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just-horrible-things · 4 months ago

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Marital Duties

The princess – now crown princess – did not know what to expect of marriage, nor of the marital bed. It hasn’t lived up to her secret fears. But, well, it hasn’t quite matched her nervous hopes either. Her new husband is… well. He’s certainly efficient.

Seeing as they barely speak to one another, and certainly not during, well… during, it takes her a while to work up the courage to broach the topic.

Eventually she enlists a handmaid’s help to surprise him with wine and sweets, so as to have an excuse not to go promptly to bed. It doesn’t make the topic less excruciatingly awkward, but it does at least make a conversation possible, in between awkward sips and staring out of the wide window at the sunset sky so as not to have to look at each other..

“About,” she begins, resisting the urge to clear her throat, “about our, well, marital duties.” Her husband freezes, like a rabbit that has just sighted the dogs. But she picked her timing carefully. With his mouth full of bonbon, he cannot cut her off immediately. “There is something I have been meaning to ask you, if I may.”

Internally, she says some rather unladylike words to herself. She didn’t mean to add the if I may. She didn’t want to give him the opportunity to say no.

The prince tries to speak, but his mouth is full. He ends up nodding instead, gesturing an overwrought go on with his hands while he sucks urgently on the sweet.

“Do you think we could, um, do it a little more… slowly?” she ventures. The prince swallows, almost chokes, grabs for his wine. “Oh,” he says, voice strangled, “oh, no. Have I – been –” cough “– hurting you? I hope – I –” He coughs, tries to soothe his throat with a generous gulp of wine, and only coughs harder. The princess has to cover her mouth with her hand.

Maybe it wasn’t very nice to ask while his mouth was full. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

“No,” she hurries to correct him, “no, not at all. It’s only – it’s not a large problem, I assure you – it’s only that, well, it, normally, it tends to be over rather… quickly.” Her husband has managed to get on top of his coughing, but he’s still looking at her with what appears to be terror, which is quite a long way from the understanding she had hoped for. “Which is,” she continues nervously, “as I said, not a large problem. It’s fine honestly. Only, I thought I might… like to find out what it’s like, if it… wasn’t over so soon? Only, of course, if you’d also like to try that, that is. Of course.”

He blinks mutely at her, and for a long moment she wonders – somewhat unfairly – if she has been married to an idiot.

“You… want it to last longer?” he croaks at last. “Well, I don’t mind. But if you’d like to try, with me, um…” The prince gulps another large mouthful of wine. He laughs a strained little laugh – unless that’s just another cough? “I thought you’d want it over as soon as possible.”

It is the princess’s turn to say “Oh.” and not know what else to say.

The prince has finished his glass and is pouring himself another. It’s not very ladylike to down the rest of hers in one draught, but she does it anyway. She holds out her glass. He fills it for her. If his hands are shaking, she resolves not to notice. So are hers.

“It’s not unpleasant,” she ventures, “for me, I mean. If it’s unpleasant for you, of course, we can get it over with as quickly as possible, I don’t mind, I mean–” “No,” he cuts it off. “No, I don’t… If you don’t mind it, it’s not unpleasant.” “I don’t mind it.” She swallows. “I think, actually, I might like it. If you like it. I wouldn’t want it to be bad for you.”

Her husband looks into his glass. He swallows thickly. He starts to speak, then changes his mind and puts another sweet into his mouth instead. The princess rotates her glass in her hands. He chews.

Eventually, he swallows.

“I haven’t enjoyed it,” he confesses. “I thought that it was horrible for the woman. For you. I don’t, I mean, I didn’t like… doing that to you.” The princess opens her mouth. She closes it again. The prince looks up from his glass at her, all wounded doe eyes. “You oaf,” she finds herself saying. “You absolute oaf. You didn’t think to ask me?” He opens his mouth and closes it again. “I am an oaf,” he admits. “I did not.” “I have married a fool,” she exclaims.

He looks miserable. She is being unfair. She never indicated that she didn’t want to do it, after all. And it has taken her this long to broach the topic, so she cannot very well hold the same against him, now can she?

She sighs, with perhaps a touch of melodrama. “Well,” she offers, “at least it’s out in the open now. We might have been two fools forever had one of us not found the courage to clear the air.” He seems relieved to be able to nod to that, which is good. Perhaps some of the tension has been successfully alleviated.

For a little while the pair drink wine, and eat sweets, and do not look each other in the eye.

“So then,” she breaches the silence at last. “Now that you know you are not making me miserable… do you think you will still hate it?” “Um, well.” He clears his throat. “It is, physically, well, not unpleasant.” “I agree.” She gives him a long few seconds to go on. He does not. “Then do you think that you might possibly… enjoy it?” she prompts, “In future?” It’s like drawing blood from a stone. “Would you consider trying … you know, taking a little longer over it? Just to find out if we might like it?”

He still does not answer, and her heart begins to sink.

“If you don’t want to,” she allows, “we can continue as we are. I do not want –” “No,” he interrupts at last. “No, I do want to try. With you. I… I think I would like that.”

There’s a but hanging in the air. The princess reaches for a sweet, then thinks better of it. She doesn’t want to be caught out with her mouth full.“It’s only,” he says, staring fervently into the bottom of his glass. His expression is pained. “It’s only that, well, I’m not sure – no, I am sure that I, well, haven’t the first idea how to begin.”

The princess covers her mouth again. It would be very rude to laugh. It’s not that it’s funny, it’s just that she was so afraid he would come out with something far worse.

“Well,” she says. “I suppose, I’m not really sure either. It is a little… daunting. But,” and she takes a deep breath, seeing as it seems she will have to be the bold one here, “unless you want to consult with the staff – which I for one would really rather we didn’t – I think we shall rather have to just figure it out.”

#my writing #not sure what this is #rather a departure from the norm #it just showed up in my head #so it goes

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libraryofgage · 3 months ago

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so i wrote this yesterday and now it's become a whole thing

basically: Steve is actually smart but nobody realized it until he just fixes their various STEM related problems

anyway this is Eddie's very first experience with how smart Steve Harrington actually is

also please don't call me out if my physics explanations are wrong. just suspend your disbelief, i'm begging you lmao

also also, if you see any typos, no you didn't

---

"You're going to fail my class, Munson."

"Gee, no need to sugarcoat it," Eddie mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets and avoiding Miss Chester's gaze. His eyes land on one of the posters behind her desk, a cat hanging off a tree branch. Maybe it would like to trade places.

Miss Chester sighs, looking pointedly at the desk closest to hers. She waits until Eddie sits on it, legs hanging over the edge. "I'm serious," she says. "You're going to fail, Eddie. I don't want you to, but there's just some...disconnect happening here."

He appreciates that she's not totally blaming him. Most of Eddie's other teachers would've been berating him for his laziness by now. This, among other things, is why Eddie likes her class even if he can't wrap his head around physics at all. "I don't know, Miss. It just doesn't make sense."

"So I'm noticing." Miss Chester leans back in her chair, her finger tapping against her desk. Eddie immediately recognizes it as the drum beat from a KISS song. "You know you'll probably be held back if you fail, right?"

"Not the first time."

Miss Chester waves off his words, looking deep in thought. "What do you think about tutoring? I think you'll do better in a one-on-one setting. If you understand the concepts better, I can start grading you based on the work you do with the tutor."

"It wouldn't be you?" Eddie asks, frowning slightly. He's not sure he wants some random geek tutoring him. Not that he has anything against geeks, of course, but he's never known one to talk in a way he can understand. They get all...technical and Eddie's eyes glaze over whenever he overhears their conversations.

"No, I don't have the time. But don't worry," Miss Chester says, smiling reassuringly before pulling her roster close and looking down the list. "The student I have in mind probably knows more than me, if I'm being honest. He should be able to answer any question you have."

"What student?"

"His name is Steve."

Of course, Eddie immediately thinks of that Steve. King Steve. Steve "The Hair" Harrington with his blinding smile that's always looked a little strained in Eddie's opinion.

He then dismisses Steve Harrington as a possibility and reviews the other kids named Steve at Hawkins High. There's Steve Paulson, Steve Meyers, and Steve Barns. Maybe it's Barns? He's the only one that Eddie could imagine being somewhat good at physics.

"Are you open to tutoring?" Miss Chester asks. "For one session, at least?"

"Yeah, sure, one session. Won't help, though."

Miss Chester smiles like she knows something Eddie doesn't. Which, to be fair, she does. She knows a lot more than Eddie in terms of physics, at least. "I'll set it up. Just come by tomorrow after school."

--------

On his first day at Hawkins High, Steve realized two things.

One, his parents weren't kidding when they'd said public school would be vastly different from the private group tutoring he'd received up to that point.

Two, if he wanted to have a good high school experience, he needed to be cool. And being cool, it seemed, meant not being smart. He didn't need to be dumb, but he couldn't breeze through his classes, either.

He's done a good job of it so far. He's bored beyond reason in most of his classes, sure, but he's also popular. Nobody bothers him or tries to copy off of him, and it's great. He can even swallow down the weird surge of frustration and annoyance and guilt whenever his classmates assume he's too dumb to be a good project partner, or when his parents ask why he isn't enrolled in AP classes, or when his teachers give him confused looks after he aces tests for a unit he seemingly didn't pay attention to.

Anyway, he almost rejected Miss Chester's request to tutor a student from a different class period. He was just about to say he didn't have the time when she leveled him with a look so profoundly hopeful that he just couldn't. So, Steve said yes and now he's hesitating outside the physics classroom.

What if the student inside uses this against him? Steve thinks he could play it off, maybe convince his friends that the kid is lying, but he's not sure. Nothing dire would happen, but Steve would have to reorient himself to a new place on the social ladder, and that sounds exhausting.

"Just get it over with," he mumbles. Then, before he can chicken out and just leave the other student hanging, he opens the door and steps into the classroom.

Miss Chester isn't there. Steve knew she wouldn't be. She'd said something about a department meeting that would take her time but leave them with the classroom to themselves.

The only other person in the room is Eddie Munson, bent over a notebook and furiously scribbling on the page. He looks up when the door opens and freezes at the sight of Steve. They stare at each other for a few seconds before Eddie breaks the silence by asking, "What, get lost on your way to the locker room, Harrington?"

Steve blinks, frowns slightly, and takes a deep breath. Okay. Fine. Eddie Munson it is. "Nope. Miss Chester asked me to tutor you," he says, because that's the only reason another student would be in this room after school has let out.

Eddie laughs. He nearly falls out of his chair with how hard he laughs. He's wheezing and clutching the edges of the desk by the time Steve moves another desk to face him and sits down across from him. "Are you done, Munson?" he asks.

"Holy shit, you're serious," Eddie says, his voice slightly strained and his face red from laughing. "No fucking way Steve Harrington is here to tutor me in physics. You probably don't even know what two plus two is!"

"It's four. Do you know what 12 times 40 is?" Steve asks, watching as Eddie blinks.

"I'm not a fucking calculator, man."

"No, you're not. It's 480, by the way."

"You could've just memorized that."

Steve sighs and reaches into his bag, digging around some before pulling a calculator out. He places it on Eddie's desk and says, "Ask me something."

Eddie looks at him like he's grown a second head but still pulls the calculator closer. "1,239 plus 378."

"1,617."

He watches Eddie use the calculator, feeling smug when his face twists into confused disbelief. He then puts the calculator down and frowns at Steve. "So you can add, big whoop. Doesn't mean you can teach me shit about physics."

"Won't know until we try," Steve says, resting his elbow on the desk and propping his chin in his palm. "So, what don't you get?"

"...All of it. Just assume I don't know shit."

"You don't know Newton's laws?"

Eddie snorts, looking back down at his notebook. "There's that motion one and the reaction one," he says.

"Right. Newton's first law and his third. What about the second?"

"It's just...some equation or some shit."

Okay, Steve is starting to get an idea of where things stand. He thinks for a moment before asking, "What kind of stuff do you like?"

"What?"

"What do you like?"

Eddie looks so shocked by the question that he doesn't really think before answering, "Heavy metal. And, uh, D&D, too."

Steve knows heavy metal is music, and he could work with that but the D&D Eddie mentioned might be better. "What does it involve? The D&D?"

"It's a fantasy role playing game. Like, using your imagination to go on adventures with friends and stuff. Needs dice to work."

Oh. Perfect. "Do you have dice with you?" Steve asks. After another brief pause, Eddie nods and pulls one out of his pocket. He passes it over and watches as Steve turns it between his fingers. "Oh, an icosahedron. Cool."

"A what?"

"Icosahedron," Steve says, looking at Eddie. "It just means a twenty-sided polyhedron."

Eddie still looks confused, and Steve is about to explain it again when Eddie says, "Just call it a D20, dude."

"Oh. Sure. Anyway, let's use this," Steve says, rolling it between his fingers before letting it clatter to the desk. It bounces a few times before settling, a 17 facing up. "Do you know what made it stop moving?"

"The desk. I'm not an idiot, Harrington."

"I didn't say you were, Munson," Steve replies, leaning back slightly. "Just...yes, the desk stopped it. This is Newton's first law. If the desk wasn't there, it would have kept falling until it hit the floor. It stopped bouncing because it lost power each time it hit the desk. An object, the D20, will stay in motion, falling, unless acted upon by another force, the desk."

"That...kinda made sense," Eddie says, blinking a few times.

"Great!" Steve says, unable to help the bright smile at knowing Eddie understood him. "Okay, for the second law, the equation is mass times acceleration equals force. Basically, the movement of an object depends on how much it weighs and how much force you apply."

"Aaaand ya lost me," Eddie says.

"Okay, uh, you fight things in that game, right?"

"Yeah, kind of the whole point."

"Right, yeah, and the stuff you fight comes in different sizes, right?"

"Well, an orc isn't gonna be as big as a dragon, is it?"

Steve isn't really sure what an orc is, but he nods anyway. "Right. So if you want to move a dragon, you need to land a stronger hit than you would need for an orc."

"Duh. You're not gonna fell a dragon with a basic cantrip."

"Not sure what that is, but yeah. For this example, moving, or defeating, an object, or a dragon that weighs more than an orc, relies on how much force you apply, which is the strength you use."

"Oh. So, because an orc weighs less, I don't need as much force to defeat it," Eddie says, grinning as he fidgets with his pencil. "This doesn't really sound like math, though."

Steve shrugs. "We'll get to the math part later. Right now is basics. You need to understand those to do more complicated stuff. So, the third law, this is the action-reaction law. Music might be better for it. What happens when you strum a guitar?"

"It...makes a sound. Because it's an instrument."

"Well, yeah, but do you understand how the sound is being made."

"By...strumming it?"

"Yeah, that's part of it. Sounds are vibrations in the air that we can understand. If you touch your throat while talking, you'll feel your voice box, your larynx, vibrate to make the sound of you talking."

He waits as Eddie does exactly that. While holding his fingers to his throat, Eddie says, "Didn't know it was called a larynx. Oh, fuck, yeah, there are vibrations."

Steve nods, waiting patiently as Eddie hums for a few minutes before looking back at him. "So, vibrations. Instruments make sound because playing them causes vibrations. When you strum a guitar, the strings rapidly move back and forth, and that movement is translated into notes."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but yeah, I'm following you."

"So, the action of strumming a guitar creates the reaction of the strings vibrating. That action of the strings vibrating creates the reaction of air rippling, and those ripples create the reaction of audible noise. Did that make sense?"

"Yeah. It did," Eddie says, his voice soft as he stares at Steve like he's really seeing him for the first time.

Steve shifts uncomfortably, unused to this aspect of himself being known so well by someone at school. He's almost tempted to end things now and apologize to Miss Chester for walking out halfway through a tutoring session. Steve is practicing the apology in his head when Eddie says, "Hey, by the way, sorry for earlier."

"What?" Steve asks, trying to blink away his confusion and failing.

"You know, earlier, when I laughed at you? Pretty shitty of me to do. So, yeah, I'm sorry."

"Oh." Steve stares at Eddie for a few seconds before his shoulders relax. "It's fine. I'm not exactly known for being smart."

"Why not?"

"It's just...easier to let people think I'm dumb. Most of our classmates look at me and think I'm just, you know, a typical jock. They don't expect more from me than that, and I don't expect them to look any deeper."

"Does anyone else know, though?"

"My parents and the teachers. And you."

"Well, don't worry, big boy. Your secret's safe with me."

"Big boy?"

"Don't like it? Would you prefer Stevie?" Eddie asks, grinning as he leans in and exaggeratedly waggles his eyebrows at Steve.

Steve can't help snorting at the sight. "Whatever. Just call me what you want, Eddie," he says.

He tries to ignore the weird swooping in his stomach when Eddie's smile gets wider and he says, "You better not regret it, Stevie."

#my writing #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #smart steve harrington #pre-season 1 #y'all don't understand i have a whole 5+1 idea in my head about this #well you do understand if you read the OG post actually lmao #but there's MORE that's the point i'm making here #but i wanted this little set up first #just cuz i love pre-show meetings #and steve cutting off the munson doctrine before it can even begin #also unrelated but do y'all ever think about how the entire world really is just science and math and that's incredible #even art is science or math at its core and science and math are art themselves

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