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ursa-tan · 2 years ago

Note

Part 2 of the reader "captures" the wally, where wally's friends break into the reader's house to save wally from the reader's "evil" clutches and find wally sleeping and cuddling the reader.

(I thought this situation would be funny like a comedy)

He's yours?...

Wally Darling x Fem!Villain!Reader

Word count: 2,910 Reading time: ~10 mins

Part 1, Part 2

A/N: I know that I’ve closed requests… But this was such a cute idea and I couldn’t help but write it… damn you anon, coming in here with such cute ideas! I've put this in my Playfellowxxx masterlist on account of the first part being nsfw and how this second part doesn't really make sense without the first - if you think it needs changing, please let me know!

Anyway! Hope you all enjoy!

It’s dawning on the next afternoon before anyone realises Wally is missing. The sun is already high in the sky and Barnaby is heading into the bugdega to get the same thing he gets every day for lunch – the “chilli dog” that can’t really be classified as anything but a crime against food.

“Morning Howdy,” He drawls, the same low rumble he speaks with every time he talks.

“Afternoon, actually,” The caterpillar chuckles, pointing to the town clock with one of his many arms. Barnaby can just about see it through one of the many windows of the bugdega.

“Huh, well then, afternoon Howdy.” It’s just gone twelve, but Howdy had adopted the habit of correcting the dog on his timing after Barnaby had jokingly done it once. It was a little inside joke, both of them rather enjoyed it thought.

“Indeed,” Howdy stops cleaning the counter and finally looks up at the big blue puppy, “ I take you’ve gone here for lunch?”

“You know me all too well,” Barnaby chuckles, walking up and resting his elbows on the freshly wiped counter, leaning his head into his hands.

“I know you’re routine – and I know that you’re going to ask me for that abomination of a hot dog for lunch.”

“Don’t knock it till ya’ try it.”

“I think I’ll stick to salad, thanks.”

“Same response every time.”

Howdy can’t help but let out a light laugh as he turns his back on Barnaby, starting to make the same thing he did every day around noon. They always had the same kind of conversation, the same routine. Day in day out, Howdy could rely on Barnaby to come in and keep him company for a few minutes. He also knew he could, begrudgingly, rely on Wally to ruin the apple display while he tried to look for the “best apple”.

“Go tell your little menace of a best friend to get out of my apples,” Howdy speaks, still with his back to Barnaby. He’s in the process of gathering the sauces he needs when Barnaby speaks up.

“Uh… He’s not in the apple display?” The other puppet sounds rather concerned, like he hadn’t noticed before this that Wally wasn’t present.

“What do you mean he isn’t in the apple display?” Howdy practically whips around, abandoning the half made hot dog in order of scanning the store for the much smaller puppet. Barnaby was right, Wally isn’t in the apple display. Nor has he climbed his way onto the counter to wait for Barnaby to get his hot dog. As far as Howdy is aware, Wally isn’t even in the bugdega.

“Where is he then?” The caterpillar asks, turning back around to finish the hot dog as fast as possible before handing it to Barnaby.

“I assumed he was following me…” Barnaby trails off, brows knitting together as he tries to think back on the day so far.

“You didn’t check?” Howdy sounds exasperated. In truth, he’s panicking, he’s incredibly worried about Wally, but his voice isn’t conveying that.

“I don’t usually have to! He’s never not followed me in here when I come in to get lunch!” Barnaby is starting to look panicked as well, discarding his lunch on the counter in favour of starting to look around the bugdega. If Howdy wasn’t also so worried about the little puppet, he would’ve told Barnaby off for dirtying his counter.

“I’ll keep looking around here, you go check to see if he’s spending time with Julie and Frank.” Howdy’s rushing out from behind the counter, hurrying Barnaby out the door as he speaks. Barnaby doesn’t resist in the slightest, running out to see if he can find Wally elsewhere.

It’s not long before the whole neighbourhood is searching for Wally. Julie and Frank have teamed up to see if Wally has wondered into the woods. Howdy, Barnaby, and Poppy are checking in higher up places, seeing if he somehow managed to get himself stuck. Eddie and Sally are going through everyone’s gardens. Even home is worried, squeaking and banging – while no one can understand what they’re trying to say, everyone can tell that they’re distressed.

After a rather frantic search, the whole neighbourhood – bar Wally, of course – gather in front of home.

“Did anyone find him?” Eddie speaks, coming to stand next to Frank. He hold their hand, stroking his thumb over their knuckles as a way to comfort himself.

“No, couldn’t see him anywhere,” Julie says next, worrying at a strand of her hair, tugging at it lightly.

“Does anyone have any ideas where he could be? Did anyone check Home?” Barnaby seems to be doing the worst, his tail swishing nervously as he continues to look around like he’ll somehow spot Wally.

“I asked, but I don’t think he’s inside,” Sally mumbles, looking towards Home. Home, in response, opens and closes its doors. Even if no one but Wally can understand them, they all pretty clearly understand that not even Home knows where Wally is.

“Has anyone seen (Y/n) today?” Frank speaks up, taking a moment from comforting Eddie to look around themself.

Their question seems to still the very air as it comes from their mouth. Collectively, everyone seems to stop worrying as they turn their heads towards Franks. No one had seen (Y/n) that day, or the previous one for that matter.

It was particularly strange not to see (Y/n) for more than one day. Much like Barnaby going to the bugdega every day or Eddie always delivering mail at the same time every morning, (Y/n) was always up to something or other. So, for the neighbours not to see her was unusual in itself. For them to not see (Y/n) or Wally was even more unusual. So much so that Barnaby immediately turned on his heel and stormed off, heading straight for her house.

“Barnaby! Hold up! Don’t do anything rash!” Eddie calls after what is now an 8 feet tall ball of rage coated in spotty blue fluff. The mailman is hot on Barnaby’s heels, followed close by Frank and then Julie.

“maybe we should think about this?” Julie calls out from the back of the line, still twirling and tugging at the strands of her hair that frame her face.

“If she’s got Wally we have to get him back. We all know nothing good is happening behind those doors,” Barnaby growls out, his voice deeper and rougher than anyone had heard from him before. The tone causes Eddie to stutter in his steps, nearly tripping as Frank bumps into his back.

“(Y/N)!” Barnaby barks, finally coming to her door and pounding a balled-up fist against the wood. The force behind his knock – it’s really more like a punch – seems to cause the whole house to shudder.

“Barnaby, I really don’t think-“ It’s Frank’s turn to try and reason with the angry hound only to get interrupted.

“OPEN THIS DOOR! THIS IS TOO FAR!” Barnaby continues to thump his fist against the door, yet he doesn’t get an answer. Sure, (Y/n) had caused problems before – snuck into the bugdega to switch out the sauces he normally had on his hotdog, stolen Frank’s butterfly collection, messed with Sally’s plays. But this was too far, entirely too far.

After a few minutes of practically howling through the door accompanied by insistent banging, Barnaby decides that he’s had enough of waiting and takes matters into his own hands; using his size and weight to his advantage, he begins to throw himself against the door with the intention of breaking it down.

“Barnaby! Stop!” Julie calls out, running over to him, trying to grab his arm and pull him away, “We can settle this like adults! I’m sure (Y/n) would be open to talking it out!”

Barnaby pauses, more in fear of hurting his friend if he were to continue his attempts over anything else. He looks down at the much shorter puppet, a flash of remorse in his eyes before he scoops her up and walks over to a tree not too far away and places her in one of the branches. She’ll be able to get down, but she’ll need Eddie or Frank’s help to do so.

“Barnaby!” She calls out, trying to figure out how to get out of the tree as he walks away and back towards (Y/n)’s house.

“Sorry Julie,” He mumbles, walking back to the door and throwing himself against it one more time. Apparently, that last push was all it needed as Barnaby collapses forwards and into the house, landing on top of the now ruined door with a loud huff.

The inside of the house is dimly lit despite it being early afternoon, all the curtains drawn and any like that was too bright turned off. The smell of cinnamon and cooked pastry fills the air, accompanied by soft swing music and what sounds like a soft feminine voice mumbling. If it weren’t for the situation at hand, Barnaby would find it rather relaxing.

The dog climbs back to his feet, taking a moment to brush himself off before storming deeper into the house, following the sound of her soft mumble. He knows he’s going to find (Y/n), he can only hope he finds Wally too. What he does find at the end of his short rampage is completely unexpected.

Wally is laying on (Y/n), head on her chest and arms wrapped as far around her as they can go. There’s a blanket pulled up over the both of them – it’s a fluffy yellow one, a teddy bear blanket. Wally is wearing a light pink shirt that appears to be 4 sizes too big, it also looks like one that Barnaby remembers seeing (Y/n) in. (Y/n) is laying on a sofa, head on the arm rest and holding a book in the air, half reading the words aloud. A record player crackles away softly in the background, playing “I will always love you”. There’s a fresh apple pie on the table, along with a few fresh apples.

“’You should learn not to make personal remarks,’ Alice said with some severity; ‘it’s very rude.’,” (Y/n) mumbles before craning their neck ever so slightly to kiss the top of Wally’s head – an easy feat, as his hair is not in his signature pompadour.

“What the fuck.” Barnaby finds himself unable to move, completely rooted to the floor as he looks at the scene in front of him. It’s so perfectly domestic that, if it weren’t for his friend being kidnapped, he would find it sickeningly sweet.

“Do you mind?” (Y/n) asks, turning her head to stare at Barnaby with a look somewhere between distain and malice, “We we’re perfectly comfortable before you came barging in here.” This time, its her turn to growl as she speaks.

Barnaby looks around, looking for any kind of indication that Wally is being held captive, that he can’t just get up and leave. Yet, no matter how hard he looks, he can’t find any. Wally is just relaxing on (Y/n)’s chest while she stares down Barnaby.

“Barnaby!” Eddie’s voice comes loud from somewhere behind the dog before he bursts into the room. Much like Barnaby, he freezes upon seeing the scene.

“Oh great, you brought the mailman,” Yon grumbles, closing her book and leaning over as much as she can to place it on the coffee table, “is there anyone else? Did you bring the whole neighbourhood?” her voice is snarky as she speaks, obviously annoyed with the interruption.

“(Y/n)? Why have you stopped?” Wally finally speaks up, opening his eyes and shifting to sit up slightly. He seems completely oblivious to the presence of both Barnaby and Eddie while he looks up at (Y/n) with droopy, relaxed eyes.

“Wally?” It’s Eddie’s turn to speak now, as Barnaby is still trying to collect his jaw from its place on the floor.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Eddie sounds equal parts confused and outraged, staring at Wally.

“oh… Hello.” Wally sounds like he has just woken up from a nap when he speaks, despite the fact that he doesn’t sleep.

“Can you two leave?” (Y/n) growls, putting her arms around Wally and holding his much smaller body against hers. “He’s obviously not in any danger and I’ll return him soon enough. Get out of my house and please put my door back on it’s hinges as you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Wally,” Barnaby finally manages to find his voice, deciding to walk towards (Y/n).

“He’s a grown man, he can go home when he wants to. Like I said, he’s not in danger, I’m not holding him here against his will, he’s free to leave when he wants. He just doesn’t want to leave.” (Y/n) hugs Wally tighter to her body as Barnaby approaches, refusing to let him take Wally from her.

“I… Maybe we should go,” Eddie mumbles, seemingly nervous now. Any anger he had from before has melted away after seeing Wally in this state, obviously not wanting to leave.

“See? The mailman gets it. Now get out,” (Y/n) continues to growl at them, still holding the sleepy looking Wally against her body.

“I’m not-“ Barnaby tries to step forward, tries to reach out and pull Wally from her grip. Yet he doesn’t succeed; Eddie is holding the arm he was reaching forwards with.

“Barnaby…” Eddie mumbles, looking up at the much smaller puppet with a pleading look, “Wally is his own person… He can come home if he wants to… I think we should go.”

“But- He-“

“Let’s go.” Eddie tugs at Barnaby’s arm, beginning to tug him towards the living room door.

Barnaby doesn’t attempt to fight it, just letting Eddie tug him out of the house. His foot steps are staggering as he’s finally lead out, squinting a little as the sun shines into his eyes. He takes a moment when Eddie lets go of his arm to put the door back in place – it’s not perfect, but it’ll to till (Y/n) gets it fixed.

“What happened?!” Julie shouts, still in the tree that Barnaby had left her in. He can see that Frank is still trying to get her down.

“Wally wants to stay,” Eddie is the one who responds, as Barnaby is still unable to find his words.

“He wants to stay?” Frank stops their attempts to pull Julie from the tree to turn to their husband, a confused look on their face.

“Yep, wanted to stay.” Eddie walks over, reaching up and managing to catch Julie as she shimmies her way out of the branches. He puts her down before turning back to Barnaby.

“Why would he want to stay?”

“I don’t know, he seemed comfortable.”

Barnaby can hear the others ease into soft chatter about the situation as he begins to walk away. He doesn’t really know where he’s going, he’s just heading vaguely towards Home and the rest of the neighbours. He doesn’t know if Eddie, Julie and Frank are following him. He just knows that he saw his best friend curled up on the chest of the town’s biggest nuisance. Although, he doesn’t get far before a familiar pair of hands are on his arm again.

“Hey Barn, are you ok?” It’s Eddie. Ever the sweetheart, he’s desperate to comfort Barnaby to the best of his ability.

Barnaby looks around, waiting for Frank and Julie to approach, waiting to be overwhelmed with the voices that are just trying to comfort him, yet no one appears. It remains as just him and Eddie on the small path leading back to Home.

“Frankie and Julie have already headed on ahead. It’s just me and you. Are you ok?” The same question is so much heavier now. Especially as Eddie seemingly stares into his soul – almost the same way Wally always manages to do.

“Why would he do that?” Barnaby’s voice is broken, cracking, and barely above a whisper. Something about it is hollow and desolate.

“I don’t know,” Eddie mutters, now relaxing his grip on Barnaby’s arm.

“He… He’s supposed to be my best friend,” There’s so much distress in Barnaby’s voice. It sounds like he should’ve been shouting, he really should’ve been shouting. “Why would he leave? Why wouldn’t he say anything? Why would he stay with her?”

“I don’t know, only Wally can answer your questions.” Eddie continues to do his best to comfort Barnaby. Although the dog seems to be starting to whimper now despite trying to supress it.

“Maybe we should head back… The others are probably starting to worry about us now,” Barnaby mumbles over a barely supressed whimper.

“Yeah… Let’s head back.” Eddie places a hand on Barnaby’s back, agreeing. He knows the topic change is a desperate attempt not to start crying, so he won’t mention anything.

Wally turns up the next day like nothing ever happened. Granted, his ascot is tied in a different way then he usually does it and his pompadour isn’t coiled as tightly either, but he acts as if nothing is out of the ordinary. When Julie asks where he was, all he says is he was ‘visiting a friend’. When Howdy asks what he did, all he’ll give is vague answers. Worst of all, when Barnaby looks at him with a look of betrayal, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #playfellowxxx #hes such a little guy #little sweetheart #antagonist x protagonist

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runraerun · 4 months ago

Text

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet: 2/3

-> Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: more head trauma/concussed!Steve discussions.

Steve hears Eddie call after him, but he doesn’t stop—he can’t face it. Not right now, anyway. Not when his eyes are stinging and his heart is pounding in his ears, each pulse more painful than the last. His legs take him to the building he’s supposed to go into, fueled purely by muscle memory. Not brain memory, of course, because nothing up there works properly anymore, apparently.

The Brain Injury Recovery Center.

It’s where Eddie expects him to go. He’ll catch Steve if he goes in, or he’ll wait for Steve by the doors until he comes back out—both options involve facing Eddie after Steve had made a total idiot of himself. Both feel utterly mortifying.

So he ducks into the alleyway beside the familiar brick building instead, just to catch his breath. It takes Steve longer than the average bear to sort out his feelings now, after all. Jesus, who’s he kidding? Everything seems to take him longer.

Steve feels hot tears streak down his cheeks before he angrily scrubs a sleeve over them. Of course Eddie isn’t his boyfriend. Eddie’s funny and cool and he’s in a band and he lights up every damn room he walks into—and Steve… well, maybe Steve was something a few years ago when he was in high school, and maybe he was even something before his accident, but now…

There’s a sharp clapping noise that sounds like thunder. A door slamming, Steve’s brain sluggishly supplies. It’s followed by shouting.

“Steve? Steve!” Eddie calls from somewhere on the street.

Steve’s heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his ass. His face is probably still blotchy and wet, his breathing hasn’t evened out yet and his eyes are still leaking like a goddamn faucet. He’s pathetic.

Can’t let Eddie see him like this…

He ducks behind a metal garbage bin, careful not to let anything but the bottom of his sneakers touch the sticky looking surfaces around him. It stinks, like rot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice echoes off of the alleyway walls. Steve claps a hand around his mouth to muffle out any of the pathetic sounds that seem determined to escape from him. So much of his body just does whatever the hell it feels like now. Out of Steve’s control, like everything else.

For a few, tense seconds, there’s silence. Eddie’s listening for him, maybe. Steve shuts his eyes and waits him out.

It feels like an eternity before he hears Eddie’s hurried, retreating footsteps, continuing his shouting for Steve. He sounds almost as panicked as Steve feels. Almost.

Steve gives a noisy, wet sniff and does one final scrub of his face before getting to his feet. He starts walking.

As he goes deeper into the alleyway, he thinks back on all the things he’s been wrong about. The fact that Eddie had some of his band t-shirts mixed in with Steve’s clothes… well, that was because they were both guys who wore about the same size, and Eddie left his shit everywhere. It’s no wonder some of his stuff got mixed into their laundry. And the times Eddie’s driven him places? That’s just… what friends do, Steve supposes. And all those times Eddie made Steve laugh? Made him feel like the center of the universe? Well, that’s just… Eddie. He must make everyone feel that way. It’s like his super power. But it isn’t romantic… It doesn’t mean anything more than Eddie being a magnetic person.

Steve is just so stupid. Painfully so.

He blinks as the sun hits him. He must’ve reached the other side of the alleyway.

Steve cups a hand over his eyes and grimaces. His migraine wasn’t backing down. He sighs. Time to head back.

Steve turns back into the alleyway he’d emerged from, only he’s about halfway through when he realizes the color of the buildings on either side of him are wrong. They’re brown on one side, painted green on the other. That isn’t right…

His heart jackrabbits in his chest, but he keeps walking forward. Maybe he’ll recognize the street once he’s back on the other side.

But when he gets there, it’s as unfamiliar to him as the alleyway. Steve turns, looking up and down the road to see if he could spot Eddie, or his van, or the Center. But there’s nothing.

And when someone shoulder checks him, Steve supposes he was sort of asking for it, standing in the middle of the sidewalk like that. He apologizes, but it’s too late. The person’s already out of range to hear him.

It’s as if everyone else is on fast forward while Steve’s stuck on pause. The world keeps moving along while all he seems to be able to do is watch it go by.

Why would he ever think someone as dynamic and spirited as Eddie would hitch his horse onto Steve’s busted up, barely mobile cart?

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and wills himself not to start blubbering again like a goddamn baby. His life is already one big, painful lesson in humility as it is, he doesn’t need to wallow in it.

Steve keeps walking. Figures he’ll spot something, or someone familiar to him eventually. The pounding in his head’s eased off to a dull ache, at least. Maybe there was something to this exercise and fresh air thing the doctors were always going on about, after all…

The thing is though, Steve doesn’t spot anything familiar. Not even vaguely so, and it’s not until the streetlights turn on that he realizes he’d spent the majority of the day wandering around the streets like some lost dog that managed to slip his leash.

It’s cold too, and all he’s got on is jeans and a polo. It’s October, isn’t it? No wonder he’s got goosebumps all up and down his arms.

Then, he finally spots something familiar; a phone booth. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. He’d just call his parents. They’d come pick him up.

He gets the booth and lifts the receiver before he blanks. A quarter. He’d need that. Duh, Harrington. So he hangs up the phone and pats his pockets until he finds a wallet, but all that’s inside of it are a couple of crisp bills. He’d need to break one.

Steve turns, scans the street until he spots a well lit, invitingly warm looking diner. The joint looks so damn cozy that he forgets to make sure the street is clear before he steps out into the middle of it.

Tires screech, harmonizing with the horn that’s blasting at him—Steve flinches, reaching up to cover his head and braces for impact.

To his great relief, the hit never comes. Which, thank fuck. He can’t afford anymore accidents. As it is Robin’s threatened to make him wear a helmet full-time.

Steve doesn’t listen to whatever the person yells at him, he just hurries to get the hell out of his way of the other moving vehicles.

“Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth.” He mutters to himself as he catches his breath.

He pushes the door to the diner open with shaking hands, but it’s blissfully peaceful inside, and he can actually feel his insides unclench as he stands inside of it.

“Sit anywhere, hun, I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice tells him. Steve nods and slips into the nearest booth overlooking the street. Watches the cars go by. There’s even a couple of cop cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Steve wonders briefly what sort of emergency they’re rushing off to when the waitress comes to his table.

“What can I get you, handsome?” She asks, cheery and warm like the rest of the diner.

“Uh…” Steve frowns, taking a few seconds to process the question, “nothing. I’m just waiting for my parents to come pick me up.”

The waitress taps the side of the notepad. “Well you gotta order something, hun, or you can’t stay here.”

Steve wants to stay here. It’s warm and smells fucking amazing, like “pancakes?”

She waitress smirks. “Yeah, we got those. You want a stack?”

“Yeah, please.” Steve smiles back, laughing along with the waitress like he’s in whatever joke that’s currently so amusing to her. “I’m starving.”

“You want some coffee too, to help you sober up, maybe?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk.” He huffs out a little self deprecating laugh, “I wish. No, I—uh, my meds, they’re the kind that you can’t mix with alcohol. Coffee too. Bummer, right? Yeah… But, uh, it is what it is, I guess—so…”

He can feel it. The way his mind so often wanders. He’s lost his train. His track. He frowns, eyes drifting towards the street again, watching the headlights zip by.

“…so just the pancakes then?” The waitress asks, jolting his train back onto its rails. His attention snaps back onto her.

“Yeah, pancakes. Sure.” Steve flashes her what he hopes is a charming smile.

She returns his smile and leaves him be, and he lets himself relax. Props his head up on a fist and watches life go on for everyone else but him.

He gets his pancakes, and some juice too that he doesn’t remember ordering, but hey, that’s nothing new. And damn, the pancakes taste even better than they smell. He needs to remember the name of this place so he can come back with everyone. What did the doctors say? Repeat something in your head over and over until it sticks. Repetition. Repetition, repetition, repetition…

It’s around the time his fork hits an empty plate that one of the police cars stops in front of the diner window, lights on, but the sirens are off now.

Hopper steps out.

Huh. That’s weird. Steve wonders what sort of emergency he’s here for.

When Hopper enters through the glass doors, the bell hung over the entry way rings out pleasantly. An angel getting their wings.

His eyes land on Steve and the older man sighs, shoulders falling. Relief, Steve recognizes. Hopper pulls the radio from his belt and says something into it before stomping over.

Then it clicks.

Oh. Steve’s the emergency.

He feels his face heat up. The handful of other patrons scattered across the diner are all looking at him.

“There you are.” Hopper sighs, gruff and exasperated.

Steve sinks into his seat, just a little. “Shit. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Just a little.” Hopper chuckles dryly. He takes off his hat and slips into the booth across from Steve, apparently not in any sort of hurry now that he’s found the runaway dog.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he’s developed. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. Just strangle Munson for me when you see him next, will ya?” Hopper drops his hat onto the table and waves the waitress down. He orders a coke.

Munson. Eddie.

The memory of how he made a total and utter fool of himself comes rushing back, slamming down onto him like one of those cartoon anvils. Jesus, how did he forget that..?

Suddenly the pancakes aren’t sitting so good in his gut. Feels like he’s gonna ralph.

“Was he freaked out? Eddie, I mean.” Steve asks, cautiously approaching the question. Did Eddie say anything about why…?

“Yeah, him and Robin both. Then the kids found out too—don’t ask me how. I suspect the curly-haired one has an illegal transmitter.” Hopper leans back in the booth as the waitress drops off his coke. He takes the straw out and drinks it right from the glass. Steve waits for him to finish, doesn’t say a word.

When Hopper puts the glass down, Steve just sits and watches the way the drops of condensation run down the cup, distorting around the fingerprints Hopper’s left. “Anyway, they’re all out on their bikes looking for you too.”

Hopper smiles fondly, like it’s something charming and not… pathetic. “You got a lot of people that care about you, kid.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, and nods. Tries for a grin, but it’s weak. Probably wouldn’t fool anyone, much less a cop. “Yeah, I’m a real lucky guy.”

Hopper looks like he wants to say something else, but he just takes a breath and nods. Steve’s grateful he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t think he has the energy in him right now to fend off the ‘but look how far you’ve come!’ ‘Your speaking’s gotten so much better!’ ‘It could be a whole heck of a lot worse!’ comments.

“What do you say we get you home? Unless you want dessert? My treat.” Hopper offers with a grin.

“No, I just want to go to sleep,” he says, before remembering his manners, “thanks, though.”

“Alright then.” Hopper glances down at the cleared plate of pancakes and the half finished coke before sliding out of the booth, followed by Steve. He takes out wallet, but Steve beats him to it. He tosses down a few bills, hoping it’s enough. Hopper doesn’t comment, so it must be.

The drive back to his and Robin’s apartment is a solemn one, but it’s strangely peaceful. Hopper’s got the heat on full blast due to Steve’s lack of coat, and the motion of the vehicle along with the darkened sky leaves Steve feeling wrung out in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

In fact, when they finally arrive, Hopper’s gotta shake his shoulder to wake him up.

“We’re here.” He rumbles out in his gruff baritone.

Steve lifts his head from his folded arm and looks up at the modest building. He wonders how far they live from the pancake diner. If they could walk there, sometime, him and Robin and Eddie.

But then Steve realizes he never got the name of it. He feels his insides sink. Another thing lost to him.

“Thanks, Hop,” Steve gives Hopper a nod and what he’s sure is a tired smile. “I’ll, uh—I’ll try not to run off again.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Hopper says, diplomatically. “Let me walk you in.”

Steve cringes at the idea. He’s grateful for Hop and all he’s done—especially the part about not making him feel like a complete dummy—but he just wants this all to be over and for things to revert back to how they were. And at this point he’s so close he can taste it.

Steve busies his hands by undoing his seat belt. “No, it’s okay, really—“

Hopper looks like he’s about to argue but Robin damn near crashes out through the building’s illuminated front doors. She makes a b-line for Steve, who’s just barely gotten out of the cruiser.

She wraps her arms around him and doesn’t let go. “Steve! Holy shit, you scared me so bad. I’ve been out of my mind!”

Steve’s arms are trapped at an awkward angle, but he reaches around her as best he can, arms like flippers. “I’m okay. Seriously. Look, not even a scratch.”

She doesn’t laugh. Just squeezes him harder. Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know if he’s okay, but it’s what everyone always seems to want to hear from him, so he says it often.

“I’ve already killed Eddie like three times.” Robin murmurs into Steve’s chest, before finally pulling away. Her eyes are bloodshot, her nose stuffy, like she’s been crying.

“It’s not his fault, Rob.” Steve’s brows pinch together as he frowns, “is he…”

But when Steve looks up towards their building, he can see Eddie standing in the doorframe, his dark silhouette illuminated by the entry way lights. He’s still as a statue, holding open the door for them, arm extended out into the cold autumn night. Steve’s insides squirm.

“You got him from here, Buckley?” Hopper calls from his cruiser and Robin ducks to meet his eye before giving him a thumbs up. She loops her arm around his waist and they start towards their place—towards Eddie.

Before they reach him, Steve keeps his voice down as he asks, “Can I just go to bed? I don’t—I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay.” She nods, “I get it.”

But she doesn’t, not really.

Steve avoids eye contact with Eddie when they finally reach the building, and before he can say anything, Robin interrupts. “He’s going straight to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie says in a small voice. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even follow them back up to their apartment. Maybe Eddie’s even relieved he doesn’t need to confront it tonight. Maybe they won’t ever confront it… maybe he’s hoping Steve’s brain will take care of everything and make him forget. Make it like it never happened. Part of Steve wishes—

No. He doesn’t wish that. His brain’s already functioning at half capacity, he doesn’t want to thank it for fucking up, even if it might make Steve’s life easier.

Whatever Eddie’s expression is, Steve doesn’t look back to find out. He keeps his eyes on his feet, focusing on putting one step ahead of the other.

When they finally arrive at Steve’s matchbox sized bedroom, he doesn’t even bother changing into pajamas, or even out of his jeans for that matter. He just falls into his bed, pulls a pillow over his head and wills himself to let go of the day and surrender to the sweet pull of blissful unconsciousness.

🫣 Oops, I made it worse. But I promise the Eddie and Steve confrontation is in the next part! 🙏 This is tagged angst with a happy ending for a reason.

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