side of the family. but alas. danny is adopted. the fentons are whiter than sunscreen. and danny is not.#dani and danny's meeting in danyal al ghul aus have the potenial of being IMMEDIATE dumpster fires which is very funny to me#on the basis of if danny knows he's adopted or not and if dani claims to be related directly to him or to jack.#dani: im your third cousin once removed :)#danny. is adopted: i kNOW YOU LYING. CUZ YO LIPS ARE MOVING#i got fanart for this au on haunting heroes discord and it kickstarted my thoughts about danyal again. they gave him the BATWING EYEBROWS#ellie has the batwing eyebrows too that was the mind killer thats what fucked her over /j. those are UNIQUELY BRUCE WAYNE BROWS FOLKS#fuck i wish tumblr told us on laptop when we run out of tags because i just lost like 4 of them. good thing i got screenies those were FUNN
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They've just evacuated the last of the factory workers when Incident Command calls for total evacuation. Structural integrity can no longer be guaranteed, everybody out. Eddie, who has their patient's other arm draped over his shoulders as they help the man limp to the nearest ambulance, grins at Buck. "Now that's what I call perfect timing."
"Yeah," Buck agrees, maybe a beat too slow, distracted by the number on the turnouts that just darted past them. The name under the 217 started with the wrong letter, the person's shoulders too narrow, height not quite right. Not that he's looking. Not that he's been looking. Not that it would matter if he was. With the enormity of the factory and the spread of the fire they have on their hands, the chances of running into a particular individual are small. Besides, if he's here, he's more than likely at the other end of the staging area, with the helicopters that are being refueled and awaiting instruction. Not that Buck's been looking. Or paying attention to any of that. At all.
They've just handed over their patient to the paramedics when their radios crackle to life once more, this time to confirm that all first responders who had entered the building are safe and accounted for.
"Thank God."
Buck turns to find Bobby has come up behind them, has clapped a hand on Eddie's shoulder, a relieved smile lighting up his face under his helmet. And. Yeah. Buck smiles with him, feels terrible for a moment for being so preoccupied when he should just be damn grateful for how their day - night, now - has panned out. Despite the enormous structure, despite how fast the fire spread, despite the upgrade from a three to a four alarm fire when it became incredibly clear the building was not up to code, despite the flammable materials housed in the far end of the structure, (despite the whir of helicopter blades overhead reminding Buck of him, despite the way he had to force himself not to stop and listen when a headcount for the 217 went out over the radio) they got everyone out alive. Some of the factory workers were in critical condition, others would be touch-and-go for a while, but they got them out alive and that was all any of them could ask for.
Perhaps it was too big an ask.
There had been a few moments in Buck's life in which he'd wondered if the universe had it out for him, was just waiting for him to be happy, let down his guard a little, so that it could pull the rug out from under him and send him sprawling. Choking on breadsticks on Valentine's Day. Choking on blood at his own welcome back party. Choking on his own nickname in his own loft as. As he walked out the door.
It feels like he's choking again. Buck watches the faces around him fall when dispatch tells them they were wrong, that there's still two people inside, on the top floor. When the IC responds that there's nothing to be done, the lower floors are ready to cave in, it's too unsafe. When a familiar voice crackles over the radio, saying there's a chance, if they land a helicopter on the roof, get the last two people out from there. That he'll do it.
"Absolutely not, firefighter pilot Kinard. That roof is ready to go any minute now, and you want to land a bird on it? That's a suicide mission. Stand down, that's an order."
There's a static crackle, as if someone, as if he, is weighing his options before he speaks. Buck doesn't breathe. Doesn't think he could if he wanted to.
"If there's any chance they can be saved, I have to try."
And Bobby meets his eyes, still tries, "Buck-", but they both know there's no version of this moment in which Buck doesn't grimace apologetically, doesn't turn, doesn't run faster than he's ever ran before.
He's gone, long strides, lungs burning, everyone and everything he passes a blur. He bumps into someone, yells "Sorry!", he thinks, isn't actually sure that's what he does, eyes set on the rotor blades looming dark against the orange cast of the fire in the distance. It's hard to tell if they're moving, what with how the light shifts in the dark, what with how his vision has become narrowed to that single point, and the dull roar in his ears could be his own blood pounding, could be the commotion that comes with a scene like this, could the be panic rising like bile in his throat.
For one insane moment, he thinks he can hear the sweeping crescendo of an orchestra, thinks, hysterically, like sprinting through an airport in the third act of a romcom. Thinks, I should tell Tommy. Realizes what he's hearing is that dull roar shifting into the high whine of rotor blades gaining momentum and thinks, Oh, god, Tommy. And then, in a blink, he's fighting the dust in his eyes and being buffeted by wind and his hands find purchase on the titanium hull and he's hauling himself inside.
With the wind gone, it's like he's suspended in stillness for a moment. Stillness, not silence, because helicopters are loud and the sound is everywhere, like a physical sensation. Or maybe that's just how it feels to be in close proximity with Tommy again. Tommy, who is staring straight ahead, punching buttons, flipping a switch, and Buck isn't sure Tommy's even aware of his presence until Tommy's reaching back, headset in hand, not looking at him at all, gaze still firmly on the dashboard.
Even when Buck has the headset on, the roar of the engine finally dropping away, Tommy doesn't acknowledge him immediately. The set of his shoulders is stiff, determined, defensive. He lets out a sigh. "What are you doing here, Buck?"
Buck carefully ignores the name, ignores the way Tommy still can't look at him. Squares his shoulders, even if Tommy can't see it. "I'm going with you."
There is a moment in which Tommy doesn't respond, simply finishes the last of his pre-flight checks. When he speaks, his voice is carefully deadpan. "You know we're probably going to die out there."
Buck can't help it, shoots back before he can think about it. "Figured this way I can prove I want you to be my last."
It works. Finally, Tommy turns. Meets his eyes. Breathes out. "Evan."
And Buck knows it's a ridiculous moment to smile, but it's like a weight falls away from him and he can feel his chest expand in a way it hasn't been able to since "See you around, Buck."
"Like you said," he amends. "If there's a chance at all, I have to try."
Buck doesn't think he's imagining the spark of hope in Tommy's eyes, the twitch of a smile, before Tommy turns back to his controls and the ground falls away beneath them.
#help i wrote a thing for the first time in over 5 years?#uhh let me know what you think (and if there's any glaring mistakes)#bucktommy#bucktommy fic#tevan fic#my writing#911 fic#911 ficlet#bucktommy ficlet#also feedback is welcome (in dms)
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Dustin and Eddie who become actual brothers when Wayne and Claudia marry.
Steve being high low key jealous cuz he always considered Dustin like a pseudo brother but now he has an actual brother and they share similar interests, they get along, they squabble sure but in the end of the day itās all love and belonging
And Steve is like a stray cat outside in the rain looking in at the cozy family gathered at the dinner table
Heās so happy that Dustin is happy, but their time together is limited now that his family has grown. and when they do have time he hears all about how Eddie is so cool, how his mom has never been happier, how she loves Eddie, how Wayne doesnāt mind his science rambles, how Eddie is such a great DMā
Of course he gets invited, heās Dustinās friend he still is heās still here but that doesnāt mean he feels like heās part of their family, their home.
Steveās just the friend at the dinner table, the polite boy who offers help wash the dishes, who leaves at the end of the night with left overs. The guest.
And Eddie? Eddie who mistrusts this boy, who fits the mold of jock so perfectly that heās baffled when he finds that thereās more to himā¦ he takes an interest in this regular Saturday dinner guest of theirsā¦
#angst time!#and yes Steve eventually is married into the family and becomes a munson#gets to be Dustinās brother-in-law#officially and legally part of the family#steddie#steddie prompt#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#Mr and Mrs Munson AU#step brothers Dustin and Eddie#bee speaks
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Steddie | 2.3k | first part
āOkay, what was that?ā Gareth asks the moment they are inside the room they are using as a dressing room for tonight.
āWhat was what,ā Eddie answers.
āYou know damn well what I mean.ā
Eddie doesnāt answer, putting his best poker face on.
āThat weird mating ritual you have been performing with the boy in the front row the whole night, maybe?ā Jeff adds.
āI have no idea what you are talking about.ā Eddie says, his voice flat as he tries to avoid the otherās gazes. He takes a towel to dab at his forehead.
āCome on, man,ā Freak butts in, āyou told him to stay after the concert, you have told Chrissy to get them here. We said we were not going to be that kind of band, that we were going to be like My Chemical Romance: no groupies and after concert dnd sessions.ā
āYeah, if you go with that guy what happens to our dnd session.ā
āWe can play dnd any other day, okay?ā Eddie snaps, his hands stretched in front of him. A part of him thinks he looks like that meme of Chris Pratt in front of the dinosaurs, the other part of him detests that he thought of him. āI will make it up to you.ā
āWho are you and what have you done to our DM?ā Freak asks, his voice serious.
āYeah, what is this talk about postponing dnd for some boy?ā Gareth adds, there is something in his tone Eddie doesnāt like.
āSome boy? Some boy? Am I the only one with eyes in this fucking band? He is the hottest person that has laid eyes on me and Iām not letting you fuckers take that opportunity from me for one session of dnd or I swear to God I am killing every one of your characters.ā
The boys donāt answer, they look at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.
āWowā a voice says from behind Eddie.
He doesnāt recognize the voice but the expressions on the rest of the band in front of him make him freeze. They go from slightly annoyed to wary and to bemused. Mainly a mix of all at the same time.
The sounds of steps approaching them break the silence that had fallen in the room, before a voice finishes breaking it.
āHow does dnd work with you nerds anyway, are you all bards or what?ā
The boys drop their mouths open. Eddie still doesnāt recognize the voice, but there is only one person it can belong to. He sounds just as good as he had imagined. Eddie is honestly afraid of turning around after what the boy- Steve- has surely heard.
āDonāt pay attention to him,ā a womanās voice says. Thereās the sound of a hit and a quiet āowā from Steve under it. āHe is just trying to sound all confident after whining-ā
āRobin.ā
āTelling me to not get my hopes up because he probably wasnāt anyone important and you just did this every concert-ā
āRobin.ā
āBut of course he is the luckiest bitch in this planet and has his instant crush reciprocated and-ā
āEnough!ā
There are some muffled noises that Eddie can only guess are the girl trying to continue speaking. He wishes she wouldnāt stop. His knight in shining armour may be embarrassed, but the rant has put a smile on Eddieās face, has given him confidence again. He crosses his legs and turns around slowly, his hands coming up beside him.
āBy all means, let her continue.ā
The adonis, the hottest man that has laid eyes on him, his knight in shining armour, Steve takes his hand away from the girlās mouth and rubs it on his jeans. Eddie can only guess the girl has licked it. God he wants to be her so bad right now.
āHey,ā Steve says, his hand coming up for a small wave. āSorry about Robin.ā
āNo need for that. Iām Eddie.ā
āI know,ā Steve answers with a cocky smile as he crosses his arms.
āOh and now you are acting all full of yourself as if you didnāt ask for the name of the band like 20 times 2 hours ago.ā Robin says.
āWill you please just shut the fuck up?ā Steve asks with the confidence only a best friend can have. Ā
āNot a fan then?ā Eddie asks amused.
āNot really my scene,ā Steve answers. There is a scoff behind Eddie, and if he wasnāt so lost in Steveās brown eyes, he may have moved to swat whoever it was. āBut I sure am a fan now.ā
There is now a groan behind Eddie, but he can only focus on the way his heart jumps at the words, the way Steveās mouth lifts in one side in a smirk, how his eyes spark. Ā
āI can get you front row tickets to all the gigs, baby.ā
Thereās a gagging noise being Eddie, and this time he does turn around to swat at Gareth. The little shit just laughs at him.
When he turns back towards Steve he is looking between them with a smile on his lips and he looks- damn- heās been looking beautiful since he saw him at the beginning of the concert that night, but now his hair is a mess from the almost two hours of sweating and moving around and Eddieās on stage confidence is slowly being replaced by his fast beating heart.
āLook man I-ā Steve starts, āI donāt want to be a problem,ā he adds, glancing behind Eddie as he bites his lip. The girl next to him- Robin- turns to him with an incredulous look on her eyes that Eddie is sure mirrors his own. āBut you are hot, I want to take you on a date, and the others wanted to meet you.ā
Robin rolls her eyes and looks at Eddie with an eyebrow up.
āThe others?ā Eddie manages to say, just before he remembers the teenagers around Steve all night.
āYeah, they are with Chrissy, I asked them to give us five minutes before coming.ā
Eddie is about to say something, maybe ask about the date Steve mentioned, but in a second the door is filled with said teenagers, the one with the curly hair in the middle of it.
āYOU GUYS ARE LEGENDS!ā he exclaims. It makes Eddie less annoyed about being interrupted. No one has really called them legends before, they have just surpassed 150k listeners in Spotify.
It feels good hearing it.
The dressing room fills with chatter fast, the boys and the teenagers getting along without problem. They take photos, talk about music, about their instruments, about their dnd tradition. The bad part of it all is that Eddie gets separated from Steve. He catches his eye at some point and Steve sends a little wave his way that he answers. He is talking with Robin and Chrissy and, by what Eddie can hear, Chrissy is getting every video Robin has managed to get of Eddieās and Steveās interactions through the concert, even a closer video of the kiss than the one Chrissy managed to get. From what he can hear, she wants to post everything on their social media before āsomeone else does and steals the chance at going viral from themā.
Eddie doesnāt know how he feels about posting Steve like that, Eddie should have probably thought, about that before making out with the guy in front of all their audience. But he seems completely comfortable with all of it. Eddie guesses that comes with being as hot as Steve is and knowing it.
Itās some time later, enough that Eddie knows they wonāt be able to stay much longer in the venue, that he finally has a chance to slip away. Itās perfect, he has just seen Steve leave the dressing room, probably in search of the toilet, and Gareth and the curly hair boy he has learned is called Dustin are so deep in conversation they donāt notice him stepping away from them and leaving too.
He catches Steve just as he is leaving the toilet. Eddie doesnāt stop to answer Steveās surprised āoh, heyā that turns into a more surprised āwoahā as Eddie pushes him back into the toilet and closes the door behind him.
āHeyā Eddie finally greets. Steve only looks at the closed door behind Eddie and then at him again with what Eddie hopes is amusement. God, he really hopes itās amusement, he is just not realising how creepy this looks. āSo, about that date.ā
āCouldnāt wait until I came back?ā
āNo. I mean, yes.ā Why is it so difficult to talk with a pretty boy? Eddie takes a deep breath, composes himself. Theatrics, he is good with those, they make him confident. āI was suffering, being deprived from your company by your companions, and didnāt have another option.ā
Steve squints his eyes, āso you decided to have the date in the toilet?ā
āWhat? No.ā
Steve takes a step closer to Eddie so now their chests are almost touching. It hadnāt downed on Eddie before how they are almost the same height. It feels very important now when he has Steveās face right in front of him, when he can look directly at his eyes, at how they drift down to Eddieās lips. When his inevitably drift to Steveās lips, the boy is biting his lower lip. āEager.ā
Eddieās breath hitches in his throat, he may have miscalculated this. Thereās something he wanted to say. āNo, I-ā
Steve chuckles, takes a step back. āRelax dude. I know you havenāt really agreed to the date yet, we got interrupted and all that.ā Eddie is about to speak, to agree a thousand times to the date, but Steve keeps talking. āYou just offered to buy me a couple of drinks and called me hot,ā he smiles when he says that.
āI want the date.ā Eddie says before Steve can keep talking, āas soon as possible.ā
Steve steps back closer. āEager.ā
āWe are leaving on tour, wonāt be back for three months.ā Eddie explains before all his brain functions completely shut down.
āI can wait three months.ā
āI canāt.ā
The next second Steveās lips are on his, his hands are on his hair, and it only takes a second for Eddieās to do the same. Steve is even a better kisser than he was in front of the audience. Steve pushes him against the door, brings a hand to his hip, pushes one of his legs between Eddieās. Eddie just groans and lets himself be pushed and moved. Kissed. āFuck,ā he whispers when Steve pulls away for breath. Steve smiles, takes one of Eddieās hands in his, and kisses him again. Itās so sweet and filthy at the same time Eddie might cry, but he just moves his hips forward, and Steve answers in kind, grinding against him and getting a groan out of both of them. Maybe the rockstars that hook up with people after concerts are onto something. Though Eddie doubts he would want to do this with someone that is not Steve.
A knock on the door startles them both, Robinās voice coming from the other side.
āSteve?ā Steve and Eddie stop kissing to look at each other in silence, their eyes wide. āChrissy said we need to leave already and youāve been in there so long I started to worry you were kidnapped. Wait, you are in there, right? Also, have you seen Eddie? He disappeared.ā Steve moves, an innocent thing that has his groin brushing against Eddieās. And he is only a man. He moans. āWAIT! Are you both in there? GROSS.ā
Steve snorts, making Eddie smile. They can hear a couple of steps moving away from the door before they come back and there is a bang on the door.
āSteve! Come out you dingus, have you forgotten about your pack of kids?ā
Steve lets out a whispered āfuckā before he looks at Eddie with an apology in his eyes. Eddie lets himself be moved away from the door so Steve can open it to talk to his friend outside.
āHey.ā
Eddie opens the door more so he can also fit in the gap, Steve sends him a look, smiles at his appearance, and then looks at Robin again.
āHeyā Eddie greets too. Robin is looking at them and there is no hiding what they have been doing. She can surely see their bruised lips, their wild hair. Eddie just prays she doesnāt look down and sees the bulge in his pants.
āYou two are gross, was making me see that once tonight not enough?ā
āYou have not really seen it this time,ā Steve points.
āStill.ā
āYou are the one that came to interrupt.ā
āAnd for a good reason! Your kids.ā
āWhat about the kids,ā Eddie asks.
āHe promised to take them home.ā Robin says.
āI promised to take them home.ā Steve says at the same time, a resigned tone in his voice. He turns to Eddie, his brown eyes sad, and pinches his nose.
āCanāt she take them home?ā Eddie points to Robin, and they both turn towards her again.
Robin takes a breath, stops, looks at them, looks at them, sees the tent in Eddieās pants. Grimaces.
āFINE,ā she agrees, and Eddie grins. āBut you owe me. Big time.ā She adds pointing at Steve.
āIāll give you ice cream for life.ā Steve says. It must be an inside joke because it makes Robin roll her eyes.
āGive me your car keys at least. Rockstar here can drive you home, canāt he?ā
āIāll have him home before eleven.ā Eddie swears with a hand on his chest. The other two stare at him in silence. āA.m.ā he adds.
āYou heard him.ā Steve says while handing Robin his keys.
āOkay,ā Robin answers. She takes a step back. āHave fun.ā She takes a couple of steps away before she turns around. āUse protection, he is a rockstar, we donāt know where his thing has been.ā
āHey,ā Eddie protests, but Robin is already running away.
āShe is kinda right.ā Steve says with a shrug. Eddie purses his lips. āBut I have an idea on where it can be in the near future.ā
āLead the way.ā
Steve slips his hand into Eddieās.
#i think that after this they end up not actually doing anything#they just find a 24h pizza place and have a date#laugh a lot. get grease all over themselves. make heart eyes. make out a bit more...#but they dont do anything else#they exchange numbers and text constantly those three months#and are disgustingly in love for the rest of time#the others dont know what to feel about it#steddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#my writings
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The yawn stretched Lenaās jaw to the point that she felt like a cat, baring her fangs. Naturally, it prompted a Kara Danvers Pout, which was utterly devastating. Kara looked at her over the top of her drink cup, straw still pursed in her delicate pink lips as she frowned slightly.
āHow long have you been awake?ā
āI had a half hour nap this morning,ā Lena sighed.
Sheād been in the office for three days, but she didnāt admit that.
āLeeeenaaaaaaa,ā Kara said, drawing her name out into a gentle rebuke. āYou promised me youād stop doing that to yourself. Iām taking you home.ā
Lenaās heart skipped and Kara abruptly jerked upright, briefly glancing at her. Lena hated when that happened, when her body betrayed her. Kara meant escort her home; Lenaās thoroughly tired mind had supplied another scenario, one where Kara carried her onto the bed, relieved her of her clothes and dove between her legs, but that was never going to happen. Lena let out a long sigh of resignation, trying to be satisfied with best-friendship.
She hoped Kara hadnāt suddenly developed telepathy.
If you took me home Iād never leave. I could make love to you for a hundred years.
Kara smiled back at Lenaās wistful look. āI mean it.ā
āOkay. I can come back to it tomorrow. Besides, Iām too full of grease and cheese to stay awake. Should weā¦ā
Lena never finished her sentence. There was a crackle in the air, a sudden wet smell of ozone, and the thunderous boom that made her ears ring.
Kara flashed in front of her at super-speed, yanking off her glasses and tossing them on the couch in a smooth motion.
Hovering in the middle of her office was some ramshackle contraption resembling a mechanical eye about the size of a basketball that scanned Kara with a faint purple energy ray.
āKara Danvers. Supergirl. I am Zeglos, Regent of the Alotian Republic. I am calling to you from the home of my people, located in what is to you a subatomic realm we call Universe Q. We need your help, you are our only hope. The invaders are slaughtering us and razing our home. There is no time.ā
Kara glanced back at Lena. āIāll help if I can. Let me-ā
āThere is no time. You must come with me now.ā
āWait, hold on a second-ā
The machine flashed, thrumming as it powered up, and blasted here with a wave of light that surrounded them both, and then in a crackling boom they both vanished, leaving behind the ozone smell and a faint impression of Karaās boot heels in the carpet.
Lena stared into the empty space for a moment, then shot to her feet, snatching the phone off her desk, where it had lain ignored since Kara walked into the room.
She called Alex, shocked at the blubbering panic in her own voice. Within a few minutes, everyone was there, piling into the room. Lena warded them off from the spot where Kara had stood. Alex was cold and calm, her voice clinical, and she immediately began issuing orders. Jāonn took Lena aside and gently asked her probing questions in the manner of an old detective, coaxing every meager detail of the event out of her.
Within half an hour, Brainy and Lena had set up all sorts of equipment around the room, scanning, hoping to find some energy signature or other clue that could enable them to bring Kara back from wherever sheād been taken.
It proved fruitless. They tried everything.
Minutes stretched into hours. Lena was exhausted, heavy with fatigue.
āGo home, get some sleep,ā said Alex. āWe canāt help her if we pass out on the floor.ā
āIāll sleep here.ā
She did, throwing a thin blanket over herself on the couch. It was Alex, not Lena, who cleaned up the Big Belly Burger mess. Lena slept fitfully, showered in the en-suite attached to her office, and changed into an old hoodie that she kept there and wore when no one was looking.
It wasnāt hers. Threadbare, a maroon color faded to a soft red, the back still emblazoned with a cracked and fading Midvale Mathletes Club logo, it was Karaās. Lena had snatched it from Karaās sofa and put it on one night when she was feeling bold and then, as now, felt surrounded by it, the oversized garment swaddling her.
And it smelled like Kara, just enough. Kara had stared at her intently for a moment when she took it that night but said nothing, a wistful sad look on her face before the moment was broken by Wynnās bad joke at the table. Wynn was gone now, but the hoodie remained, just as it had remained when they were fighting, when she thought sheād never see Kara again. Sheād worn it then and cried herself to sleep in it.
Just like now.
A day became two. Then three. Five. Lena tried everything, pursued every theory. They called in every favor, human and alien. Brainy tried to send messages to the future. Nia dreamed fruitless dreams. Alex paced like a caged animal and Kelly kept the peace, keeping them all fed, making sure everyone slept, talking things out whenever tempers flared.
Nothing worked.
Lena even tried praying, something she hadnāt done since the last time she was in a small church in Ireland. It didnāt work this time, either.
Lena was seated next to Brainy on the couch, going over a design for a new device to try to follow what was by now a thoroughly cold trail. Alex stood at the balcony door, staring out into a slashing summer rain squall that buffeted the glass with distant thunder and gusts of wind.
The ozone smell tickled Lenaās nose and she looked up, just as Kara took a stumbling step out of nowhere, appearing in her office with an utterly bewildered look on her face.
āKara?ā
Alex snapped round, adding her voice to the chorus. āKara?ā
Kara stared at her sister, open-mouthed, tears welling in her eyes.
āAlex?ā she said. āAlex, youāre alive? How is that possible?ā
āAlive? Why wouldnāt I be?ā
āKara!ā Lena cried, her voice ragged in her throat.
At the sound of her voice, Kara snapped around, eyes wide. Her knees buckled and she sagged, almost falling. She stumbled forward as Lena stood and they fell into each other, Lena hurling herself, reckless, into an embrace that revealed too much. She almost climbed Kara, all but throwing her legs around her as well as her arms as she buried her face in the Kryptonianās neck.
āOh God. Oh Rao. I thought you would all be gone. I begged them to let me leave but they wouldnāt let me go, I had toā¦ā
āKara?ā Alex asked, cautiously. āWhy would we be gone?ā
Kara barely seemed to hear her as she gently twined her fingers in Lenaās hair and wrapped her powerful arm around Lenaās waist, encircling and shielding her.
āHow long has it been?ā
āAbout a week,ā Lena choked out. āI was so scared.ā
āA week?ā Kara blurted. āItās only been a week here?ā
Alex put a reassuring hand on Karaās back, standing next to them. āYeah, you were taken on Tuesday, kiddo. Itās Wednesday, the 17th.ā
Kara stared past Lena, resting her chin on the shorter womanās head, and began to sob with relief.
āKara?ā said Alex.
āTime dilation,ā said Brainy.
āThey told me time would pass slower up here but I didnāt believe them. Iāve been gone forā¦ forā¦ā
āItās okay, Kara,ā Lena whispered. āYouāre okay, youāre back.ā
āEighty seven years, four months, and eighteen days,ā Kara sobbed. āItās been so long, I thought you were all dead.ā
Alex stiffened. āKara. Oh my God.ā
Kara buried her face in Lenaās hair and breathed her in, shuddering. āIād given up. All that kept me going was hoping I could see you again. This is a gift. A gift. I love you all so much.ā
Kara still held her, rocking slightly, her big shoulders shaking with powerful sobs.
āKara,ā Lena whispered. āKara, itās okay.ā
āI love you,ā Kara blurted. āI love you. Itās okay if you donāt love me back, I just need to tell you, I have to tell you. All I could think about down there is how stupid I was and how stupid Iāve been and how none of the reasons I never told you made any sense,ā she sucked in a breath as if sheād briefly forgotten how, āI love you, I love you, I love you.ā
There could be no mistaking her intent. She seethed with it, it radiated from her very bones. Lena hugged her hard, crushing her with all her might as if to crawl inside her.
āGod, Kara, Iāve dreamed of hearing you say that. I love you too. Letāsā¦ mmmph!ā
Kara was kissing her. Lenaās brain briefly froze, then she realized the full magnitude of what was happening. Kara was kissing her. Kara was kissing her. Then Lena was kissing her back. There was so much in it, need and lust and adoration and an unbelievable desperation, but above all love. Lena felt her heart open as if hadnāt in a long time, like a flower unfolding to receive the nurturing warmth of morning sun.
āIāve been waiting for this for so long,ā Kara whispered when they finally broke and Lena again could breathe.
āLet me take you home,ā said Lena.
#supercorp#supergirl fanfiction#supergirl#supercorp fanfic#lena luthor#kara danvers#kara x lena#karlena#supergirl fanfic#ficlet#love confessions#time dilation#it takes fighting a war in a subatomic universe for Kara to process her feelings#softcorp#longing#pining#mutual pining#piningcorp#requited pining#requited crushes#requited love#reunion#reunited and it feels so good#kara danvers x lena luthor#sad lena luthor#dorky lena luthor#Lena wears Karaās clothes and they both know what it means but theyāre idiots#Kara is a hug machine#š„ŗ#š„ŗcorp
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Everyone in the league knows about Eddie Munson. He has the makings of a great pitcher, except for the fact that his slider has a 75% chance of sliding too high and his fastballs mostly end up in the dirt. His technique is wild, flailing, unrestrained. Which is why Steve is beside himself when he learns about the trade.
The owners, they think that Steve being the best catcher in the league means he can work with Eddie, settle him, make him a real prospect. Steve's input isn't needed with the decision already made, but Munson--with all his tattoos piercings and leather--looks like he'd rather hock a loogie at Steve than take directions from him.
And Steve is the best in the league, the glue that keeps the team together. They're a well-oiled machine, and Eddie is--Eddie is a squeaky wheel.
They meet for the first time, briefly, in the locker room. He's seen the guy before, of course, but now, like this, he can't help but be intrigued by his pale skin and long curls and brown doe-eyes, his lightly muscled frame. And they're in the locker room, Eddie with just a towel around his waist, exposing his toned chest and stomach and the black swirl of his tattoos.
"Steve Harrington!" Eddie reaches out a hand. "Great to meet you, man."
"You too. Excited to have you with us." The handshake is quick and firm and Steve is trying not to be surprised about how excited and genuine the guy sounds, keep his mind away from thinking of how Eddie is naked aside from the towel.
With only a few weeks until the start of the regular season, Eddie starts pitching to Steve. And Steve, he so expects Eddie to fight and grumble and refuse, that his head sort of spins when, on the first day, Eddie claps him on the back with his glove, says, "where do you want me, cap?" and that's that.
He wants to say that they dislike each other, that they're a bad fit, that Eddie is full himself and refuses constructive criticism.
Instead.
Instead it's easy.
Eddie doesn't complain, doesn't argue, just watches Steve, learns him, takes his advice and notes and implements them as much as he can. They like each other, have an easy rapport, get each other. He's tight with all the pitchers, but Eddie is different. They settle each other.
They're best friends. They hangout constantly. And he doesn't have a crush; he doesn't. It would be unprofessional. They're best friends.
But sometimes, sometimes he thinks he catches Eddie looking at him. It's impossible. Of course it's impossible. Eddie couldn't be into the guy Sports Illustrated called "baseball's Ralph Lauren model" in the intro to Steve's Body Issue photo spread. And it doesn't matter one way or the other because Steve won't make a move. He won't jeopardize the team like that.
They don't touch. He touches everyone on the team, often, and Eddie particularly is a physical guy, but aside from that first handshake, he keeps his distance. Steve's afraid--even though it's silly, he's afraid--that once they start touching, he won't be able to stop, and he can't let that happen.
The team is good, competing for first place in the National League. Eddie's success has made everyone else better.
It's late July, they're in first place in the league, and Eddie's pitching a perfect game. There's only been 24 perfect games thrown in the history of Major League Baseball, but it's the eighth inning and Eddie's doing it.
A pitch goes wild, veers high over the umpire's head. Eddie's shaken, Steve can tell with how his fist tightens compulsively around the ball. The next pitch swings wide, towards the batter's knees.
The count is at 2 balls, no strikes, and he can see, even from behind home plate Steve can see, that Eddie's losing it. He heads for the mound, refuses to let it end like this. He closes the distance between them, has a quick internal debate before he puts his hand on Eddie's lower back. They've never touched, this is it, this is--warmth bleeds from Eddie's skin, through the fabric of his jersey, goes straight to Steve's head.
Eddie frowns. "I don't think I--"
"You're going to do it, Ed. I know. I can feel it." He pats his chest, over his heart. "It's gonna happen."
Eddie's breathing settles and it's only then that Steve realizes he's rubbing circles into Eddie's back with his thumb. He's not sure when he started, doesn't want to stop, loves being able to feel.
"Okay," Eddie says.
"Okay."
Steve removes his hand, heads back to home, still tingling with the warmth of Eddie's body even as he crouches behind the plate.
He closes out the inning with three definitive strike outs. The crowd goes wild.
They take the field for the top of the 9th, the crowd is screaming, ready for this, the energy zipping through every player on the field.
It goes by in a blur. Nine pitches. Eddie's perfect game is wrapped up in nine phenomenal pitches.
As the ump calls the last out, there's a moment of complete and utter quiet in the stadium, Steve's heart a pounding hum in his ears, before pandemonium breaks loose. There's screaming, fireworks, someone is crying--
All he can see is Eddie. Eddie's who's thrown his glove to the dirt, is barreling towards him with a triumphant smile bright on his face. Steve stands, runs to close the distance. He sees the moment that Eddie decides to jump into his arms, catches him easily--will always catch him--but his legs are tired and the momentum gets him, sends them tumbling back into the grass.
They're both yelling, laughing, smiling hard enough to hurt. Eddie's hair has fallen out if its tie, tumbling around his shoulders, and Steve gazes at him, can't help it, in this moment can admit that he's so, so astronomically in love.
It's only then Steve realizes that the laughter's stopped, that Eddie's gazing back. Brown eyes shining bright with happiness, cheeks flushed pink, lips parted. Thoughtless, he reaches up to caress Eddie's cheek.
The team reaches them, streaming around them, yanking Eddie and Steve to their feet. The celebration stretches around them, the moment slipping away. He wants to finish what they started but there are interviews, champagne showers, congratulations, that keep them apart. Sometimes, from across the room, their eyes meet, and there's heat there that's new, that sparks something low in Steve's gut.
Hours pass, and finally he finds himself alone in the locker room. He's just pulled on his t-shirt when the door shuts behind him. He spins, finds Eddie, waiting, watching.
He crosses the room without a word, can't not, not now, not after everything. They grapple for a second, the wanting so strong that it takes a second to settle, to find each other. They kiss hard, desperate, seething with desire.
Steve hopes it never ends and it doesn't, just tapers into soft kisses, gentle nips. He can't bring himself to step away.
"Is this for real ?" Eddie whispers.
"I've been insane about you since the trade."
Eddie's smile is blinding. "I used to have those pictures of you--the ones with the little red shorts?--in my locker in the minors. Feel like I'm living in a dream right now."
It lights him up inside, knowing that Eddie wants him, has wanted him. "Let me take you home and show you just how real it is?"
He snorts, but his dimples deepen, eyes shining. "What a line, sweetheart."
"Yeah well, the baseball field isn't the only place where I hit home runs."
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#baseball au#teammates to lovers#ficlet#fluff#first kiss#feelings confession#steve thinks he'll hate eddie but he just falls in love with him instead#pitcher eddie munson#catcher steve harrington#i had this idea a month ago and forgot about it#dom/sub undertones in the way that what if steve gently doms eddie into pitching better#what if steve modeled for SI's body issue and what if eddie is obsessed with him the whole time#really playing fast and loose with how major league baseball works
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Steddie who keep missing each other. Who aren't in love at the same time. It's neither of their faults; they're just not quite in touch, in tune with each other.
Sure, Eddie had a stupid huge embarrassing crush on Steve throughout junior year, senior year and senior year 2.0. Sure, it was made so much worse when in Steve's first and only senior year, Eddie found himself sat in math class diagonally behind the fallen king. He'd watch the way his hair moved when he ran his hands through it in frustration. He'd see the shift of muscle under his shirt when he bent down to pick up a dropped pencil. And every time Steve would smile, flutter his lashes and pinch his eyebrows, say; "I'm sorry sir, I just don't know", Eddie would find himself shifting in his seat, nipping at the skin on the side of his finger, knee bouncing under the desk. They didn't really talk beyond 'hey's in the corridor, beyond 'did you do the homework?'s - to which Eddie would without fail stutter out an 'Uh- so, no. I meant to- Just, uh. No.' and Steve would without fail flash a soft smile, bump his shoulder into Eddie's and whisper 'Me neither.'
It got easier, after Steve graduated. Eddie still saw him around, still recognised his car in the lot when he was giving Robin Buckley from band a ride to school. But it wasn't so immediate, wasn't so raw. And after a while, the butterflies would fade. He'd be able to meet Steve's eye across the Family Video counter without feeling his mouth go dusty and his heart leap into his throat.
Steve hadn't realised his feelings for Eddie were anything more than friendly, until he graduated high school. Without the daily glances across the classroom, the moments he'd always take to make conversation, it felt emptier. It gave him time to think about the way his chest would tighten at Eddie's shy smile whenever they talked. Steve hadn't realised he might be allowed to feel something softer than 'dudely bro-ship'.
That is, until it fades so the only time Steve sees him is when he drops Robin off at school, or when he comes in to family video to rent Halloween again. Steve's heart prickles at the sight of him, but after a while, Eddie's visits drop off.
Steve tries to keep himself busy, grateful for some time without inter-dimensional battles or Russian agents trying to kill him. Thoughts of Eddie drift to the back of his mind, for almost six months. And then in the spring of '86, Steve finds himself thrown against the splintered wall of a nondescript boathouse on the outskirts of town. And it's Eddie Munson from Math that has a shaking, jagged bottle held up to his throat. It absolutely doesn't awaken things in him that he never knew he could want, absolutely not.
But regardless, he's staring half-terrified into the dark, watery brown eyes of Eddie Munson from Math, and all he wants is to reach out and smooth a palm over his cheek. He wants to curl his hand around those trembling fingers and tell him it's all gonna be okay. Of course, it isn't. Steve doesn't get much of a chance to talk to Eddie over the next week, what with some vampire soul-sucker guy terrorizing the town, and Max getting possessed and the whole thing going entirely to shit. But he finds himself drawn inexplicably into Eddie's space, splits off with Eddie and has the girls pair up and then Eddie calls him 'big boy'. And his entire world stops spinning for a moment. For just a second, it's just the two of them, and Eddie's face is so close to his, his smile so wild and beautiful.
The whole world stops, before it rockets back into thrilling, terrifying motion.
In the fear and the panic of the final Vecna showdown, Steve has to thrust his feelings back down deep. He can't let shit like a crush get in the way when the lives of the people he loves most are at stake.
It all happens so fast, and before he knows it, Max is in a coma, Eddie's been torn up to within an inch of his life, there's no certainty that Vecna's even gone, and he doesn't know what to do.
For days, Steve sits by Eddie's bedside when he can - when he's not with Max - only sleeps when he does. He silently begs for Eddie to be alright, feels guilty for every thought he has that isn't about Max. He begins to resent how desperately he pines for the moments when Eddie's awake, and after a week, once it's clear that Eddie's going to recover, Steve doesn't visit him anymore.
With all the feelings that are getting jumbled amongst the multitude of all the other horrible nasty fragile things that are writhing around inside, Steve forces himself to shove any thoughts of Eddie down, to get over him. And before he realises, it's been weeks. He's still worried for Eddie, of course he is. The guy almost died in Henderson's arms. But now the world's not actively ending, now he has a moment to breathe, he wonders whether the sparking, shimmering thing that had his mouth going dusty and his heart leaping into his throat was the same thing that had him saying all that shit to Nancy in the upside down.
He can't trust that it's not just a trauma response.
After Eddie recovers, slowly and with more help than he'd ever admit he needed, he sees Steve again. But he's distant. Friendly, but impersonal. An acquaintance. Things are as they were before. It hurts, but he knows all too well that any of the flirtation, the playful teasing and longing looks can only be chalked up to the fear of the end of the world.
It's a couple months before Steve tells Eddie he's going to college out of state. He's leaving in a week. And everything that had been laying dormant for so long comes bubbling up to the surface.
"Shit, I wish you'd given me a little more notice, Harrington," Eddie says, trying desperately to keep the heartbreak out of his voice.
"I'm sorry man, I just. It all happened pretty fast and like if I didn't do it now, it wasn't gonna happen, yknow?" Steve shrugs awkwardly, runs a hand through his hair.
If I didn't do it now, it wasn't gonna happen.
"It's gonna be a damn sight harder to like you this much when you're that far away," Eddie's mouth says before his mind can catch up.
"I like you too, man, but hey, I'll be home for Christmas. You can catch me up on everything I miss, huh?" Steve bumps Eddie's shoulder, just as he used to when they were leaning against the lockers back at school.
"No, Steve. I- You're, I mean. I like you. In a- Like I have, I totally have feelings for you, dude," Eddie forces out, watching his sneaker as he kicks at the ground.
"Eddie..." Steve says softly, and it just breaks Eddie's heart even more. Because that's a let-him-down-gently 'Eddie'.
"No, no it's- Don't sweat it man, just sorta had to tell you before you- Anyway. Have fun at college. I'll- I'll be here when you come home."
"Eddie, wait. I'm sorry. I just..." Steve begins, looks so pained, reaches to take hold of Eddie's shoulder. He avoids it, ducks out the way. And then Eddie leaves, before Steve can try to do something awful like making him feel better or tell him it's okay.
Eddie doesn't see Steve again before he goes to college. Hears from Henderson over the next few months how he's getting on, all the babes he's dating, the assignments he's trying to actually do before the deadline, and Eddie forces himself to smile, crack a joke, whatever.
Slowly, he extricates himself from conversations about Steve. Doesn't want to hear it, but can't tell anyone why. So he finds excuses; he has to take a leak, just remembered he promised Wayne he'd pick up groceries, got band practice, whatever he can come up with. He doesn't even hear Steve's name, tries desperately not to think about him (and fails), until December.
Until the evening of December 24th, when there's knock at the trailer door. With Wayne already asleep, Eddie drags himself from the couch to pull the front door open.
Eddie's met with a coat-wrapped, scarf-muffled, bobble-hatted Steve Harrington standing on his doorstep. Heās rocking back and forth on his toes, arms crossed tight around his chest, hands tucked under his arms. His cheeks are pink, the tip of his nose pinker still, nibbled by the cold. Heās just as beautiful as the last time Eddie saw him, and it jerks his heart into frantic motion against his ribs.
Heād thought he was over Steve, that seeing him again would be just like what it is; welcoming home an old friend. Except all Eddie wants to do is take hold of Steveās frostbitten cheeks, pull his face towards him and kiss him like itāll erase all the months of pining that had gone before.
Of course, he doesnāt. Instead, he just balks, says "Steve? What are you-?"
"I had to see you. Iām sorry if this is like inappropriate or if you donāt wanna see me- Dustin said you seemed like, mad at me or something. And honestly I canāt blame you, really. I shouldnāt have- itās not that I didnāt, that I wasnāt. What Iām trying to say, Eddie, is that I know itās too late. I know I missed my shot. But I havenāt stopped thinking about you for the last four months."
"Steve-"
"I know I have no right to do this to you. But it was killing me, man. Because I think I might have- I think I might be-"
"Me too," Eddie interrupts. His mindās whirring and tumbling, trying to gather up the pieces of Steveās fragmented confession. Steveās jaw hangs open just a little, paused halfway through a word. "I thought itād gone away. Thought Iād gotten over Steve Harrington," Eddie continues with a sardonic little shimmy of his hands, "but uh, seems youāre a little harder to shake than I thought."
"D'you, d'you want to shake me? Off, I mean," Steve asks, dipping his chin and looking up through thick lashes, a shy, self-conscious suggestion of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.
"No. no I donāt."
"Oh thank god. 'Cause I donāt know if Iād survive that," Steve exhales, his small smile spreading into a grin. He rocks forward onto the balls of his feet again, and Eddie finds himself pulled into Steveās orbit. It doesnāt matter that heās just in his socks and the doorstep is damp with cold. Eddie crosses the threshold and curls his fingers gently around the lapels of Steveās coat. Eddieās struggling to breathe, little puffs bursting forth from his lips and clashing in the air, mixing with Steveās own.
"Can I-?" Eddie asks, doesnāt dare say the word aloud in case Steveās not on the same page; gives himself an out if Steveās not where Eddieās at. Where heās always been at, really. It just wasnāt quite at the right time.
"Yes. Please," Steve breathes, sweet frosty breath swirling gray-white around in the thin, chilly air between their faces. Slowly, giving Steve plenty of time to back away, change his mind, Eddie draws Steve towards him, tips his chin until their noses brush. the very peaks of their lips touch, and Steveās breath hitches at the contact. Itās the prettiest sound Eddieās ever heard. Eddie sips in a breath, hardly daring to move, and lets Steve nudge their mouths together.
Finally.
Their lips press softly together, and Eddie feels Steveās hands come to grip at the sides of his sweater, bunching it at his waist. He pulls Eddie towards him, moans softly, just the tiniest hint of voice slipping out and into Eddieās mouth. A new prettiest sound.
Suddenly aware of their very public, very chilly location, Eddie stumbles backwards, pulls Steve inside with him. Steve follows enthusiastically, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel, lips never leaving Eddieās for even a moment. Theyāre entirely wrapped up in each other, even as Eddie frantically unwraps Steveās cold-proof clothing, lost completely in the feeling of their bodies pressing together.
They took their time, to get here. But now that they are, here is where theyāll stay. It wonāt be easy, being apart for long stretches while Steveās away at college, but now theyāll have a little something of each otherās to keep hold of until theyāre together again.
Theyāll have the promises they made each other that night, the words whispered against skin, the kisses pressed and breath shared. Theyāll have the silent, precious exchange of one heart for another. And that will see them through.
#steddie#mutual pining but not at the same time#steddie ficlet#fanfic#3minsover#steve harrington x eddie munson
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Steve as a late night radio DJ, with Robin as his producer (because my partner has made me watch so much Frasier lol). He's got the sexy voice and Eddie, frontman of successful metal band Corroded Coffin, still remembers him from Hawkins and, ugh.
But, well, his manager set up the interview and it would cause more of a stir to no-show than it would to turn up and bicker with some washed up former high school bully. It's a different city, a different decade; maybe King Steve won't even remember him.
So Eddie turns up, and he actually beats Steve there. To the point of the show starting and it's just him in the booth, chatting awkwardly with Robin to fill the air. It gets less awkward the more they talk, idly catching up on old small town bullshit and what it's like to go from isolated baby queers ("I thought I was totally alone!" "Really? You didn't clock the black bandana hanging out of my pocket for five of my six years in high school?" "Sorry old timer, I was still in middle school for part of that." "Oh fuck off, Ms. 'I went to Sarah Lawrence and all I got was this awesome girlfriend.'" "Sorry Eddie, we can't all be super late bloomers like you.") to Actually Successful And Functioning Adults. (She's kind enough not to mention his single but unfortunately well known brush with rehab, other than to congratulate him on his seven year chip.)
And then Steve bursts in, huffing and puffing and diving for the headphones and mic to apologize to both them and the audience for being late. He doesn't even try to offer an excuse until Robin asks, "Uh, Steve? Want to share with us why your arm's in a sling and one of your eyebrows looks like it got flambƩd right off your face?"
Which turns into a very put-upon but entertaining retelling of Dustin Henderson ("Oh damn, Henderson! I fell outta touch with him ages ago. How is that little shit?" "Married. He didn't end up converting to Mormonism, but they still have enough kids to make up half a basketball team." "Is that... a lot?" "Six, Munson. They have six kids." "Which is funny, because he made soooo much fun of Steve for wanting that many back in the day." "Yeah. Showed him." "Fuck, my condolences to his wife if they all inherited his big head. You gotta give me his number after this. OrāDUSTIN, if you're listening to your babysitter's show, come to my next concert and there'll be two backstage passes with your name on it! Or, well, that embarrassing nickname your radio girlfriend used to call you, since I think I've blurted out your full government name by now." "That girlfriend is actually his wife now." "No shit?! Wow, I can't believe one of my little lost sheepies has managed to keep the same girl for over a decade. Is she really hotter than Phoebe Cates?" "Oh, she is smokin." "Robin, don't make it weird." "Oh it's okay, she already knows. I told her.") ... A very put-upon but entertaining retelling of Dustin Henderson coming over to discuss plans for Ma Henderson's birthday, and bringing a cherries jubilee that Suzie had made so he could literally demonstrate the flambĆ© presentation ("Listeners, I swear I did not know, when I asked Steve about his flambĆ©d eyebrow, that it was a literal flambĆ© accident. Eddie, can you confirm?" "I can confirm, Robin. We received no heads-up calls or messages from Steve before or during the show. It was serendipitous irony, 100% pure.") but poured waaaaay too much brandy on, and then Steve tripped in his mad dash for the fire extinguisher ("He was no help at all, just stopped dropped and rolled right there in the middle of the damn kitchen." "How are his eyebrows?" "Ugh, I have more of them than he does right now but at least his match. Don't worry everyone, he's fine. No nerds were injured in the course of this improv slapstick comedy routine that is my life. I swear to god, I need a girlfriend or a boyfriend or someone reasonable to hang out with besides all you weirdos." "Aw, you love us." "Yeah Stevie, what would you do without your loving nerd squad?" "Yeah, yeah... But don't try to leave yourself out of this Munson, as far as I'm concerned you're still the king of all nerds. And if you're reconnecting with Dustin, you're stuck with us too.") and had to stop by urgent care on the way to work.
Throughout all of this, Eddie is not twirling a lock of hair around one finger... but only because it's tied haphazardly back to keep it out of his face for the day. Steve is different from the guy he remembers strutting the halls of Hawkins High. Still all freckles and hair and charismatic grin, but he carries himself differently. More solidly built in his mid-thirties than his late teens, with a layer of softness that suits him. Calmer and settled, with the kind of confidence that comes with growing up. And the girlfriend or boyfriend thing? Holy shit. Holy shit. King Steve? Who knew? But, well, it explains why Steve and Robin are so close, Eddie guesses.
The Steve Harrington that Eddie had known back in the day hadn't exactly been the worst of the bullies, but he'd been friends with them, and they had spouted plenty of homophobic shit. And Steve had been looking right at him as he'd said it, like he's aware that Eddie is terminally single and maybe, just maybe, there was a flicker of a question in his eyes.
Eddie has been publicly out for a while now, and the thing is... Steve is definitely his type. So he leans into it a little, testing the waters. And Steve responds to it like a sunflower greeting the sunrise.
By the end of the show Robin is slapping post-its on the glass partition that read "Get his number dingus" and "Get a room" and Don't make that face at me, yes I do know that he can see these too and I don't care, GET IT or I will recruit Dusty-dun to my cause" and "To clarify, the cause is getting you laid. Eddie, take note, he's allergic to latex."
Permanent tag list (ask to be added, but since I have gotten an influx of new followers lately just know that I write a lot of weight gain kink so like... just be aware): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve
#this is not what i planned#but it got away from me a bit#robin is the best and worst wingwoman#steddie#platonic stobin#chubby steve harrington#bisexual steve harrington#later eddie finds out that steve has had a crush on him since dustin joined hellfire and started talking him up#his brain mets out his ears a little bit while he processes being steve's baby queer awakening and being in steve's mouth at the same time#scoops words#steddie ficlet#i guess#fraiser steddie au
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Thinking about Steve who has not a single idea about how social media works, but he downloads a few things like Instagram and Twitter only to check in on the kids. Other than that, he has zero knowledge of pop culture and kind of lives in that blissful bubble. Every once in a while, the kids will get a bit exasperated with him, but he enjoys listening to them explain things - and he knows they secretly love being able to rehash all the gossip.
And honestly, being out of the loop has itās perks. Especially when heās on a plane to Los Angeles, California to visit the Byers while theyāre there for a concert and to do some sightseeing in the meantime. Heās sat next to someone who sits by the window seat but wears a baseball cap and sunglasses, curly hair tied back in a ponytail. He seems strangely on edge - maybe suffering from a hangover or scared of flying.
Steve canāt help but tap him on the arm. When the stranger turns, he has his mouth in a flat line looking strangely done with the conversation before itās even begun. āSorry, I was just going to ask if youāre okay,ā Steve says.
The man frowns and tilts his head. He hesitates to reply, āYes, Iām justā¦ a bit on edge.ā
āTell me about it. This is my first time on a plane.ā
The strangerās mouth twitches. āIs it really?ā
āYeah. What about you?ā Steve asks.
āIāve been on hundreds of planes - would rather be on the road though,ā the stranger says reaching up to grab at the end of his ponytail and twirl it around his finger.
Steve smiles and replies, āI get that. Iām Steve by the way.ā He holds his hand out to the stranger who eyes it wearily.
āEddie,ā he replies quietly and shakes his hand.
Steve gets distracted by the rings on his hands and finds himself asking about them. The stranger looks at him for a moment, and, even with the sunglasses on, Steve can tell Eddie is strangely taken aback. Steve is about to take it back and apologize forā¦ mentioning the rings? But Eddie points to the first one and explains.
The rest of the plane ride goes well, amazingly well even. Steve finds himself chatting away with Eddie and throughly enjoying his company - especially when he holds his hand while the plane takes off. He especially enjoys the moment when Eddie briefly takes his sunglasses out to look at the clouds, and Steve gets to see his beautiful brown eyes.
A range of emotions pass through those eyes before Eddie puts the sunglasses back on. Steve almost asks him to keep them off - entranced by the way they express everything heās thinking. But that can be a dangerous thing, so he doesnāt press him about it.
When the captain announces that theyāre about to land, Steve is truly upset to think about not getting the chance to see Eddie again. Maybe itās the fact that Steve has taken a risk and finally left Indiana for once or maybe Eddieās just one of the first people heās hit it off with in a long time, but Steve asks, āDo you want to get coffee? After we land.ā
Eddieās tongue rests on his top lip, tracing it back and forth as he considers it. He finally responds, āI would love to, but I have an appointment as soon as we land.ā
Steve lets the disappointment settle in him but tries his best not to let it show. āItās alright.ā
But Eddie fidgets with his rings, tongue still resting on his top lip as he debates something. āDo you have an Instagram?ā He asks.
Steve laughs bashfully. āI do, but I never use it. Well, I do sometimes just to keep track of some kids I used to babysit honestly, like Dustin who I told you about.ā
Eddieās smile turns into a full blown grin. āOf course. Well, do you mind if I get your Instagram so I can message you with when Iām free? I would give you my number butā¦ Iām afraid of it getting out. Not that you would do that butā¦ people listening and whatnotā¦ā Eddie spins his rings so anxiously fast that it makes Steve nearly laugh.
āYes, I hope I remember it correctly because I didnāt come up with it,ā Steve confesses. Eddie passes him his phone with the notes app open. He types in steve.the.hair.harrington and hands the phone back.
Eddie takes it back and laughs as he reads it. āItās fitting,ā he explains and reaches out to mess with a few strands.
āI try my best,ā Steve replies with a shrug, wondering how he can get Eddie to touch his hair again.
āMy hair stylist would love you,ā Eddie says then freezes.
Steve smiles. āYou have a hair stylist?ā
Eddie struggles to respond but is given an out as the plane finally lands. Heās immediately reaching out to grab Steveās hand, and he forgets all about the question.
Eddie doesnāt let go until people start making their way off the plane, using his hand to tilt his baseball cap a little lower and tuck in on himself. Itās as if heās trying to avoid having someone see him, but Steve doesnāt want to pry so he doesnāt ask.
Eddie follows Steve off the plane and glances around once they get to the terminal. Then, he quickly pulls him into a hug and whispers, āThank you for a normal flight.ā
Steve has no idea what he means by that, but he just squeezes him back tighter. Eddie pulls away and lingers in his arms. Steve wants more than anything to take off his sunglasses and look into his eyes again.
Thereās a sound of a camera going off that has Eddie jumping away and putting his hands in his pockets. āThink weāre near someone famous?ā Steve jokes.
āOh, I know we are,ā Eddie says with a small smile that makes it seem like he knows something that Steve doesnāt. Before he can ask, Eddie is saying, āI hope Iāll see you again. Goodbye, Steve.ā And with that heās rushing off, pulling his baseball cap a little lower and directing his gaze towards the ground.
Heās strange, but Steve likes him.
The rest of his day, he has a spring in his step. And by the time he gets to his hotel, he collapses on his bed with a sigh of relief. He pulls out his phone and checks for any notifications before he realizes his phone has been on airplane mode. He turns it off and waits for a message from Robin or Dustin to appear on his screen.
Instead, heās bombarded with notification after notification - including 27 missed calls from Dustin. He calls him immediately.
The phone rings for not even a second before Dustin is answering with a scream of, āSteve Harrington, why have you not answered your phone?!ā
āIāve been sightseeing. Is everything okay?ā
āCheck the photos I sent you!ā
Steve rushes to his messages, finding them filled with people he hasnāt heard from in years. He ignores that and goes to his pinned messages with Dustin. He clicks on the first picture he sees.
Itās a poor quality photo of him and Eddie hugging in the terminal. He swipes to find a photo of him and Eddie holding hands on the plane. Then another one of him lingering in Eddieās arm lookingā¦ very smitten. āDustin where did you get these?ā Steve asks swiping and even coming across a video of them talking on the plane, with Steve laughing as Eddie dramatically tells some sort of tale.
āBetter question, how did this even happen Steve? Why didnāt you tell me?!ā
Steve is thoroughly confused. āDustin, I just met Eddie today. But seriously, how did you get these?ā
Thereās a pause on the other line and a breathed out, āOh my god.ā He can hear Dustin take a deep breath before he asks, āSteve, please tell me that you know who Eddie Munson is.ā
āHis last name is Munson?ā
Thereās a muffled scream on the other line before Dustin is launching into a speech about how Eddie is one of the most famous up and coming artists right now. And yeah Corroded Coffins does sound familiar, but it doesnāt click until Dustin explains thatās who Steve and the Byers are going to see in concert.
Oh.
Steve thinks back and everything clicks - especially the number of people who were staring at him and trying to sneak photos while he was out. He scrolls to a screenshot of a Twitter post with the caption, ādid anyone else know that eddie munson has a boyfriend???ā
Steveās eyes widen. āDustin, how many people think weāre dating?ā
āThe entire internet so basically the whole world,ā Dustin says, and Steve doesnāt have time to even process that statement before Dustin is yelling, āOh my god!ā
āWhat?ā
āEddie Munson just liked a photo I was tagged in! Holy shit, heās seen my face!ā
āYeah, dude, I told him all about you on the plane,ā Steve says. And boy, that probably will not help with the kidās ego.
Steve opens his Instagram, ignoring Dustinās little screams on the other line, and takes in the sheer number of notifications. He quickly goes to his requests in his messages and finds one from therealeddiemunson. āHey, Dustin, what does a blue checkmark mean?ā
Dustin groans on the other line asking why it was Steve who got to meet him before finally explaining it. Steve accepts the request and stares at the message hey, you still on for that coffee?
Steve clicks on Eddieās profile and his heart thuds. Heās pretty sure people arenāt supposed to have a āKā in their follower count. He looks at the recent photos and feels himself turn a bit red. He almost has no clue how the Eddie he met on the plane and Eddie Munson are the same guy.
āDustin, if I turned down Eddie Munson for coffee would you ever be able to forgive me?ā
āDonāt you fucking dare, or I swear to god I will never let my mom bake anything for you again.ā
Steve laughs and with that he goes back to the messages and sends Absolutely :)
#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie ficlet#this deleted three times while I was writing this#I nearly gave up
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