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quinloki · 2 years ago

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Family Ties

Fem Reader x Donquixote Doflamingo

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations 18+ only

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 15: Decked Out

Yawning you walk up to your door. The day had caught up to you, and you were going to sleep like a brick tonight. Reaching out to the door you realize it wasn't locked.

You freeze.

Every piece of you is on high alert. You step back from the door and start looking around. Something was putting your skin on edge and you couldn't tell what, but it's like someone is looking at you through a scope.

Better to run than to waste time trying to figure it out, and so you turn tail and bolt back down the street. The place closest to your house is Sanji's, but the café was closed by now. You could break in, but you weren't as practiced with Sanji's store as Law's. Since Law's was closer than Pops or Doflamingo's, Law's it was.

Still running as fast as you could you pull out your phone and hit the speed dial for Law's number. One ring, two rings, a click.

"Hey! Gonna be at your place, might be bad." You gasp, not because you were already out of breath, but because you were trying to conserve it.

"Need me to get you?"

"No."

"Need me to call Pops?"

"Yes."

"Anyone else?"

"Can't."

"... Shit, fine, I'll get ready for him too."

You hear shouting behind you as Law ends the call. You've managed to get a good head start at least. Skittering into a side yard you decide to go off road. If they were on foot you'd have the advantage most likely – unless it was local guys like Trouble's problem was two weeks ago - and if they were moving by car you'd need to avoid the streets anyway.

You slow a little, you don't have Trouble on speed dial yet, so you have to look for the number. Clicking the green button you resume your pace and wait.

Only one ring, well, you're not the only sucker in this relationship.

"Good even-"

"Hey." Your tone causes him to stop more than your interruption. " 'Member where I gave you your nickname?"

"Yes." There's a sharpness to his voice, and you know he understands enough.

"Gonna be there. If I'm not, ya need to find me."

"Where are you now?"

"Running."

"Who is it?"

"No idea." You answer shortly, then, "Hold on." You put the phone down and look around before booking it across a street, a glint of light slipping over you as you reach the far curb. "Fuck!"

You hold the phone up to your mouth as you speed toward a backyard fence, the sound of people yelling too close behind you for your comfort. "Can't hear you love, gotta run, need my air."

You snap the phone shut, shoving it in your pocket and leaping up to the fence. Grabbing the top you're up and over it in a single bound. You couldn't risk hanging around to know what the people after you were saying, so you didn't know if it was cops, gangsters, old enemies, or new ones.

You couldn't assume it was anyone after Doflamingo, your relationship was too new for people to be making that connection. You doubt the guy you pistol whipped had survived once Doffy's family had regrouped. It could be someone who was targeting Pops. You weren't a part of his family directly, but most all of that part of the city knew he and his boys looked out for you.

You had gotten into problems on your own as well, but nothing that was worth breaking into someone's home to jump them over. Unless it was someone with no sense.

You felt your stomach drop. It could be him. He had a legitimate reason to track you down, you had just figured that after two years, he'd accepted the loss and moved on. You mean, all you did was win big in his casino, refuse a dinner date, and then assault him when he wouldn't let you leave.

You'd done the whole thing under a false name since you were traveling with Marco and Thatch, and it was two damned years ago. You didn't even take him for that much.

You melt into your beloved alley ways and slip into the darkness. You stop and catch your breath, you aren't a marathon runner, and you've broken your one call rule, so you're more winded than usual. You go ahead and gasp and hack as soon as you've stopped to get it out of your system and then you force yourself to be quiet. Your lungs are burning, but if you make too much noise you'll be screwed.

Breathing in slower than slow and letting it out even slower than that, you focused on what you could hear over the pounding of your heart.

"Somewhere in here," came a voice, bouncing down the bricks of the alley. "Bitch is like an alley cat. Keep your eyes peeled."

Fuck, locals. Knowing it was locals didn't answer why. There's plenty of little too-big-for-their-britches operations who take on jobs when people don't want to pay Pops' rates. Though in this case, you imagine whoever spurred this on knew better than to reach out to Pop.

It was a twenty-minute train ride to get to the Newgate estate. It was a twenty-minute walk to Law's, but you've shaved a lot of time off that by running like a maniac. Even with Marco driving there were still too many minutes between the Boys making it to this area to start looking for you if you couldn't make it to Law's.

And when it came to fights and kidnappings, seconds could make or break an outcome.

Running the possibilities through your head, your chances weren't looking hot. If you could get one on one with someone, you'd have a better chance, but facing groups were risky, especially if they were armed in any capacity.

Your heart wasn't trying to beat its way out of your chest anymore, but you could see lights coming down the alley toward you. You couldn't make it quietly down the tight passage, and if you bounded off the trash to hit the fire escape, you could be shot. Even if it wasn't fatal, having a conversation with a bullet in your leg wasn't in your plans for tonight.

You crouch down to be even smaller than you are and tense the muscles in your legs. It feels like forever, but it's barely a minute by the time they are close enough. It is a least two people. You can handle two, maybe, if they aren't just looking to blow your head off. If it was three you aren't strong enough – you don't have the reach and mass needed to control that many average fighters.

There's a pause before they reached where you are, but you don't sit and wait. Either they're expecting you, or they're repositioning to ruin your advantage, and you couldn't wait around to accept either outcome.

You let yourself do what you knew how to do better when you didn't think about it. Leaping out into the wider alley you hear one man screech at the sight of you. Pops said your eyes would get an unsettling look, almost like actual cat's eyes, when you were really focused. Maybe that's why he screams when your eyes pass through the path of the flashlight.

You slam bodily into one man, fortunately you tackle the one who doesn't scream, so your other target was still in shock. Knocking the first guy down, you get up, driving your foot into his stomach with all your weight as you push off him and go for his buddy. You recognize this guy, not by name, but you were pretty sure he's in Vander's gang.

Deck 9 was a gang outside of town, mostly human trafficking, but they'd pick up scrap jobs that Pops didn't want or wouldn't do. Vander Decken, the 9th head of Deck 9, was a complete sleaze. Knowing he was involved didn't narrow down your concerns.

You hope the screamer has a glass jaw to go with those glass nerves and hit him square in the face. Turning back to the guy you'd knocked the air out of you pick up the bat he apparently dropped when you assaulted him. You glance back at the screamer and see rope.

No guns.

Kidnapping.

You twirl the bat enough to cut through the air once before you brought it down on the guy you'd knocked off his feet. It was a solid connect, but you felt the jolt go up your arms, you'd knocked the air out of him again, but you needed him down. You let the rebound power you back to the screamer who was getting ready to scream again. Bringing the bat down on his shoulder you heard something crack under the swing. Following up the attack you drive your foot into his stomach.

Something halts the bat as the screamer pukes and crumples to the ground. You notice the first guy is holding onto it. You both decide to drop the bat at the same time, and as you start to swing at him, he goes on the defensive.

"SHE'S OVER HERE!" He bellows as loud as he can, which was an impressive amount, considering you hadn't gone easy on him. You step in closer to him to really clock him, but once he steps back instead of trying to defend, you take advantage of the space created and run down the alley.

"She's going south! Cover the block! Don't let her slip through!"

Shit shit shit shit.

Deck 9 wasn't a big-time gang, but they had a decent number of members. These assholes know that Pops protects you, they have to be working for someone they think is bigger. Either that or someone offered enough money to make them all morons.

Time, you needed to buy time. You see a door. Checking it reveals that it isn't unlocked, but you have your picks. Your hands are shaking from adrenaline, but you aren't in sight of the loudmouth, and you didn't hear anyone else immediately nearby.

Don't think about the time crunch, you force your focus onto the picks. You pick locks. Pick the lock. There's no corner of Grandline that isn't accessible to you. The lock gives and you pull open the door and slip inside.

No alarm beeps, nothing goes off, and that is the most disappointing thing to happen so far. A legal commotion would've worked in your favor. You would've happily accepted being arrested for breaking and entering vs being kidnapped. Once your eyes adjust, you start creeping through the building. Far as you can tell it's empty, and as you crept around more it looked like some place that was being used for storage vs a business. You check sightlines and make sure you weren't going to light up the street by opening your phone.

You text Law, of everyone aware of this he was already where he needed to be and could coordinate better.

(Y/N): Deck 9. Stck N. D's # xxx-xxx-xxxx. 1 fight, gon by time (Translation: pursued by Deck 9, stuck north of clinic, here's Doflamingo's # to update him along with Pops. Had 1 fight already, going to buy time.)

You send it and close the phone, you've been as concise as possible, and you know Law would understand. No sense waiting for a reply, Law knew better, and apparently so did Doflamingo, because you didn't have any missed calls or texts from him. The phone was on silent, but the gods of luck were cruel, so it was always best not to risk it.

You manage to creep your way to a set of steps when you hear the door you'd broken into burst open.

"Hide 'n' seek's pissing me off (Y/N), come along nicely." Growls a voice you were surprised to hear. The main man Vander Decken himself. Best case scenario, someone paid him to get you, worst-case scenario, he'd decided at some point that you liked him – all on his own – and this was personal.

You hear voices at the front of the building and swear silently. No sense being quiet, you bounded up the steps, yelling over your shoulder. "Pops is gonna be big mad, Decky!"

"He'll get over it when you accept me, kitten!"

Your stomach twists. Not only was it the worst scenario, but how dare he use that word. Decken had plenty of corpses in his closet, as do most underworld folks, you were sure. But Decken's body count was almost exclusively comprised of the women who had turned him down, and a few who had accepted him.

"What gave me away?" You ask. If you play along maybe you can drag out this perverse game of cat and mouse and avoid being murdered.

"Tsumi saw you at the carnival, kitten, accepting a gift from someone."

How'd you miss Wadatsumi?! Oh, right, you caught sight of Smoker and got over focused.

"All the years after we first met, you never went on a date with anyone, and then you do something in public like that to fan my jealously." There was a dark glee in his voice. "If you wanted me to chase, kitten, you only had to ask."

Gods-be-damned, it doesn't matter what you say to Decken, he's going to take it as bad news and you're going to be screwed. You were as high as you could get, and all you could do was hope that your little conversation was loud enough to mask that you had run straight up the stairs after your first question. You dropped to all fours to distribute your weight and avoid creaking anything creaky.

You stay in that position for a moment, catching your breath and trying and hear where Decken and his crew were on the floors below.

"Check all the rooms on each floor, keep in sight of each other, she's a feisty kitten."

You feel your stomach knot. You had maybe two minutes before all those extra boots got to your floor. That might be enough time, it might not. You test your capacity for silence and crawl away from the steps. Every second you could keep your location unknown, the better. If you could make it into a street-side room, you could at least see what was waiting outside.

Four-stories up wasn't impossible to safely scale. Not your first choice, but if Decken feels trapped by anyone, his M.O. would be to kill you first, to make sure you stayed his. You purse your lips at every possible sound, caught between being quiet, and needing to be efficient. The boots were louder, you had maybe a minute to spare.

You get into a room without causing a commotion and peek out the window. There wasn't hardly anyone out there, but it was a lot faster for them to run down the stairs, than for you to scale your way down safely.

Looking around a smile hits your lips for the first time since you started running.

You throw open the window and dump the fire-escape ladder over the side. It wasn't long, but it was enough to get you halfway past the 2nd floor. You follow after the steps, descending from the outside. You're just starting to hear noise from inside when you look down at the few guys waiting below. You keep looking down at them as you descend, trying to catch the gaze of the nearest one so you could give him a reassuring smile.

"One of you nice gentlemen needs to catch me! Decken's orders! Gotta give 'im a proper chase." When you reach the bottom rung, you jump at the nearest guy, who is still trying to sort out what the hell you're talking about – poor guy is caught between keeping his twisted boss happy, and not getting duped.

Realization lights up in his eyes when you twist to land feet first, but he wasn't fast enough to react. Your feet slam into his chest, his arms still half-out as though he was actually going to catch you. You land hard, and he lands harder than you, but even tumbling off him you could feel your shoulder take the most of the shock as scraps and bruises dotted the rest of you.

You get to your feet with two angry guys circling closer, and an exceptionally angry Decken bellowing from the 4th floor window. You couldn't make out what he was saying because he was so spitting mad, but that meant neither could his guys.

You go for the armed one first. You move better than he swings and get inside his reach. Since you're low already, you grab him by the belt and lift him up before shoving him back. You land on top of him, and his head hits the pavement enough to ring his bell, giving you the second you needed to grab the pipe he was holding.

You turn toward guy number two just in time to catch the swing of a bat with your new pipe. You grunt at the force of his strike; it's almost enough to push you back. You imagine he's holding back because if he murders you instead of letting Decken do it, then Decken might kill him for it. You step back to break the lock and swing. You don't have good footing, so you don't connect as well as you want. You get a grunt out of him, but you didn't knock him off his game.

You're stuck. You couldn't shake him, and more men were already coming out the front door. You take a deep breath and set your feet this time. It's a good thing a modified pipe was Sabo's favorite weapon, so you had a decent idea of how to wield it effectively, between sparring with Sabo and being taught by him.

Just like with the alley you went full aggression. The name of the game was still 'buy time', and if you could make these guys think twice, you'd buy a few precious seconds. You yell and attack the nearest guy with gusto, swinging hard and fast. You catch him off guard when you knock the bat out of his hand – you think he expected you to back off now that reinforcements were here.

Your second swing catches him in the ribs and crumples him to the ground. You turn toward the guys slowly inching closer to you and swing a few times widely to shove them back, before turning toward the one who bravely – read: stupidly - chose to be closer than the others. You drive the pipe straight at him like a spear, crashing it into his gut hard enough to make him puke.

After that the brawl goes wild, more guys than you could clock rush you and someone gets a lucky shot and breaks a bat against your thigh. Your leg buckles and you're effectively dog piled. You kept struggling, but aside from a few seconds all it earns you was a dislocated shoulder, a split lip, a pavement scrap on your face, and a kick to the stomach. You keep fighting despite it, until someone cracks you over the head with an unbroken bat.

That rocks your world enough that you lose your will to fight completely. Two guys hold you by either arm, keeping you on your knees in the middle of the street as Decken approaches. Your entire world at that moment is hazy pain, with smatterings of sharp pain, like from the dislocated arm that was currently being man-handled.

"I zot you wanted a chase." You slur up at Decken, your mouth's full of a coppery taste, you might've bit your tongue at some point, but everything hurt too much to tell.

Whatever Decken might've wanted to say was cut short as the street filled with cars. You recognized Pops' cars, and you were positive you knew who was in the SUVs on the other side of Decken's crew.

Texting Law had paid dividends.

"Tol' ya." You flash a bloody smile up at Decken. "Pops' pissed."

#Family Ties #donquixote doflamingo #doffy x reader #doffy one piece #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #modern mafia au #reader insert #doflamingo x reader

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perceivedregret · 2 years ago

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pt 9! fic can also be found on ao3, user is the same over there. part 1 of Extended Hours can be found here.

i've got a river running right into you

It’s been about an hour and Steve still hasn’t been able to make his move.

Steve has to remind himself to play it cool, remembers what Robin said about everyone here being chill and her plan–

“Most of them are like us! I made sure with Munson when I invited him, we can trust his group to be lowkey. And obviously we already know Cheech and Chong don’t hang out with weirdos. Or, at least not the weird kind of weirdos– fuck, you know what I mean. They’re chill! You know that shitty saying, blah blah blah and finding our people? Well we found them, we can be ourselves tonight, promise. Besides, I have a plan. Eddie kinda fucked it just now but I have the whole thing handled, dingus, trust me.”

It was pretty easy to lose track of everything after Eddie's grand entrance. Steve was determined to play his part as the responsible host, to keep Nancy at ease by confiscating the keys of each new group that arrived, and it was enough of a distraction, at first. Then, when it seemed like everyone Robin, Argyle, Jonathan, and Eddie mentioned (and then some) had made it, Steve figured he was finally in the clear to make his move, but no.

Everytime he would catch sight of the other man across the room he had Chrissy by his side, shooting Steve tauntingly innocent smiles as she wrapped herself around Eddie and pulled all of his attention towards herself. That, or he was being whisked away to the backyard by someone who wanted to make a sale, and Steve knew better than to tread over the guy's side business.

Steve reminds himself that he still has the rest of the night to get their moment but goddamn was it hard to remember why. Especially since every time Eddie would waltz back into the house after an exchange he would be rearranging his hair because the clip was struggling to keep his hair off his neck, the curls at constant odds with the humid pool-side air.

He tries to keep himself distracted, figures he can't agonize (he can admit it now) over him if he's preoccupied with something, anything else.

It's just–

Argyle and Jonathan never really rejoined the main party, opting to take over the sunroom to laze about with a mix of theirs and Eddie’s stoner friends, making their own sales transactions of Argyle’s Delights, his batches of baked edibles. Mostly they just vibed in their stoner bubble.

Then there's Nancy and Robin who had already abandoned him way before, almost immediately after Steve fulfilled Chrissy's requests. As Robin had jokingly put it, she couldn’t stand to watch him “pathetically pine” anymore, and so she disappeared with Nancy and they were… somewhere, Steve doesn’t know. And since they’re gone and Jon and Argyle are otherwise occupied, it’s the reason he finds himself in the company of the friends of his friends where his attempts to distract himself feel all too limited.

It eventually starts to mellow out and folks slowly stop dancing, Don’t Bring Me Down ironically bringing everyone down into a post-dance sesh calm. They start to clear the living room, some making their way into the kitchen for refreshers or heading towards the pool, their clothes getting discarded in the corner that leads into the sunroom as they make their way out the sliding glass door. That’s when Steve catches sight of Eddie by the music deck, speaking animatedly with Gareth. There’s no Chrissy nearby to intercept his attempts to approach him, Steve notes, and he thinks now is his chance.

He excuses himself from the group he’s been somewhat a part of, too distracted thinking of molten doe eyes and unkissed full lips to have been part of any real conversation.

The mixtape reaches its end at that exact moment, so as Steve slowly approaches, Eddie’s attention is on the player. Gareth, bless him, notices Steve as he nears and immediately throws up an assuring OK with his thumb and pointer, giving Steve an encouraging wink that makes his dimples surface before he's disappearing all together.

Eddie doesn't notice any of this, thinks he's still talking to his friend as Steve shuffles in behind him.

"–and again dude, I'm sorry. Alright, it was a complete dickhead move of me to assume and meddle–" Steve can't see his face but knows Eddie's eyes are rolling, " –in your lives. Okay, so please accept my sincerest apologies for trying to make something out of nothing. Chris already gave me the rundown but I don’t plan to do anything with this new found information. Scouts honor.

"But damn, now that she’s told me, how did I not see it? She totally has a thing for Bails, can’t believe–"

"Chrissy doesn't have a thing for Gareth?"

"– jesus shit fuck dicks, where the hell did you come from Harrington, holy." Eddie's hand is at his chest, lashes fluttering as he registers that Gareth is not by his side, quick scan of the space confirming that he’s not even in the room anymore. Eddie gives his head a light shake, his brows relaxing as a strained breath slips past his lips. He flings a hand out to lightly push at Steve's shoulder but he doesn’t get pushed all that far, Eddie’s fingers trailing down Steve's arm and clutching at the sleeve of his sweater to gently pull him into his space.

"Shit, I’m scaring everyone tonight. It's just me, Just Steve," he teases, a chuckle escaping him as he allows himself to be swayed to-and-fro by Eddie who starts to push and pull at him again, until he’s just pulling. Steve stands directly in front of him, letting his hand reach for Eddie’s waist while his other hand finds itself near his face, fingers tracing featherlight sweeps across his forehead to clear his eyes, tucking back flyaway strands before allowing his hand to settle on the side of his neck. “Thought you liked scary movies, Munson.”

Eddie pouts, eyes trained on his fingers that pinch the hem of the fabric of Steve’s yellow sweater. “Well, Just Steve, I’ll have you know that what I like about scary movies is the anticipation of the scares that come with watching them, not necessarily getting scared. There’s a difference,” he mutters.

Steve laughs, shifting his weight and crowding in so that Eddie’s hands have to settle on his waist, the space between them almost nonexistent. Eddie looks up at Steve, eyes lidded and searching, always searching. He pulls in his bottom lip, biting along the corner. Steve watches the movement, his thumb reaching up to smooth away the angry redness of his lips but Eddie doesn’t let him, instead bites his thumb lightly before turning his back on him.

“Stop trying to distract me, Harrington. Organizing the music at a party is the priority. Well, I guess it would be booze and food, but let's be honest, what's the fuck a party without any good music,” he mutters, searching through the pile of tapes in front of him, inspecting the list of songs scrawled on each case before separating them into nonsensical piles that only make sense to him.

“True, but don’t you think that’s something the host should be handling?” Steve hums, crowding in close behind and resting his chin on Eddie's shoulder, the well worn battle vest smooth on his skin, peering over and watching him work through the player to eject the current track.

"The host, yes. You? Sweetheart, I mean full offense, but absolutely not," he says with a laugh, leaning back into Steve's chest. Steve’s arms wrap around Eddie, right hand splayed low over his stomach, pinky finger tracing the sliver of exposed skin his cut up shirt can’t cover up.

“I’m actually surprised I was able to recognize half the songs that just played. Was expecting to get a little of what Max brought for us to play at Extended yesterday. That tape had your name written all over it. Literally, E.R.M., in bright red marker all over the damn thing.”

"Well, someone has to think of the children. Gotta make sure they're being introduced to the good shit, start sorting them out while they're young. Speaking of…” Eddie's voice trails off as he turns his head slightly, his eyes still focused on his hands. Steve turns with him, tip of his nose trailing along the exposed skin of his neck.

Today he smells of a mix of apricot and apples, a hint of sweat and cigarette smoke just underneath. Steve’s hands move to Eddie’s hips, giving the shyest squeeze. Eddie exhales a breath when Steve's lips ghost over his shoulder and he sneaks his hands under his shirt.

Eddie’s own hands come down hard on the table, his fingers fumbling with the cassettes that fall loudly onto the mantle.

“Harrington, I'm trying to focus here."

"Oh, did you want me to stop?" Steve mumbles the words, brushing his lips back up Eddie’s neck, skimming along his hairline. He presses his lips, not really a kiss behind his ear and starts to pull away but Eddie doesn't let him get too far, twisting to get a hold of Steve's wrist and pulls until he's flush against his back.

"I didn't say that." They both start to laugh, and it seems he's already picked out the next tape to play and is about to insert it when a freckled hand is suddenly stopping him, pulling Eddie's hand and the tape away from the slot.

"Munson, you already know what I'm going to say."

“Robs,” Steve huffs, an annoyed sigh escaping him as Eddie pulls away from Steve's grasp, the tape clattering onto the table. “I know you like to be the one in charge of the music but just–”

And this is when things between Steve and Eddie come to a sudden stop because now Steve has someone else entirely keeping him from making a move, and it’s his best friend, platonic soulmate, the one with a plan that apparently involves her getting directly in the middle.

Things are at a halt and the moment is gone because now Robin and Eddie can't come to an agreement. They're toe-to-toe, scowls darkening their faces into something boarding close to Mike's signature look. Eddie doesn’t want to hand over the reins and is adamant that he should be in charge of the music for the rest of the night.

They've officially been going back and forth for the last five minutes and have been so engrossed in their bickering they hadn't realized Argyle had already put one of his own tapes into the deck.

Steve at one point mentions his boombox and offers to set it up outside by the pool so they can both play their own thing just in different spaces but no, that’s wasn't good enough apparently. Nancy tries to insert herself as well, explaining that everyone seems to be enjoying Argyle’s music right now, that we can decide later and–

"Okay fine," Robin rushes to say. "The stonies can get a few more minutes of Dorian Grey but we're going to eventually get back to–"

" –my stuff!" they say simultaneously before they start arguing all over again. Steve and Nancy can only watch as the two go back and forth to make their points, their heads whipping between the two like it's the match point of a tennis tournament that won't stop teetering in the other's favor.

Eddie's features and stance begin to shift with each passing minute into what they can all recognize as his about to stand on a table and make a grand speech mode. Robin finally scoffs as she grabs hold of Eddie's elbow to drag him to the other side of the room before he can start, her deadpan stare the pin that pops Eddie's bubble before he over inflates.

Steve shares confused looks with Nancy, because seriously, what the fuck, but she just shrugs. "Let them finish their pissing contest. Robin was going on and on about some master plan and you know how she gets when she has her mind set on something and she wants to see it through, I just… I'll go get us new drinks." With a final fond glance in Robin's direction she sighs and disappears to the kitchen.

Steve tears his eyes away reluctantly and wanders over to his sunroom, watching the large circle of stoners he only half recognizes take turns passing around some joints. It looks like they've brought in a few chairs from outside and someone went through the effort to get some of the spare metal folding chairs he had in the garage.

Steve slips by to check on the folks outside in the pool where he spots Chrissy and Gareth talking while sitting on the edge of the diving board, legs in the water and staring up at the sky. Eddie's comments about them replays in his head and he starts to wonder what's actually going on between them, but only for a moment because suddenly there's the thrum of hands and feet thudding in lieu of a drumroll behind him.

He turns his attention back to the stoners, the first thing catching his eye being Jonathan who has Argyle in the space between his legs again. Eden’s at the foot of their chair having an enamored conversation with a girl dressed in her complete opposite, pastels a contrast to her black attire. Jonathan is watching Argyle’s fingers with heavy lidded eyes, transfixed by Argyle’s mess of yellow yarn that’s tangled into an intricate pattern.

Argyle holds his hands above his head, seemingly done making twists and turns with the string, a proud grin taking over his face. Jonathan pokes a practiced finger into one of the holes and Argyle chuckles as he pulls his hands farther apart, the cat’s cradle collapsing and weaving itself around Jonathan's finger.

Steve smiles for the pair and is about to leave the group to their own devices when they suddenly start a low hum of cheering. It's then he notices the empty beer bottle in the center where the tip of the bottle is pointed at Heather, a friend of Eddie's and member of the club. He watches as Jordan, he thinks that's her name at least, crawls over the bottle. Heather takes shallow sips from her cup, eyes laser focused over the lip as the other girl approaches. A few others in the room start to whistle as they get closer to each other but it's immediately interrupted by Argyle.

"Don't be weird horndogs over a kiss, man.”

Someone, Steve’s not even going to bother to pretend he knows what his name is, scoffs."Not being weird, dude. Damn, do you know how long Heather's been crushin' on Jo?"

Heather chokes on her drink as panic flashes across her face but suddenly she's just gone because Jordan has thrown herself into her, the cup toppling over and spilling onto the person next to them who just keels over into a cackling fit. Steve can't see their faces, Jordan's long hair obscuring the two as they… talk?

Everyone starts to mutter amongst themselves, watching whatever is happening unfold. After a long tense minute passes the two resurface. Then the group starts wolf-whistling, clapping for the two as they walk out the sliding glass doors hand-in-hand.

Steve can only stand and watch as everyone settles into comfortable conversation, others haggling bills between won and lost bets. His eyebrows are making an attempt to retreat into his hairline, the synapses in his brain trying to compute what just went down because what the fuck? When the hell did bumfuck Hawkins get so… queer? He knows Robin said everyone here tonight was “chill,” but actually seeing it unfold before him like this is such a mindfuck.

A random hand reaches out for the bottle in the center but the bottle ends up being lightly kicked away into a corner. "Fuck off, man. Games over," Jonathan says between giggles as he readjusts himself, pulling his leg back with a hand tracing patterns absentmindedly over Argyle's chest who’s completely unbothered.

Steve makes his way back into the living in a light daze after that, eyes immediately honing in on Eddie and Robin still conversing in the corner. Robin is extending her hand between them, the line of her lips and shine in her eyes signaling to Steve she's won their argument and she knows it. Eddie rolls his shoulders forward to sink his hands into his front jeans pocket, staring at her hand in consideration for a long moment before he finally takes her hand in his to give a single agreeable shake.

So, it looks like they’ve come to an agreement. How? Steve has no idea. All he knows is that right now Jon and Argyle’s group get to enjoy some Dorian Zero and Bob Marley while they bake in the sunroom before Robin takes over. Why she's so adamant about this one thing he has no idea, but whatever, Steve’s giving up on trying to understand her plan.

Eddie spins and he and Steve make eye contact. He pulls at a few strands of hair to hide a growing blush that's working its way to paint his whole face. Steve is about to make his way over when Jeff approaches Eddie, pulling on his arm and all Steve can do is watch him get whisked away from him again.

Robin skips over to Steve, putting her hands on his shoulders, her smile too contagious he can't even pretend to be annoyed with her. Still won't stop him from trying.

"Whatever plan you have, it better work, Buckley. I barely had the chance to talk to him all week. He was either too busy with work or he was helping Wayne with his truck or the Mayfields out around their place. And you know what a fucking disaster it's been with the kids all week. I've been waiting for tonight and, honestly, I don't get how you being the biggest cock block, over music of all things, is supposed to help. I was this close," he grumbles as she drops her hands to grab a hold of his, swinging his arms with hers to the beat of music.

"You're just going to have to trust me, dingleberry."

"Yeah yeah… I guess I should update you on the Chrissy and Gareth thing.”

—----------

"So Chrissy doesn't have a thing for Gareth?" Robin's eyes were glazed over, trying to put together this new information.

She looks over to Steve who just shrugs his shoulders. Robin scoffs, directing her attention to Nancy who just sat down with them on the floor, a bowl of chips and Robin's drink she had to go back for in her hands. "But last week Eddie said… Okay, so that's what you heard…. Nance, run it back. What exactly did you overhear from Jeff and him just now?"

Nancy passes out the refilled cup to Robin, her head immediately falling on the taller girl’s shoulder. The three are currently gathered in a circle on Steve's living room floor, Argyle’s mixtapes a low buzz in the background.

"I'm only going to say this once. It doesn't feel right gossiping about our friends. Are we friends? Whatever, I feel bad for eavesdropping either way. I wasn't trying to listen in on their conversation but, to be fair, Munson is kind of loud and hard to ignore," Nancy mumbles, slipping a salted chip into her mouth.

"God, this is so high school" Steve mutters, hunching and scooting in close, his knees butting against theirs as he grabs a handful of chips. Nancy takes a drink to clear her throat, then makes herself comfortable with her head in Robin's lap and just talks to the chandelier that hangs above.

"From what I overheard, Chrissy has been trying to help Gareth get together with Alana. Guy has been head over heels for her ever since she performed that drum solo at last year's talent show–”

“That was a good solo,” Robin mumbles, nodding along in consideration.

“–and she's been trying to help him work up the courage to ask her out. Chrissy has a thing for someone else–"

"Eddie called him 'Bails," Steve supplies around a mouthful of chips.

"–right, ‘Bails’, who’s apparently in the school's marching band."

Robin's eyes go glossy as she goes through the list of band members who could have caught cheerleading captain Christine Elizabeth Cunningham's attention. Images of her bandmates in compromising positions flash before her in that moment and she cringes internally. The band kids doing drugs might have flown under her radar but she’s more than aware of how sex-crazed those dorks could be, stumbling upon one too many make-out sessions in the instrument lock-up room.

That kinda shit typically stayed within the band kids circle. Dating outside of that was uncommon since everyone got pretty close during summer practice, but it was known to happen, most often with the drama club circle. That being said, she still can't picture any guy who'd have Chrissy's attention that lined up with Eddie's given nickname. There was Bailey Fogden, but there’s no way she could be crushing on him, the kid was a freshman.

Nancy continues.

"Chrissy and Gareth were spending a lot of time together trying to convince each other to make a move and Eddie just read them wrong. Something about away games and having to share the charters between the team, cheerleaders, and the band-”

“Yeah, that happens,” Robin mutters absentmindedly.

“– and there was a moment. She had to share a seat with him and it's just been this thing… I don't know, that's all I got. Eddie was giving Jeff the rundown before he gave him the keys to his van to pick them up.”

"So much for his promise to stop meddling," Steve quips.

“Reminds me of someone.” Nancy directs that at Robin with a teasing smirk. “Anyways, we’ll figure out who this ‘Vic Bails’ is soon enough. ”

“Shut the fuck up.” Robin mumbles.

“Huh?”

"Fuck me, I’m– not you, Wheels, I’m so sorry, that wasn’t directed at you. I'm sorry but did you just say Vic?" Robin's fingers that had been carding through Nancy's hair go to cover her own eyes, dread laced in each word that follows. "As in Vicky? As in Victoria Ann Marie Bailey?"

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve breathes. Robin's head drops, hair covering her face as she buries her face into her hands before her hands move to grab at her stomach, eyes screwed shut as a maniacal laugh erupts from her, head now thrown back. Steve can’t help but start laughing with her, finally caught up to the deduction that Robin’s already made.

Nancy looks between the two the best she can from her angle but sits up to better try to read their expressions, a chuckle bubbling up along with their contagious laughter. "What’s so funny? I know Vicky. I don’t know her all that well, but she's nice. She helps with the bake sale every semester. Does Chrissy not have a chance or something?”

Robin is hiccuping for air.

"Oh Cunningham has a chance. Two words, Wheeler. Band camp.” Steve tries to hide his laughter behind his cup as he takes a drink, leaning back to avoid Robin’s leg that suddenly sweeps at him.

“Steve, shut up!” Robin wants to look annoyed but then another wave of laughter overtakes her and she’s falling over, hiding her face in Nancy’s lap.

“Band camp?” Nancy rubs soothing circles behind Robin’s neck, brows pinched in consideration. “Band camp… Steve mentioned someone that day after– wait… Ba– Bailey– oh my god.” She covers her mouth, eyes wide with realization. It makes Steve laugh even harder that he starts choking on his drink. He falls back, mindful to set his cup down before it spills over the floor he went through all that effort to mop up.

“What’s so funny?”

They all stop, Eddie's voice cutting through their small circle and they all stare up at him from their spot on the floor. A beat of silence until they're all laughing again, Nancy folding over Robin's head in her lap.

Eddie plops down next to Steve, crossing his legs with his knees up, arms wrapping around them. Steve tries to sit up but can only get himself half up onto his elbow, wiping at a stray tear from his eye as Robin and Nancy uncurl from each other and they all try to calm themselves.

"Nothing, Munson." Robin is still giddy as she moves to stand, clearing the floor of their cups and the bowl of chips before extending her hand out to Nancy on the floor. "Wanna dance?"

"Oh, we're–" Eddie looks over to Steve, immediately averts them when Steve glances at him to look back up at Robin, that blush creeping up his neck again. "We're doing this now?" Steve looks between the two, confused. It seems Robin let him in on her plan too and he's the only one officially out of the loop.

But she just asked Nancy to dance… is that it? Her plan is for them to dance?

"Come on, up up." Robin makes her way over to the player, inharmoniously ejects Argyle's track and pulls her own cassette that Steve doesn't recognize out of her pocket, quick to insert it but doesn't hit play just yet. When she finds Steve and Eddie still on the floor she groans, reaches for their collars and tugs. "I said up."

"Ow, okay!"

"Jeez, relax, Bobby."

They both scramble up, pulling their collars down and brushing down their shirts. Eddie is chewing his bottom lip, that blush officially overtaking his face. He's nervous.

Why?

Nancy takes Eddie's hand and he turns to face her. She leans in, whispers something in his ear that only makes him start to cover his face with his hair again. She gives him an encouraging smile and lets him go, making her way over to the sunroom where she makes a quiet announcement that makes Argyle cheer outright above the rest.

"I'm in, we're in, I'm always in, you don't have to tell me twice. Come on, everyone up… Trust, trust, it’ll be fun. Try before you deny, it’s a fucking blast. Byers, my man, ándale, vas a bailar conmigo. Robby hit play!"

Steve is so goddamn lost but he just goes along with it. "Buckley this better be the best goddamn mixtape ever or else I'm never making you my chocolate chip pancakes again."

Robin gasps offendedly as she hits play, cranking the volume to the highest setting. "How dare you doubt me." She extends her hand to him and Steve hesitantly takes it just as the music starts and trumpets blare from the speakers throughout the house.

Steve goes through the three stages of shock within the span of a second, Robin doesn't give him time to process it any longer. She's swaying her hips and stepping in quick rhythmic steps in time to the music, pulling and leading Steve into practiced steps along with her.

"Robs, really? This is your master plan?" He mutters annoyedly, feels himself tensing into the dance, pulling her so she can twirl under his arm if only to get her close enough to poke harshly between her ribs.

"Yes really! Why do you think I was so worked up when Munson took over the music? Dancing to this kind of music is so much fun! And nothing–" she pulls him close, still in time to the music. They're so close that Steve’s eyes end up crossing as she stands on tiptoe to grab his face, pinching at the cheeks with her fingers so that his lips are forced into a pout. "– and I mean nothing, Steve Harrington, is more fun, charming, and downright hot than teaching someone how to dance to it," she whispers. releasing his face and giving his shoulder a gentle tap to turn him gently into Eddie's space.

Eddie looks like a doe caught in the headlights when Steve stumbles in front of him, arms crossed tightly across his chest. Steve's heart is a millisecond from beating right out of his own as the pieces start to come together. He decides in that moment that he’s never been so ready to kill his favorite headache.

Sure, Robin taught him how to dance to this stuff and he's gotten pretty good in the last week, has been able to keep up with her when they dance together, but that's because she's usually the one leading. When they started playing the music at Extended the kids begged for a lesson and Steve couldn't resist those pleading eyes from Riley and Suzie, so the kids and himself got a pretty good formal lesson from Robin that took up almost the entire day. The boys wanted to act put out but no one looked as determined to not step on their counterparts toes as Lucas and Dustin did with Suzie and Max.

And you see, he did all that dancing with Robin. Nothing about those lessons felt charming and it definitely wasn't hot. He also never took the lead, not once. It was fun though, he can agree with that much.

Argyle and Robin are giving tips to those trying to learn how to dance along behind him and he gets a small shove from someone stumbling into him, the crowd growing as folks join in on the chaos. Steve doesn’t bother to see who, doesn’t care because right now the only thing that has his attention is Eddie and the way he’s worrying the corner of his mouth, eyes on everyone dancing behind Steve.

Steve decides then that he can do this. He will do this if it means it'll remove that deprecating look from Eddie's face. Steve steps to the side, gets into Eddie’s line of sight and holds both hands out in front of him. Eddie doesn’t take them, instead screws up his face and steps forward so that Steve’s hands can only settle on his arms.

“I can’t dance, Harrington. Bobby is really, and I mean really overestimating my abilities to keep up to this. I didn’t even know this was a thing y'all got into. Santana is maybe the closest I’ve gotten to it? And yeah, sure, I play the guitar, and I’m still learning to get better at the drums and I can stay on beat no fuckin’ problem and–”

“Eddie.”

“–I can headbang my way into whiplash, right, jump and run around when the band performs at the Hideout. I can go through the motions of getting suggestive with my guitar, sex sells a lot of bands, I know how to do that much, alright, and I can do the whole sway in place like your everyday wallflower at a school dance, but dude that’s it. I'm going to look so stupid, I don’t know what she thinks you can do to help me. I’ve got two Baggins’ sized left feet and–”

“Eddie.”

Eddie sucks in a breath as Steve leans in, screwing his mouth into a tight line and just stares up at Steve like a lost puppy who strayed too far from home, eyes begging to be saved. Steve runs his hands up and down Eddie's arms, his skin surprising cold for how warm the room is. He trails his hands down his arms to place over his wrists , rubbing his thumb along the back of his hands.

"You won't look stupid. I'll make myself look like an idiot before I let you trip over yourself. Promise."

Eddie doesn't look convinced but he uncrosses his arms, taking Steve's hands gingerly. Steve tries to adjust them into the starting position Robin showed him. He has to be mindful to mirror their positions and making himself the lead, has to take a moment to get his lefts and rights in order.

Or at least he tries to but Eddie's every move is almost unyielding, reluctant to follow through. Steve directs Eddie’s hands onto his hips to free his own, placing his hands on either side of the other man's face as he gets close.

Steve bends at the knees, lightly knocking into Eddie's own, directing his face and asking with the movement for Eddie to please just look at him, to hear him. Seeing Eddie like this, so unsure of himself, makes Steve’s chest ache. He's also quite positive the pathetic pout of his lips is going to kill him.

"Can you trust me?"

Eddie doesn't respond, at least not with words. Instead he takes Steve’s hands and positions them the way Steve was trying to originally, determination setting over his lips. They’d been going back and forth for so long the first song already ended and Steve hears clapping along with compliments being thrown out to names that don't matter to him, at least not right now.

"Just stay with me. Focus on me. I gotcha, Munson."

The next song starts playing and those trumpets and the fast beat of the percussion ring out, thankfully slower than the last. Steve pulls Eddie into the center of bodies swaying, feeling the trumpet and the ringing of the drums deep in his bones. Eddie is watching their feet and Robin’s voice sneaks up on Steve.

“Feel me, don’t watch me. Looking at my feet isn’t going to help you, the music will.”

With Eddie’s right hand still in his he leads both their hands to Eddie’s chin, lightly knocking it up so that Eddie’s eyes find his own. He straightens his back, resets their position and they start moving.

It’s tense, not entirely bad but also not great. No matter how much Steve tries to, he can't get Eddie to relax into it. He watches as Eddie's eyes slip towards their feet every few steps, wincing when he almost steps on Steve’s toes. Eddie's at least trying, shy and endearing with the tip of his tongue peaking out between his lips, his brows furrowed in concentration.

An idea pops into his head then and Steve remembers the way he and Robin helped the kids who were struggling just the same– by standing behind them arms length away, their small middle school frames easy to direct with Robin and his hands on their shoulders, helping them learn to feel the music as they danced with their partners between them.

He lets his grip of their hands slacken and Eddie’s face winces in apology, assuming he’s already given up on him but Steve only shakes his own head, beckoning for him to move closer.

"Harrington, it's okay. Look, we tried! I'm telling you–"

“Let’s try something else. Come here." Steve grabs Eddie by the hips and turns him, pulls him until he's flush against him. With his hands on Eddie's hips, knees against the back of his, chest against his back, he gets close enough to brush his lips at the nape of his neck. He cocks his head to the side, eyes trained on the divot that makes Eddie’s collar bone. Eddie somehow gets more rigid in their new position, his grip on Steve’s hands over his hips tightening.

"Steve–"

"Move with me." It's barely a breath against Eddie's skin but he can feel the way he shivers at the words, knees going slack and he's basically in Steve's lap. Steve chuckles through it, giving Eddie's hip a squeeze. "Okay, now…"

It slowly gets better as they start to move more fluidly, with Steve keeping their dancing at about half the speed, dragging out the beat with each step. They continue on like that as Steve lightly knocks his knee behind Eddie's so he steps forward, then squeezing at his hip to signal he needed to take a step back, alternating with each step along to the beat of the music. For the rest of this song and the next Steve can feel Eddie’s body loosen with each subtle give of direction.

Slowly Eddie’s moves get more confident and Steve doesn’t feel like he’s so much directing his movements and instead is leading with him, slowly picking up their pace until they’re moving with the beat of the music in tandem. When the next song starts he gives Eddie’s hips a final reassuring squeeze, buries his face into the crook of his neck in an attempt to suppress the proud smiles that’s threatening to over take his face.

“I said I had you, didn’t I?” he murmurs, nose skimming Eddie’s cheek as he turns towards his face. Steve can’t see his face clearly but he gives a shy press of his lips against the dimple that appears there. Steve takes hold of Eddie’s hand, nudges at his side to spin him out and they get to dance together, face to face.

Slowly throughout the mixtape the tone shifts from fast paced songs, ones that left them dancing swiftly and barely clutching at each other's fingertips at half arm lengths, steadily towards something more languid.

Steve leads Eddie closer into his arms, holding Eddie’s right hand with his left, his right arm circling around his waist, pinky finger raveling around the belt loop of his jeans as his hand splays across his lower back. Eddie's left arm slips over Steve's shoulder, fingers toying with the sweat-damp hairs at the nape of his neck. Steve watches a bead of sweat pool into the divot of Eddie’s collarbones.

"You're actually not a bad teacher. Remind me to bring you an apple for extra credit on Monday," Eddie teases, swaying forward to close the final bit of space between themselves, fingers tugging playfully at the strands between his fingers when Steve scoffs. "What?"

Steve shrugs. “Just… really? Me, a teacher?"

"Yes, you! I was ready to give up and bolt but you're so goddamn persistent. And you were patient. You got this look on your face,” Eddie murmurs, moving his hand from around his neck to lightly sweep his thumb in the space between Steve’s brows. “You were so determined to help me, to teach me. I wasn't getting it at first yet you were able to come up with an alternative way to show me. God, if my teachers were even half as willing to put in the effort to accommodate me I think I could have graduated last year. And from what I hear from the kids? I have no doubt, you'd be a great teacher. Mr. H does have a nice ring to it,” he lilts, lopsided smile going directly to Steve’s heart as he moves his arm back around his neck.

"Mr. H…." Steve hums at the compliment as his lips downturn at the corners in consideration, his chest swelling with warmth at the praise. "Ya know, Robin was actually the first person to suggest it, that I go for a teaching license. So if I'm being honest the thought has crossed my mind. She’s on track to graduate with a few college credits and wants me to enroll with her for the summer after graduation.”

“See, that’s two votes for Mr. H!”

Steve chuckles, lightly shaking his head at the prospects. “What would I even teach? I wasn’t great in school, I barely graduated–”

“Ahh, but you graduated and it was on your first go around, so you at least have that going for you. You have all this experience with the kids from working with them last year, and obviously Murray thought you did a great enough job that he had you come back this year. You could do gen ed, work with elementary, maybe even middle school kids? Teach a little of everything throughout the day…” Eddie shrugs as he tilts his head to the side so his hair covers part of his face. “Think about it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Steve says with a smile, freeing their joint hands to brush back the loose strands to tuck behind his ears, his other hand absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles with his thumb along Eddie’s lower back. He unhooks his pinky finger to splay his hand and press them closer together, their legs tangling as he slots his thigh between Eddie’s and suddenly all Steve can think about is how good he feels.

The song changes and it’s slow, slower than anything that’s played before. There are no blaring trumpets, just the trill of piano, soft beat of the drums. His body is moving to the music on autopilot, which leaves Steve suddenly acutely aware of Eddie, aware of his proximity, his apple mahogany shampoo, the way his thigh is pressed against him between his own and suddenly he wants.

His hand that had been brushing back Eddie’s hair sits at his neck and all Steve can do to keep from just grabbing his face and devouring him is drop his hand, slipping it down his neck, thumb sweeping over his jaw and across his collarbone, all to just trace the thread that holds a patch of a skull surrounded by fire on the lapel of Eddie’s battle vest with the pad of his thumb.

It’s a pretty clean line, neat enough that Steve takes a moment to wonder if Eddie had someone else sew these in. Except he’s now remembering that Eddie plays guitar, which means he’s probably good with his fingers and– nope. Steve retracts his hands before his muddled mind wanders deeper into that gutter, hands forming restrained fists where they barely hover over Eddie’s hip and chest. Steve commits to staring only into his eyes and…

… Fuck, that really doesn't make it any easier.

It doesn’t make it easier because Eddie’s eyes are trained on Steve’s lips. And suddenly Steve can only focus on Eddie's hands. He’d snuck one of them under his sweater and he has to suppress the gasp that wants to escape him when the cold metal of his rings sears the skin of the small of his back, his other hand scratching soothingly against the nape of his neck. Eddie licks his lips and leaves them barely parted, the shine of them beckoning as a breath seemingly gets stuck in his throat.

Fuck it.

Steve bends at the knees before he presses forward, hips flush against Eddie's, his hand now trapped between their bodies. He shuffles forward, pulling his trapped hand out to place it back to the side of his neck as he leans in, using his thumb to tilt Eddie’s face and he stops short of pressing their lips together. The gasp that escapes past Eddie's lips slips past Steve's and he swallows it down, heat building into a budding simmer low in his gut. The sound of Eddie's stifled moan as Steve presses his thigh against him goes straight through him as he moves to elicit another response.

He's going to do anything and everything to hear it again, to figure out what else he can do to hear more.

Forget booze, weed– this is the kind of high he wants to chase.

"Eddie." He barely breathes, is so intoxicated by everything that is Eddie Munson that for a moment he takes a moment to worry that there might actually be something wrong with him because he's so fucking far gone and he hasn't even kissed the guy yet.

"Steve."

Well at least it seems he's just as affected because there's the faintest hint of wavering in the way he says Steve's name. Eddie pulls at the strands of hair in his fingers, subtly shifts his legs to the beat of the music and now Steve is the one fighting back a satisfied sigh as Eddie gives a shy roll of his hip, the pressure just shy of being enough. Another tug, another forward press and Steve thinks he might evaporate into the air.

Steve's bottom lip ghosts against Eddie's as he sinks deeper, and they’re no longer moving to the music, just holding each like each the final raft of a sinking ship. He finally tangles his fingers into Eddie’s hair, fingering catching on that damn clip that's barely holding anything back.

"Can I kiss you?"

"If you don't do more than that I might actually have to kill you," he barely breathes the words before he’s pressing his lips against Steve’s.

Steve is no longer worried he’s going to evaporate into nothingness or if he's going to drown because all he can feel himself doing right now is falling, and he’s falling hard.

Desperate. It's the only way to describe the way Steve's lips part on a gasp because finally. Finally. He doesn't even give himself the chance to catch his breath before he's on Eddie again, lips harsh and begging for more. Eddie’s lips aren’t soft or pliant like Steve’s used to, so used to taking the lead and taking it slow, of directing the gradual flow of each kiss but Eddie is just as starved for control, using his grip of the back of Steve’s neck to tilt his head for another angle and taking the lead.

It’s anything but slow and Steve is more than happy to keep up with the pace. His fingers weave deeper between strands, doesn't stop reaching until he has his fist full and pulls. Eddie gasps against his lips, barely pulls away when Steve outright yanks. Steve tries to take the opportunity, wants to lick his way in into those parted lips but Eddie has his own plans because he’s suddenly biting down on Steve's bottom lip, and he’s biting hard.

Steve hisses against the sting and he can feel Eddie smile against his lips before he presses a soft kiss to the mark his teeth left, tongue making a sneaking sweep to cool the growing burn. Steve takes the opportunity to lick his way into Eddie’s mouth, the feeling going directly to his gut when their tongues slide together. Eddie breathes hitches as Steve shifts his legs, giving a gentle press of his thigh forward against Eddie’s own hardening line that’s been steadily pressing against his hip, and it makes Steve's own pulse race loudly in his own ears.

Not loudly enough.

“Oh my god, would you two please get a roooom, this is literally your house, dingus.”

Steve freezes, pulling away from Eddie’s lips with a pop as he remembers exactly where he is, what he was just doing, and who he was doing it with. He’d feel more embarrassed, but a quick scan of those around him tells him no one else is really paying them any mind. Everyone is either lost in their own groups of conversation or lost in their dance partners as much as he had been with Eddie.

He loosen the grip he has on Eddie, has to give his hands a slight shake because they’re buzzing, the ants revved up and begging for him to make contact again, to be sated against the touch of his skin. Steve almost steps away, key word almost, but the uncomfortable tightness of his jeans makes him hesitate.

He chokes on a cough to clear his throat, tries to subtly wrap his arms low around Eddie’s waist to keep their hips close. He turns to look at Nancy and Robin who are dancing just a few steps away, Robin’s face contorted in exaggerated disgust while Nancy attempts to hide her own laughter, pressing her face to Robin’s shoulder.

“We’ll get a room. I just, uhh, want to finish out this, um, song. It’s a good s-song,” he stutters, a chuckle rising up his chest as he redirects his attention back to Eddie who’s pulling his lips into a thin line, fighting back his own laugh.

“Right, it’s a good song, we’ll finish this one out. Then we’ll go find a room. You’ve got plenty of those around here.” Eddie’s smile is taunting and Steve presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, swaying in closely to just dance as Eddie’s arms lock around his shoulders.

Steve glances over in time to watch as Robin wrinkles her nose in their direction, but the proud upturn corners of her lips give her away.

“Doubt me again, Harrington.”

“I won’t.”

if anyone cares, these were the songs that i had playing while steve was teaching eddie to dance, in order

-el día de mi suerte by Willie Colon, Héctor Lavoe

-qué pena by Lebrón Brothers

-rebelión by Joe Arroyo

-lejos de ti by Angel Canales

-volaré by Cortijo y Su Combo, Ismael Riverya

-hola soledad by Rolando Laerie

-el ratón by Cheo Feliciano y Joe Cuba Sextet

-la noche by Joe Arroyo, La Verdad

(the song they danced to was 'el raton')

#steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie au #with a side of: ronance and jargyle+#stranger things au #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #fruity four #jonathan byers #argyle #fic continuation #extended hours #my*stuff

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mancavebackyard · 1 year ago

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CAN YOU PUT A SOLO STOVE ON A DECK?

With so many different types of decks out there, it's a pain to figure out what can and can't be placed on them. Wood decks, for instance, can be warped by heat coming from most fire pits. With how efficiently Solo Stoves burn and how hot they get, it's a legitimate worry. Other materials might be scuffed or warped by heat and can be a tire hazard.

Can you put a Solo Stove on a deck? We're going to break our answers down here and our suggestions for every type of Solo Stove set up to fit your needs. Get ready to sit back, relax, and roast some s'mores.

Concrete: Painted, Stained, or Stamped

Concrete decks can handle some impressive activities. Can they handle a Solo Stove? The answer is yes, for the recommended three to four hours. Unless it's painted, stained, or stamped concrete, which contains decorative elements that could warp or become scorched.

In order to avoid damage to concrete that is decorative, you'll want to use the Stand accessory. Since the heat is dispersed efficiently with Stand, your Solo Stove can sit comfortably without you having to worry.

Wood Decks

Untreated wood decks ignite at 365 degrees Fahrenheit. While most wood decks are stained or treated to prevent them from catching fire so easily, it's still a good idea to use the stainless steel Stand to prevent any unfortunate warping or fire hazards.

If you're planning to burn your fire pit for more than an hour or two, using pavers underneath your Stand will protect your deck. Wood can warp or paint can discolor with heat, so using Stand will ensure the quality of your deck will last longer. Best of all, you'll still be able to enjoy your fireside chats. Still concerned? Adding a heat-resistant barrier underneath your Stand can add an extra layer of protection.

Why take risks? If you've found a fire pit you love but have concerns about your deck, don't feel dismayed. Simply find the most appropriate Stand for your needs.

What About Composite or PVC Decks?

Composite and PVC decking have different fire resistance grades based on what they're made of and what manufacturer they come from. While these decks do have individual fire-resistant gradings from A thru C—with A being the highest—being continually exposed to heat may cause damage even to the highest grade decks.

Most composite decks are made from a blend of plastics that will warp and melt when exposed to high heat. Due to this, we cannot recommend burning on a composite or PVC deck without Stand. Stand will allow the ambient heat to disperse underneath so that the PVC decking doesn't heat up. Please do not attempt to use a Solo Stove on composite or PVC decking without Stand. Since damage can occur, using Stand and pavers will ensure you can comfortably use a Solo Stove on a deck without worry of damage or fire hazard. This will keep your home and your family safe and sound.

Grass! Can I Put It On Grass?

Green grass can be scorched by Solo Stove depending on the hardness of the wood and how long it burns. To prevent unseemly scorch marks under your smokeless fire pit, use Stand. We promise, the green grass underneath will still look good. Since grass can burn at 518 degrees F, it's important to be conscious of the state of the grass as well. If it's drier than normal, then use Stand in order to avoid scorching or fire hazards.

Beach Fun

Headed to the beach? Solo Stoves are safe to use on level sand surfaces. However, Solo Stoves rely on the bottom vents to keep a clear, warm fire burning. Make sure to keep the bottom vents clear of sand by using Stand or pavers.

If the vents are clear, you can quickly enjoy your bonfire with the waves in the distance! Once you've set up your Solo Stove on a level sandy surface, you'll be able to fall in love with the beach and your cozy spot too. The same goes for sandy surfaces that may be set up in the backyard for your smokeless fire pit.

What Are Some Safe Options For My Smokeless Fire Pit?

Solo Stoves can be put on stone or pavers without any worry. If you're concerned you might scorch grass that is growing between pavers or stone, you can use a Stand as you would on green grass. Doing so will keep things looking nice.

Gravel can be bought in different colors and styles to be used underneath your Solo Stove. Using gravel is a safe surface for your Solo Stove.

Dirt is also a safe option for your smokeless fire pit. As long as the area is clear of dry debris like sticks and leaves, dirt will not get scorched and you'll have a nice burn. If you're looking to make a fire pit area in your backyard, consider using sand or dirt for the fire pit area. Keeping a bucket of sand nearby for emergencies is a great idea, as pouring water in to cool the Solo Stove will warp the stainless steel metal.

Solo Stoves get hot! That's the whole point of a crackling smokeless fire pit, right? However, that also means that sparks can pop off and discolor or scorch decks. While you can move to dirt or grass like we suggested above, using a fire-resistant mat in combination with Stand will keep your surfaces safe.

Can You Put a Solo Stove on a Deck?

Can you put a Solo stove on a deck? Yes, with Stand and a heat-resistant barrier for a smokeless fire pit underneath it. The Stand is stored inside of your Solo Stove for easy access and can be used on a level surface to protect the ground underneath a Solo Stove. Take away the worry of whether your fire pit will warp your deck with the 304 stainless steel Stand.

If you have a dedicated area for your Solo Stove outside, it's easy to use the Stand to make sure that the ground underneath stays safe and no stray blades of grass get unpleasantly scorched. Take a look around your backyard before you place an order. A Stand will not ruin the aesthetic of your home and it can keep you, your property, and your family extra safe while the fire pit is in use.

#Solar Stove Fire Pit USA #solo stove ranger usa #solo stove fire pit usa #solo stove yukon usa #solo stove ranger 2.0 usa

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scribblessims · 8 years ago

Photo

And at The Fishery, the tree is still burning. It’s like the one the Elvensongs had long ago... by which I mean three installs and two computers ago, in like 2010.

#the sims 2 #New Edenia #have figured out that I can't have backyards with decks

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eternallyyoungjustice · 3 years ago

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Oooh headcanons on the OG team all having their own solo moment with Batman and anything with Robin/Nightwing and KidFlash!

Solo moments with Batman? Oh boy! Let's go! We about to get soft in this bitch!

Kaldur: Really looks up to Batman, so he really doesn't want to push any boundaries. But there's one point, probably after season one-ish where Kaldur's having a really bad time. He's missing home, feeling the pressure of leading, etc. Of course he knows he can handle it, but he's just...really not feeling it that day. Snaps at someone mid-mission, probably Wally or Conner, but immediately feels bad about it and apologizes. Then, after the mission, Batman pulls him aside, sits him down, and goes "talk to me" "what?" "You're obviously having a hard time, so, talk to me. Whats wrong and how can I help?"

This does not become a regular thing. But it meant the world to Kaldur, and he won't ever forget that act of kindness.

Dick: Bats is his mentor, his father-figure, the man he looks up to for most of his life. So when his life turns upside down, and he looses his bestest bud...Bruce knows that he needs to step up and do something. He's not good with emotions or comforting, but he needs to try. So after a while, once Dick has quit the team and is on his own, Bruce asks Alfred to invite Dick over for the night. Then, when the young Acrobat arrives, he's met with the living room fully decked out in blankets, snacks, and video games that the two guys used to play when Dick was growing up. They don't talk much that night, Bruce knows he can't do anything to erase his ward's pain. But they sit there, playing old games together, and for the first time since Wally's passing: Dick actually feels some semblance of at-ease.

Wally: KF never knew how to interact around Bats. Like, not only is he The caped crusader, but he's also his best friend's dad. Like, how does one talk to someone like that? But one day, one casual day, Wally and Dick decide they want to camp outside in the manor's huge backyard (because why not), and they're trying to put up the tent. Alfred and Bruce are watching off to the sidelines, just to make sure they don't hurt themselves and trying not to laugh while the two boys are clearly struggling. Wally, frustrated, cries out "how the hell are we supposed to get it up?" And then, much to the shock of everyone around, they just hear Bruce go "that's what she said". Everyone was shooketh, but especially Wally who's eyes lit up and nearly bulged out of his head. After that, Wally would make it his life's mission to make Bruce make sexual jokes again.

It rarely happens.

Conner: The clone is in another one of his Moods™, and feels like beating *something* up. Batman is at the cave at this point, running some software upgrades on the cave's systems, and Conner has one of his best worst ideas to date. He approaches The caped crusader head-on, stares him down (Bats doesn't look up) and just says "you and me old man, sparring". At this point, Batman looks up, completely stoic and just goes "No". Of course this just pisses Conner off more, and after a few minutes, Batman finally rolls his eyes and gives in. Needless to say, Conner gets his ass handed to him. But as he's laying on his back, wincing in pain, Batman extends a hand to the clone. "You're getting better, but you still need to learn how to pick your battles, young man".

M'gann: ooh boy. So poor, sweet, M'gann just wants everyone to like her. She really does. And of course, one evening she's doing her normal semi-regular batch of cookies and she's really proud of this one. They're perfect and she's just beaming. And she knows that that night, Batman is covering for Red Tornado as their "den mother" while the robot is out doing his own thing. So, wanting to seize the opportunity while it's there, M'gann flies over to Bats with a small plate of the perfect cookies, and hands them to him. The rest of her teammates who are in the room look equal parts amazed and terrified for the poor girl as she's just beaming away at this ninja of a man. She explains in a large speal that she's just super grateful for all the work he does for them, and that she wants to show her gratitude. And then, in a move that surprises everyone, Batman takes the plate of cookies, and SMILES A LITTLE as he thanks M'gann. It's a polite smile BUT STILL. M'gann doesn't tell the others that she received a note the next day from Bats with a simple "the cookies were delicious, thank you", but rest assured that note is one of her prized possessions.

Artemis: Similar to Conner, she's having a really bad day that day. She saw Cheshire in the mission and even though the team knows at this point, it still makes her really sad when it happens. So when she gets home, she's ready to just flop on her bed, watch some Netflix, and fall asleep. But then, to her surprise, her mother shows her a package that just came for her. Confused, the blonde girl opens it up to find a brand new high-tech bow and quiver cutesy of the highest available technology that Wayne Tech. has to offer. Confused but utterly thrilled, she finds a small note inside with small, elegant handwriting and the iconic bat insignia in the corner. "Family is complicated, but you have grown to show everyone around you that you are far more than your birth family. Keep it up, I personally look forward to seeing the products of your hard work and talent."

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zenonaa · 3 years ago

Text

'Like the rest of the group, he also wondered what could have driven out such a grin from him, out in the open like that. Worse, it could have not been a ‘what’, but a ‘who’. He had prided himself on never letting anyone slip under his skin, never letting anyone become close to him. Learning to rely on others, and let others rely on him, was one thing. This felt more personal, like a kick to the stomach.'

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Fukawa Touko, Togami Byakuya, Naegi Makoto, Naegi Komaru, Kirigiri Kyouko, Asahina Aoi, Hagakure Yasuhiro Additional Tags: TogaFuka Week 2021 Summary: Togami and the others stumble across a photograph of him smiling, but he can't remember the context so the others try to figure out what happened for him to do that.

Comments: owo what's this? togafuka week day 1: happiness! i haven't actually written something for all the days but this is one of the things that i did manage to squeeze out.

💗 Please like, share and comment if you enjoyed it! 💗

***

Cleaning up Hope’s Peak wasn’t an afternoon affair. Beyond the old school building that Byakuya knew too intimately, debris clogged hallways, trash lay scattered throughout the campus like weeds and the air smelled of rust and blood. The group of seven started with the art building on the east side of campus. For the first few hours, Yasuhiro hummed as he hauled cardboard boxes, Komaru still had the patience to prepare and bring lemonade, and Aoi’s sunshine voice beamed between walls as she shared a story about the time her family held a second-hand sale in their backyard.

By the end of the day, however, their lively chatter had dimmed with the sky. Inside remained as bright thanks to Byakuya and Yasuhiro reconnecting the electricity, but darkening windows reminded them of the aches in their limbs, the ebbing flames behind their eyes. Byakuya swept his gaze across what used to be a theatre but was currently a sorting room filled with boxes instead of chairs. Makoto, Touko, Komaru and Yasuhiro were sitting together on boxes, while Kyouko and Aoi had just walked in with a dirty wheelbarrow.

“We should adjourn until the morning,” Byakuya announced. He reached a hand toward his glasses, intending to push them up, but stopped himself when he remembered the grime clinging to his palms. Not wanting to dirty his glasses, he lowered his hand.

The Byakuya of the past would have deemed this sort of manual labour beneath him, yet he had willingly spent most of that day working alongside his companions. His friends. How things changed.

“There is so much stuff,” said Aoi, who by now had parked the wheelbarrow and was slouched against it. She wiped her vest against her forehead.

“And not a lot of it is useful,” added Kyouko, next to Aoi. Yasuhiro straightened up.

“Nonsense. All we need to do is spruce them up, and they’ll be ready to go on sale.” He walked over to a broken lamp, its shade bitten and discoloured, as dirty as the floor it lay on. “Like this lamp. Fix this up, and it’ll be as good as new. Then all we need is a good pitch and b’am,” he punched his palm, “sold.”

“You can’t do that with everything here,” said Komaru. He put his hands onto his hips.

“Not with that attitude! But with the right mindset, you could sell anything here, guaranteed.”

Yasuhiro rubbed his finger against his nose, grinning like a fool. Some things changed, but others stayed remarkably the same. Byakuya’s gaze drifted over to Touko, who was scowling at Yasuhiro. Touko was both different and the same. Different, because she stood firm where she used to cower, and she let others into her world where she used to cloak herself in darkness.

And same because while like Byakuya, she had learned to allow herself to rely on friends and for friends to rely on her, she was still head over heels in love with him.

She pointed at a black bag containing hunks of metal. “What sales pitch do you have for this?”

“Easy! All you have to do is make the contents into sculptures,” replied Yasuhiro. “Their only purpose is to be admired, ‘right? Add a backstory to go with them and boom, sold. You can do that to practically anything even if it’s trash.”

“No way,” said Aoi.

“Want to bet?”

The group roused to accept his challenge. Makoto found a used wipe container, and Yasuhiro clicked his fingers and said to fill it with plastic bags, turning it into a dispenser that was portable and could fit easily into a car drawer. Aoi presented him with pizza boxes, at which Yasuhiro laughed and demanded more so they could be decked in wrapping paper and transformed into a drawer unit. When Komaru found a metal pipe, Yasuhiro claimed it needed a clean and spray paint and it could sit contentedly on a shelf.

Yasuhiro even sucked Byakuya and Touko into the game. The cork in Byakuya’s hand changed into a keychain, and Yasuhiro’s voice fashioned an old juice carton into a recyclable purse ideal for coins and trips to the arcade. Each item that the others found, Yasuhiro repurposed it into something else.

“There has to be something you can’t reuse,” Komaru insisted. She peeled the lid open on a cardboard box and lifted out a hardback red book from inside it. “What about these photos? Who’d want to have pictures of strangers?”

“Photos?” said Kyouko, intrigued.

“Yeah, there are a whole load of albums in here. I went through a few earlier but didn’t recognise anyone, so I forgot about them.”

Touko rolled her eyes. “Typical...”

Kyouko and Aoi each took out an album. The box seemed to contain several of them, their covers glazed in dust and cobwebs.

“Gekkogahara-san is in this one,” said Kyouko within a few seconds of skimming.

By now, the rest of the group had gravitated over. Inside the album that Kyouko was holding, the photographs were contained in plastic flaps that overlapped so only the one on top could be seen unless it was flicked up, revealing the photograph beneath. In the photograph currently on display, Miaya Gekkogahara was sitting next to a pale guy with dark hair and dark shadows under his eyes, who Byakuya recognised as Yasuke Matsuda. They appeared to be seated at a computer desk, their heads turned toward the photographer.

“It’s really her,” murmured Makoto. “And not a robot masquerading as her.”

“Do you think these are all photos of her class?” asked Yasuhiro as he and the others picked up their own photo albums to browse.

“If that’s true, then everyone in these are deceased,” said Touko.

Aoi winced. “When you phrase it like that, this feels kind of morbid.”

Makoto flipped through a few flaps in the album in his hands. Then his creased forehead exploded as his eyebrows shot up. “This album contains our class!”

Everyone crowded around him. The photograph showed a pink room with a television screen hanging on the wall. Blurred writing glowed on it that Byakuya struggled to decipher. In front of it, Couch seats were positioned around three sides of a table, and on the seats sat members of their class. The only classmate not in the photograph was Sakura.

“Sakura-chan must have been taking the photograph,” said Aoi. “No way would our class exclude her.”

Holding the album in one hand, Makoto scratched his head with his other.

“I vaguely recall this,” he said. “Kuwata-kun... yes, I think it was him... booked a karaoke room, and the whole class packed in. All of us sang at least once.”

While Future Foundation had aided them in recovering from the memory loss inflicted by Junko, some memories were stronger than others. For Byakuya, he could recall plenty of events, but none came with any emotion attached. It was as though he was reading about them in a newspaper afterwards.

“Byakuya-sama graced us with his voice,” Touko piped up. The ends of her lips curled upward as she squeezed her hands together. “I r-remember... he made the air taste like chocolate syrup... his words spread a chill across my skin... ah...”

Byakuya remembered performing a single song, but he hated singing, and he couldn’t remember what compelled him to accept a microphone.

“Enoshima tried to steal such a precious memory from us.” Aoi rubbed the heel of her hand against her eye. “Sakura-chan sang a beautiful song about friendship. Her voice washed over the room like the ocean.”

Kyouko placed a hand onto Aoi’s shoulder. Komaru flicked through the other photographs in the album. Byakuya didn’t pay Komaru any more mind, frowning at Touko as she seemed to relive the experience of him singing. Her recollection appeared much more intimate than his own. Part of him wanted to ask her for more details. Another part was repulsed.

Komaru gasped.

“What is it?” asked Makoto as they all focused on the album again. The photograph that had captured her attention depicted Byakuya. Nothing extraordinary appeared to be in the photograph - he was sitting on a bench at an angle, not facing the camera.

Yet the others stared with their mouths agape.

“I have never seen Togami-chi smile like that,” said Yasuhiro.

Byakuya inspected the photograph closer. Though it had been taken at a distance - probably so he wouldn’t realise someone was taking a photograph of him - there was a definite smile gracing his lips. It wasn’t a smirk, or a cruel grin, or the faint curve he sometimes showed around his friends, but a smile showing teeth, one that didn’t just meet his eyes, but made his gaze, no, his face glow.

What he was looking at, however, was unclear. It was now that Byakuya realised the photograph had been torn, and the section that held the object of his attention wasn’t in the album.

“It must have been something amazing to have made him smile back then,” said Yasuhiro.

They all turned to Byakuya, who pursed his lips.

“Putting aside whether I would tell you if I knew, I don’t actually recall when this took place,” he said.

“Maybe we could help jog your memory?” Aoi suggested. “When I want to remember something, I write it on my palm three times.”

“That won’t help,” said Touko. “You can only do that while you still remember the thing.” Her teeth gritted. “Argh... if only I knew what could have elicited such a pure smile from Byakuya-sama...!”

She dragged her fingers down her face.

“It’s not a big deal,” said Byakuya. While the others burned with curiosity, discomfort stewed in his gut like when he had watched Touko reminisce about the karaoke session.

Like the rest of the group, he also wondered what could have driven out such a grin from him, out in the open like that. Worse, it could have not been a ‘what’, but a ‘who’. He had prided himself on never letting anyone slip under his skin, never letting anyone become close to him. Learning to rely on others, and let others rely on him, was one thing. This felt more personal, like a kick to the stomach.

“There has to be some way to reawaken the memory,” said Komaru, her tone light without the burden of his thoughts. She turned to Kyouko. “You must know a way.”

“Must I?” Kyouko’s eyebrows rose.

“Because you’re from a detective family,” said Aoi, nodding.

“Actually...” Komaru’s smile cringed on her face. “I um... just assume Kyouko-chan knows everything.”

“There are a few techniques we can try,” said Kyouko, faintly amused. “Perhaps if we pinpoint when and where exactly the photograph took place, that may stir something in Togami-kun’s brain.”

Other than Byakuya, no one else was in the frame. A briefcase leaned against a bench leg and a pile of papers rested on his lap. Annoyingly, he couldn’t see any writing that may have been on the papers. In the photograph, he wasn’t looking at them. He was focused on the nothingness where the other half of the photograph should have been.

“That has to be the main plaza,” said Aoi. “I recognise the benches. Sakura-chan and I finished our morning runs there. Then we would sit down and drink some water. We never saw Togami there though.”

“Yeah. That looks like the fountain at the back,” added Makoto.

Kyouko stroked her chin. “The sliver of sky in the background appears rather pale, and judging by the colour of the leaves, it’s approximately autumn.”

“Togami-chi never missed a lesson, so it had to be late-afternoon at the latest, ‘right?” said Yasuhiro.

“Unless it was the weekend,” Makoto pointed out, prompting Yasuhiro to exhale frustratedly through his teeth. The thoughtful expression on Kyouko’s face, however, didn’t waver.

“We can deduce whether he had lessons on that day,” said Kyouko.

“How?” asked Aoi.

Byakuya already knew. “I’m not in uniform.”

“Indeed,” said Kyouko with a bob of her head. “So unless you changed into another outfit after your lessons, this scene transpired at the weekend.”

“Does that ring any bells for you?” Komaru asked Byakuya, clasping her hands together, eyes wide with optimism. “Visiting the plaza on the weekend, and catching sight of something that brings joy to your face...?”

His jaw clenched. All of them were staring at him. They had a campus as large as four high schools to clear and they had only made a dent so far, but the arduous task appeared to have been pushed aside in favour of probing his brain for some memory. Oh, how they tried his patience at times.

“I can’t say it brings anything to mind, though it is unusual for me to be there,” he said in a level tone. “Usually, during the weekend, I would be indoors, either in my room or in the library.”

Certainly not at the plaza. Certainly not with a brazen smile chipped into his face.

“I think we’ve followed the photograph’s lead as far as it can go,” said Yasuhiro. “Now we must turn to guesswork. If we bounce ideas off each other, that might help Togami-chi remember. Perhaps you had come from a meeting, where you struck a billion dollar deal?”

“Or you emerged from the cafeteria after they served some tasty donuts?” Aoi chimed in.

Byakuya’s frown sank in deeper.

“Or you finished a really good manga?” said Komaru.

“Or listened to a good song?” added Makoto.

Yasuhiro clicked his fingers. “I once read that listening to music is a good way to stir up memories. If we find a piece with the right mood, Togami-chi ought to remember the scene!”

“What sort of mood do you guys reckon we should play?” asked Komaru as she shoved her hand into her coat.

“Something cheerful,” said Aoi.

Komaru retrieved her phone from her pocket and tapped on her screen. A few seconds later, a series of beeps sang out of her phone, playing over the sound of clapping and a fast drumbeat. She side-stepped back and forth to the rhythm, and Byakuya lasted until the first few lines of Swedish auto tuned singing.

“Turn that off,” snapped Byakuya. “It’s not helping me think. It’s giving me a headache instead.”

With a pout, Komaru switched it off.

“Perhaps we should visit the location,” said Kyouko.

Touko’s brow creased. “Won’t it be dark?”

“Don’t worry, Touko-chan, our phones can provide you with light,” Komaru assured her, patting Touko on the shoulder.

They set off, departing from the old theatre and winding through corridors toward the plaza. Byakuya stayed silent, lagging behind most of the others slightly. Only Touko seemed to take note of this, and though she didn’t speak to him, she hovered further back than him, and he could feel her eyes on the back of his neck like flies crawling against his skin.

As they drew closer, he concluded that they wished so desperately to discover the source of his smile because they planned to use it against him. Perhaps they intended to humiliate him, or blackmail or manipulate him. But they were his friends, weren’t they? Surely they didn’t plan on using what they learned against him?

Yet... if that wasn’t the case, then why?

The plaza was no longer the picturesque location it once was. It couldn’t have been in a brochure promoting the academy, like the photograph in the album. Weeds grew between upturned slabs, gnarled fingers reaching toward the sky. Nearby, the rubble corpse of the fountain didn’t spout water, dry as sun bleached bone. They all stood silently for a while, observing their surroundings. There were no benches to sit on.

“It sure has changed a lot,” said Yasuhiro.

“It’ll do. Hagakure, bend over on all fours.” Aoi pointed at her feet. “You will play the part of the bench.”

Yasuhiro balked. “Why me? You’re stronger.”

Her stare didn’t relent. He managed a few more seconds before he dropped to his knees and planted his hands in front of himself. Once he was in position, Aoi turned to Byakuya expectantly.

“I am not sitting on him,” said Byakuya flatly.

“Please, Togami-san!” Komaru pleaded, shaking her phone in both hands. Light from the screen danced across her face and when her hands stilled, so did the glow. It seeped into her skin, accentuating the crinkle between her eyebrows and the stare from her eyes that pulled, pulled, pulled at Byakuya until he snapped.

“Why are you all making a big deal of this?” Byakuya asked not only Komaru, but all of them. He flung up a hand. “There is a photograph of me smiling. That’s it. It concerns me that you’re so obsessed with finding out what caused me to smile.”

His question clenched them in its jaws, burning the air with acid. He waited for one of them to answer. For Touko to do more than fidget, and Komaru to stop chewing her lip. Finally, the pressure squeezed out a response from Makoto.

“You’re our friend,” said Makoto. “You’re usually so serious, and you rarely ever seem happy. We thought if we could find out what made you that happy back then...”

“... we could bring that happiness back to you now,” finished Touko, curling her fingers into her palms. Byakuya tensed.

That explanation had never occurred to him. For most of his life, he had been forced to be on the defensive, to anticipate betrayals and attacks from anyone. Then again, for most of his life, he hadn’t been acquainted with people like this. Friends. He grimaced, staring at Touko for several long seconds before averting his gaze and pushing up his glasses.

“Nuisances...” But he seated himself on Yasuhiro’s back, setting his feet firmly on the ground.

Byakuya tried to imagine the sky was a pool of water, not ink, and that he was on a bench, and that water streamed from a fountain behind him. However, the air remained as dry and dark as his mouth, and no matter how often his mind mended the slabs of the plaza, they would crack and decay within moments.

“Anything?” said Touko, wringing her hands.

He folded his arms over his chest.

“No,” said Byakuya. A collective sigh spread, though Makoto was soon grinning again.

“I guess we’ll have to keep trying to make you happy.”

Byakuya clicked his tongue, but his lips twitched outward and he quickly hid it behind his hand. Nuisances.

“Does this mean you can stand up now?” Yasuhiro asked from beneath Byakuya.

Aoi stretched her arms upward, arching her back, and yawned. “We ought to call it a day. It’s getting late.”

While the others headed toward the dormitory building that they were currently living in. Byakuya stayed where he was. Their footsteps faded, the glow of their phones shrinking into five pinpricks of light before disappearing completely. Despite his friends’ efforts, they had failed to uncover the story of the photograph. Now that he knew their motives hadn’t been nefarious, he could appreciate their attempts and found himself wondering what had happened all those years ago.

“It’s a shame we don’t know what made you so happy back then,” said Touko next to him, echoing his thoughts. She hadn’t retired for the night with the others. He glanced at her, meeting her gaze. Her phone shone a light against her wistful expression.

“I suppose so,” he said in a casual tone.

“With many of my memories, I don’t recall exact details, but they evoke certain feelings.”

His eyebrows rose a fraction in interest. “Oh?”

“Yes. For example, standing here... is stirring some emotion in me. I think I have a memory associated with this place too.”

Byakuya turned his whole body to face her.

“What emotion?” he asked.

She didn’t answer right away, as if letting the thought sit on her tongue, tasting it.

“Warmth,” she said. “Like the warmth I feel when I’m with you. Perhaps I will never remember what happened to give me that feeling. B-But... I have many other precious memories... and I can work on creating more with you, Byakuya-sama.”

Her lips twisted into a smile. Meanwhile, his insides twisted, much like they did whenever she referred to him in a romantic manner. He had been experiencing the sensation more frequently around her lately. Sometimes, all she had to do was meet his gaze or brush against him, and his stomach would coil like she had pressed her lips against his.

“Byakuya-sama?” Touko’s voice broke into his thoughts. “A-Are you feeling all right?”

He did not want to think what about his face had made her ask that all of a sudden.

“I’m fine,” he said, and he adjusted his glasses. “We’ve dawdled here for long enough. Let’s return to the dormitories.”

“Together?” blurted Touko. Without a word, Byakuya strode away, and she darted after him, keeping abreast. “Are you going straight to sleep when you arrive back?”

His eyes stayed forward.

“No. I will have some tea and read first,” he replied.

“What do you plan on reading?”

“Out by Natsuo Kirino,” he said. Her head jerked back.

“I r-recently finished that!”

“I know. After seeing you reading it, I thought I would give it a try. I was more interested when I learned that it’s not a romance, but a crime novel.”

“I specialise in romance, but I read for a variety of genres,” she said. “I can recommend some more books i-if you want. Have you read The Inugami Clan? You may find the start slow, but I think you will enjoy the cast and the premise...”

He listened as they walked back together. The more she spoke, the more passionate she became, and he couldn’t help looking at her as she lit up, waving her arms around.

A smile poked at the corners of his lips, and he finally felt a sense of déjà vu.

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