#i love scott clarke

[resident-gay-bitch]

Too Late - Sixteen

summary: You’ve always secretly pined over Eddie Munson, your best friend, but when you find out he’s dating Chrissy Cunningham, you reach your breaking point. you seek comfort from Gareth, your second best friend. you figure out he’s got a crush, but you don’t know who, you were determined to figure it out though. but he was determined to keep his feelings for you locked away forever. but plans change, right?

too late masterlist - this is the final chap :(

December rolled around the corner faster than expected. You and Gareth had just celebrated your nine months together, and everything was going great. You and Chrissy had begun to grow closer again, but she ended up moving to California for the summer with Jason, he went to stay with family before college, so you hardly saw her. You did call a lot though. She got back about a month ago, and you’d both just been so busy, you’d only managed to catch up once. The only times you had seen Eddie, was when you’d pass each other in the grocery store, or that one time when you had gone to the movies with Gareth and he was just leaving the cinema with Dustin. You hadn’t spoken, just sharing a glance that lasted no longer than a few seconds. Tonight was Christmas eve, and the air was cold and snow was falling. You were cozying up in Gareth's poolroom with him and the boys, just listening to the Bon Jovi record your boyfriend got you for Christmas. It was a peaceful night. You'd just stuffed your faces with a delicious dinner with Lizzie and Scott. 

There was a knock at the glass door, and you all turned your heads to see Scott himself, wrapped up in coats and scarfs, shaking in the cold. You quickly jumped up to pull him into the warm room, slamming the door shut behind him. 

“Hi, sorry to intrude on your teenage bonding time,” he smiled as he spoke, “but Liz just hopped into the shower and I thought I’d take the opportunity to talk to you… Gareth.” 

“Oh god.” Gareth mumbled, lifting himself up from the bean bag, “What have I done now? I promise you, the tap was already broken when I woke up thismo-”

“No, no.” Scott shook his head, “You're not in trouble… the opposite of that, actually.” 

“What’s the opposite of being in trouble?” 

Scott thought for a moment, “I don’t know.” 

Gareth nodded. You walked up next to him, looking at Mr Clark expectantly. He cleared his throat. 

“Right… so… Gareth, I don’t ever expect you to call me dad…”

You gasped, a smile spreading over your face as you realised what was coming. Gareth didn't. He raised an eyebrow and scrunched up his face with confusion, “Okay…”

“But.” Scott nodded, burying through his pockets. You wrapped your arms around Gareth's bicep, jumping with excitement, watching with anticipation. Scott smiled, noticing your excitement. The other two boys were smiling too, sending a few ‘ooh’s his way. Gareth was still confused. Scott held out a little blue box, “May I please have your blessing to ask your mother… to marry me?” 

Gareth looked up at him wide eyed, “You want to marry my mum?” 

You squeezed his arm again. 

Scott took a shaky breath, offering the box to Gareth, “If you’ll allow me, yes. I know your opinion is important to her, I just hope I have won you over…” He tipped his head, “it’s not much. A teacher's salary only really pays the bills, but…”

Gareth hesitantly took the box, opening it up slowly. You peered over his shoulder to see a gorgeous gold ring with a diamond in the centre, pearly stones surrounding it to look like the petals on a flower. It was perfect. Gareth stared at the ring, silence lingered in the room. Scott stared at him, wiggling his fingers as he started to worry with Gareth's lack of response. 

He looked up, finally, closing the box. Emotionless, he spoke, “Why do you want to marry her?” 

“Uh…” Scott glanced over at your confused expression before looking back at your boyfriend, “Because I love her, and she makes me happy. I’d- I’d love to make her happy, and nothing would mean more to me than your blessing.” 

Gareth stared at him. 

“I want… I want to spend my life with her.”

“What makes you think you're good enough to spend your life with her?” Gareth quirked an eyebrow, and you gave him a dissatisfied look. 

“I…” Scott looked to the ground, “I’m-”

“Nah, I’m just messin with ya.” Gareth laughed, handing the ring back to Scott and slapping him on the shoulder, “Course you can marry my mum. I’m surprised we haven’t scared you off yet.” 

Scott smiled, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gareth smiled, “But I’m never calling you dad.” 

“No, of course not.” He shook his head and started for the door. 

“Go get her Mr Clark!” You shouted. 

“It’s Scott.” He shouted back with a smile. 

“No it’s not.” You waved him off. 

You turned to Gareth with an excited squeal and hugged him tight. 

—————————————————————————

The second knock on the door you got that night was from Chrissy. Jeff let her inside so her teeth would stop chattering in the cold, and you quickly pulled her into a hug, both to warm her up and because you missed her. She handed you a gift, perfectly wrapped with a lavish bow, and you handed her one too. 

“Thanks Chris.” You smiled, tearing open the paper. Inside was a new pair of boots, “What the fuck?”

“Wh- do you not like them?”

You lifted up the leather shoe with wide eyes, “I… how much did these cost you?”

“It’s not about the money.” 

“But now I feel bad.” You huffed. 

She tore open her present to find a mixtape, a bracelet with a cute flower charm, and a pin to stick to her leather jacket. You had been decorating yours over the year with buttons and pins, one of them matched with one on Chrissy's jacket from the last time you had hung out. Little hearts with arrows through them. This pin was a Blondie one. Chrissy liked Blondie a lot, they were the crossover between her beloved pop and your rock. She squealed, pulling you into a hug. 

“Thank you!” 

You laughed, “You’re kidding right? Thank you!” 

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t stress it, babe. I knew you had been eying them off for a while.”

You smiled and hugged her again. 

“Look, I can’t stay. Jason’s out the front, we’re heading to my parents for the night. Big Christmas celebrations and were running late. But I’ll see you new years, yes?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, “Come on, I’ll walk you out. Say hi to Carver.” 

“Okay.” She helped you pull on your boots and a thick winter coat. 

You both waddled out the front to find Jason leaning up against his car, smoking a cigarette. You found that a little strange, a guy of his ‘status’, smoking, funny. She ran right into his arms for warmth. 

“Carver.” You nodded at him, keeping a metre or so’s distance. 

“L/N.” He nodded, extending his hand out, “Truce?”

You raised your eyebrows for a moment, looking between him and his hand. 

He sighed, “Sorry for being a dick back in middle school.” He shrugged, “Sorry for being a dick always, there's no excuse. I’m just sorry.” He sighed. 

You wobbled your head, thinking for a moment, “You did bully me.” 

He scrunched up his face, “Yeah…” he sighed, “If it makes you feel any better, all that bullying really fucked me over. I didn’t get into college… at all.”

Your mouth gaped open, “Yeah, that does make me feel better, actually.” You laughed. 

There was a flash of light, and all three of you turned to see who had pulled up out the front. The lights switched off, and you realised it was Eddie’s van. Shit. Wayne hopped out, bag in hand. He waved at you, “Y/N!” He smiled, “Merry Christmas, just droppin’ off some gifts.”

“Merry Christmas, Wayne.” You smiled back, “I’ll be in in a sec. Boys are out the back.” 

He nodded and walked up to the front door. Eddie hooped out of his van, seemingly not having noticed you yet. He leant against the hood, lighting a cigarette. You looked at Chrissy, who was looking at the ground and frowning, Jason's arm getting tighter around her. Eddie took the first puff, looking out at the night sky, brushing off the snow that fell down on his face. Jason cleared his throat. Eddie snapped his head in your direction and the cigarette almost fell from his mouth. You noticed a moment of panic in his eyes before he resumed his calm manor. 

He nodded his head once, “Carver… Cunningham…” He looked at you for a moment, “L/N. Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah.” You nodded back. 

“Very merry indeed.” Jason smiled at him, “Got any plans, Munson?”

Eddie sighed, “Quiet night with Wayne… heading over to the Hendersons tomorrow.” 

You nodded. Jason smiled, rubbing hand up and down Chrissy's arm, “That’s nice. I’m heading over to Chrissy’s for the night. We’ve got a big family celebration tomorrow, don’t we, baby?” He watched Eddie tense. 

You couldn’t help but smirk behind your scarf. Jason was a mean girl, and you hated it, but god, right now you loved it. You were inspired, “Sounds lovely. I’m spending the night here, celebrating the morning with Lizzie and her man. Then Garebears comin over to mine for Christmas Dinner.” You grinned, Eddie always used to spend Christmas dinner at your house. 

Eddie frowned, “Ah.” he nodded a few times, “Good to see you girls as friends again.”

You both stared at him for a moment, sharing a little look of disbelief. Chrissy raised her eyebrows, “Yeah. Having regretful feelings for a jackass really builds a bond.” 

Eddie sniggered, looking away for a moment, “Yeah.” 

“Anyway.” Jason broke the tension, “We gotta get going. I got some Cunninghams to suck up too.” 

Chrissy giggled, “It was lovely seeing you again. Thank you for my gift.” 

“Of course.” You smiled, pulling her in for a hug and giving her a little cheek kiss, “We will have to catch up more in the new year.”

“Absolutely.” She smiled. 

“Maybe I can even rope Gareth into a double date some time.” You looked at Jason, “Though, that might take some convincing.”

“Mhm.” He nodded, putting his hand out to shake again, “Can we be civil… for Chris?”

You sighed, slapping your hand into his and giving it a firm shake, “For Chris.” 

He smiled and saluted you as he opened the door for his girlfriend. You stood watching as they climbed in and drove off, sending them a little wave as they disappeared down the street. You turned to Eddie and walked up to him, plucking the cigarette from his lips and sticking it between your own. 

“Okay then.” He huffed. 

“It’s the least you could do, jackass.” You leant back against the hood of his van beside him. 

He sighed, looking to the ground, “Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” 

He looked at you, “Fine. I’m not. Happy?”

“Mhm.” You nodded half heartedly, refusing to look at him as you took another drag. 

“You and Gareth are still together then?”

“Nine months.” You exhaled, tapping the ash off the end of the smoke, “It’s great.” 

Eddie nodded, “That’s good then.”

“Yep.” You popped your lips on the ‘P’. 

There was silence for a moment, and Eddie turned to you, “I still love you.” 

You sighed and dropped the cigarette, stubbing it out with your toe, “Good for you.” 

“Can you just-” He interrupted himself with a deep breath, “Please, hear me out?”

You looked at him, “What? What’s there to hear, Eddie?” You rolled your eyes, “You’ve already forced yourself on me, begged me for forgiveness and love… I don’t know what else there is to do.” 

He rubbed his brow, “I know I’ve fucked up. I know that now, I do… but I can get better. You can- you can help me-”

“Why would I want to do that when I have a perfectly good boyfriend in there, who loves me unconditionally, and wants nothing but my happiness?” You raised your eyebrows and shook your head, “Unlike you, Eddie, Gareth is actually loveable.” 

He closed his eyes, taking that like a stake to the heart, “Please-”

“Merry Christmas.” You scoffed, walking back to the house. 

You decided to not tell Gareth, or anyone about that interaction with Eddie tonight. It wasn’t the time. The mood was high and people were happy, and talking of Eddie would just ruin that entirely. You’d stash it away for another time. 

—————————————————————————

The third time you got a knock on the door was right around midnight. 

You and the boys were all in a pile, lazing on one another. You’d just hotboxed the shit out of Gareth's poolroom, and you were all hazy and warm with bloodshot eyes. You had heard a scream, all sitting up in fear. And about two minutes later, when you were all halfway through pulling your boots on sloppily, the knock came. It was from Lizzie, and she was dressed in pyjamas and socks and nothing else, tears streaming down her face. Gareth slid open the door and she hugged him tight. You saw Scott running out the back door with a coat and scarf and beanie slung over his arm for her. 

“What?” You asked, rubbing your eyes, your speech was slow. 

“I’m engaged!” She shrieked, jumping up and down like a child on Christmas morning. 

“Fuck.” Gareth smiled, his voice just as slow as yours, he hugged her again, “Congratulations, mum.” 

She wiped at her tears and came to hug you too, “Ah, look at it.” She pulled back and shoved her hand in yours and Gareth's faces, then in Jeff and Grants, “Isn’t it gorgeous.”

“Hell yeah.” Jeff nodded. 

“Totally rad, Missus E.” Grant smiled. 

“It’s like… so cool.” Gareth began to laugh. 

“Looks like somethin in a movie, Lizz.” You grinned. 

“Yeah… like,” Gareth thought for a moment, “like a secret spy gadget, you know?”

You laughed, “Like it shoots lasers.”

You and Gareth started pretending like you had laser shooting rings on and fought. Gareth dramatically fell to the ground. 

“Are you high?” Lizzie asked. 

“What?” You asked, acting like you had no idea what she was talking about but doing a terrible job at it, “Us… high? Lizzie… we would never.”

“Never.” Jeff added. 

Gareth tried to stand up, but stumbled. He fell over and you all started laughing. He pressed his palms to his eyes, “God, I’m so high.” 

You all started laughing more. Lizzie glared at her son, and then at you. You pulled a face of embarrassment, and it had her rolling her eyes with a smile, “Okay weirdos. Be responsible.” She grabbed Scotts hand, dragging him for the door, “Don’t come inside. My fiance and I would like the house to ourselves.” 

“Ewww.” Gareth poked his tongue out, “Mum, that’s gross. That’s my teacher!”

“Not your teacher anymore.” Scott nodded as he was dragged away. 

You giggled and fell down on top of Gareth, “Go Lizzie, I think.” 

“Nah.” Gareth shook his head, “Mums can’t have sex.” 

“What,” You grinned, “you sayin you wont fuck me once I’ve been knocked up?”

“That’s different.” He shoved your face. 

“You guys are so weird.” Jeff fell backwards into Grant’s arms and Grant kissed his neck…

Oh yeah. That was something else that had happened in the past few months. Jeff and Grant had come out to you guys, saying they had been dating for like… a year. You were just confused as to how you had gone so long without noticing. 

“You guys are weird.” You poked your tongue out at them. 

“Nahahh. You are.” Grant added. 

“You are.” Gareth chimed in, crawling over to them to tackle. 

You all ended up in a pile, wrestling each other and calling eachother names and laughing, all high out of your goddamned minds. By the time you got really tired, you were laying splayed out like a starfish on the pullout, and Gareth was entirely on top of you, acting as your blanket because his weighted blanket wasn’t heavy enough. Jeff and Grant were cuddled up, already falling asleep on the mattress on the floor. 

Gareth nudged his nose past your ear so he could kiss your cheek, right by the corner of your lips, “I love you, darling. Merry Christmas.” 

“I love you too, Garebear.” 

“I can’t wait for tomorrow morning. I got you-”

“Guys. Can we not do this again, please?” Grant whined. 

“Fuck off.” You muttered. 

“You fuck off.” Jeff quipped back. 

“We get it, you're in love, yadda yadda. So are we, we're not being sappy.” 

“Be sappy then.” Gareth wrapped his arms around you tighter, “I wanna tell my girl I love her.” 

You giggled, “I wanna hear him say it.” 

“Jesus.” Grant rolled his eyes. 

“Please, save it for tomorrow.” Jeff huffed with a smile, “It’s too late.” 

[unclewaynemunson]

Thanks to a conversation I had with @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe and @stevesbipanic about this post by @piratefishmama about Scott Clarke helping middle schoolers with sexuality crises I wrote a lil something :)

Scott Clarke has been worrying about Eddie Munson ever since the boy first set foot into his classroom. He was tiny for his age and thin on the verge of being scrawny, with big, scared eyes in a pale face. With his long, dark curls he was the kind of boy who would unavoidably be called names for being too much like a girl, and Scott wasn't surprised that it only took one week before the boy came in with his hair all buzzed off, pulling even more attention to his expressive eyes instead.

Scott was known for worrying about the nerdy kids, and even though it wouldn't be obvious to everyone right away, he immediately noticed that Eddie was one of those. He wasn't the kind of nerdy kid who would sit in the front of the classroom, hanging onto Scott's every word while avidly scribbling down the secrets of the universe that Scott liked to share. No, Eddie was the other kind of nerdy kid: the kind who would often be called dreamy, or imaginative, or quiet, or lazy. The kind who would retreat to the back of the class and get low scores on their tests because they were spending their time sneakily reading comic books underneath the table or staring out of the window with their mind completely elsewhere for hours on end.

Middle school wasn't an easy place for kids like Eddie, as Scott knew all too well. The only thing he could do, as a teacher, was try to make it a little bit more bearable for him. He was glad when the boy took him up on his offer to spend his lunch breaks in the science classroom instead of the cafeteria or the playground. Soon, it became a habit that Eddie would be on the other side of Scott's desk reading his way through some big book while Scott was grading papers or preparing his next lesson.

Scott knew that with patience and kindness, all kids like Eddie would eventually come out of their shell and start trusting him. So he asked about the books Eddie brought first, proceeded to topics like music and games he liked to play later, and eventually could ask him about his home life.

Whenever he'd talk about his books or his music, Eddie's eyes lit up and his smile widened. Scott soon found out that, when Eddie was at ease, he could talk a mile a minute and bounce around the classroom, caught up in his stories with all kinds of excited hand gestures. At those moments, he was nothing like the quiet boy with the haunted look in his eyes who Scott met two months ago.

But Eddie never disclosed much about his personal life. He didn't mention his mother even once and he didn't tell Scott much more than that he was living with his uncle in Forest Hills because his dad was “unavailable” to take care of him.

Scott doubted whether Eddie was much better off living with his uncle than with his father. Judging from the meager lunches he brought with him, the shabby and ill-fitting clothes he wore, and the fact that the man never once came to drop Eddie off or pick him up at school, Scott was skeptical, to say the least.

He started worrying even more when one day, Eddie lingered in the classroom after the last lesson of the day, saying he wanted to ask him a “science question” with a certain dread in his eyes that Scott had never seen there before.

“There's nothing I love more than a good science question,” Scott quickly reassured him. “Tell me, what is it?”

“The other kids,” said Eddie, “Brendon and Mark and, you know... They call me names.” His voice was soft and his eyes were aimed towards the ground as he spoke. “Queer. And fag. And...” He shrugged. “Y'know.” He raised his head up again, big scared eyes meeting Scott's.

“I – I think they're right,” he said, almost in a whisper. “How can you stop being gay?”

And oh, this was a conversation Scott had experience with. He had been a teacher at Hawkins Middle School for almost two decades and there had always been kids he worried about, who would open up to him about this exact topic.

So he sat Eddie down at his desk and patiently talked him through everything the boy needed to know; God knows his trailer park uncle most certainly wouldn't. He told him all about science and nature and feelings and, most importantly, being perfect the way you are, no matter who you love.

More than two hours later, Eddie finally left the classroom with relief in his eyes instead of dread. But Scott kept worrying: Eddie's uncle hadn't so much as called the school to inform where Eddie was. Who was looking out for him after the last school bell rang and the kid rode his bike out of Scott's sight?

Not long after that conversation, Scott finally got to meet Mr. Munson for the first time. He was one of Scott's last appointments of the yearly parent-teacher evening, and Scott half expected him not to show up. But he was right on time, even though he looked almost comically out of place when he walked into the science classroom.

He was exactly what Scott would've imagined of a man living in Forest Hills: washed-up jeans and a worn-down flannel, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and a gruff frown hidden underneath a faded gray trucker's hat. He walked up to where Scott was seated behind his desk in a few big strides, and Scott couldn't help but think that there was something almost intimidating in merely the way he carried himself. Not exactly the kind of man who radiated safety for a boy like Eddie.

They shook hands and Scott felt rough callouses press against his own chalk-stained fingers.

While Scott talked Mr. Munson through Eddie's grade list – a list that at this point was barely enough to get him into the next grade – Mr. Munson didn't say anything. Only when Scott asked him if he had any questions, he opened his mouth.

“How're the other kids treatin' him?” the man asked him in a thick southern accent.

“It's not easy for him,” Scott answered in all honesty. He wondered how much Eddie told his uncle about what his days at school usually looked like.

Mr. Munson bowed his head. “I know,” he mumbled.

“Eddie is a sensitive kid, he –”

“I know what kinda kid he is,” Mr. Munson interrupted him immediately. It sounded sharp and Scott wondered if he should be worried about Mr. Munson having a temper.

“Of course,” he cautiously retreated. “I just assumed, since I've never seen you at the school before, sir, that you might not be aware of what exactly he has to deal with in here.”

“Maybe you should do less assuming, then,” Mr. Munson answered bluntly. “You think I should be at the school more? Drop Eddie here in the mornin', come pick him up in the afternoon, all that?”

Scott wondered if Mr. Munson was mocking him.

“Well, I think it might be good for Eddie if –”

“You know why I ain't never at the school? 'Cause I'm tryin' my damned best to keep that boy's stomach filled. When should I be at the school, exactly, between my day shift at the quarry and my night shift at the plant?”

“I – I'm sorry,” Scott backpedaled. Suddenly, the frown lines in the tired face of the man in front of him had gotten a different meaning. “I didn't know. You're right, I shouldn't have made assumptions.”

“Look, I dunno how much he shared with you, Mr. Clarke, but I know he looks up to you. So I think you should know that he's the kinda kid who got in trouble at home for bein' “too sensitive.”” He shot Scott a meaningful glance. “Boy was cryin' to me on the phone, 'cause of what his daddy did to him, so I picked him up and drove him here and I made it my mission, as his uncle, to protect him, to shield him, and to take care of him as best as I possibly can.”

Scott had always prided himself on being a good judge of character. He wondered if he had ever been more wrong about somebody before in his life.

“I know he thinks highly of you, Sir,” Mr. Munson continued. “And I'm very grateful that you're keepin' an eye on him when I can't. But at some point, he may trust you with some very personal information about himself, and you better have his back when he does.”

He knows, Scott realized with a shock. He tried to give Mr. Munson a reassuring smile, but his heart was beating in his throat with what he was about to tell him.

“I was a sensitive kid, myself, Sir. I promise you Eddie is in good hands with me.”

Scott wondered whether Mr. Munson caught the message in those words while a long silence stretched out. Their gazes were locked: Mr. Munson's eyes were bright blue, completely different from Eddie's but just as expressive. His gaze softened while the seconds passed and underneath his graying beard, his mouth twitched.

“I was a sensitive kid, too,” he eventually said.

And Scott's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. This man, with his big calloused hands and his trucker's hat and his undeniably manly demeanor?

His feelings of astonishment must have been visible on his face, because Mr. Munson chortled softly.

“Didn't see that one coming, did ya?”

Scott laughed, too, making the last bit of residual tension between them disappear. “I'm sorry, Mr. Munson. I had no idea.”

“'S okay,” Mr. Munson said. “'s good to know that Eddie has someone lookin' out for him here. Um –” He scraped his throat. “I um...” He abruptly averted his gaze back to his lap again, where his fingers were nervously fumbling with the cap he was holding between his hands.

“I always make Eddie dinner,” he finally said. “'S one of the few things I can do for him, y'know. It'd probably be better for me if I took a quick nap 'tween my jobs, but it's the only time of the day we got together. I'm not much of a cook, but I try to get him to eat somethin' healthy and warm, and we talk about stuff, whatever it is he wants to talk about. So um... If you ever wanna join us – that is, if you don't mind comin' to the trailer park... We don't have much, but I'm sure we can fit another chair 'round the table. I think it could be good for Eddie.”

Scott could barely believe what was happening. To think that only a few minutes ago, he had been worried about this man having a temper or being neglectful towards his nephew...

Wayne Munson was shy and soft-spoken and he loved Eddie with a passion that sparked a fierce protectiveness. And after having Scott judge him based on the way he looked and a bunch of false assumptions, he showed him nothing but genuine goodness.

He felt his lips bend into a smile more authentic than he'd been able to give in a while.

“I'd love to join you sometime,” he told Mr. Munson. “For Eddie – but I also wouldn't mind getting to know you better,” he added in a sudden spur or braveness.

And he could swear that something suspiciously like a smile matching his own was hiding beneath Mr. Munson's beard.

[tryingonametaphor]

this is my bisexual spectrum btw

[princessstevemunson]

Scott Clarke wasn’t in Season Four because if he was in the town hall scene he would have convinced the townsfolk that Eddie and the kids are harmless by telling stories of Eddie as a middle schooler.

[sbd-laytall]

Smallville | 4.11 | "Unsafe"

Teen Wolf | 2.03 | "Ice Pick"

[emblazons]

"Once you open up that curiosity door, anything is possible."

Favorite Minor Character: Mr. Scott Clarke (& friends) for anonymous

[reikunrei]

i absolutely positively cannot wait for scott to show back up in st5... he was out here giving all the scientific exposition in layman's terms to our main crew and was then mysteriously missing from the penultimate season where he would have given away too much information had he been present and you just KNOW that once those kids start digging a little deeper into henry they're gonna come right back to scott like... hey... teach.... so uh, you remember when we said we weren't talking about parallel universes at will's wake? turns out we were actually and we need your help-

[userlaylivia]

I forgot some more again so I'm gonna make a part 3 lmao like I forgot rachel green, monica gellar, raven reyes, octavia blake, prue halliwell, and etc so be warned lol it may not be as many as the last two though lol

tagging some people: @maya-matlin, @tudorgirl, @nessa007, @useragarfield, @makeyouminemp3

[werepuppy-steve]

valentines day is a ways away still, but i thought of this cute lil clarkson scenario

i like the idea that wayne starts sending flowers to scott's classroom at the beginning of February and leaves little compliments in the cards and scott asks the front office if they know who sent them but they only say the flower shop and the shop says it was anonymous. then as the days progress, wayne starts putting stuff about himself on the cards too and scott is intrigued by this person. i love the hc that eddie gets his theatrics from wayne, so on the 14th, on the very last bouqet, he tells scott where he can meet him, and they meet at benny's and have a cute lil meet up

maybe wayne was a year or two ahead of scott in school and they both had secret crushes on each other but obviously they couldn't do anything about them so they went through high school with only the occasional "hi" in the hallways and a rare question in class then scott was one of eddie's visitors while he was in the hospital and they got to know each other a little and that's what kickstarts the flowers the following year

[augment-techs]

[flowercrowngods]

more sappy soft men (clarkson) because i say so

🤍 also on ao3

Scott breathes for what feels like the first time today the very second he steps outside of the school building, fresh air surrounding him in a cold but welcome embrace.

He loves his job, he really does, but parent-teacher nights are always the longest days and the longest nights of the year. Screw solstice; no one has lived through the longest day until they’ve had to explain to Mrs Mueller why her child should not stay in the science rooms unsupervised, and no, they cannot get an exception, and no, Kevin is not secretly a genius child that will become the next Einstein if only they can be allowed in the science rooms without a teacher. Three times, he’s had to explain, and only when another dad told her off did the woman finally relent.

The joys of being a teacher do not lie in the parent-teacher nights. He’s exhausted, he’s tired, his ears are ringing, his shoulders aching from being so tense, and all he wants is to build a Heisenberg compensator and teleport himself right into his bed.

The parking lot is almost empty, illuminated scarcely with the yellow light of street lamps, and it takes Scott a moment before he sees the familiar truck that never really fails to make him smile. He feels a brief pang of guilt when he realises that he doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t really feel like he can anymore, not until his ears stop ringing and his shoulders lose their tension. But then he remembers the incredible, patient, one-of-a-kind man behind the wheel.

Wayne Munson enjoys his silence. He’s incredibly good at them in a way that’s like balm to Scott’s brain, a way that makes him feel so calm even when his insides are all fluttery in Wayne’s company.

Slowly, he crosses the parking lot, walking towards the familiar car. There’s a smile on his face that’s not plastered on but rather involuntary. He can’t help it. Wayne is here to pick him up after a long, dreadful day, just to spend some time together. A few minute’s drive from here to Scott’s house, neither of them in the mood for talking after a long day. But it’s wonderful. It’s enough. It’s everything.

Heart in his throat, Scott opens the door and climbs into the car, instantly welcomed with warmth and the sound of quiet music. Not too loud to further fray his nerves, not too quiet to recognise the song and lyrics. Just perfect for background noise. Just perfect.

Wayne turns slightly in his seat and looks over, his eyes roaming over Scott’s face, his clothes, his posture, clinging to his smile and his hands for a second longer than the rest. They’re just sitting there, smiling at each other while Scott soaks up the warmth — of the car and of Wayne’s entire self. The tension slowly leaves his shoulders and he realises how tired he really is, as though a flip has been switched.

“Want me to take the long way home?”

Scott nods, fighting to keep his eyes open, comfortable and warm as he is.

“I’ve gotcha,” Wayne says then, and it’s a promise sewed with a smile and a warm hand reaching out to squeeze his hand as he starts the engine.

The vibrations are gentle and familiar, and soon Scott loses the fight against his heavy eyelids. He tries to track the comings and goings of the street lights but he gives up quickly, because Space Age Love Song is on and all he sees anymore are the visions of all the times Wayne has been waiting for him in the parking lot just to drive him home.

And though it took a while

I was falling in love

For a little while each time in the front seat of Wayne’s truck, Scott is falling in love. Wayne is worried sometimes about being gruff and not talking so much, about the words he says when he does talk. But Scott has never been someone who fell in love with words. Love, to him, is all about the silences and what fills them, the company they’re spent in.

Wayne does take the long way home, which usually translates to driving around Hawkins in the soft glow of the street lights until all tension has left Scott’s shoulders and his head lands against the cool window. And even once Scott is asleep, the king day catching up to him, he keeps driving, music making for great silent conversation.

Wayne has made them a mixtape, too, with the help of Steve and Eddie. Everything about these drives makes Scott feel emotions he logically knew existed, but has never had the privilege to feel. Not until Wayne. Not until Space Age Love Song in the school parking lot in early February. Not until Tougher Than The Rest as they pass his house for the fifth time without any indications of slowing.

Not until the sudden absence of the engine’s vibrations and a gentle hand in his hair wake him.

“You’re home,” Wayne says quietly, no hints of regret in his voice, only the secret adoration that’s taken Scott a few weeks to discover.

“Yeah,” he breathes, leaning into the touch, barely awake yet and happy to just stay here for the rest of his life. “I am.”

[unclewaynemunson]

There was a soft knock on the door before Scott stepped into the trailer: one tap, a slight pause, then three rapid taps. Wayne would recognize that rhythm in his sleep by now.

Scott greeted him with a smile and a quick kiss on his mouth as soon as the door was closed behind him. He was wearing a maroon sweater vest over a button-down shirt with a striped pattern, and when Wayne let his gaze wander lower, he noticed the finger-shaped chalk stains that formed a white contrast against his gray trousers.

Steve and Eddie were occupying the couch, their limbs tangled into each other and matching teasing smiles on their faces as they were having a dramatically heated argument about something Wayne had already tuned out of a long time ago.

Wayne was weirdly nervous about the whole thing. Steve had been at the trailer for basically every Friday night since the summer, shortly after he and Eddie officially became a couple. The boy had become a familiar presence, just as much in on the rituals as Eddie and Wayne. But Scott had never been there with them yet. Sure, they had dinner together on Saturdays or an occasional weekday when Wayne didn’t have a nightshift to get to - but never on Friday. Never on Shabbat.

It's always been important to Wayne, Shabbat. Back when he worked at the quarry, he couldn't always be home on Friday evenings, but at the plant, no matter how shitty the job itself, he was blessed with the possibility to get his Friday nights and Saturdays off, with only a few exceptions.

It was part of his identity, even if it was something he's had to hide behind closed doors – he was used to hiding parts of his identity behind closed doors, anyway. This was only one of the many parts of himself that he had been taught to keep hidden for as long as he could remember.

But here Scott was, giving him a smile filled with happy expectation, accepting Wayne for all that he was without any effort. A miracle disguised in a sweater vest.

'I'm sorry, I didn't have time to get changed,' Scott said, a somewhat unfamiliar nervous edge to his voice, as if this was just as big of a deal for him as it was for Wayne. 'I was getting a bit worried that I wouldn't be dressed appropriately, but you told me how important it was to be on time for the candle lighting, so I didn't wanna risk running late... I told Mrs. Horowitz at the school that I was going to a Shabbat dinner and she told me I should be dressed nicely, but here I am wearing trousers covered in chalk stains.'

Before Wayne could even reply to that, Eddie bounced off the couch and greeted Scott by wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

'It's cute that you're so worried, Mr. Clarke, but even with your chalk stain pants, you're still easily overdressing all of us.'

'Hey!' Steve chimed in from his spot on the couch. 'What about my Shabbat khakis?'

Eddie cackled, his curls bouncing around his face as he rushed back to the couch and went to sit on Steve's lap, completely ignoring the empty space right next to him.

'The fact that you're calling them your “Shabbat khakis” is saying more than enough to prove my point, big boy,' he said, teasing but with a look in his eyes that was so fond it almost felt like Wayne was witnessing something too private.

He let his gaze wander back to Scott, who was looking slightly less tense as he presented Wayne with a bottle of wine.

'Oh, you didn't need to do that,' Wayne said automatically.

'It's kosher, I checked,' Scott told him, and Wayne couldn't help but softly shake his head at the man in front of him.

'You know we don't bother eatin' kosher,' he pointed out.

'I do,' Scott said, like it even surprised himself that he did. 'But I thought, with Shabbat...' His eyes flashed towards the boys on the couch, but they seemed to be too busy making heart-eyes at each other and giggling to pay much attention to the conversation the men were having. Still, he continued at a much lower volume, 'I have to admit I'm a little bit out my depth, Wayne. Mrs. Horowitz made it all sound much more formal than you did when you told me about it, so I guess I got a bit nervous about the whole thing.'

Wayne looked at Scott fondly, patted him on his shoulder in the hopes that that would set him more at ease.

'Yeah, if you do it properly it can all get a bit formal,' he admitted. 'But the Munsons are doin' it trailer park style. You're good.'

A smile started growing underneath Scott's mustache – a smile that still left Wayne slightly breathless whenever it appeared.

'Aight, why don't you come over here –' Wayne took both Scott's hands in his own to guide him towards the small table in the corner, '– so we can light the candles together?'

'Candle time!' Eddie yelled out as soon as his ear caught the word “candles.” He jumped up from Steve's lap and skipped over towards Wayne and Scott with Steve trailing behind him like a lovesick puppy.

'Usually the candles would be lit by the woman of the house,' Wayne explained to Scott, 'but we ain't had a woman of the house since, well, ever, so you'll have to make do with little ol' me, I'm afraid. We light the candles and say a blessing, and then we wish each other Shabbat shalom.'

'Are there always four candles?' Scott asked.

'Well, officially it's only one, if you're unmarried,' Wayne told him. 'But we been doin' two ever since Eddie moved here, and then I figured it'd be nice to get one for Steve as well, and now you're here, so...' He trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable by what this implied – but Scott only gave him that breathtaking beaming smile and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

Wayne let himself melt into the touch, but Eddie impatiently pointed towards his watch.

'C'mon, man, time to burn some shit,' he commanded, and Wayne slowly shook his head as he reached for the matches. Only Eddie could refer to this mitzvah as “burning some shit” with a straight face, as if it was the most badass thing in the world to light a couple of candles.

Wayne welcomed the familiar feeling of anticipation as he lit all four the candles, then discarded the still burning match in the ashtray. He covered his eyes with one hand, recited the blessing, and then opened his eyes to wish everyone around him a good shabbos.

'Shabbat shalom,' Scott said quietly, with an almost shy smile tugging at his mouth.

They all took a seat at the table, which could barely even fit three people, but Wayne didn't really mind sitting a bit too close to Scott anyway.

'What did the blessing mean?' Scott asked. And he looked so genuinely interested that Wayne found himself going into a whole monologue before he even knew it; not just about the meaning of the blessing, but also about the whole symbolism of the lighting of the candles in general and the stories behind the hymns they were about to sing. It felt good, to share this piece of himself with Scott, to have Scott hanging onto his every word and asking all kinds of questions.

Scott, a teacher in heart and soul, always loved launching into excited monologues about big scientific facts and theories, and while Wayne loved listening to him when that happened, it was surprisingly nice to be the one doing the teaching for a change.

Eddie sat out Wayne's explanation with a surprising amount of patience and Steve, for whom all of this was still relatively new too, seemed to listen to him just as attentively as Scott. When Wayne felt like he had been talking more than enough and Scott stopped asking any further questions, they all rose from their seats to continue with the Shalom Aleichem. Wayne tried not to look at Scott while he sang and instead focused on Eddie's voice merging with his own. Steve never sang it with them, feeling more comfortable listening instead, but Wayne always felt this connection with his nephew while the Hebrew words rolled off their tongues, connecting them with each other and with the community around them across generations and continents.

After they finished singing – Wayne's favorite part of the evening – he proceeded with the kiddush, pausing to explain to Scott what exactly was happening while he handed out the wine.

'And now we wash our hands,' Wayne continued. He guided Scott to the sink in their tiny kitchen, pouring water over his hands and reciting the blessing for him. He laid a finger on his lips to indicate to Scott that he shouldn't speak, and took his time to meticulously dry Scott's hands for him. He was quite aware of the fact that Scott could very well do that part by himself, but if he saw an excuse to hold those hands and treat them to a bit of tenderness, it was impossible not to take it. He tried to ignore the obnoxious eyebrow wiggle Eddie was sending him from over Scott’s head, clearly knowing exactly what Wayne was doing, and instead dedicated his full attention to Scott’s soft hands, grateful that none of them would be speaking right now and simply allowing himself to enjoy the moment.

He continued to observe quietly how Eddie and then Steve came up to the sink for the washing. Steve still said the words of the blessing in an unsure voice, even though he had been doing this for a while now, and as always, his gaze found Eddie's after the last word as if he was looking for confirmation that he hadn't messed up – and Eddie always answered that gaze with an encouraging nod and a soft smile around his lips.

When everyone was back at the table, Wayne proceeded to recite the last blessing before they could begin their meal, handing out pieces of challah to the others so that they could start eating and break the somewhat solemn silence.

They spent the rest of the evening enjoying their simple Shabbat meal. Neither Wayne nor Eddie were particularly gifted cooks, and more often than not had their Shabbat dinner been nothing but a plain mac'n cheese. But ever since Steve had started joining them, their menus had somewhat improved. Even though the boy wasn't a very experienced cook yet, he loved trying out new recipes and definitely knew his way around the kitchen better than Eddie and Wayne combined. So they all enjoyed the delicious fish prepared by Steve, paired with the wine Scott had brought, while easily chatting away about the week they'd had and their plans for the weekend.

Even though Wayne wasn't exactly what you'd call an observant Jew, he still valued the Shabbat tradition of contemplating the texts and stories that were so important to who they were and why they were doing what they did, so he told Scott and Steve about one of his favorite psalms and happily joined Eddie when the boy spontaneously started singing it.

'What did ya think?' Wayne asked when he followed Scott outside at the end of the evening. It ached a little bit, to let Scott go home; Wayne wished he had an actual bed to offer him, so they'd be able to enjoy each other's company a couple hours longer, possibly forever.

They were outside, so Scott didn't touch him, but his smile easily managed to light up the darkness around them.

'Thank you for sharing this with me,' he said in a soft voice.

Wayne wanted to say something along the lines of Thank you for coming, but that wouldn't quite cover what he was actually feeling, so instead, he stayed silent. Scott seemed to understand him anyway, though, because he let his hand slide over Wayne's arm before he got into his car and drove off into the darkness. It was barely a real touch, nothing but a friendly gesture shared between acquaintances to anyone who might be seeing them from behind the windows of their trailer. But to Wayne, it was everything: it was understanding, it was appreciation, it was gratitude, and most of all, it was a promise.

[daigah]

Shoutout to ScottBarda and Clois for being two of the healthiest and most functional relationships in the DC universe (and both coincidentally being girlboss x malewife)

[buttercup-goodluck]

I’ve begun to realize that my favorite character dynamic is “absolutely insane about each other and their mutual best friend/in a qpr with”

[thebirdandhersong]

Clark and Lana, Scott and Allison. Do you get what I'm saying?

[reikunrei]

we can all admit that scott clarke is cute, right? like. we can all be grownups and admit we’re all a little bit faggy for mr. scott clarke, correct?