#but more about getting old in a family

[the-ace-with-spades]

(another unfinished post i found on the way to glasgow - that was the longest train ride in my life - I'm sorry in advance)

When Ice finally passes away, at the age of 73, in his sleep, Bradley moves Mav into their house the same day.

He gets the call in the morning, while trying to simultaneously cook Jake's breakfast and try to make their daughter put on a rain jacket. It's not Mav, but someone from the hospital. Jake doesn't know this — Bradley's face twitches only for a second and then he's back to the nagging, relaxing tone and telling their daughter it's raining and it won't stop. Jake only finds out when he comes back home from the school drop-off and Mav is already there on their couch. Jake doesn't even get the full explanation until that night, just a quick, "Ice passed away overnight."

There's only their three youngest living with them at the time — their 18-year-old daughter who attends UC San Diego, and their 15-year-old son who is still in high school, and their 7-year-old daughter — so Mav takes one of the vacant bedrooms.

The first few nights, Bradley sleeps in the same bed with him. Neither of them looks like they get much sleep. They don't really eat, either, just drink coffee and nibble on the crackers.

The kids start coming back home, and their oldest helps Jake arrange most of the things for the funeral, at least for the first few days. Mav is... numb, not really there, and Jake understands — he would, too, if he woke up one day and his husband died in his sleep next to him. Bradley is silent, mostly, the way he usually rambles to fill out the silence, the way he hums, the way he sings at any given time when there are no words spoken, it's all gone and Jake doesn't know how to fill out the silence either, how to ask, how to make it better without asking.

Bradley doesn't cry, or at least not the way he knows Mav does — he can see Mav's red eyes every morning — but there's something empty in his gaze, in the way his eyes follow Mav and in the way he melts whenever Mav is around, always close, always brushing against him. Mav spaces out a lot, doesn't talk much, doesn't—well, doesn't do much. Every time he tries to help with something, paperwork, the funeral arrangements, the hospital bills, even just sorting out the kids' school leave or Jake's own work leave, he fumbles a bit, not really able to focus on anything for long, and it's like his mind is completely scrambled. Jake doesn't know how to help him — doesn't know if they even can.

The kids, well, did not take it well, as expected. The oldest two try to be brave and help Jake with everything, keep the house going, but their youngest daughter doesn't really understand why her pops isn't back, the middle kids don't understand why now — Ice was in remission, in good health, would go hiking with them once a month, play with them in the backyard, talking about plans for the future with them, nothing that would tell them to expect their pops passing away. Mav and Ice had taken care of all of them for years, while Jake and Bradley were still deployable, and helping out as much as they could. Ice was a huge part of their lives, since the very beginning.

Bradley is certainly not doing any better but one couldn't be able to tell if they didn't know him well enough. He's always been more for packing his feelings into a tight neat box, compartmentalizing until there is too much and it all overflows in some explosive way. His focus is mostly on Mav and the kids, trusting Jake to take care of anything he can't.

Jake can't even ask him how he's doing until the night before the funeral.

Mav tells Bradley he wants to be alone that night and Bradley lands in their bedroom.

He acts normal — checks the kids are in bed, checks on Mav, prepares stuff for breakfast in the morning, has a shower. Only when he sits down in their bed, their dress blues, cleaned and pressed sitting on the hangers hooked up on their wardrobe, right in front of him—only then he freezes, a blank stare still on the uniforms.

Jake sits down next to him on the bed. "Talk to me, Bradley."

"I knew it was going to happen at some point, I just," "I just thought we would have a few more years."

Bradley sleeps curled up on his chest — he sleeps the whole night, soundlessly, and Jake is almost settled.

Almost. Mav is a couple doors down, alone.

Ice's been—had been retired many years now, but he had been high enough in the ranks that the Navy still insists on making a military funeral. Jake tried to take away as much of the flashy bullshit as possible, but there are still things leftover — the sailors with the flag, the flyover. But there's no one who wasn't close with the family at the ceremony, there's no speeches, and no one tries to hand either Mav or Bradley a flag.

The wake has an even smaller amount of people, all packed in their house — Mav hasn't been at his own house since — and thanks to Slider, mostly, and his 'the bastard wouldn't want us to mope around', it's less sad and quiet.

Mav eats two slices of cake, which is the most Jake's seen him eat since, and even laughs at some stories about Ice people are exchanging.

Ice had a good life. A big family. A big happy family that loved him.

But life goes on without him. Jake goes back to work first, then the kids have to go back to school, then Bradley has to back to work. After a couple of days alone at their house, Mav starts bringing up moving back to his own house.

He's not really doing great. He's still quiet, still spaces out more often than not, still forgets himself sometimes, still freezes whenever he tries to say something and the we he uses is one person short. He's—lifeless, for a lack of better word, and seems like he's noticing it now that Bradley isn't with him most of the waking hours.

"That is our home," Mav tells them. "I can't abandon it forever, I'd be abandoning him, too, if I—"

Jake—Jake gets it. He doesn't like it, but he gets it.

Bradley's been fielding off any suggestions of Mav moving out but he's pretty sure that soon Mav is going to pack his stuff and up and leave without asking for permission.

"If he wants to move back home, we can't exactly hold him here. against his will."

"Jake," Bradley says. "I feel like—if we let Mav go back there alone, he's going to die of a broken heart and I won't have either of them anymore."

"Sweetheart—"

"I know it's selfish," he interrupts, "but I can't lose him, too. Not now."

Jake can't make Mav stay with them — so he finds the best solution he can and instead, they all move in with Mav. Hell with it, he's going to try to get everyone to live their lives to the end. They'd done it before, Mav, Ice, Bradley, Jake and their two kids under one roof, when their oldest two were their only two kids.

The two of them and two of their youngest; two of their kids move into their house so they don't have to sell it.

Mav lives on. They try to occupy his mind by throwing their youngest at him — ask him to take her to school, pick her up from school, take her to her gymnastics class, do her homework with her, teach her how to play piano. The other kids pick up on it, too, and their high schoolers would wrap Mav into doing math workbooks with them, or ask him to drive them to their friends' house, and the kids that have moved out ask Mav to go to lunch together or call him to ask him things about car and house repairs that don't exist.

Mav gets brighter every day. Never as bright as before, but no longer so numb.

Their daughter ends up never moving out and so do they.

They all get older but Mav holds up pretty well. He does break his hip when trying to wash the windows, had a limp and terrible back ache ever since, had to stop driving because he can't see shit, had to stop piloting even sooner, and his memory is also shit, but Jake is pretty sure his cholesterol is lower than his own and he has better blood pressure than Bradley. Bradley and Mav are the ones cooking after all, Jake is the one eating all the tasty but not healthiest food, and Mav's life revolves around spoiling his cute great-grandkids and Bradley's is filled with the constant stress of managing Navy's top flying school.

For his ninetieth birthday, Mav flies a fighter jet as a passenger, the oldest person to ever do that — his youngest granddaughter is the one to take him up in the air, a junior grade lieutenant herself. They have a birthday party held at their house, Mav falls asleep in the armchair, Bradley makes fun of him and promptly falls asleep on the couch, too. Jake loves them both so much and still kind of can't believe he has this — house full of grown-up kids and grandkids of his own, his graying husband of over thirty years, his father-in-law coming to an age he wanted to see his mother at.

They're cleaning up, their two daughters who still don't have kids and didn't need to go home helping, and Mav tells them he's going to get some fresh air on their veranda. "I've got a terrible headache," is all he says.

Half an hour passes, they've packed all the clean and dirty dishes, and Bradley huffs to himself. "He fell asleep on the bench again, didn't he," and goes outside.

Bradley shouts for him in less than a minute. The ambulance is there in eight. Within the half-hour and a CT scan in the hospital, the neurologist tells them Mav is too far gone to survive the day. Within six hours, every single person from their family has come to say goodbye. When they pass the seven hours mark, Jake stands up from the plastic chair behind Bradley — he's not about to tell Bradley he should rest, but he's been holding Mav's hand since the minute they admitted Mav to the ward and hasn't eaten or drunk anything all day. He tells him he'll go grab them a coffee and bagels and gets a little nod and a smile.

Jake comes back twenty minutes later and Bradley doesn't even look up from where he's gripping Mav's hand.

"Can you get the nurse for me?"

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

UGHGJHTGH THEYRE SO FAMILY TO MEEEE

[gracefireheart]

A few sketches of these guys :]

[teratomatica]

you always land on all fours

[sukibenders]

When other Yellowjackets fans, majority who are poc themselves, talk about how weird and frustrating it is that the writers introduced a random yte character and gave them a storyline when there were two (technically three but they killed off Lottie even when there was an opportunity for more) woc, who have been around since s1, that could've fit the mold instead (like Mari) and have actual personalities outside of building up/being the lapdog for another character. Or how often times many of the, limited, poc characters are often either treated poorly and killed off, or pushed to the side (Simone, reduced to the disposable black girlfriend trope and is nearly killed by her partner because she's in the way of a ship; Travis, since s1, had his trauma dismissed or ignored and was overly hated but no one talks about how he was SA'd by the girls he's now stuck with on top of having to eat his brother and not be able to grieve over it). How Taissa's whole storyline is just revolving around Van even with all the potential, especially given she's fighting to be free from her own mind, how Lottie's mental illness is treated so poorly as if it's not the butt of a joke then it's met with heavy criticism (and the only time she is met with sympathy for it, it's through the lens of a yte character embodying her and having an emotional conversation with her father). How you can have all of these reasons (and more) for being annoyed by Melissa's character or the direction of the show, and be met with #those fans downplaying these concerns, or just being overly antagonistic just because they find yte character #243 entertaining so obviously these conversations don't have merit. But this fandom has always had an...."interesting" way in which it discussed the poc characters on the show, so I'm not surprised.

[meagancandraw]

You ever think about how neither of them got to say goodbye?

[erinwantstowrite]

Ooh what job are you getting? Still in the vet area?

Good luck!

i was thinking about sticking around for vet stuff!! i don't have a license or anything but i'm pretty good at office work and my boss at animal control swore i would be loved at these other places (apparently i'm good with handling rude people, but i think that's because half the time i don't even notice they're being rude lol. + i can handle that sometimes an animal would be better off being put down :( even if it makes me sad, quality of life is better than quantity). but !! </3 no one is hiring around here </3</3</3 broke my heart fr

i might end up working for the city? can't really say what it is but it seems my speed even if it'll be more fast paced. i had an interview with a a few people who are reps for the city and THAT was nerve-racking. at least i knew a whole bunch of them already

[estrellami-1]

Anything

Trigger warning: discussions of death. Not a main character, but it does happen. Lots of angst. Lots of hurt/comfort. I’ll post it in the tags as well.

Steve has a problem.

It’s not a big problem, not really, but his brain won’t let it go and is making it a bigger deal than it really is.

Eddie won’t ride in his car alone.

With the kids, sure; he’ll practically dive into the backseat, noogie Dustin, generally make a nuisance of himself.

But if it’s just the two of them? If Steve insists on driving, Eddie will take his van. There’s no problem if Steve wants to ride with Eddie. But the other way around? Eddie riding with Steve? That doesn’t happen. And Steve has no idea why.

“Talk to him, Dingus,” is Robin’s advice. He’d flip her off, but unfortunately he thinks she’s right: this is something they’re gonna have to talk through.

So Steve pulls on his big-boy pants and marches himself to the Munsons’ trailer, knocking on the door and waiting expectantly.

He doesn’t expect Wayne, but maybe he should’ve, because that’s who answers the door. “Hi, Steve. You’re here for Eddie, I bet, he’ll be in his room.” He moves aside to let Steve in, and Steve thanks him after a second before moving down the hall to Eddie’s room.

He hears him before he sees him; or, more accurately, he hears his guitar. He’s playing the acoustic tonight, instead of his usual sweetheart, so Steve knocks instead of walking in like he’d usually do.

The guitar stops, and Steve hears it being put down, hears a heavy sigh. “Wayne, I’m not really in the- oh.” He opens the door as he speaks and blinks at Steve. After a second, he smiles. “Hey, man, c’mon in.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Are you okay?” 

Eddie purses his lips. “Define okay. I’m not currently being eaten by bats, y’know? But playing the acoustic always reminds me of my Ma.”

“Ah.” Steve shifts. “Sorry, man. Maybe I should come back later.”

Eddie shrugs. “You’re here now, aren’t you? I can’t be that terrible company.”

Steve snorts. “No, I just… I had a question, but it can wait.”

Eddie tilts his head. “You do that a lot, y’know?” He turns, sits on his bed. Motions Steve into his room.

Steve sits next to him, more comfortable here than in his own room. “Do what?”

“Put yourself last.” He shrugs. “You can ask me. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Okay, fine. Why won’t you ride in my car?”

Eddie frowns. “I do, though? Hell, I did what, two days ago? You, me and Dustin went to that comic store in Indy.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Why won’t you ride passenger in my car, alone? Without any of the kids? And even two days ago you were in the backseat with Dustin.” He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just curious.”

Eddie takes a breath. “No, it’s- yeah. You should know.” He clears his throat, grabs the acoustic again. Plays a riff of some sort, fingers dancing over the frets. “I think I feel like I have to save everyone. Or at least be in a position where I can save them, if the need arises.” He swallows, takes another breath. His fingers still. They tremble over the strings. “Did I ever tell you how my ma died?”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to inhale sharply. He shakes his head. “We can stop,” he says. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Eddie smiles ruefully. “I do, though.” He shakes his head. “I was… I was six. It was three days before my seventh birthday. We were driving home from the city. Ma was drivin’, an’ she let me sit in the front seat, since it was almost my birthday. Or- that’s what she said. I think it was so we couldn’t stop her. Couldn’t save her.” He swallows. His eyes are glassy. His accent is thick, the way it gets when he’s thinking about her, or when he’s emotional. His left hand grips the neck of the guitar tightly. Steve worries for his fingers. “We weren’t goin’ that fast, even, but forty’s enough when-” he shakes his head, looks away. Coughs out something that wanted to be a sob. Steve takes the guitar, takes Eddie’s hand. Puts the guitar down. Doesn’t let go of Eddie. “She unbuckled her belt. Dad didn’t see it. I did. Didn’t say anythin’. Maybe I should’ve, I dunno.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. “Then it all happened so fast… she smiled at me, an’ opened her door, an’ next thing I knew-” he wipes at tears on his cheeks. “D’you know what happens to a human head under the wheel of a car at forty miles an hour?”

Steve gasps, grips Eddie’s hand just as tightly. Pulls Eddie in when he begins to shake. “An’ I know why, now,” he whispers. “Dad weren’t good to her. I’unno what he done t’her. I know she did what she could. But I was there. I was right there.” He sniffles, trembles with the effort of keeping his sobs in. Somehow succeeds. “So that’s why. Figure if a kid were to try… I could stop ‘em. Figure if you were to try…”

“You could stop me.” Steve holds him tight. “I won’t,” he whispers. “I swear to you, I won’t.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers back. “But I gotta be able to try.”

“Christ, Eds,” Steve whispers. “I was gonna ask if you’re okay but that’s a stupid question.”

Eddie giggles, still teary-eyed. “Just a little bit.”

Steve pulls away to look him in the eye. “I’m staying tonight, okay? Nightmares are always worse after something like this.”

“Then you should go home,” Eddie argues. “Sleep while you can.”

“Nightmares are always easier with someone else.”

“Damn you, that’s true.” They both laugh a little.

Just then, Wayne comes in with two steaming mugs. “Listen to your boy, son,” he says to Eddie, handing over one of the mugs. He gives Steve the other with a wink. “Lavender tea with a shit ton of honey. Learned it from my ma.”

“Not my boy, Wayne,” Eddie grumbles, but thanks him for the tea anyways.

Steve thanks him too, and he winks again before leaving. Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’d apologize for him, but you’d just defend him.”

“Hey, I like Wayne.”

“I know. Sometimes I think you like him more than you like me.”

Steve chuckles. “Never. You’re my favorite.” He moves so they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, drinking their tea, leaning against each other. It’s peaceful, and soon enough Eddie’s yawning and dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “Imma pass out soon.”

“Then let’s get you up to brush your teeth before you do.”

Eddie groans like the toddler he secretly is. “I don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, and you don’t wanna go to the dentist to get teeth pulled, either, now do you?”

“Shuddup.”

“Wow. Real master of words here. Really feeling that Dungeon Master power.”

Eddie thumps his arm, but snickers, and really that’s what Steve was going for in the first place, so he just smiles and leads Eddie to the bathroom.

Soon enough they’re in bed, tucked in next to each other, not quite packed like sardines and it’s only because of the heat outside that Steve isn’t more upset not to have more of a reason to touch Eddie. “Night, Eds,” he murmurs, smiling when Eddie rolls over to face him and is temporarily blinded by his own hair. Steve helps move his hair, grabs at Eddie’s hand when he’s done. “Wake me up if the nightmare doesn’t, okay?”

“C’mon, Steve, I can deal with them-”

“I know you can,” Steve answers. “But I want to be up if you are. I want to help if I can. Please, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs after a second. “Damn you,” he says, “I can’t say no to you.” He’s smiling, despite his words, so Steve smiles back.

“Thank you.”

“G’night, Stevie.”

“Night, Eds.”

Steve wakes up to Eddie crying out in his sleep. Even with his eyes closed, he’s got tears streaming down his cheeks. Steve sits up, turns on the lamp, and puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie?”

He rolls over, away from Steve, and continues sobbing. “Eds? Are you awake?” No answer, so Steve puts his hand back on Eddie’s shoulder and shakes a little. “Eddie, wake up!”

He’s up with an aborted yell and a flail of limbs, sitting up and staring into the darkness of his room, trembling. He sniffs and turns to face Steve, finally realizing he’s there, and Steve opens his arms for a hug.

He collapses into Steve’s arms, face mashed into the side of Steve’s neck, arms snaking around Steve’s torso to give an ineffectual tug. Steve takes the hint and inches closer until they’re practically hip-to-hip. “Y’wanna talk about it?” He asks. Eddie sniffs and shakes his head. “Y’want me to talk? To distract you?” Eddie nods. “Okay. Uh… I may have bitten myself in the butt with this one, ‘cause I’m not a great storyteller, not like you are, but did you know we actually met in middle school?”

No answer. “We did. Hawkins Middle was putting on its annual talent show. Now, back then, I was nobody. No one knew me, my name, my parents… nothing. I had one friend named Tommy, who I’d grown up with. Of course, you know him, and you know what happened between us, but he was my only friend back then. I didn’t tell anyone, but I signed up for the talent show. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do, I just knew I wanted to do something. I’ve always had a pretty decent voice, so I figured I could just sing, if I couldn’t figure out anything else to do. Knew I’d at least beat out Tammy Thompson.” He shifts so Eddie’s hair is no longer a choking hazard and pets his hand over Eddie’s head, doing his best to tame the wild curls. “So it’s the night of the talent show, right? And it feels like the whole school is there. I’m sitting backstage, peeking through the curtains, and am about to have my very first panic attack. Someone bumps into me and knocks me over. They tell me to watch where I’m going, even though I wasn’t moving. So now I’m on the ground, thinking about the crowd, and the noise is getting to be too much, and someone grabs my hand and it all… stops. Just like that. It’s silent, other than, like, a ringing sound in my ears. And this boy, the one who grabbed my hand, kneels in front of me, puts my hand on his chest-” Steve demonstrates, moving so he can grab Eddie’s hand and put it on his chest, just over his heart. “-and tells me to breathe with him. In, out. In, out. He raised his hand when we breathed in, and lowered it when we breathed out. In, out. In, out. And when my breathing’s calmed down, he tells me to name five things I can see. And you know what I said first?”

Eddie furrows his brows. “My… my hair?”

“Yup,” Steve nods. “But you’d just had it shaved off, so d’you know what I really saw first?”

“What?”

Steve giggles. “Your ears.”

Eddie groans and ducks his head, pressing his forehead into Steve’s chest. “Hated my ears.”

“I’m gonna say something that’s gonna sound mean, but is actually a compliment,” Steve warns him. “Your ears reminded me of Dumbo. I always loved that movie, the reminder that we don’t have to change who we are in order to be loved. That sometimes the things we hate most about ourselves, the things people tease us about the most, are actually the things that help us most, in the end.” He guides Eddie to lay down. “And I’m not saying your ears are what saved you. But I am saying they reminded me that everything, maybe, isn’t entirely hopeless.” He smiles, tucks Eddie’s hair behind his ear. Says, “I like your ears.”

Said ear burns red. “You’d be one of the few.”

“That’s okay.”

“What’s your thing? Your… ears?”

Steve hums. “Did you know I cried a lot as a kid? I was very emotional, very easily moved. My dad always hated it, so I learned to cover it up. But I think it’s what got me here in the end. I could’ve told Dustin I didn’t have time to help him, but I didn’t. I got roped into this whole mess, but it’s how I got to know him and the kids. It’s how I got to know Robin and you.”

Eddie smiles. “I’m glad you cried as a kid.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah. Me too.” He shifts, a little closer, a little more down the bed so their eyes are level. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing I want less.”

“D’you think you can sleep?”

Eddie takes a breath. Steve feels the exhale over his cheek. “Maybe.”

“M’kay. Lemme know if you can’t.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“Eddie.”

He giggles. “I’m kidding. I’ll let you know. I just… won’t stop talking at you until you answer.”

Steve hums, lets his eyes slip shut. “I’ll always answer.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, so soft. It makes something warm unfurl in Steve’s chest. “I know you will.”

Steve reaches out, squeezes Eddie’s hand in answer. Lets sleep drag him down the way it’s wanted to since he lay back down.

He doesn’t think about the fact that their hands are still clasped.

He’s the first one up in the morning, and he’s a little annoyed by it because they’d shifted during the night, so Steve is no longer facing Eddie.

His annoyance lasts for all of two seconds before he realizes there’s a warm weight behind him and over his hip, and he figures out it’s because Eddie is behind him, arm over Steve’s hip, fingers curled against the little bit of skin visible from Steve’s shirt riding up during the night.

Steve smiles, sighs, and lets his eyes sink shut again.

He doesn’t sleep, just kind of drifts, so he feels it when Eddie wakes up. He feels him tense in a stretch, feels his forehead press against Steve’s spine, feels his fingers curl farther into Steve’s stomach.

He feels Eddie wake up fully and realize the position he’s in. Feels him hum, then stiffen, slowly pulling away. Steve aches about it, but doesn’t move until he’s out of bed completely, taking the time then to roll over as if he’d just woken up. “M’rn’n,” he mumbles, not exaggerating the sleep-rough in his voice at all.

“Mornin’,” Eddie yawns. “How’d you sleep?”

Steve hums, stretches, sits up. “Think I should be asking you that.”

Eddie smiles. “I slept fine. Now how about you?”

“No more nightmares?”

“Not at all. Think you chased ‘em all away.”

“Good.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh. Fine. Great.”

Eddie hums, but takes his word for it, offers his hand to help Steve up, which he accepts.

“Can I ask you something that I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna want to answer?”

Eddie grins crookedly. “You can ask me anything, Stevie. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.” He sits back on the bed, next to Steve. “What is it?”

“What was your dad like?”

Eddie blows out a breath, looks away. “Jesus, first thing in the morning, too. Uh… y’know how you said your dad is a grade-A asshole?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Last I heard, he’s in the state prison for the next… five? Ten? Years. I dunno, don’t really keep track. Was just little things at first, petty theft, then he got an ego and started stealing cars, met a guy who could clean ‘em, and he just…” he shakes his head. “Wayne says he got too big for his britches. I say he got what was coming to him. He tried to rob someone and it… didn’t go well. He got caught, the owner tried to scare him off, swung first, but it doesn’t matter who swung first when he’s dead and my dad was trespassing, right? Tried to say it was self-defense, but…”

“But he was trespassing,” Steve nods.

“Exactly. He got twenty-five for that, and it’s been… twelve years? So I guess he’s got… thirteen left. Not five or ten. Guess it feels like he’s been gone that long.” He sighs. “I went to live with Wayne before that, though… I had a friend, he was my best friend, and my dad… really didn’t like how close we were. Spit out a couple’a slurs, said something about sending me to a camp.” Steve’s breath catches. “I called Wayne that night. Poor guy drove that night, was there by… one in the morning? Picked me up and I’ve never looked back.” He shrugs, picks at his comforter. “Turns out Dad was right about me, but Wayne’s never had an issue, so.” He shrugs. His fingers belie his nerves.

“I think, if I were to ever tell my dad,” Steve says quietly, “a camp would be the least of my issues.”

Eddie’s fingers still for a second before continuing, not fidgeting quite as quickly as before. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to tell him.”

“I think I do, though.”

“How so?”

“He’s got this… way. Of just proving himself right, every time. It’s why I haven’t left yet. He always finds a way to twist it around and show me I can’t make it on my own. Not on my Family Video salary.”

Eddie hums. “Maybe not on your own,” he admits. “But with a person or two? There’s Family Videos in other cities. Ask to transfer. Robin’s been making noise about heading to Indy, right?”

“I think she just wants out of Hawkins, and Indy is the only feasible place to her.”

“Very understandable. Where would you go, Steve? If you could go anywhere?”

Steve sighs. “That’s the problem, though. I can’t leave the kids.”

Eddie chuckles. “I should’ve known. Then why not find a place in between? Maybe on the edge of town?”

“We’re still both on a Family Video salary. I don’t think even combined we could afford anything.” Steve tilts his head. “You said a person or two. Who’s the other person?”

“Ah,” Eddie says. “Well, not to come between the platonic soulmates, but I’m sure Wayne would love to have his life back.”

Steve snorts. “Robin loves you almost as much as I do, Eds, of course you’re welcome.”

Eddie ignores that, for the sake of his own sanity. “Well,” he says instead. “Maybe it’s time to take a crack at those newspapers Wayne’s been hoarding.”

“Maybe it is,” Steve says, a strange sort of smile playing across his lips. “And I can ask people. You’d be surprised at the amount of gossip I hear at work.”

“Oh, I believe it, trust me. Or are you forgetting I use to hang around Sam Goody?”

“Oh, god,” Steve laughs, “I had forgotten that, yeah.” He sighs. “D’you think we would’ve been friends back then? If we’d known each other?”

“I don’t think so.” Eddie chews at his bottom lip. “Not because of you, but because of me. I was still stuck in that high school hierarchal shit, y’know? I would’ve seen you as an asshole jock even though you weren’t anymore.”

“I think I’m still working on it.”

“I think we’re all working on being who we want to be.” He stands and offers Steve a hand up with a grin. “And y’know what helps with that?”

Steve chuckles, places his hand in Eddie’s. “What’s that?”

“Pancakes,” he says decisively. “C’mon, let’s go bully Wayne into making us some.”

“And by bully, you mean ask once.”

Eddie hums. “Same difference.”

He waltzes into the living room, arms spread wide. “Sir Wayne! Our visiting prince has requested pancakes this fine morn.”

Wayne squints at him. “I’m your king, dipshit,” he says, lip quirked up in a smile as he winks at Steve. “Make your own damn pancakes.”

“Wayne!” Eddie cries. “Betrayal! Betrayal of the highest order!”

“You’ll live,” Wayne deadpans. Steve giggles.

Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne. “Fine,” he says. “We will make our own. But there shall be no extra for you, sir!”

Following him to the kitchen, Steve says, “We’ll make extra.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Wayne returns, “but I’d ‘preciate it.”

In the kitchen, Eddie sighs with his head halfway in a cabinet. “Okay, so we don’t have mix.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “I can make them from scratch.”

“Or,” Eddie says, turning to Steve with a grin. “We can go out.”

“We could,” Steve allows. “But then Wayne wouldn’t get any.”

Eddie hops backwards onto the counter and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Y’know how I said we wouldn’t have been friends if we’d met earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“It really would’ve been entirely my fault.” He sighs. “You’re just… so nice. And it would’ve been unbelievable, for me, because the Munson Doctrine dictates that all jocks are assholes and stay jockish assholes. I think what happened… had to happen, if we were gonna be friends.”

Steve worries his lip. “Then… is it bad if I say I’m glad it happened? If only for that reason?”

“Only if I’m also glad it happened, for that reason,” Eddie responds quietly. “Y’know the only other person I’ve told about my ma is Jeff?”

“I’m…” he pauses, scrunching his nose. “I wanna say I’m honored, but that sounds weird.”

Eddie chuckles. “I know what you mean, Stevie.”

Steve nods, and they stay there for a minute, looking at each other, until Steve looks away with a sigh. “Alright,” he says, pancakes?”

Eddie gusts out a sigh. “Please.”

Steve chuckles and shoves the flour towards Eddie. “Here. Two cups.”

Eddie frowns. “Only?”

“For now. We can always make more later if we need to.”

Eddie shrugs, but nods at Steve, as if deferring to his expertise. “D’you have eggs?”

“Uh.” Eddie checks the fridge, then the cabinet. “No, but we’ve got Spam?”

Steve snorts. “That works. Wanna cut up a can and fry it?”

“Works for me.”

And so they work, side by side, until breakfast is ready and they’re all three eating side by side.

After, Wayne stretches in his seat, glances at the clock, and mutters something underneath his breath as he gets up. “Thanks for breakfast, boys. Steve, you gonna be here for dinner?”

“Uh,” Steve says, glancing at Eddie. “Unless Ed kicks me out.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. 

“I’ll pick up burgers on my way back,” Wayne decides. “That work for you two?”

“Definitely,” Eddie nods.

“Sure. Thank you, Wayne.”

“Son,” Wayne starts, then shakes his head. 

Steve gets the message: he belongs here. His cheeks burn. “Thanks, Wayne,” he murmurs.

Wayne ruffles his hair as he passes.

“So,” Eddie asks, once it’s just the two of them. “Any plans for the day?”

Steve makes a face. “I gotta work at two, but I’m free till then.”

Eddie snorts. “Lemme guess, you’re working alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Well not today!” Eddie says brightly. “Why don’t I come with?”

Steve blinks. “Because… why would you?”

“Cause you’re my friend, Stevie. I wanna hang out with you but I can’t do that if you’re at work and I’m here.”

Steve snickers. “I guess we can talk about moving in together. Tuesdays are always the slowest day of the week.”

“Yeah! Wayne’s got the papers around here somewhere.” He trails off, looking around, then bounds over to the TV with a triumphant, “Ha!” He reaches into the crate the TV’s sitting on and pulls out a stack of newspapers. “Okay, we don’t want anything from last year… beginning of this year might be too old…” he hesitates, looking at Steve. “Maybe since Spring Break? A lot of people moved out.”

Steve hums, moves closer. “Good point. There’s bound to be something on the edge of town.” He sighs as he sits next to Eddie. “The only problem is Robin doesn’t have a car, or even her license. And if I’m working here, and she’s trying to work in Indy, how’s she gonna get there?”

“Well,” Eddie begins, “who says you have to stay at Family Video? Why not stretch your wings out? Try something else? Indy’s a big city with lots of opportunity. How about this.” He shifts so he’s facing Steve. “If you could do anything in the world, work anywhere, what would you do? Where would you work?”

Steve fidgets with his pant leg as he thinks. “A bakery,” he decides softly.

Eddie stills for a moment. “I feel like I should’ve seen that coming. You’d be a great baker, Steve. Or if you want to just sell the baked goods, you’d be great at that, too. Hawkins is small enough we don’t have need for a bakery. Not when you can get everything you need at Melvald’s. But Indy’s big. I pass by two bakeries every time I head into the city.” He puts a hand on Steve’s knee. “Stay at Family Video for now. But when we move, you can apply to those places. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. He can feel his cheeks heating up, feel the excitement coursing through his body. “You really think I could?”

“Steve.” Eddie sighs. “I think you are so much better than you see. I think you can do anything.”

“I dunno about anything.” Steve ducks his head as he blushes. “But, uh. Thank you.”

Eddie smiles. “For?”

Steve looks up at him. His breath catches, for a second, at the look in Eddie’s eyes. He looks away with a shrug even as his cheeks heat up. “Believing in me, I guess.”

“Anything,” Eddie promises again.

Steve looks at him again. Really looks, even as his cheeks heat uncomfortably warm. “…Anything?”

Without looking away, Eddie grabs his hand. Rubs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. Whispers it again.

Steve leans in and kisses him.

Eddie kisses back.

[cecoeur]

it's hell on earth to be heavenly them's the breaks, they don't come gently

[therainbowwillow]

I love Epic The Musical very dearly but I do wish just a little bit that we’d gotten to watch Telemachus’s antics in Pylos. His gay awakening(?) over Pesistratus? Athena disguised as an old man?? Nestor and Menelaus?! HELEN! He really has a bewildering time away from Ithaca lol

[bearimba]

Silver doesn't need another father. He's already got one of those, technically, but the man turned out to be a weak, cowardly bastard who couldn't face his own problems let alone raise a child. The way he sees it, there's no need to set himself for more disappointment. He's got a roof over his head and food to eat, and that's far more than he could ever depend on in the last... however many years he'd been living on the streets. Lance and Clair are annoying as hell, but while he's training in the Dragon Den, he doesn't exactly have much room to complain. Not out loud, anyways.

Lance doesn't particularly want to be a dad either. He's already got too much responsibility on his plate as Champion, and this kid clearly needs so much more emotional support than he feels like he can provide. Simply convincing him to move into his guest room was enough of a struggle, and it only really worked because Lance had promised Silver he could "earn" his keep. What the hell is up with that, anyways? He's not sure what Silver's past looks like, and he's not about to go prying, but the bare minimum he can do is make sure he doesn't have to rough it out in the woods anymore. At least Clair seems to be having fun training him...

Clair is more than ready to be an aunt. The other two refuse to admit to caring for each other, but unlike them, she's not afraid of something as stupid as her emotions. The brat's slowly but surely been mellowing out during his training, and her idiot cousin has actually been taking care of himself for once in order to be a "good example." Silver has even caught on to calling Lance "old man" like she does, on account of those ugly-ass reading glasses the all-mighty Champion has to wear, and she couldn't be prouder. Best part is, she doesn't have to spend a dime except to treat the kid every so often! That's a win in her book if ever there was one.

[vargaslovinghours]

Say it like you mean it

[doverstar]

actually I love Tentoo and he is the Doctor and it was the only ending for Rose that worked and it is a huge gift to be able to have the man she loves grow old with her, they were always heading for that, y'all be quiet. I 100% understand the angst but it's okay, they're okay, good ending-

[bruhstation]

who here loves divorce? I do. here's captain star and captain zero: two people who can't help but drag other unwilling people into their huge mess! including the youth. can't forget the youth

(bit of ramble in the tags)

[agathas-megacoven]

The Khan’s are just PHENOMENAL. They’re so warm and vibrant and hysterical in all the best ways. The MCU is absent/shitty/dead/evil-parent-and-complicated-family central, theres too much familial feuding at times, whether that family is blood or adopted or found, so I am LIVING for and LOVING how the Khan’s are just so normal and ordinary and wonderful. It’s no wonder Kamala has such a can-do, confident, positive attitude. It’s no wonder she’s such a dreamer and proudly herself and so damn funny when she’s surrounded by so much love and encouragement. Kamala Khan and the fam need to be in more Marvel movies, their dynamic is just joyous and healing and I will NOT tolerate another Aunt May incident. I WILL NOT. I swear if anything happens to ANY of them-

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Ok, look:

We all find it cute/funny if Aragorn knew Borimir as a baby. But consider this: Aragorn babysitting Theoden as a child and through the entirety that we see them interact in lotr, Theoden’s inherent fear of disappointing a teacher is going off in the back of his mind.

Aragorn, coming into rohan for the first time in decades, accompanied by a wizard, elf, and dwarf: was there any trouble (while i stepped out of the (classroom) kingdom)?

Theoden, yeeting away any and everything that hints at his corruption and sitting up straight: No-