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hitlikehammers · 7 months

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feel the bigger thing

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness, rockstar!Eddie, domestic husbands are domestic ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, rockstar husbands, love is lying on top of each other on the sofa discussing buying a new house with a pool, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day twelve: Love is having hope for the future together (@acasualcrossfade)

you know how the rockstar husbands talked about lights for their pool in the original fic, je ne regrette rien? well GUESS WHAT FEATURES HERE

“These numbers,” Eddie’s reading over the printouts from their manager, sales projections and preliminary tour dates and all the rest: “baby, we can get the new house, hell, we can keep this one and have a second house if we want it,” Eddie kisses the top of Steve’s head where he’s got him bundled up on his chest, tucked under his chin where they’re currently both sprawled on the couch; Eddie says he likes to think like that—likes to know Steve’s there by design, no question, the weight of him evident every time he breathes, he says; held close to my heart, baby, in fact, is what he also says.

Hopeless goddamn romantic, his husband. But he wouldn’t have him any other way.

“We don’t need a second house,” Steve points out, smooshed against Eddie’s sternum.

“We can get the pool,” Eddie added with the audible equivalent of his brow-wiggle and okay, fine, that’s a good point, because Steve may not have really used the one at his parents’ after, well, everything, but he…does kinda miss having one. Now that the memories are distant enough in both time and miles that he doesn’t see standing water deeper than four feet and start fucking hyperventilating anymore.

So…yeah. Compelling argument regarding a pool.

“This record,” Eddie blows out a long breath, slow and even as Steve rides it where he’s braced atop his chest, lifted with his lungs: “this record’s gonna change everything.”

Steve turns his opposite cheek against Eddie’s heartbeat, huffs a little as he gets comfortable again before he asks:

“You think so?”

Eddie doesn’t move, but the fact that he stills so completely is kinda like a motion in itself.

“You don’t?”

He doesn’t sound angry or anything, or even upset. Not disappointed. Maybe just…surprised.

And Steve gets that. The numbers attached to this album are…if they’re right?

This is going to be huge.

But.

“I mean,” Steve shrugs, which is kinda useless given his position, so he sorts of ends up nosing at Eddie’s shirt instead as a byproduct of the hushing of his shoulders: he’s not mad at that, as the outcome:

“I guess, not really,” Steve finally settles on because it’s really not any more complicated than that.

Then Eddie’s got his fingertips at Steve’s nape and he’s spreading them through Steve’s hair and oh.

Oh, that’s so fucking nice.

Which is probably why he pairs the sensation with the question he follows with:

“It’s not good?”

And Steve almost doesn’t hear it, and he wouldn’t even fucking feel bad for not hearing it or not processing it when Eddie’s hands are in his hairlike that because fucking hell, Eddie knows what that goddamn does to him; but Steve does hear it. And again: it’s not angry, or upset. It’s maybe a little surprised. It’s not even quite…hurt, or disappointed, but it’s far closer to either or both than Steve’s comfortable with, than Steve ever wants to hear in that voice, so:

“God no,” he answers with real feeling, shaking his head to back it up and also to—mournfully—dislodge Eddie’s distracting fucking hands; “it’s spectacular,” Steve tells him, plain and honest because it’s the fucking truth: “definitely your best yet.” Also true.

Eddie goes still again, and Steve tips his head up and back at the most uncomfortable possible angle to catch Eddie expression, to read its clues: he’s watching Steve so intently, like he’s something unfathomable and dear enough to spend eternity decoding—but that’s strange in itself. They kind of know each other inside-and-out by now.

So Steve rolls back the words exchanged, looks for the catch, the dropped stitch, the record-scratch.

Gonna change everything—

Ah. Steve’s breath hitches a little, but: he thinks he’s found it. Right.

He makes himself breath in deep but slow, gentle and calm as he can, and Eddie’ll pick up the tension he can’t wholly wash out just yet, and Eddie’ll feel the uptick of his pulse where his one hand holds Steve still around the ribs. But it’s fine. Because they’re fine.

Okay.

“I just,” Steve exhales long; “you said everything,” and Steve tries to make his tone hold the word itself to account, to fill it up with all of the things that came to Steve’s mind and made him denounce the possibility on sight—change everything? But there’s so very little about Steve’s life, about this life together, about their life that they’ve clawed and fought for and now get to relish and bask in: Steve doesn’t want that changed.

And to think a fucking album release could change what they have, that was just, insanity.

…right?

“You said that, and I—“ and that’s as far as Steve gets before Eddie’s dragging him up, firm but so tender, and so full of love in just the touch that any misgivings—and they weren’t even that, that were just…just little off feelings that Steve knew weren’t of real consequence, because he knowswhat they are and what they have and his first instinct was right damnit, and he knew that like he knows the sky is blue and Eddie curls frizz no matter what you fucking do to them: they won’t change in the ways that matter, because they’re…unshakable.

So Steve knew that already, and he knows it now in just Eddie’s touch drawing up upward and closer, but if somehow he’d managed to miss both of those points?

The way he kisses Steve is…fuck, it’s like sucking his soul to consume.

“Oh, oh baby,” Eddie speaks so that they’re lips aren’t ever anything but locked tight, but touching close and with feeling; “not everything, no,” he promises, seals it, vows it straight into Steve’s open mouth so it’ll slip safe down to his heart and soul:

“Not everything,” he whispers, still close enough they can’t breathe without the other there, too, and: that’s heady. That’s real.

“Good,” Steve exhales but with a weight to it, a finality: a seal and vow of his own as he nips Eddie’s swollen lips once, twice, and then tucks himself under Eddie’s chin again, where Eddie’s arms are waiting to envelop him even closer, now; tighter still somehow.

“You’re the center of my world, you know that?” Eddie finally murmurs into Steve’s hair once their breaths have calmed a little, and he can say it steady and sure like he means to, and Steve really just smiles, and burrows that half-an-inch closer, where he compresses Eddie’s flesh to the bone so he can feel the nearest a person can be.

“I do know that,” and it’s not even a fib, or a half-truth: and Eddie already knows the understood ‘you’ of the sentiment clear and well-established—Steve knows Eddie’s love in all sorts of ways, big and small and in between but the first way he probably believed it best was coming to grips with the fact, the unwavering law-of-the-universe fact, that Eddie Munson’s heart beats for Steve the very same Steve’s beats for him. No difference. No more or less. Perfect concert, exact same time signature: precisely shock-start to pump in the first place, like the same spark keeps time in both their chests.

Steve knows he’s loved in ways that don’t have words. Because he loves the very same, and so he knows them intimately, no labels required.

“I already told the promo team we work around your schedule or I’m gonna have to by inconveniently down with the flu for appearances,” Eddie adds as Steve settles back on his chest, soft again and languid: he wasn’t fearful, or even truly hesitant, but—it’s nice. To lean back in and cuddle close.

“You know you don’t have to—“ Steve starts but Eddie tuts him quiet in a flash.

“I do have to. Save my heart the aching, baby,” he presses lips to Steve’s temple and speaks there, drags his mouth wet to the skinL “more important, save yours the same.”

And Steve maybe can’t help but press his own lips first through the cotton of Eddie’s shirt straight to the center of his chest, and then leaning up a little, to the stretched-out collar sneaking the lowest peek of flesh beneath his clavicle: kisses there too, a little sloppy and a lot overfull of feeling as he breathes:

“I love you something wild, Eddie Munson,” and his pulse skips happily, a little dance under Steve’s mouth as he smiles before propping his chin on Eddie’s chest and looking up, meeting the eyes he knows are waiting for him, waiting to lock with his.

And when they do—even after all these years, and Steve has no expectation of it ever change with more to come—but when their eyes meet it’s Steve’s heart that goes giddy, a little off-kilter for joy, and it fucking is that, isn’t it.

It’s wild.

“I love metal, baby,” Eddie answers, and Steve tips his head a little; an odd direction, but he’s intrigued: “music and D&D and meeting the fans,” and Eddie’s playing with his hair again, and he knows what that does, but—

“I feel something so much bigger, for you,” and Jesus, Steve’s in love with maybe the only person in the world who can match him for romance; sometimes outstrips him, even. His heart goes back to dancing chaotic and he couldn’t fucking stifle the grin if he tried, and fuck if he’s ever planning to try.

“Fucking sap,” Steve mouths tight against Eddie’s chest, damp through his shirt for the chuckle he breathes there, weightless and marveling because he gets to have this; they get to have this: they’ve had this for so long and they get to keep it.

“You love it though,” Eddie runs his cheek back and forth across the top of Steve head, and Steve just hums:

“I don’t love it,” he insists with intent in it: “the bigger thing,” he corrects, makes clear: “I feel the bigger thing.”

And Eddie just ducks a smile against Steve’s hair, warm where as it spreads, and Steve can feel it; can’t help him mirror it full as he sighs:

“So tell me more about this pool.”

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #established relationship #established steddie #rockstar eddie munson #domestic fluff #or rather more: domestic LOVE #idiots in love #slice of life #rockstar husbands #they might have enough money for the POOL #criminal levels of softness #steddielovemonth #love is having hope for the future together #these two boys have probably been together around a decade at this point and it FUCKING SHOWS #old married couple!steddie #stranger things

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jtl-fics · 1 year

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Fluent Freshman - 41

Two and a half hours into the Banquet and FF had not moved from the chair he had sat in at the start of the banquet. He hadn’t gotten up for water. Hadn’t gotten up to go to the bathroom. Hadn’t gotten up to dance despite Nicky’s pleading. He hadn’t even gotten up when a Raven had come over and asked him to.

He was not leaving his seat.

The stadium could be on fire and he’d still try to be the last one out.

Until there was a time where he could slide out of this chair without a single eye on him and put on his winter jacket without it seeming strange he was going to remain seated.

The answer on why was under his precisely placed napkin.

It had all begun about an hour and fifteen minutes ago, not that FF was counting. Dinner had been wrapping up and people had started to get up and jostle about. Flirtations were flying across the table and generally over FF’s head. The team had been smiling, there’d been laughter, and it had seemed unlikely for anything to go wrong.

He relaxed and that’s where he made a mistake.

FF could not eat the meal served. He’d had his liquid dinner on the way over on the bus so it didn’t bother him much to have a decent looking meal in front of him and not being able to eat it. He wasn’t going to eat so he hadn’t even unwrapped his cutlery, wanting to save the clean up crew from at least his set of utensils. He hadn’t placed the napkin over his lap to protect himself, what danger could there possibly be when he was not going to be eating?

The danger came when a Trojan smacked the table hard as he laughed at something that he had taken as a joke but, knowing Kevin, was probably a serious suggestion.

Hit the table hard enough to jostle FF’s plate.

Hit the table hard enough to jostle FF’s plate and more specifically a meatball that was with the pasta served with the beef tenderloin.

Hit the table hard enough to jostle FF’s plate and more specifically a meatball that was with the pasta served with the beef tenderloin so that it fell off of his plate and onto his lap.

Fell right onto his unprotected lap.

FF had looked down at his gray pants now irreversibly blemished by the errant meatball. His mind flashing back to when Nicky had decided on these pants. Remembers how Nicky hadn’t wanted him to vanish in the lower lighting of the banquet.

FF had grabbed his cutlery and put the napkin over his lap, far too late to save his pants, but fast enough that no one would see that he had spaghetti pants.

After that the trajectory of his evening had changed dramatically.

He was going to sit here all night until they were getting into the bus and then he’d have his winter jacket on and it was a long jacket that would cover his mark of shame. You might think that FF could just slip under the radar and go try and clean off the stain or at least hide somewhere less conspicuous.

He would, he really would, except he can feel the eyes of Captain Jeremy on him regardless of how low his presence is. FF entered into Ultra Stealth but Captain Jeremy merely turned to him and asked a friendly question that had Nicky startle remembering that FF was next to him still.

Captain Jeremy has x-ray vision and can see the wall behind the wallpaper. Captain Jeremy can see colors that mantis shrimp can only dream of. Captain Jeremy is standing in some secret government office pointing on the radar as CIA and Military officials look on going “What are you talking about he’s right here?” with a smile.

Captain Jeremy was the kid that ate all the cheap fruit on a dessert table before he looked at the cake when he was a kid.

It’s the first time in his entire life that he’d been completely unable to slip below someone’s attention and if it were any other time he might feel good about that. Might enjoy the idea of being seen and having the attention of someone like Captain Jeremy on him.

Except FF has Spaghetti Pants.

FF cannot escape the man’s determination to ‘make it up’ to him after Aaron had let slip that FF had a restraining order against one of his brothers.

FF insisted that it was okay.

Captain Jeremy insisted on making sure he had a good time.

FF insisted that a good time for him would be to sit at this table all night by himself. He kept to himself that what would really make it would be for him to sit without anyone around to notice he had spaghetti pants.

Captain Jeremy seemed to think that it was due to the still healing stomach injury and insisted on at least keeping him company then, unaware of the unvoiced second part.

So Captain Jeremy of the USC Trojans had declared himself FF’s banquet buddy. A man that was friends or at least friendly with almost every single player here at the banquet.

He looks around the banquet and sees the various tense standoffs at the other tables. These were men and women who would find even the smallest thing and never let you forget it.

He doesn’t know what he’d do if they realize he had spaghetti pants.

How does one recover on the court when the person you’re up against can remember the cold December evening that you dumped a meatball on your pants? He can already hear the jeering nicknames.

He wants to sink into his seat but he’s afraid to shift at all, worried he’ll dislodge the napkin in some way and the newest person coming up to say ‘Hi’ to Jeremy Knox will notice the marinara stain on his pants.

While Jeremy was distracted he did try to wet Nicky’s disposed of napkin to perhaps clean himself off a bit except before he could a Raven came up to him, “Come with me.” a large Raven Backliner says, jerking his head towards the bathrooms.

“No thank you.” FF answers in return, “I don’t need to do that.” he says assuming that the Backliner had seen him shift in his seat and assume he needed to use the restroom.

The Raven Backliner stood for a few moments as if waiting for him to change his mind but then Captain Jeremy’s attention snapped back, “Can we help you with something?” Captain Jeremy asks and his friendly demeanor had vanished.

“I-” The Raven Backliner started to say before seemingly deciding that it wasn’t worth it and walked away.

Captain Jeremy and him continued to talk. They had somehow fallen onto the SAW movie franchise and FF could admit that he was surprised that the Trojan Captain had watched the series.

“You need to come with me.” A Raven Striker says coming up and interrupting the two of them as they talked about the ethics of SAW. FF believed that it was all well and good to learn to appreciate life but there had to be simpler ways to go about teaching that. Jeremy didn’t disagree, he just also thought that sometimes there were some people who Jigsaw never intended to redeem and those people may have deserved their fates.

FF tilts his head, “Do I?” he asks since it didn’t seem like the ERC had made any sort of announcement and she seems utterly and completely perplexed by his response.

The girl looks at him, looks over her shoulder, looks back at him, “Yes?” she responds sounding so unsure that even FF wouldn’t believe her.

“I don’t think he does.” Captain Jeremy interrupts gaze utterly cooled from the warm one he had been giving FF throughout their philosophical debate.

The Raven Striker looks cowed and FF almost feels bad for her but not bad enough to console her when he has spaghetti pants.

She leaves.

FF and Captain Jeremy’s conversation shifts to winter break plans. Captain Jeremy is going home to his family and he’s taking Jean Moreau with him. “I think my mom likes him more than she likes me sometimes.” Jeremy laughs heartily. “He deserves nice holidays though so I’m always happy to bring him up.” he says voice and features going soft as he looks to where Jean Moreau was standing with a raised eyebrow next to Andrew as Kevin and Neil were having some animated conversation.

FF talks about his own plans with the Foxes and how he’ll be spending the break with them. He thinks Captain Jeremy looks a little sad about that but whatever sadness there is Captain Jeremy moves past it quickly and starts to ask if he had plans to go anywhere specific in New York. He heartily recommends the LEGO store when FF says he’s never been.

“Someone important wishes to speak with you.” An Offensive Dealer from the Ravens says and he looks like he’s about to shake apart as he stands in front of them.

“Who?” He asks, tilting his head and sipping his water.

The Dealer looks at him.

“Is it that hard of a question to answer?” Captain Jeremy asks voice stern once again.

“He’s…Master is-” The Dealer goes paler and Smith can’t help but pull out his handkerchief from his front suit pocket as he sees the Dealer break out into a cold sweat.

“You don’t look well, maybe you should sit down?” he asks with his handkerchief extended in offer. The man looks at him and then the handkerchief and then takes it. “Thank you.” he says

“Wow a handkerchief? My pocket square is just a fake one sewed in.” Captain Jeremy laughs jovial once again as the Raven took a seat shakily.

“It’s something my dad used to always say.” Smith thinks about the additional handkerchiefs in his pockets. “A gentleman always has a handkerchief on hand to help.” He pulls out a second one, “A real gentleman has two.” he adds and folds the new handkerchief into shape for the pocket square again.

Captain Jeremy laughs, “Sounds like a great guy! He must be happy you took his advice to heart.” he says and it doesn’t hurt that bad when Captain Jeremy is saying it since he’s saying something so nice.

“I hope so.” he agrees and doesn’t feel like ruining the mood.

Captain Jeremy turns his attention back onto the Raven who has taken a seat and his eyes soften on the Raven, “Wow you really are pale. Not a lot of sunlight in the Nest?” he asks.

The Dealer swallows, now visibly the most nervous person at the table which is saying something considering that FF is at the table.”I-I’m just pale naturally.” he denies.

“Sit and talk with us until you feel better.” Captain Jeremy insists, “What’s your name by the way?” he asks.

“Michael.” He answers awkwardly.

“Great, my name is Jeremy,” Captain Jeremy points at himself, “and this is Smith. So, have you ever been to New York City before?” he asks

Captain Jeremy, FF, and Michael chat at length about Michael’s New York pizza recommendations. Captain Jeremy asks about some of the places he has been in New York and the longer Michael is there chatting the more color comes to his face and the more vehement he becomes that Captain Jeremy managed to pick all the worst places by accident.

“You’re kidding me! It was 10 bucks a slice, it has to be good!” Captain Jeremy exclaims looking as if Michael was telling him Santa and the Easter Bunny weren’t real.

“If you’re paying more than $2.50 it’s a rip.” Michael insists passionately. “If it’s more expensive than the subway ticket then it’s a racket!” he slams his fist down at the table.

“You mean to tell me that I was lied to by that person I followed on Twitter?” Captain Jeremy asks, appalled.

“Swindled.” Michael insists.

“Christ, I’ve given that recommendation to so many people.” Captain Jeremy and while gesturing he puts his elbow in his own remaining spaghetti, “Oh shit.” he says. Smith looks at the black suit jacket and thinks about a future one step to the left where he had on black pants and a black suit jacket.

“I’m sure it’s good.” FF tries to comfort offering Jeremy his third handkerchief, this one from his left pocket since the one in his breast pocket was a specific color for the ‘look’ that Nicky had wanted. “It’s just not representative of a New York slice,” he adds.

“Thanks Smith.” Captain Jeremy takes the handkerchief wetting it with the glass of water nearby and wiping away the excess of marinara and spaghetti. “I’m going to go wash this off and try to dry it for you.” he says holding the handkerchief up.

“You don’t have to do that.” FF says but Jeremy is waving him off as he stands.

“Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” he says and heads off.

FF turns to Michael, “So I shouldn’t trust anything more than $2.50?” he asks.

Michael shakes his head and turns to look at FF, “Absolutely not.” he says with a smile before FF can see his eyes flick away and he stiffens. “Hey, it’s…” he looks down and the handkerchief, “it’s been nice chatting with you but… is there anyway we can take this conversation somewhere else?” he asks.

FF blinks, “No, I’m not getting up until the party is over.” Smith declines because by this point the stain has set. There is no stealthily cleaning it now that Captain Jeremy has left.

“So, you’ll get up once the banquet is over?” Michael asks leaning across the table and as he does that Smith can see a fairly ugly bruise on the Dealer’s forehead.

“I’ll have to won’t I?” he asks because despite the not-zero possibility that he’ll get left behind by the team again. His gaze shifts to Nicky who is leaning heavily against Matt as the two sway back and forth dancing and laughing. Probably about 50/50 at this point, depending on how quickly FF can make his way out of the stadium.

Michael looks at him and there’s something in his eyes that feels saddened, “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” he says before rising to his feet. “Thank you for this.” he says and hands the handkerchief back. FF can’t help but notice how there was a schmear of make-up on it.

The Dealer walks off and FF waves him off with the handkerchief before sliding it back into his right pocket, where he kept dirty handkerchiefs. He lets his eyes wander across the banquet. He sees Aaron and Katelyn slow dancing to a song that is not a slow dance. He sees Kevin and Jean now in the middle of a passionate conversation. Jack is pouting by the punch bowl with a few other Sophomores patting him on the back. Sheena is seemingly trying to flirt with the older bartender. Nicky and Matt have somehow only gotten sloppier in the 2 minutes between when he last looked at them and now. Captain Neil and Andrew are at the dessert table and he sees Andrew offering Captain Neil a chocolate covered strawberry. He sees a gaggle of his fellow freshmen huddled together all sipping their drinks nervously he moves to wave them over back to the table. Threat of the reveal of his spaghetti pants aside he’s not used to be alone anym-

“What the fuck did you just say?!” He hears behind him.

“I said what I said. She wasn’t even that hot! Get over it!” Another mocking voice.

“That’s it!” the sound of glass shattering and all hell breaks loose.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

#Fluent Freshman AU #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #Jeremy 'sometimes people deserve the reverse bear trap' Knox is one of my fav flavors of Jeremy #Jeremy: “Haha I'm just a nice guy”#Also Jeremy upon seeing certain Ravens near Jean: “100% MAXIMUM NO CHILL!”#I will put in the tags here #That I know diddly and squat about New York Pizza #I googled what a slice costs today #and subtracted a bit to account fo inflation #MAN WHAT A DAY IT'S BEEN FOR ME #Banging out FF #Buying a Condo #Got to finally bring up the thing I decided on for Smith which is that he is a handkerchief guy #It's something my own dad believes #Thanks Tim for the goof #I appreciate all the handkerchiefs that were bleached to death during the indoor soccer years #Andrew and Neil are absolutely saying the most disgusting shit #Kevin and Jean are arguing because Jean has a tan and Kevin wants to make sure he put on enough sunscreen #Kevin: “I hope you're using protection.”#Jean: (spits out his drink) “PARDON?”#Kevin: “At least SPF 50.”#Jean: “I fucking hate you so much.”#Also Jean and Andrew having a little moment together as the exy idiots gush is in part from Madlad's lil comic #It made me laugh so hard I had to reference it here #Though Andrew's not going to ask for sloppy make outs from Jean #That's Jeremy's job.

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