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sunsetsandsunshine · 4 months ago

Note

Hey!! For your next fic could you do Leo and Mikey angst

It came be 2012, MM or rise

~ 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ~

💙🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @tmntalways 💙🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚒, 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍!!! 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚛𝚘 ☹️💔…𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 💖💕💘💞🩷!!! 𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 😅👍🏾! 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍— 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🫠…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟸𝟾𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍…𝚞𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍, 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 '𝚞𝚗'. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕? 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348 @saturnzskyzz

@savemeafruitjuice @rice-cake-teen10 @mistyandsnow

@skyloladoodles @itzsana-kiddingmenow @titters-and-tingles

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝚋𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙰𝙳𝙷𝙳 𝚊𝚗𝚍/𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 ☺️💞💗💓💕

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Mikey couldn’t do anything right now. Like…anything.

Well…perhaps he was being a bit too dramatic. He was breathing. And he was fidgeting with his squishy cube. So saying he wasn’t doing 'anything' wasn’t entirely true.

Right now he just…couldn’t do anything…productive.

For example, the box turtle tried making his favorite dishes and deserts! But that endeavor just ended up being a huge mess in the kitchen…and leaving the youngest turtle with a bunch of unappetizing food.

Which he fed all to Raph by the way.

Some would call that choice of action cruel but Mikey would just call it 'using his resources'.

Besides, it’s not like the eldest minded at all. He said, and I quote: 'It has a nice…crunchy feeling to it. Did you put some of Don’s inventions in this?'

Which honestly got a couple of chuckles out of the smallest turtle teen of the bunch.

Then, Mikey tried skateboarding! But for once in all his 14 years of living…it was just utterly boring.

And after all of that nonsense, Mikey then finally tried reading a comic…but he was too unfocused to even get to the second page…

But what was really new? Mikey could never focus on jackshit even if said jackshit hit him right in the shell.

His brothers and sister would always have to remind him to stay focused or 'not do this' or 'not do that'.

For example, a couple days ago Donnie had to kindly remind the box turtle (well…as kindly as Donnie could be anyway…) to brush his teeth.

To. Brush. His. Fucking. Teeth.

And honestly? Having to be reminded to do that was really embarrassing. And the orange banded teen knew his brother didn’t mean to humiliate him internally…but…yeah.

And it’s not like the softshell was wrong either! The youngest turtle just couldn’t freaking accept that he himself couldn’t do such a simple task in the morning.

But literally every task he completely fails to do is just utterly simple ones!

Like cleaning his room or not forgetting things or even keeping track of time!

…And the sad part about all of it was Mikey just honestly could not understand how his family haven’t gotten sick of his annoying tendencies…

And let’s be for real here…that was basically all of his tendencies.

The box turtle groaned loudly in his room, slamming his whole body on his bed as he screamed into his pillow.

There had to be something he could do instead of just wallowing in his own self pity…

And one of those options could not consist of bothering his family with his random bad mood. They had to put up with him 24/7…the least he could do was give them some space.

The youngest then glanced at his drawing notebook hopefully…

…One little sketch of something random wouldn’t hurt, right?

The amber eyed teen reached for his notebook, grabbing a pen from his drawer as he started to sketch his desk because why the absolute fuck not? Based on the objects he’s drawn in the past…sketching a simple desk should and will be easy, right? Right.

That was until the orange banded teen’s pencil tip broke. But it was fine! He could just re-sharpen it, right? Right.

That was until the youngest realized he had absolutely no clue where his sharpener was due to the fact his room looked like a pig stie. And there was no way he was looking for it in…that whole situation.

…The situation he created in the first place.

Michelangelo layed on his bed with his face staring at the ceiling in frustration, he ran his fingernails along his arms, not making really deep cuts with them but going deep enough for it to hurt a bit.

Like a reasonable turtle would, Mikey should probably get one of his stress toys…or better yet, another pencil!

But let’s be for real here…he’d most likely find a way to fuck that up too.

Suddenly, there was a small, quiet knock on Mikey’s door but…in all honesty? He just wanted to crawl into his shell and sob for the next hour and a half. Letting out a niiiiice and quick 'come in' would take way too much energy.

The box turtle let out a soft grunt, letting whoever was on the other side know it was a-okay to come in.

Abruptly, Leo peeked in the room, a wide smile plastered on his face as he closed the door, “Damn, Mikester…it looks like every single natural disaster went through your room…”

“I’m cleaning it.” The youngest grumbled to his brother.

“Really? You sure about that, little bro? Because if my memory serves me correct (which it in-fact does), you said that last week. And the week before that…and the week before—“

“I SAID I’M FUCKING CLEANING IT!!!” The orange banded turtle snapped, sitting up on the bed to glare at his immediate older brother before slowly realizing what he just did.

The youngest’s heart dropped as he looked away from his brother. The orange banded mutant’s eyed widened as silent and small tears ran down his face. He covered his mouth as his other hand turned to a fist, his nails unforgivingly digging into his palm.

“I-I’m sorry…I’m s-sorry…I-I’m so s-sorry…!” He started, rocking himself back and forth before stopping as he was met with a warm embrace. Leonardo hugged him gently but firmly, rubbing the other’s shell in a comforting hold. “Woah woah…! Bud, you have nothing to apologize for…” The slightly older teen said as he rested his chin on the top of his baby brother’s head.

“L-Like h-hell I don’t. I-I just screamed a-at y-you for no reason…” Michelangelo wobbly said. “You were just trying to lighten the mood but I just had to make everything harder like I-I always do…!”

“Mikey—”

“I-I always do this. I-I’m so f-fucking s-sorry Leo…”

“Mikester…I-I appreciate the apology but it seriously isn’t necessary—”

“You’re probably so sick of me and so angry at me. I-I’m sorry I just—”

“Mikey!” Leo gently yelled to get the other’s attention, squeezing the smaller turtle’s hands as he stared straight at him with pleading eyes. “Do I look mad?”

“…N-No.”

“Do I sound mad?”

“…No.”

The second youngest sadly smiled, “So what are you apologizing for, hm?”

“…I-I…dunno…I-I just…I just felt I needed to apologize…” The box turtle mumbled as he looked at his hands. The blue banded turtle sighed, slowly getting out of the hug so him and his little brother faced each other. The slider rubbed the other turtle’s palm with his thumb comfortingly, “…Do you wanna talk about it, baby bro?”

The leader in blue was just met with silence…which he could honestly work with.

“Angelo…you know you can tell me…anything, right? Like…anything. Although, it doesn’t have to be me you talk to about it. It could be Raph or Don or April or even Dad or Draxum! I just…don’t want you sitting here and bottling up the way you feel…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“You’re always there when we need you, Angel. Whether it’s to vent or to just ramble about shit, you’re just…always there. We don’t tell you this enough but we appreciate you always being someone we can lean on…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“But…you do know you can lean on us too, right? Comfort goes both ways and I can see you’re hurting, buddy. So please…if you need to talk to me…I’m right here.”

Mikey sniffled, squeezing Leo’s hand, “I-I d-dunno. Today is just…weird. This whole week has just been…weird.” Leo nodded, giving his brother his full undivided attention, “How so?”

“I just…haven’t been able to do anything…” The smaller teen admitted.

“What do you mean?” The taller teen inquired.

“I haven’t been able to do…anything. Like, I can’t draw, cook or even skateboard! Me!!! Not being able to skateboard— isn’t that crazy?!” The amber eyed turtle laughed bitterly.

“And it’s not like I can’t do it. I’m perfectly freaking capable of doing it in the right amount of time I want but my brain just. won’t. let. me!”

“I keep procrastinating and not doing the stuff I want to do and I have no idea why! I’m tired of just putting things off and being this way! I want to do things without having to ask you guys for help or to remind me or to relate it with a hyperfixation that I have!” Mikey hiccuped, a new wave of tears rolling down his face as his hands shook.

The amber eyed teen sniffled, refusing to look at his immediate older brother at all right now because…holy shit he just overshared a whole lot…

Like…a whoooooooooole freaking lot.

“…That sounds like you.” Leonardo shrugged.

In a state of just shock and confusion, the box turtle pulled his hands away from his brother, looking up at him as lime green eyes met amber ones. “I…what…?” Michelangelo murmured.

“I said that sounds like you.” Leo said again casually as Mikey glared at him, “Yeah. I heard what you said but that isn’t helpful.”

“I’m just being honest with you, Mikester.” Leo said, “Just…let me explain, okay?”

“…You have five minutes before I kick you out of my room.”

“Deal.” The lime green eyed mutant commented, “You can’t draw, cook or skateboard right now. You’re procrastinating and not doing the stuff you want to do in the time you planned…is that correct?”

Michelangelo sent deathly daggers to his brother— which the other wasn’t phased by at all. This time was probably the best time to crawl in his own shell and just sob his eyes out because what kind of dumbass question was his dumbass brother asking him?!

“…Yes.” The orange banded teen mumbled.

“And…why are those bad things?”

“WHY?!” The box turtle huffed out a laugh of annoyance, “Pfft— you’re asking me why. Maybe it’s because it’s annoying?! Maybe because it’s frustrating to deal with and I don’t want to burden you guys with my problems?! Maybe because I don’t want to fucking feel or be this way?!” The youngest shouted, breathing heavily as he finished his rant.

The box turtle looked away again, silently cursing at himself for getting annoyed so easily. “Mikey.” Leo started again, “Your being too hard on yourself, okay? No one is expecting you to be at your 100% all the time.”

“What you just described to me; you being able to not focus or you getting bored easily or procrastinating with stuff is…literally you. You’re just being you.” The slider explained as he held his baby brother’s hand in his. “And I get it. It’s hard to deal with it sometimes and it’s going to be hella frustrating. Like…super borderline frustrating. But you can’t shun them away and just…try to ignore them, bubs…”

“Let’s take moi for example. I’m impulsive, I talk loud and lose things daily. Those three things don’t make up my whole personality but it would be super weird and off-putting if I just…didn’t do or have those three things, right?”

The youngest giggled wetly, “Yeah…it would. A-And by the way, I’m still waiting for you to find that glittery pen kit I gave you…”

Leonardo groaned loudly and dramatically, causing the other teen to giggle louder, “I’m looking for it, okay?! It’s in my room…somewhere.” The taller mutant mused, “But anyways…back to you. You procrastinate, you relate things to your hyperfixations and you can’t do some of your favorite tasks from time to time…those are some traits that make up you, is it not?”

Mikey sniffled, rolling his eyes playfully due to the fact he knew damn well where this was going, “Yeah…”

Leo smiled softly, seeing his younger brother was starting to get his point, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, okay? I know sometimes it’s hard to deal with the things you described but you have us for that.” He said as his smile turned to a grin.

“You can come to me— to us— anytime. We love you for who you are…your flaws and all and we just…I-I need you to know that we love you so so much—!” The slider was cut off by a sudden abrupt embrace from the box turtle. The orange banded teen sobbed into the other’s shoulder, clutching the taller turtle like a lifeline.

“T-Thank you…” The box turtle wobbly said through tears.

“Of course, Angel.” Leo said as he hugged his baby brother back, “I love you.” He said as he kissed the other teen on the head.

“I-I l-love you too…”

“Tell your thoughts to shut up.” Leo said as he lightly poked Mikey in the forehead numerous times. The two were sitting on the box turtle’s bed just simply…relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Michelangelo was sitting in between his older brother’s legs as he had his shell to his brother’s plastron.

Leonardo hugged his brother protectively, resting his chin on the top of the box turtle’s head. “What do you mean?” The youngest giggled out. “I can hear your thoughts, man. You’re not bothering me or disturbing me in any way, shape or form, alright…?”

The amber eyed turtle nodded, squeezing Leo’s hand, “Y-Yeah…I know...”

“I’m choosing to be here because I love you. I don’t feel obligated to be here, okay? You’re not annoying and you, neither your problems are a burden…okay?” The slider said reassuringly, “It’s okay to ask us for help…and we don’t mind reminding you to do things…okay?”

“You’ve said ‘okay’ like, fifty times…”

“Mikey.”

“Mhm…yeah yeah…I gotcha…”

The elder looked at his brother skeptically, resting his chin on his little brother’s shoulder so they made solid eye contact, “I want you to say it.”

“…Say what exactly?”

“I want you to say that you are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.”

“You are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” Michelangelo grinned smugly. Leonardo glared at the youngest’s interpretation to his statement, “Mikey, you know exactly what I meant.”

“I said what you wanted me to say…so…” The amber eyed teen trailed off.

“Michelangelo.” The slider said in a warning tone as he poked the other’s side. The box turtle squeaked at the unexpected touch, trying to stop his immediate older brother from doing it again but his brother had a strong but gentle grip on him…

Then the smallest turtle came to recognition that he was stuck in a potential tickle hug with no way out…

…How wonderful.

“L-Leeheeo…doohoo nahat.” The orange banded mutant warned through his giggles, said warning not seeming too threatening due to the fact he was already laughing up a storm. The leader in blue raised a brow, poking the other’s side repeatedly, “I just want you to repeat what I said…in the first person.” The taller teen specified.

The smaller turtle squirmed in the hug, small frantic giggles pouring out of his mouth. This…really wasn’t how he was expecting his day to go. Just about an hour ago, he was wallowing in sadness about the stuff he hated about himself, to talking about it with his brother, to now getting tickled by his brother.

…So could he really complain about how things turned out?

…Yes. Yes, he absolutely could.

“Leeheeon! Plehease dohon’t!” The youngest squealed as one of his brother’s hands hovered over his stomach. Mikey held onto the other’s wrists, trying to stop his elder brother from tickling him but his small attempts ending up to be all for nothing as Leo effortlessly tickled his stomach with one hand.

“LEEHEEHAHAHA!!” Michelangelo laughed wholeheartedly, swatting at his brother’s arms. The lime green eyed turtle cooed at the gesture, now using both of his hands to attack the youngest’s plastron, “D'aww…look at you giggling your head off~! You’re my adorable little bundle of amazingness, aren’t you~?”

The smaller teen shook his head, a faint blush appearing on his face, “STAHA— squeal N-NAHAHA!”

“What~? What was that?” The blue banded mutant asked as he kneaded the box turtle’s hips. “GYAHAH— squeal SHIHIHIT! COHOME OHAHAN!!!” The amber eyed turtle cried frantically as he kicked his legs on the mattress slightly.

The youngest squealed with laughter, curling in on himself as he slumped in his big brother’s hold. Leonardo just sighed fondly at the action, wrapping the other in another hug as he raspberried his neck. “LEEHEEHEE!! PLAHAH— squeak NAHAHAT THEHERE squeak PLEHEASE PLEHEASE— squeak!!!”

“Not there~?” The elder lightly mocked, “What about…here~?” He mused as he used his hands to scribble all over the younger turtle’s ribs. Mikey cackled, shaking his head to try and at least subside the tickly feelings.

“NAHAHA— squeal AHAHAHA!! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE EHE— squeal EHEHEITHER!!! LEEHEEO!!” The orange banded turtle squeaked as Leo stopped for a second, “I’ve tried sooooo many spots, buddy! How many times are you gonna say not there, hm?”

Mikey genuinely squawked louder than a firefighter siren, squirming so much it looked like he was actually being electrocuted. “PLEHEHAHA LEEHEEO NAHAHAT THEHEHE RIHIHIBS!!!” He cackled.

“Not the riiiibs~? Why~? Is it because it’s your tickle spot~? Your tickletickletickle spot~? Because you’re ticklish~?” Leonardo asked as he lightly nibbled the crook of Mikey’s neck.

Michelangelo screamed in laughter, scrunching up his shoulders as he dug his heels on the bed, a couple of his plushies sadly falling on the floor (R.I.P. man…) “EEEHEEHEEP!!! S-STAHAP BEEHEEING MEEHEAN!” Mikey said as he thrashed on the bed.

The slider said nothing, his hands sneaking up to the box turtle’s underarms. “AAAAHAHAHA! OHO NOHOHO— squeak SHIT! SHIHIHAHAT!”

Happy tears slowly begin to appear in the smallest teen’s eyes, he weakly hit Leo’s arms as a last attempt to be set free, “LEHEHEMME squeal GOHOHOHO!”

“Ohonly if you sahay it, bubs.”

“IHIHI— SQUEAK!! LEEHEEHEEON!!!”

“Yeeeees, baby brother~?” The elder dragged out as he kneaded the other’s hips.

“IHI’LL SAHAY IHIHAT I-IHIHI’LL SAHAHAY IHIT!!” The amber eyed teen squealed.

“And you promise not to be a sassy little shit about it~?” The older teen asked.

“SQUEAK YEHAHAHA— SQUEAK YEHES YEHES I-I PROHOHOMISE!”

Leo stopped tickling his little brother, hugging him protectively as the youngest caught his breath slowly but surely. “W-Wahait…whahat squeak wahas ihihat yohou eeheeven wahanted me squeak to sahay again?”

The taller turtle pondered for a bit, thinking to himself before loudly groaning, “That’s…a good damn question. I don’t really remember exactly what I wanted you to say in the first place…” The lime green eyed turtle sighed, “Forgetfulness at its finest...”

The red eared slider adjusted himself, making sure the other was comfortable before starting to speak again, “Well…based on what we talked about…could you maybe just…y'know…” Leo gestured with his hands before groaning, “Do you get what I’m trying to say, man?”

“…I thihink I have ahan idea…” Mikey giggled as he fiddled with his hands, “I shouldn’t beat myself up so much because of some of my traits or quirks. And I’m allowed to feel frustrated and/or upset because things don’t go my way because of them. But…I shouldn’t allow those things to put me down...”

Michelangelo smiled softly, rubbing his palm with his thumb, “They don’t define me as a person but they make me a person. I don’t need to be at my best 100% and I’m allowed to have bad days. And if things get too overwhelming or difficult I can just go to you guys.”

Mikey hugged himself, letting out a small laugh as his happy tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m just…being me. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” Leonardo teared up at his brother’s words, hugging him tighter than he ever had before and burying his face at the back of the youngest’s head.

“Never forget that, Miguelito…never forget that.”

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

#Rottmnt tickle #Rottmnt tickle fic #Rottmnt tickle fanfiction #Lee!Mikey #Ler!Leo #MWYAHSHSHHSAN #This is actually so silly I love this 💞💗💗#I hope you guys enjoyed the angst 🤪#ADHDERS AND PPL WITH ADHD TENDENCIES UNITE 🙌🏾💕🩷💓💘💝💗‼️‼️‼️#Adhd is a bitch 🖤…#Leo can be an asshole at times but he doesn’t mean to I swear 😭💔#My boy just copes with jokes but he has a hard time understanding that not EVERYONE copes like that #So when Mikey snapped at him and started breaking down he was like: “😁 -> 😄 -> 😀 -> 😐 -> 🫢”#I HATTTEEE forgetting to brush my teeth 😟…it’s so damn nasty man #AND NOT BEING ABLE TO DRAW LIKE YOU USED TO⁉️⁉️⁉️ GRAUGHHHH REAL SHIT #I care about these two sm omfg #I need more content with these tWO LOOK AT THEM 🥹💙🧡!!!#“Tell ur thoughts to shut up 😒” msndhjsjss peak sibling comment #Also I changed my writing style a TEEEEENSY weensy bit if you haven’t guessed #For a while…I haven’t like the **’s I put at the noises that characters made when they laughed :/#Soooo I tried just doing it in italics and AHHUUGHFHS 😖💖💗💘💝🩷💓💞💕#IT LOOKS SM BETTER #I just wanted the laughing to seem more natural #Your just being you guys 🫶🏾#DON’T BE SO HARD ON YOURSELF PLEASEEEE #Eat some snacks!!! Drink some water/juice!!! Exercise!!!#Your allowed to feel the way you do so just take it easy ☺️👍🏾#I’M RUNNING OUTTA TAGS BUT IF ANYONE WANTS TO TALK ABOUT THE BEHIND THE STAGE WORKS ON HOW I MADE THIS I CAN ALWAYS YAP TO YOU ABT IT 😈🤌🏾#I don’t think I implied this very well but Leo feels the same way Mikey feels…so that’s why he was so PERSISTENT on making sure Mikey’s alr #But Leo take his own advice challenge GO 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️ Maybe a pt. 2 🫢??? Idk yet lolololololol

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ghosttotheparty · 1 year ago

Text

a mess of holy things 13 also on ao3 // prev // next cw: brief meltdown; subdrop/panic attack during sex; death of guardian (not wayne don’t worry); grief; mentions of child abuse & childhood trauma

“No, I’m just saying you’re turning into a slut,” Robin says lightly, her voice garbled from the gummy bear between her teeth as she tears its head off. She’s laying on her bed with her legs up against the wall, her hair spread around her head.

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know.”

“How many times have you had sex now?” she asks, rolling her head to look at him, nibbling at the body of the gummy bear now. He shrugs.

“I don’t know. A few.”

She raises her eyebrows.

He raises his back.

“Is it good?” Robin asks lightly, reaching back to the bag of gummy bears that’s resting on her belly. “You’re not getting bored of it?”

Steve scoffs, his head falling back against the wall.

“God, no. Don’t think I could get bored of it.”

She hums for a moment, looking at the ceiling.

“Maybe the guy I was with was just really bad,” she says thoughtfully, and Steve lets out a laugh. “Because it was real boring.”

“Have you considered having sex with a woman?” Steve questions sarcastically.

“Oh, yes, I have,” she says. Steve giggles, reaching over to take some gummy bears. “I just need a woman that also wants to have sex with me.”

“Hm.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and Steve thinks. He doesn’t know very many women.

“Is Nancy dating Jonathan?” he wonders aloud abruptly. “Or like…”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Robin says. “I keep thinking she’s dating Jonathan, but then Argyle will come over and kiss her to say hi, and then Nancy wears one of Jonathan’s shirts but she’s got Argyle hair ties around her wrist… I don’t know.”

“You don’t wanna just ask?”

“Eh.” She shrugs. “Not really a big deal. They’re all happy, you know?”

Steve hums and looks at the ceiling again. He thinks some more. Maybe Chrissy is single.

They’d like each other, he thinks. They’re both silly, funny in their own ways, and they don’t really match exactly, Robin’s rough flannels and mismatched socks and choppy hair that she cut with scissors in her own bathroom compared to Chrissy’s frilly blouses and manicured nails and pink lipstick. But Steve has a feeling they’d like each other.

“Do your parents know about you?” he asks after a moment. She’s quiet.

“Yeah.”

He looks at her. She isn’t eating the gummy bears anymore, but she’s holding one in her fingers, squeezing and squishing it, brushing it against her lips absently.

“How did that go?” he asks quietly.

She sighs heavily, clearing her throat.

“Uh…” Another exhale. “I don’t know. I just told them at dinner one night. Kinda randomly, I just… couldn’t keep it hidden anymore.”

“What did they say?”

Robin looks at the ceiling blankly.

“‘…Don’t tell Grandma.’”

Steve blinks, waiting for her to continue, but she just lifts the gummy bear to her mouth and tears its head off with her teeth.

“That’s it?”

“Mhmm.” She takes another breath. “We don’t talk about it. It just kinda hangs out with us, I guess.”

He looks across the room and thinks some more. About what it might be like if his parents knew. If the fact just dangled around their heads, unaddressed, ignored. If they could do that, just ignore what they would surely despise.

“Are you gonna tell your parents?” Robin asks softly, like she can read his fucking mind. He scoffs.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Don’t know if it’s worth it.”

She looks at him, lifting her chin to see him.

“They won’t understand,” he says quietly. “They won’t get it.”

She sits up. Swings her legs around to rest across his lap, letting the gummy bears fall to the side. She’s looking at him curiously, silently.

Steve sighs, letting his head fall to the wall.

“…They raised me to be God-fearing,” he says quietly. “And… pure. They raised me so, like, intentionally… good. And if I tell them, I…” Steve scoffs, laughing humourlessly. “‘Hey, by the way, I’m an atheist and I like it when my metalhead boyfriend shoves his cock up my ass and puts his fingers down my throat.’”

Robin lets out a laugh, and he half-smiles.

“They don’t have to know all of that.”

“That’s all they will know, though,” he says weakly, his smile falling. She looks at him in confusion, furrowing her eyebrows, frowning. He sighs.

“They view homosexuality as… disgusting,” he says after a moment. “It’s just sexual to them. It’s just sin on sin.”

His fingers twist together, and then he reaches for the cross around his neck, lifting it to touch his lips absently.

“If I say I have a boyfriend…” He pauses, his voice weak and soft. “They won’t think about us holding hands or teasing each other or being sweet with each other. They won’t think about…” He cuts off, his throat tightening. “About how he wipes my tears away like he’s scared he’ll break me. Or the way he pulls me closer even when he’s, like, fully asleep. Or the way he cooks for me when I mention I haven’t eaten, or the way he kisses my temples when I have a headache.”

He looks at the ceiling, blinking tears back rapidly when his eyes sting. Robin reaches and holds his forearm.

“They’ll think about us sinning,” he says weakly. “They’ll think about— about him corrupting me, or manipulating me, and— and it’s bullshit, because he hasn’t. He’s— He’s so great.”

“He sounds really great,” Robin says, and her voice sounds thick now, and he hates this, this bullshit that unites the two of them.

“They’ll never see how great he is,” Steve says heavily. Robin’s hand is warm on his arm. “They’ll never get it. They’ll take one look at him and do the fucking Sign of the Cross. I don’t…”

He sighs again, reaching over to take her hand, twisting their fingers together.

“If I tell them… I don’t know what they’ll do. But I think… I don’t know. If the love they have for me is worth keeping. You know?”

She nods. Sighs. Squeezes his arm.

“It sucks,” he says softly, whispering. “Knowing your parents don’t love you the way you want.”

He glances at her when he hears a sniffle, and there’s a tear falling down her cheek. He wipes it away, but she doesn’t seem to notice, her eyes downcast and glassy.

“It sucks,” she says, her voice breaking a little bit. “My own parents don’t love me. Don’t know who can.”

It sends a shard of glass through Steve’s chest. That Robin fucking Buckley can’t see how loveable she is, how precious. How amazing and perfect, and…

“I can,” Steve says quietly.

She looks at him, her eyes shining, gleaming, her lips pursed like she’s trying to stop them from quivering.

“…Really?”

He nods, tilting his head at her.

“You’re my best friend,” he says softly. “You’re so cool.”

She scoffs, sniffling, and her hand tightens on his, squeezing his fingers. Her eyes close, and another tear falls down her cheek, and then Steve’s eyes are burning, and he tugs her closer by her hand.

Their arms wrap around each other, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face in her neck. Her shoulders shake when she sobs quietly, and he runs a hand down her back, over the wrinkles in her sweater.

And he feels kind of like he did when Eddie first started being sweet on him, touching him lightly, calling him pet names. It’s different with Robin, of course. Still warm. Familiar. Entirely platonic but somehow more.

They stay there together, arms around each other, legs tangled, as they talk. Robin tells him about every girl she’s ever had a crush on. Steve runs his hand through her hair until it’s untangled as he listens, feeling the way her jaw shifts as she talks and chews the gummy bears. The sun sets outside, the sky dimming, and neither of them moves except to flick on the lamp on Robin’s bedside.

It’s warm here. Safe. Steve lets himself exist quietly with Robin, lets himself become sleepy and giggly and a little bit childish, because she’s doing the same, wrapped in a blanket and rocking back and forth as they laugh about nothing. He thinks that even if their parents can’t love them properly, maybe it doesn’t really matter at the moment. It doesn’t really matter if they have each other.

─────────────────

Steve wakes up before the sun rises.

It’s Saturday. Eddie had been working at the Hideout, but he’s in bed now, hair damp from his shower, eyes closed peacefully. Steve looks at him in the dark, rolling onto his side to face him.

He hadn’t woken up when Eddie came back after work. Eddie must have been as quiet as possible, taking off his jacket and setting his keys down, getting fresh clothes and taking a shower, all while Steve slept peacefully in bed. He isn’t even touching Steve right now. There’s a space between them, a chasm that makes Steve ache.

He pauses, looking at Eddie. At the fan of his eyelashes across his pale cheeks, at the metal studs in his skin. At his cheek that’s squished against his hand, tucked between his face and his pillow. At the strands of hair on his skin.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers softly, hesitantly. He doesn’t expect a response, but Eddie’s eyes flutter open slowly after a moment, and he looks at Steve blearily, tiredly, his eyes not quite all the way open.

“Hm?” Eddie shifts, closing his eyes for a moment before he blinks them open again. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.” Steve gazes at him. “Missed you.”

Eddie smiles sleepily, humming, lifting his chin a little bit, and Steve moves closer, close enough that their noses nudge together. Eddie exhales slowly, and Steve thinks for a moment that he’s fallen back asleep, but his arm moves, sliding from between them to wrap around Steve’s waist. His hand presses into the small of his back, and he tugs him closer.

Steve kisses him, smiling, tucking his hands between them, shrinking against Eddie’s body as their lips part. Eddie hums again, fingers spreading over Steve’s back.

“Sweet baby,” Eddie murmurs when they separate, his lips brushing Steve’s. Steve smiles again, his cheeks flushing with warmth. He sighs, nuzzling into Eddie’s throat as Eddie rubs his back once more.

He could whisper it right now. Right here. Lips pressed to Eddie’s tattooed skin, Eddie’s heartbeat against his hands.

He doesn’t say anything.

─────────────────

Steve sits on the sofa while Eddie finishes putting away the groceries.

He’d cried in the grocery store. He doesn’t know why.

His cheeks are still tacky with tears, and he feels fucking exhausted for no reason at all. All he’s done today is go with Eddie to the grocery store, and he’d managed to ignore the way the overhead lights buzzed and made his head ache, the way the squeaky wheels of other peoples’ carts scratched at the inside of his skull. Until someone passing bumped into him, their shoulders knocking together, and he just burst into tears like a child.

Eddie almost dropped their basket, setting it down and quickly, gently, pulling Steve aside, his voice hushed as he asked what was wrong, what happened, but Steve didn’t have an answer. Nothing happened. Nothing was wrong. He was just crying.

Eddie gave him the keys to wait in the van while he finished up shopping, and Steve took them quietly. He’s been quiet since. Stared out the window in the car as Eddie drove, only tearing his glassy eyes away from the world going by when Eddie’s hand landed on his thigh gently, squeezing and holding him.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut as they start to sting again, his head falling to the back of the sofa. He’s tucked into himself, arms crossed over his belly, knees drawn up, and he listens to Eddie in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, balling up plastic bags and stuffing them into a drawer.

It goes quiet after a few minutes. And then the couch shifts as Eddie sits next to Steve carefully.

“Hey, baby.”

Steve opens his eyes and looks at him, rolling his head, before he lifts his head.

“Hi,” he says softly, whispering.

“What’s goin’ on?” Eddie asks gently, leaning against the back of the sofa. Steve looks away, across the room, shrugging. “Did something happen?”

“No,” Steve chokes, eyes watering again. “I just…” He shrugs, sniffling. “Feel like shit today. I don’t know.”

“What do you need?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve is quiet, shrugging again, and Eddie just waits for him.

“…Hold me.”

Eddie moves without hesitation, wrapping his arms around him tightly, pulling him close and running his hand over his head carefully. Steve falls against him, squeezing his eyes shut again. His breath shudders. Eddie hushes him gently.

“Breathe for me,” he whispers softly. “Nice and slow, baby, you got it.”

Steve takes a deep breath, reaching to cling to Eddie’s shirt, and Eddie’s arms tighten around him, his hands pressing to him firmly before one of them slides into his hair and tugs.

Steve sags against Eddie, exhaling sharply.

“Harder.”

Eddie’s fingers twist into his hair and pull so it hurts. Steve exhales again.

“There you go,” Eddie murmurs. “That’s it, baby.”

Steve whines weakly, face burning as he buries his face in Eddie’s neck, but Eddie just holds him. Pulls his hair. Rubs his back.

“Just want you to touch me,” Steve says when he can speak again, whispering.

“You wanna get off?”

Steve pauses. And then shakes his head.

“Just want your hands on me.”

“C’mere.”

He pulls Steve closer, shifting to sit sideways on the sofa, legs outstretched, and Steve lets him manhandle him gently, lets him pull him so he’s laying on his chest, their legs entwined.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs. His hands run over Steve’s back gently, tracing his spine. “Good?”

Steve hums, nuzzling into his neck, hands tucked against his chest.

“Harder,” he says softly.

Eddie’s hands press more firmly, pushing Steve against him, and Steve bites his lips to stifle a groan.

“Let it out,” Eddie murmurs. “‘S okay.”

Steve whimpers weakly, pressing closer as Eddie’s hands squeeze his hips firmly. It hurts a little, but Steve likes it. It makes his mind go a little fuzzy, makes whatever is squeezing his chest so tight a little looser. He hums.

“That’s okay?” Eddie checks after a moment, his hands loosening. Steve nods, reaching back to find Eddie’s hand blindly, and he leads it down to his ass, pressing firmly. “Right here?”

Steve nods again.

“Please.”

Eddie kisses the side of his head, and his hands are strong as they press into Steve’s flesh through the fabric of his pants. Squeezing and pushing and gripping like he’s massaging his ass and his thighs, and Steve melts against him, brows furrowed as he focuses on the feeling of Eddie’s fingers on him. He presses his hand to Eddie’s chest and then slides it up to his neck, pressing against his pulse.

“Feel good?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods.

“‘S, like… grounding,” he mumbles, his hand falling lax on Eddie’s neck loosely. “Like it.”

Eddie hums quietly, his voice rumbling above Steve’s head.

“Bet you’re having fun,” Steve mumbles after a moment, and Eddie scoffs, a sound that makes Steve smile.

“I definitely am.”

His hands squeezes again, and then one of them lifts and taps Steve’s ass lightly, absently, but Steve fucking lights up inside. He hums, his back arching.

“Yeah?” Eddie says, sounding a little surprised.

“Mm. Yeah. Please.”

Eddie laughs softly, doing it again.

“You want me to spank you, baby?”

Steve nods desperately, back arching again.

“Please.”

Eddie kisses his head again, his fingers tightening on his ass, squeezing hard.

“You’re so sweet.”

Steve nods absently, letting out a weak yelp when Eddie’s hand lands on his ass abruptly, hard.

“Color?”

“Green. Again. Please.”

“I got you, baby.”

He does it again. And then again. Alternating hands, rubbing and soothing in between slaps, and they’re both hard, but Steve doesn’t think it really matters. He feels like he might fucking fall asleep here, despite Eddie’s hands forcing feeling into him, despite the way particularly hard hits jostle him.

“Okay?” Eddie asks after a few minutes, hands rubbing over where Steve’s ass is blooming with warmth.

“Please don’t stop,” Steve mumbles weakly, sleepily. “Feels so good.”

Eddie’s hands squeeze tightly. And then one retreats before it slides under Steve’s pants, pressing to his bare skin. Steve whines, nodding before Eddie can ask.

Eddie pushes his pants down carefully, smoothing his hands over Steve’s ass.

“Color,” he says softly, whispering.

“Green.”

“‘S gonna hurt more without fabric in the way.”

“I know,” Steve mumbles. “‘S okay, I want it.”

“Tell me why first.”

Steve exhales sharply, swallowing the lump that’s formed in his throat, and he takes a slow breath.

“Just…” He pauses, pressing his cheek to Eddie’s shoulder, gazing at the bat’s wing around his neck. “Wanna feel it.”

“Why?” Eddie whispers.

“Need it,” Steve says, almost whining. “Need to feel it. When we were in the— the grocery store, there was too much,” he says, his voice softening. “The lights, and the noises, and my— my jacket, and the guy bumping into me, it was just… too much. When it hurts, just— just a little, I can feel it. ‘N I don’t have to feel anything else.”

“Baby,” Eddie breathes.

His hand lands on Steve’s ass with a sharp slap, and Steve jumps with a startled Oh!

Eddie’s hand smooths over the skin gently, squeezing and soothing, and Steve nods, breathless.

The skin of his ass feels hot when Eddie finally stops, rubbing his hips and sliding a hand under his shirt to press into the small of his back. Steve is shaking a little bit, breathing hard into Eddie’s neck, fists clenched in the fabric of his shirt.

“Okay?”

Steve nods, letting out a weak whine.

“Thank you,” he says breathlessly. Eddie turns his head to kiss his temple, humming softly.

“Of course, baby,” he whispers. “You know I’d give you anything.”

Steve nods again, smiling.

Eddie starts to pull Steve’s pants back up, but the fabric scrapes over his no doubt reddened skin, and Steve hisses, wincing. Eddie lets out a thoughtful noise before he holds Steve’s waist, pushing him to the side carefully.

“Stay here a moment,” he says, shifting to get up so Steve can lay on his front on the sofa. Steve groans, reaching for him half-heartedly as he stands, and Eddie laughs lightly, catching his hand and bending down to press a kiss to his knuckles.

He comes back with a bottle of lotion, and he sits on the edge of the sofa next to Steve’s legs. Steve closes his eyes and sighs as he listens to the click of the bottle before Eddie's hand, cold with lotion, smooths over the hot skin. Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he hums.

“So beautiful,” Eddie murmurs, leaning to press a gentle kiss to his ass. “My perfect boy.”

He pulls Steve’s pants up carefully, slowly, tugging them so they don’t slide over his skin, and he smooths out the waistband of his underwear by tucking his fingers under it and running them along the elastic.

“Maybe we need to get you some silky panties so it doesn’t hurt.”

Steve giggles into the sofa, cheeks warm.

“Could be cute.”

“It would be very cute,” Eddie says lightly. He smooths his hand over Steve’s ass gently, tenderly. “You feel okay?”

“Mhmm.” Steve sighs. “C’mere.”

Eddie moves back onto the sofa and Steve shifts to give him space, settling with his head on Eddie’s chest. Eddie runs his hands through his hair and then over his back, more gently than before.

“Wanna stay here for a little while?” Eddie asks softly. “And then I can go start lunch?”

Steve nods, sighing.

“Yes please.”

Eddie kisses the top of his head, and Steve suppresses a smile, sliding a hand down to slip it under the hem of Eddie’s shirt. Eddie hisses a little when his cold fingertips find his skin, and Steve snickers.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Mm.”

Eddie plays with his hair. He breathes.

Steve likes it when he breathes. Which is probably the most insane thing he’s ever thought to himself, but it’s true. It’s almost reassuring to hear Eddie’s breath, to feel the rise and fall of his chest. Steve wishes he could listen to it all the time, wishes it could play on repeat in the back of his mind. He wishes it was possible to get a sound tattooed.

“Do you wanna go out this weekend?” Eddie asks abruptly.

“…Out?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and he sounds shy all of a sudden, like he’s nervous. “Like— Like on a date.”

Steve lifts his head, looking down at him. Eddie’s cheeks are pink.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, glancing away, taking a breath. “I just… I just realized we’ve never actually been on a date, and…” He looks up at Steve, his tongue flashing over his bottom lip. “I know a place that’s… that’s, like, queer friendly.”

Steve blinks, smiling slowly.

“…Really?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie smiles, tilting his head at him like he’s fond, like Steve is a cute puppy or something.

“You wanna go out with me?” he asks lightly. Steve suppresses his smile but he can’t, and it grows into a bright grin, and it’s the first time he’s actually smiled all day. Eddie’s eyes drop to his mouth, his expression lighting up like he’s realizing it too.

“Yes,” Steve says, shifting to lay on top of Eddie’s body, their legs entwined, their chests pressing, and Steve’s heart feels like it’s beating harder, like it’s trying to reach Eddie’s through their skin and the fabric of their shirts. “I wanna go out with you.”

Eddie suppresses his own smile.

“Okay.”

He lays back down, kissing Eddie jaw and then his neck, biting teasingly when Eddie’s hand tugs at his hair.

The date is on Friday. They go to a diner that’s just outside the city, on the corner of a block in a colorful neighborhood. Eddie parks the van out front as Steve looks at the building, at the glowing OPEN sign in the window. It looks quiet, a little bit empty; there are a few people sitting at the bar, sipping from white mugs and looking at newspapers and notebooks, and there are two women sitting behind one of the windows, across from each other, laughing. There’s a pink triangle on the entry door.

Eddie holds the door open for Steve, tilting his head politely as Steve passes by him with a suppressed smile, and the woman behind the counter glances up at them when the bell above the door dings cheerfully. Eddie’s hand takes Steve’s, lacing their fingers and pulling to lead him to a booth in the back.

They sit across from each other after taking off their jackets, and Steve looks around again. There are flashes of color everywhere he looks even though it’s mostly brown inside; the seats of the booths are a muted teal, and there are glowing neon signs on one of the walls, reading things like girls girls girls and soups & sandwiches. There are gumball machines and a pinball machine and there’s bunting draping in the air over the door to the kitchen. It’s made up of small American flags, but when Steve looks a little closer he realizes the flags are upside down.

When Steve looks at Eddie again, he’s resting his chin on his hand, watching Steve with a small smile.

“Hi,” Steve says shyly, leaning over the table to look at him, mirroring him with his chin on his hand.

“Hi,” Eddie says softly. “What do you think?”

Steve glances around again.

“‘S nice,” he says before hesitating for a brief moment. “You don’t think they’ll mind that…”

“That they’ve got queers for patrons?”

Steve scoffs.

“Yeah.”

“Nah,” Eddie says softly. “They don’t mind.” He looks past Steve, hesitating before he gestures with a tilting his head. “See those ladies over there?”

Steve looks over his shoulder at the women sitting by the window. They’re holding hands across the table, and their ankles are locked, and Steve can only see one of their faces from where he’s sitting, but she’s beaming so brightly it’s like she’s reflecting the other woman’s expression.

“Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Steve looks at Eddie again, biting his lip, and he crosses his arms over the top of the table, hiding his hands. His eyes scan Eddie’s content smile, his hands resting on the tabletop and holding his chin. Steve starts to pull his hand out from where it’s tucked against himself but he stops, hesitating, his stomach flipping. Eddie’s smile grows.

“Go ‘head,” he says softly.

Steve suppresses a smile, biting his lip again as he pulls his hand away and reaches across the table, grabbing Eddie’s and pulling it toward himself. Eddie bites back a laugh, amused. Their fingers twist until Steve is holding onto Eddie’s middle and ring fingers, holding them loosely before he squeezes absently, nervously. Eddie brushes his thumb over Steve’s fingers gently. Steve looks away.

“Hiya, boys.”

Steve jumps at the sound of the waitress’s voice, looking up as she approaches their table and sets two menus in front of them. He starts to pull his hand away, but Eddie squeezes, tugging it back in place.

“Can I get you started with any drinks?” she asks lightly. She’s smiling at them, like she doesn’t even see them holding hands.

“Uh,” Eddie says, looking at Steve with raised eyebrows.

“Do— Do you have orange soda?” Steve asks, looking up at her again, and she nods before looking at Eddie.

“Ginger ale.”

She nods.

Steve exhales as she walks away, her ponytail swinging behind her, her shoes clicking on the floor, and Eddie squeezes his hand again.

“Hey,” he says softly, and Steve looks at him. “We’re okay.”

Steve nods, taking a deep breath, squeezing his hand.

“We’re okay.”

They only let go of each other’s hands when their food comes, and Eddie immediately kicks at Steve’s feet to prompt him to move them forward so they can lock their ankles together. Steve feels like he’s thirteen or something, his cheeks flushed with heat because his crush is touching him. It’s ridiculous. But Eddie keeps grinning at him across the table like he knows.

They get pie to share. It’s stupid. Almost embarrassing, especially when Eddie grabs a paper napkin and reaches over to wipe Steve’s chin himself. Steve rolls his eyes and snatches it from him as Eddie giggles. His lips are stained red.

Steve is fucking obsessed with him.

He clings to Eddie’s arm as they leave, no longer scared of being seen, almost wanting it now. Wanting people to look over their mugs and hovering forks to see these two boys, these two men, fingers laced, cheeks warm. Wanting people to see exactly how Steve feels, exactly how his heart beats in time with Eddie’s, how his veins are twisted and tangled in the shape of Eddie’s name.

Eddie holds his hand in the car. Steve can barely tear his eyes away from him, gazing at the side of his face, at the lines in his skin that deepen when he smiles after glancing back at Steve.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice light as he slows at a stop sign and looks both ways, leaning to see past Steve.

Steve shrugs even though he isn’t looking at him.

“I really like you.”

His voice is small.

Eddie’s smile widens.

“I really like you too, baby.”

Steve squeezes his hand, grinning, and he sighs heavily, waiting. Eddie pulls his hand away from Steve’s to turn the van into the parking lot outside his building, and Steve whines petulantly, which just makes Eddie laugh.

“Gimme a second, honey.��

Steve sighs, waiting, and he could swear Eddie is doing this on purpose, pulling into a parking spot and then pulling out again, straightening the van, pulling in again, pulling out. Steve scoffs and hits his head against the headrest, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t wanna take up someone else’s spot.”

“Mhmm.”

Eddie is smiling as he finally stops the van and pulls the keys out the ignition, and he turns to look at Steve, eyebrows raised.

“You’re pouting?”

“…No.”

“Baby.”

Steve looks at him. And kisses him, leaning across the center console and crashing their mouths together. Eddie laughs, turning to hold his face. He reaches to unbuckle Steve’s seatbelt;t before doing his own, and Steve just tilts his head to kiss him deeper and he scrambles out of the seatbelt. Eddie hums, caressing his cheeks.

“Wanna go inside?” he mumbles between kisses. “Hm?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, nodding, but he doesn’t pull away, his breath catching when Eddie tugs on his lower lip.

“C’mon.”

Eddie holds his hand as he leads him upstairs, their fingers locked. It’s a little dark, the lights lining the stairwell dimmer than they should be. They’re quiet, not even whispering to each other as they ascend the stairs, and Steve steps up close to Eddie as he’s unlocking the door, pressing his face against his shoulder.

They’re kissing before the door is even shut behind them, before Eddie’s even flicked the lights on, and they kick their shoes off, shove their jackets off, clutch at each other. The inside of Eddie’s mouth tastes like cherry pie, sweet and sugary and fucking delicious.

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck and lifts onto his tiptoes, groaning when Eddie grabs his thighs and lifts him up. Eddie grabs his ass when his legs wrap around his hips, reaching to put one hand on the wall to steady himself as he makes his way to his room with Steve clinging to him.

They pull the clothing off each other’s bodies, breathing hard, touching and kissing and licking, and Steve keeps thinking there’s no way he can ever feel what he’s felt before, what he felt the first time Eddie pressed into his body, but the sun is somehow shining down on him even though it’s the middle of the night and they’re hidden in Eddie’s bedroom. Eddie holds his hand, clutching tightly as he opens Steve up tenderly, as he sucks kisses into the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

Steve’s hand is tight in Eddie’s hair, holding on like he’ll float away if he lets go of him.

He’s whimpering, whining and moaning, and Eddie’s fingers feel so fucking good inside him, moving slowly, gently, carefully, fucking in and out of him, forcing soft noises into the air. Steve bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut and exhaling sharply.

When he opens his eyes, he can’t see. His vision is blurred, the light from the lamp suddenly brighter than it usually is.

He opens his mouth for a breath, but there’s something on his chest, keeping his lungs from filling, and a tear escapes his eye. His hand clenches in Eddie’s hair hard.

“Baby?”

Steve exhales sharply.

Eddie moves up over his body, hovering over Steve, and Steve can’t let go of his hair. His hand is clenched tightly, shaking, and he can’t let go. He’s gripping so hard he’s probably, definitely hurting Eddie, and he can’t let go.

“What’s your color?”

Eddie’s voice is muffled, like Steve is underwater, like there’s something between them. Steve’s eyes blink, stinging,

“Steve. Color.”

Steve exhales again, and his voice is weak, cracking like a thin layer of ice when he finally says, “Red.”

Eddie’s fingers pull out of him, and Steve wants to protest, to whine Come back, but he can’t get any other words out.

“Come here,” Eddie says softly, kindly, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut, tears falling down his face, into his hair. Eddie holds Steve’s hand where it’s stuck in his hair, and Steve tries to let go, but he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” he says weakly, almost whispering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I—”

“Steve,” Eddie says firmly, pulling him to sit up. “Don’t apologize, baby, it’s okay. We’re all done.”

Steve takes a stuttering breath, opening his eyes to look at him desperately. Eddie is looking at him tenderly, nodding when Steve inhales, and he’s so beautiful Steve starts to cry again. Eddie reaches up to gently detach Steve’s hand from his hair, and Steve closes his eyes tightly, trying to loosen his hand. Eddie holds his clenched fist in his hand, running his thumb over his knuckles.

“Baby,” Eddie says softly. “Look at me.”

Steve opens his eyes.

“You wanna get dressed?”

Steve pauses, looking at him, and then he nods.

Eddie leans to grab their clothes from where they’re discarded next to the bed. He sits up with a hoodie in his hand, one that was on the floor within reach. He lets go of Steve’s hand to help him get dressed, to help him pull his boxers on and tug Eddie’s hoodie on over his head before he dresses himself as well.

Steve covers his face in his hands, trying to hide, and he weakens even more when Eddie touches him, when he runs his hands over his arms gently, squeezing.

“Stevie, baby…”

“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes, his voice muffled. “I’m so sorry, baby, I— I don’t—”

Eddie shushes him gently, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“Steve, sweetheart, come here.” He pulls him in so their foreheads press together, and he caresses his cheeks, nudging their noses together. “Breathe,” he says softly, whispering. “It’s okay.”

Steve sniffles, reaching to hold his waist, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. He tries to breathe, to inhale slowly, normally, but it doesn’t work, and his breath gets caught in his throat, choking him.

“You got it,” Eddie murmurs.

When Steve exhales smoothly, Eddie lifts his head and looks at him, smoothing his hair out of the way carefully, gently.

“I’m sorry,” Steve breathes. Eddie shakes his head patiently.

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“But…”

But it was a good night.

They’d gone on an actual date, and Steve had had fun, he’d held his boyfriend’s hand in public without worrying, without being scared. He’d kissed him in the car and giggled and blushed, and everything was fucking fine.

“Look at me,” Eddie says firmly, and Steve lifts his head, his vision blurring. Eddie is looking at him intently, tenderly. “You don’t have to apologize,” he says gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you understand?”

“But…”

“But nothing, baby,” Eddie says, leaning forward in emphasis. “You did so good for me, okay?”

Steve’s eyes flutter as he blinks tears out of his eyes.

“I’m so proud of you,” Eddie whispers. “I’m not upset at all, Stevie, okay?”

It must be clear on his face that Steve doesn’t believe him. Because it doesn’t make sense that Eddie wouldn’t be upset; Steve’s ruined their night. There’s no way Eddie isn’t at least disappointed.

“Steve,” Eddie murmurs. “Baby.”

Steve looks at him again, letting him wipe his tears and cradle his jaw.

“I would be upset if you didn’t say anything,” Eddie says gently. “If you didn’t stop me, and you just… let me keep going even though you didn’t want to.” His voice sounds tight. “Okay? You never, ever have to apologize for stopping anything. If it’s… If it’s sex, or if you don’t feel like talking, or if you don’t feel like being touched— anything. You understand?”

And something about the way his voice sounds, so firm, almost demanding, almost authoritative, makes Steve feel a little lightheaded. Makes him melt into his hands.

He’s so nice.

“Stevie,” Eddie says softly. “If you decide that you never wanna have sex with me ever again, that’s okay.”

Steve almost pouts, his head tilting, and Eddie smiles weakly, his thumbs brushing over Steve’s cheeks.

“That’s okay,” Eddie says adamantly, shaking Steve’s head gently, playfully. “You don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to, okay? ”

Steve nods weakly.

Eddie leans in again, nudging their noses together.

“You don’t ever have to apologize for not wanting something,” he says softly. “For saying no or telling me to stop or asking for more time or fucking anything, you understand me?”

Steve nods, his eyes fluttering again. Eddie holds his jaw and shakes his head playfully again, and it’s kind of condescending, kind of mean, but it makes Steve’s mind go blank.

“You understand me?” Eddie asks again, more intently, waiting for a verbal response.

Steve isn’t thinking. His skull is full of static.

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie blinks.

And Steve’s own voice catches up to him. His face flushes with heat, and his eyes burn.

“I’m—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Eddie says, half-smiling now. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Steve scoffs weakly, but he’s crying again, embarrassed, and Eddie wipes his tears away, leaning in to kiss his forehead before he lowers his head to press his forehead to it.

“Is that what you wanna call me, baby?” he murmurs. Steve’s stomach flutters. He nods. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice weak again. It’s almost a whine.

“That’s okay,” Eddie whispers. “You can call me that.”

“But it’s weird,” Steve says quietly, shyly, and Eddie huffs out a laugh.

“You know I don’t mind weird.”

Steve smiles weakly.

“I like it,” Eddie whispers softly, the end of his nose brushing Steve’s. “I love taking care of you, baby.”

Steve nods, closing his eyes, exhaling slowly, and their noses brush again.

“I love taking care of you,” Eddie repeats intently.

Steve tilts his head and lifts his chin to kiss him softly, and Eddie lets him, humming quietly and holding his face like he’s something precious.

Eddie guides him to rest on his shoulder when they part, and Steve sighs, melting against him.

“Okay?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods.

“…Thank you, sir.”

“Of course, baby boy,” Eddie murmurs, and he kisses Steve’s head, running his hands over his spine, and Steve think he might be fucking fine.

─────────────────

Steve’s hair is damp with rain as he makes his way up the stairs to Eddie’s apartment. He feels heavy; his jacket is almost soaked, and his jeans are sticking to his legs, and his bag is weighing his shoulders down. He lets it drop to his elbow before dropping it to the ground as he stops outside Eddie’s door.

Eddie answers within just a few seconds, and Steve smiles, tilting his head at him as Eddie steps aside for him to come inside, but something is off. Eddie’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, dropping his bag next to the pile of shoes by the door, letting Eddie take his jacket. Eddie scoffs, his expression lightening.

“Nothing?”

Steve gives him a look as he toes his shoes off, kicking them aside.

“What’s going on?”

“Uh,” Eddie sighs, an eyebrow raising as he looks Steve up and down, half-smiling. “You don’t have an umbrella?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Steve says lightly, moving closer, setting his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and playing with the curls that have escaped the bun his hair is in. Eddie holds his waist easily. “Also yes, I do, but I forgot it.”

“Ah.” Eddie sighs heavily, slowly, his eyes skimming Steve’s face. “Wayne called.”

Steve blinks. His stomach twists.

He’s never met Wayne. Never even talked on the phone with him. But he loves him.

Eddie has endless stories about it, about his collections of mugs and trucker hats and bottle openers, about his banjo and the quilts that litter his living room. About how he’d stay up with Eddie to help him with his homework or to listen to him rant about whatever book he was reading or whatever campaign he was planning. About how he came home one day and threw a brand-new hairbrush at Eddie a while after he started growing his hair out. About how sweet he’s always been, how loving.

“Is he okay?” he asks, his eyes widening. “What happened?”

“He’s fine,” Eddie says quickly, smiling, shaking his head, pressing a hand into the small of Steve’s back. “He’s fine, it’s just…”

Steve stares at him as he hesitates, his lips parted like he’s going to speak even though he doesn’t say anything. Steve touches his face, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks. His eyes look a little bit red.

“It’s Linda,” Eddie says after a few moments, his hands holding Steve’s waist firmly like he’s steadying himself on him. Steve freezes. “She, uhm. She had a heart attack. She didn’t make it.”

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, shakily, nodding his head absently. His eyes are glassy.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie inhales, laughing humourlessly, letting out a shaky, “Uh…”

“Baby,” Steve says, and Eddie meets his eyes. His eyelashes flutter as he blinks tears back, and his tongue swipes over his lower lip briefly. Steve slides his hands down to his arms.

“Come here,” he says softly, reaching for Eddie’s hand, and he pulls him along gently as he goes to the living room. Eddie follows quietly, sniffling, and Steve’s chest hurts. He pushes him to sit on the sofa, and Eddie falls on it heavily, looking up at Steve helplessly as Steve lowers to sit on his lap, his knees on either side of his hips. “Okay?”

Eddie nods, his mouth quirking into a tired smile. Steve sets his hands on his neck, tracing light lines over his skin.

“Tell me,” he whispers.

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a slow deep breath, relaxing against the back of the sofa and lifts his hands to rest them on Steve’s thighs.

“I, uhm…” He opens his eyes, but they’re hazy, glassy, trained on the collar of Steve’s shirt. It’s a plain t-shirt, grey and loose-fitted, but it’s nothing Steve would ever have worn even a year ago. The cross on Steve’s necklace is hidden behind the fabric. “I don’t know how to feel.”

His hands are kneading Steve’s thighs gently, absently, like he’s fidgeting.

“What are you feeling right now?” Steve asks softly. Eddie pauses before he shrugs.

“Just… I don’t know.” His voice cracks. He looks at Steve, looking into his eyes for a moment before he looks away again, squeezing Steve’s hips. “I’m… Sad. But. I don’t know.” He shrugs again, shaking his head. His head falls against the back of the sofa.

Steve brushes his thumb over his throat lightly, his heart aching.

“I feel angry?” Eddie says after a moment, his expression shifting into confusion. “I don’t— I don’t know why, it— it’s like she slighted me or something, I don’t…” He does that laugh again, that awful laugh that grates on Steve’s skin, that laugh that’s void of joy. “I don’t know.”

“You’re allowed to feel angry,” Steve says quietly, tucking a loose wisp of hair behind his ear. The tunnels through his earlobes are black today.

“It’s not just anger,” Eddie breathes, his hands sliding up to Steve’s waist like he’s pleading with him. “I… I feel relieved.”

He whispers it. Like it’s a secret. Like he’s ashamed.

“That’s okay,” Steve whispers back, but Eddie shakes his head, blinking rapidly.

“It’s not,” he breathes. Steve takes a breath to say something, but Eddie speaks again. “She’s dead. I— How can I feel, like, content with it?”

“She was cruel to you,” Steve interrupts, leaning down with emphasis. “She was mean. You have every right to feel relieved that you don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

Eddie’s head falls back again and he sighs, looking at the ceiling. His eyelashes are wet. Steve traces the bat on his neck, caressing its grotesque face, its intricate wings. Eddie’s hands squeeze his waist, kneading and holding him tightly.

“Talk to me,” Steve says after a few moments. Eddie takes another deep breath.

“Uhm,” he says. His voice wavers, and Steve hates seeing him like this, hates seeing him sad. “I saw her a few years ago.”

Steve nods, caressing his neck.

“I was nineteen. Wayne had… Wayne had had an accident at the plant,” Eddie continues, steeling himself. “He was injured. It wasn’t, like… He was on bed rest, you know? And when he called me, I just… I panicked. I’d only lived away from him a little while, and I just… I went to him. Just in case.”

Steve smiles fondly, nodding. Of course Eddie would go to him.

“He couldn’t really walk. He was still… I mean. Wayne’s a character. He kept tellin’ me I didn’t need to go all the way down there, but he… I could tell he was happy I was there.”

Steve’s smile grows. Eddie’s accent always grows heavier when he talks about his hometown or Wayne. Steve likes hearing his accent.

“So one day, I was…” Eddie sighs. “I was in the kitchen fixin’ up some tea. Wayne was in bed with a book. He took my room after I left town.” Steve nods. “And, uhm… There was a knock.”

He slips a hand under the hem of Steve’s shirt, pressing to his skin. His hand is warm.

“I thought it was gonna be, like, a neighbor, or— or one of Wayne’s work buddies, but it was—” He cuts off, choking on his own voice, and Steve’s stomach hurts. “It was Linda.”

He pauses for a moment, slipping his tongue over his lips, kneading the soft flesh above Steve’s waistband.

“She didn’t recognize me at first,” he says quietly. “I, like, froze when I saw her, and she— she just stared at me. And I could— I could see the exact moment she realized who I was, I mean she, like… Her eyes went all wide. And she looked me up and down, and I— I remember I was wearing just a black hoodie, but she looked at it like…”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly when he doesn’t finish.

“I’d had these done,” Eddie says, lifting a hand and touching one of the piercings on his lower lip. “And I had, uhm, one here,” he says, touching the side of his nose. “I let it close a while ago, but it was, uhm, just a silver hoop.”

Steve nods, smiling.

“She… She just stared at me, and neither of us knew what to do.” Eddie looks at Steve’s chest again, his eyes glassy, and it’s like he’s zoned out completely, like he’s barely even there. “She had a, uhm, like a casserole dish, and a— a Bible. And I just kinda stared for a moment. And then she, uhm, like, snapped at me about… You’re not gonna let me in?”

Steve sighs.

“And I just said no.”

Steve scoffs, and Eddie’s expression lightens. He looks up at Steve’s face, his hands tightening on his waist.

“And I asked what she wanted, and she told me she heard Wayne was hurt so she came by to see him, and I… We started arguing. And Wayne came out of his room to see what the fuss was, and he was— he was limping, and hobbling, and Linda and I both, like scolded him for getting out of bed. And for this… brief moment, we were… one in the same.”

Steve’s expression tightens. His lips purse.

“Wayne saw the Bible she was holding,” Eddie continues. “And he…” He half-smiles, tilting his head fondly even though he’s just staring into space. “Goddammit, Linda,” he says in a clear impression of Wayne, his voice gravelly, his accent thicker. Steve smiles. “I told you I don’t want that shit in my house.

“I helped Wayne back to bed,” Eddie continues. “And Linda let herself in. Started to heat up the casserole. I told Wayne to stay put, you know, that I’d deal with her.”

“I assume she didn’t go easily,” Steve says. Eddie shakes his head.

“She, uhm… She argued. Told me she just wanted to speak with Wayne, say a prayer for his health. I told her Wayne wasn’t interested.” He trails off into silence, chewing on his lip. “…She said she wanted to help me, too, but… but that I was already too far gone.”

Steve blinks. Recognizes the words from Eddie’s thigh.

“I told her to leave.” Eddie blinks, looking up at Steve. His lip trembles, and his eyes fill with tears. “That was the last time I saw her.”

Steve touches his cheek. Eddie turns his face into it, taking a stuttering breath.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly. Eddie blinks his eyes open, shrugging again. “Eddie.”

“I feel like shit,” Eddie says, a tear falling down his cheek, his voice shaking. “I hate feeling like this, like— like I’m fucking vindicated or something. Like this is justice.” His eyes are wide like he’s desperate to say this, like he needs Steve to hear him. “She’s dead. I should be, like, grieving, but I’m not,” he says despite the tears on his face, despite the trembling of his hands.

“Eddie,” Steve says firmly, holding his face. Eddie’s tears run down his fingers, dampening his skin, and Steve thinks he could use the tears as holy water, could use them to bless himself, to purify himself. “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re feeling.”

Eddie’s breath shudders as he exhales. He looks up at Steve like he’s helpless, like he’s listening like his life depends on it.

“She abused you,” Steve says after hesitating for a moment. “She was cruel. She used God to use you. You have every right to be glad she’s gone. Okay?”

Eddie’s eyes flutter. Steve wipes his tears away tenderly.

“Whatever you’re feeling is fine,” Steve murmurs. “You can be angry, and you can be sad, and you can be happy, it’s… It’s all fine.” He looks him in the eye. He looks tired. “Okay?”

Eddie’s eyes blink at him. His hands are still trembling a little bit.

“…I love you.”

Steve almost startles, blinking, freezing, and Eddie’s expression doesn’t change; he’s still gazing up at Steve, looking at him like he’s fucking reverent.

“I know it…” Eddie pauses, taking a breath. “I know this is really bad timing, but I…” His eyes flutter, and he presses his lips together, hesitating.

Steve leans down and kisses him. It’s a slow kiss, gentle and lingering, and Eddie’s hands slide around to the small of his back, holding him close. When Steve pulls away, he stays close, their noses nudging, their foreheads pressing.

“I love you too,” he says quietly, whispering. “It’s okay.”

Eddie exhales shakily, and he lets out a quiet sob, and it tears through Steve’s body, rips him to shreds right in Eddie’s lap. He kisses him again, holding his face gently, pushing a hand into his hair when Eddie gasps into his mouth. Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, holding him tightly, pressing them together so close Steve feels like their skin might melt together.

Eddie makes a soft noise, a weak groan that slips between Steve’s lips and rumbles into his chest. Steve whines back, his arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck, his back arching when Eddie kisses him harder, biting and sucking on his lip, and it’s like the air in the room has suddenly become hazy. Eddie lifts a hand to grab Steve’s throat, holding him in place as he licks into his mouth.

Steve hums, keening, slumping against him, nodding when Eddie pulls away for a brief moment to look at him. He doesn’t let go of Steve’s throat, squeezing a little bit as his other hand slides around to his back, pushing under his shirt and rubbing his skin. Steve reaches to hold his wrist, gasping for breath, cheeks warm. Eddie is harder under him, and Steve’s blood is rushing.

“Eddie,” he gasps when they part.

“Mm.”

“Do you… Do you wanna have sex?” he asks breathlessly. Eddie grins, his teeth nipping at Steve’s lip.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, pulling away to look at him. His hair is already a mess, and his cheeks are pink, and his eyes are glassy again, but it’s a better shine than before.

“Yes,” he says softly.

“Can we do it here?”

“Do you want…”

“I’ll go get it,” Steve says quickly when Eddie’s hands set on his hips like he’s going to nudge him to get up. “Wait here.”

Eddie smiles lazily, softly.

“Okay.”

Steve goes quickly, tugging his shirt off on his way and tossing it aside as he grabs the lube and a condom from Eddie’s bedside table. They’re sitting in plain view, next to a half-full glass of water and a book Eddie’s been reading, and the sight of them, so casual, so easy, makes Steve happy somehow.

Eddie is pulling his own shirt off when Steve goes back to him, and Steve tosses the lube and condom to the sofa next to him before unzipping his jeans as Eddie watches, hair even messier than before, frizzy and staticy from his shirt. It’s a relief when Steve finally peels his jeans off his legs; they’re still a little damp, but he hadn’t noticed the discomfort until now. Eddie lifts his hips to pull his jeans and boxers down his hips, pushing them to his knees before reaching for Steve, who takes his hand as he kicks aside his clothes.

He falls onto Eddie’s lap again with a sharp exhale as their bodies meet. Eddie’s skin is warm.

“I love you,” Steve breathes, pressing their foreheads together as Eddie reaches for the lube and tugs at the small of Steve’s back to make him arch it. “I love you so much, sir.”

“God, I love you too, baby,” Eddie whispers. The lube bottle clicks twice, and Steve lets out a weak sound when Eddie’s finger presses to his hole, cold with lube. “I’m so fucking grateful for you.”

Steve whines, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck, hiding his face, groaning when Eddie squeezes at his ass, spreading him open. They’re both quiet as Eddie fingers him open, his fingers pushing and prodding, spreading his fingers and making Steve ache in the best way, except the occasional whisper, the soft brush of Eddie’s breath on Steve’s bare skin.

Is that good?

Fuck, yes, sir.

Steve groans when he feels ready, when the heat in his stomach is threatening to overflow, and he reaches back to swat at Eddie’s hand, whining a weak Please.

He lifts onto his knees for Eddie to roll the condom on and spread lube over himself, and he looks down at Eddie, who looks back up at him. They just look at each other for a moment, eyes shining, lips parted as they pant. And then Steve kisses him so hard their teeth clash, and Eddie groans, squeezing his ass. They don’t pull away, feeling blindly for Steve to lower himself onto Eddie, and he moans into Eddie’s mouth as he does.

“Mm, God, Eddie.”

“Fuck.”

Steve lets out a sound that’s high in his throat, breathy and weak, and Eddie’s hands spread over his waist, holding him in place for a moment. He’s trembling now, shaking as he clings to Eddie’s shoulders.

“Shit,” he breathes sharply. “You’re so— You’re so fucking deep—”

Eddie hums, gripping Steve tightly, and they pause there, staying for a moment.

Until Steve shifts on his knees with a weak whines, rising and then lowering, his eyes squeezed shut so tightly he might get a headache. He sounds pathetic.

He moves faster after a few moments, arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck, face buried and hidden, his voice muffled as he whines and pants and groans as Eddie touches him, holds him. Eddie’s hips shift for a brief moment, rising to meet Steve’s movements, and it presses him even deeper, and Steve lets out a fucking wail.

“You okay?” Eddie asks breathlessly, pausing. Steve grinds down against him, whining, breathing hard, nodding into his neck.

“Green, fuck, Eddie,” he whines. “Please, sir, please, please—”

Eddie slides down the sofa a little bit, holding Steve’s hips tightly, keeping him in place, and he fucks him, looking up at him, watching closely, carefully. Steve whines. He’s rambling, mumbling fucking deliriously even as he listens to Eddie’s soft voice, murmuring to him.

“My good boy,” he says softly, so fucking softly. “My baby boy, you’re so perfect.”

Steve sobs, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair, holding it tightly as he gasps for breath, moving against Eddie’s body, winding his hips, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck. He can feel Eddie’s breath on his shoulder, warm and soft and comforting.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Eddie says roughly, hands gripping Steve’s hips so tightly it might bruise, when Steve moves again, up and down, and Steve groans at the sound of their skin meeting, soft slaps that fill the air like mist. “That’s my boy, there you go, baby.”

Steve whines, and there are tears on his face now. Eddie tugs at his hair to make him lift his head, and he gazes at him for a moment before he pulls him in, and he licks Steve’s tears away, and maybe he thinks the same about Steve’s tears that Steve thinks about his. Steve groans, his eyes closing again as Eddie’s tongue slides over his cheek, as his hand pulls his hair and his other hand squeezes his ass.

Steve grinds against him, reaching up to hold Eddie’s face weakly, his fingertips pressing into his cheeks.

Their faces are pressed together, breath mixing in the air, bodies moving desperately.

“I love you,” Steve breathes. “I love you, sir—”

Eddie whines, licking his jaw before his hand lands on Steve’s ass sharply, the sound ringing out around the room like it’s empty, like there’s an echo.

“I love you too,” he whispers roughly. “Fucking beyond words, baby, I can’t even fucking tell you—”

Steve comes with the words caught in his throat, choking on them as he repeats them again and again and again and again, like a mantra. Like a prayer.

Eddie says it back. Again and again and again and again.

They get dressed slowly. Quietly. Eddie pushes Steve’s hair back after helping him pull on a sweater, and Steve pushes him gently so his back is to Steve, so he can pull his curls back into a ponytail.

Eddie makes coffee. Steve hugs his waist as he pours it into two mugs, resting his face against his back between his shoulder blades, his cheek squishing against him. He can smell the fabric of his shirt, and it’s nice.

They sit in the living room, on the sofa, and then Eddie looks up at Steve, his eyebrows taut.

“Do you… Would you mind if I smoked a cigarette?” he asks. He looks shy.

Steve shakes his head, smiling, and he reaches to set his mug aside.

“Where are they?” he asks as he gets up. Eddie looks up at him, and his eyes are shining again as he smiles.

“Uh, I have a pack in the drawer there,” he says, gesturing to the table by the sofa. “There’s a lighter there too. I’ll open a window.”

They sit on the windowsill, blankets wrapped around themselves, mugs set between them.

Steve holds up a cigarette for him, and Eddie leans to take it between his lips, suppressing a smile. Steve fiddles with the lighter for a moment, staring at it, and Eddie reaches silently to show him, moving his hand so he can flick the lighter and tilt his hand without burning his thumb. Steve tilts his head as he holds the light out, as Eddie leans in and inhales, puffing smoke out of his mouth as he leans back again.

Steve sips his coffee as Eddie smokes, leaning against the window. The glass is cold even through the fabric of his sweater and the blanket that’s wrapped around him, but he doesn’t mind. He gazes at Eddie, watches the end of his cigarette glow brightly, watches the smoke drift around his head and out the window that he’s opened. Eddie drains his coffee and tapes the cigarette ash into the empty mug.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks softly when their eyes meet.

“Better,” Eddie says. His voice is soft, quiet, almost shy. He smiles.

“Do you wanna talk about her?”

Eddie shrugs, taking a drag, sighing the smoke out of his lungs.

“I just…” He’s quiet for a moment, looking out the window, watching the world outside for a moment. “I was so young when I lived with them. And it just feels like… like there’s still this little boy somewhere inside me that went into hiding because of them.”

Steve nods, holding his mug to his face so the steam is on his skin. He wishes he could take it all away from Eddie, wishes he could reach into his chest and pull out all the heartache and sadness. Eddie is quiet, looking at the windowsill between them. It’s white, the paint chipping at the corner of the wood.

“I keep having to remind myself that I didn’t deserve it,” Eddie says quietly. “All the shit they gave me.”

And Steve doesn’t know what to say.

He’s reminded of the things Eddie’s said to him about Steve’s own parents, about the way they talk to him, the way they touch him.

“They turned me into someone else,” Eddie says quietly, tapping the cigarette on the mug again, sighing. “I wasn’t the same when I left their house as when I moved in.”

He looks up at Steve, and he looks like he wants to laugh like that again, to dismiss it and change the subject, to pretend he’s fine. But after a moment, his eyes are gleaming, watering again, and his lip quivers even as he twists his mouth to suppress it. He shrugs, blinking his eyes, tilting his head, and he looks so small Steve wants to tuck him into his chest to keep him safe.

“I was so soft before them,” Eddie says, his voice just a breath, and Steve’s chest splits open.

His eyes burn suddenly, and he nods, blinking tears back.

“I’m sorry they stole that from you,” he says softly.

He pauses for a moment before he leans in, through the air that smells like cigarette smoke, over his mug, and he touches Eddie’s face with his free hand, holding him as he kisses him gently. They linger there, eyelashes fluttering against each other’s cheeks, before Steve pulls away and looks at him, touching his cheek.

He takes a deep breath, looking at Eddie’s piercings on his mouth, looking at the bat on his throat, at the subtle reddish bruise that’s hidden in the bat’s wing from Steve’s teeth. He slides his hand down to Eddie’s chest and presses over his heart like he’s trying to feel the heat of his blood.

“He’s still in here,” he says quietly, looking at his hand pressing over Eddie’s sweater. “Little Eddie.”

Eddie suppresses a smile, sniffling, putting his hand over Steve’s like he’s holding it in place.

“We can… We can make him feel safe now,” Steve says, looking into Eddie’s eyes. “He can exist without being scared now. At home.”

Eddie’s smile wavers. His hand presses harder over Steve’s.

“I love you so much.”

Steve kisses him again, tasting coffee and cigarettes on his tongue.

“I love you so much too.”

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectrum @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme ♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx @kazalohiku @lostonceandneverfound @strangerfreaks @bitchysteveharrington @nailbatanddungeon @newtstabber (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ art of steve and eddie ♡ pinboard // playlist ♡ buy me a coffee

#in case anyone missed it: updates will now be every other week!#so the next update will be this upcoming tuesday #term ended this week and i have a ton of assignments i need to do and im also going to my parents next week so i have a lot going on #anyway #go eat something yummy #drink some water #take your meds #stretch your neck #love you all #mwah mwah mwah #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #a mess of holy things

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