#need a wingman

[bobbie-robron]

If someone would’ve told me that one day me and you would get married and have a kid… I’d’ve said they were tapped. But now it just feels… natural.

Mini set

07-Nov-2018

[unfinishedslurs]

gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar. 

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos. 

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter. 

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt. 

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then. 

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole. 

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out. 

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh. 

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks. 

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.” 

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve. 

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time. 

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country. 

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here. 

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn. 

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears. 

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken. 

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening. 

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone. 

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone. 

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs. 

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone. 

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt. 

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters. 

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car? 

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho.  And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute. 

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is. 

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says. 

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums. 

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish. 

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham. 

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else. 

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time. 

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again. 

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles. 

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands. 

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest. 

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses. 

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees. 

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink. 

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before. 

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt. 

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips. 

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful. 

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message. 

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out. 

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall. 

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently. 

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it. 

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them. 

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock. 

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex. 

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner. 

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity. 

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly. 

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!” 

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. 

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument. 

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve. 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares. 

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder. 

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

[natalievoncatte]

Kara had been pacing for hours. With every step she took, the anxiety was worse, and if she didn’t stop soon she was afraid she’d wear a groove in her floor.

Lena had Kryptonite.

Why did Lena have Kryptonite?

Why was Lena gathering the only thing that could hurt her? The best way to kill her?

Fuming, Kara stormed back and forth, rubbing at her arms as her heart raced. She couldn’t imagine Lena ever harming her. They’d had brunch that morning! They’d chatted and gossiped and Kara had laughed at a tiny bit of crème on the tip of Lena’s nose, and her heart had swelled in her chest when she imagined flicking it off with a finger.

(She wondered if her lips would taste like sugar and spice and everything nice)

When Alex had told her, Kara had protested, objected, shouted, and finally Alex had left her alone to “work it out” but told her they had to do something, and soon.

Kara had to know.

Why?

She couldn’t stand it anymore. It was like a full body itch, wriggling beneath her skin from scalp to soles. If she didn’t get an answer she’d lose her mind.

Kara reached for her suit, hanging crisply pressed from the same clothing rack as her work outfits, but stopped, fingers curling around nothing.

She couldn’t do this as Supergirl. Lena would be hostile, defensive, clam up and shut her down. No, this was a job for Kara. That was what she told herself when she shrugged into a cardigan and set off, walking rather than flying across town.

Kara traveled as a human traveled, slowly. Her part of town was vibrant, with music and excitement spilling from hip bars. The tang of booze and the sharp acrid bite of tobacco smoke lashed at her as she passed.

She reached downtown and walked down the street, hugging herself and rubbing at her arms as if against a chill. It was quieter here, the offices and towers empty near midnight. As she passed Noonan’s, she briefly paused to study the chairs as they sat atop the tables and the empty space where she’d once slung lattes and pastries before somehow getting sucked into Cat Grant’s mad world.

She saw her own reflection in the dark glass and adjusted her glasses before moving on.

Lena’s building had doormen and one of them recognized her.

“Miss Danvers?” he said. His name was Todd or Rod or maybe… she didn’t remember. “Miss Luthor isn’t expecting guests.”

“I was just in the neighborhood.”

“It’s a bit late for an evening stroll.”

Nevertheless he stepped inside and returned a moment later, ushering her to the elevator. The light for Lena’s floor was lit. She’d called it up herself.

When the doors opened and Kara stepped out, Lena’s door stood open, spilling light out.

“Kara?” Lena asked softly, “It’s so late. What’s wrong?”

Kara froze, her resolve slipping away as easily as the moisture on her tongue as her mouth went dry. Lena was dressed in silk pajama bottoms and a silk top that left her shoulders bare and a flowing silk robe, all green. Her hair was down and fell over her shoulders in inky waves.

Kara could only stare until Lena’s hand curled around her arm and guided her inside. She closed the door behind them and offered Kara a glass of water.

She drained it.

“Kara, what is it? You look terrified.”

Kara looked at her, really looked at her, hearing Lena’s heart quicken as she did. Lena looked away sharply, a soft pink dusting her pale cheeks.

“Are you alright?”

“I have to ask you a question,” said Kara, “and once I ask it I can’t un-ask it.”

Lena swallowed hard, then went to pour herself a scotch, downing two fingers neat in just three gulps.

“Are you going to ask me about the Kryptonite?”

Kara flinched. Lena looked away from her, turning the glass in her hand, trying to hide the shaking.

“Yes.”

Lena slowly, deliberately placed the glass on the counter and shifted herself onto one of the kitchen stools.

“I should be glad it’s you she sent,” said Lena. “Agent Danvers would probably just shoot me first and ask questions later.”

“She? Sent? What do you mean?”

“Supergirl,” said Lena. “I know you’re at least acquainted. I always wondered how, if she knew you first or your sister.”

“Lena, why do you have Kryptonite? Where did you get it?”

“I made it, actually,” said Lena. “It’s surprisingly simple to synthesize if you know how.”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“As to why I have it,” said Lena, “you might be the only person who will believe me.”

“Go on.”

“I’m testing a method of destroying Kryptonite that renders it inert and harmless. It could also be used to destroy the mineral in large quantities or create a lightweight protective layer in Supergirl’s suit.”

“Does it work?”

“It works.”

“But you haven’t told Supergirl.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Still staring at the glass, Lena turned it on the countertop, the thick base making faint scraping sounds against the marble counter.

“Because she wouldn’t. I think when we first met she was suspicious but then really believed that I was trying to help, but lately she’s been suspicious and distant, and questions everything I do, even after Medusa.”

Kara felt a pang of guilt in your chest.

“You’re right,” Kara sighed. “She would. She has been… she’s been struggling for a while now. Things are more complicated and she was hurt after… you’re right, and she owes you an apology.”

“It’s not like we’re friends,” said Lena. “It’s not like I had brunch with her this morning.”

Kara froze, going very still.

“I’m not an idiot,” Lena said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Think about it. Supergirl’s best friend just happens to be the sister of the deputy director of the D.E.O., who regularly works with Supergirl. Supergirl’s best fiend is who has having coffee with her just when two goons happened to toss me off my own balcony. In the middle of the night. Supergirl’s best friend who is also Superman’s cousin, just like Supergirl is his cousin.”

“I… but I never said I was…”

“You’re Clark’s cousin and Clark is Superman. Lex has known for ten years, Kara. I already knew.”

Kara hugged herself tighter.

“Also,” said Lena, “you flat out told me you can fly on the day we met.”

“Oh,” Kara said softly.

“Oh,” said Lena.

“Were you going to say something?”

“I liked having a best friend. I like Kara.”

“I am Kara.”

Lena looked at her, and she felt herself shrink.

“Do you believe me about the Kryptonite?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“If you wanted to hurt me by now, you would have. Besides, I… I just do.”

“I have never understood why you can be so harsh to me with that stupid suit on and so kind to me the rest of the time.”

Kara looked away, as her lip began to tremble.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lena. I wish I’d told you sooner, after Medusa or after Metallo almost exploded in our faces. I know I’ve been acting differently lately and I’m sorry.”

Kara turned back and saw that Lena was crying, a tear glittering on her cheek. A sharp, cruel pain lanced through her, like a knife parting her flesh from her ribs. She took a halting half step forward, stopped, then closed the distance, lightly resting her hand on Lena’s back. Feeling her body heat beneath the silk was intoxicating, and Kara felt her head spin.

“Did you come here to tell me?” said Lena.

“I came because I was scared, and angry. I’m tired of losing things. Places. People. I was so scared that Alex and James were right and I was being stupid about you.”

Lena snorted. “Oh of course.”

“The first time I ever saw you, I had this feeling, this… I can’t even put it into words. It was like remembering something I’d forgotten I knew. That same day when Clark said you were up to something, I told him off.”

Lena turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised.

“Is that feeling why you couldn’t leave me alone?”

“Yes,” Kara whispered.

Lena turned her body on the stool, facing her, and slipped off onto her heels. She stood mere inches from Kara now, looking up at her. With Kara standing in her sneakers and Lena barefoot, the height difference forced Kara to look down at her.

It was unbearable. The softness of her soft pink lips, the elegant rake of her jaw, her chin and throat and collarbones demanding kisses. She was so tiny and vulnerable and soft.

“You’re so damned rash and impulsive and headstrong,” said Lena. “Lex is going to kill you. He already wanted to kill you to spite your cousin, but now it’s worse because he knows. He casually dropped it in conversation and he caught my tell.”

“Your tell?”

Lena’s fingers walked up Kara’s chest and fiddled with her collar, playing with the top button.

“If I can figure out who you are, he can too. He has, I’m sure.”

“Lena,” Kara said.

“I won’t let him hurt you. The Luthors took everything and everyone from me and he can’t have you too!”

Kara froze for a brief moment, going very quiet. She swallowed hard as Lena looked away from her gaze, pointedly staring into her chest.

“Tell me they’re wrong,” Kara whispered.

“I would never hurt you.”

“Lex isn’t going to do anything to me,” said Kara.

She had, almost without realizing, slid her arm around Lena’s waist and now Lena was a soft weight pressed to her chest, heart fluttering between them like a tiny bird. Kara touched Lena’s jaw and gently tilted her face up as their eyes met.

“Kara Danvers believes in you, Lena.”

“I’m scared, Kara. He knows how I feel.”

“How do you feel?”

“For someone with fifty different types of vision, you can be incredibly blind.”

“I know how I feel,” said Kara. “You’re more than a friend to me, Lena. I can be more to you if you want me to be.”

Lena darted up and pressed a soft kiss to Kara’s lips and she was momentarily stunned, too stunned to even kiss her back until instinct took over and she pulled Lena even closer, molding their bodies together. When Lena moaned into her mouth, Kara could swear she could feel her soul briefly leave her body.

“You know, I’ve never properly thanked you for those heroic rescues,” Lena husked, her voice like a silk scarf flowering over Kara’s skin.

[ingravinoveritas]

Another tidbit from Rob Wilkins at Ineffable Con last year about The Kiss saying that David wouldn't let go. This, after Rob saying that the kiss meant "do it again" and DP Gavin Finney's comments about Michael and David being "so strong and so real and true" and Michael saying that kissing David was "everything you dream of." I can't breathe...

[accio-sriracha]

Sirius: Prongs, can you pass me the salt, please?

James: *Picks up Remus*

Everyone: ???

James: *Desperately* PLEASE JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY-

[themissingmango]

[drakshadowdraws]

Idea inspired by @peachh-boy / sunflØwersailor (twitter) and ace_space_place (twitter) / ClownCarRoadkil (twitter artblog)

Please go check them out qwq💕

Link for the post :

[moltenhair]

"I just love a man with... brains."

[luriuan]

I like to think Haru noticed Zukos crush on Sokka, noticed he wasn’t doing anything about it, and so he started to flirt with Sokka infront of Zuko to make Zuko jealous. It worked.

[omi-boshi]

been having massive brainworms of yachi and kiyoomi meeting in college and becoming close friends + yachi having to play wingman for kiyoomi when he meets you

cannot stop thinking about unlikely friends yachi and kiyoomi. they probably first met during nationals in kiyoomi's last year in itachiyama. maybe she piqued his interest when he heard her tell hinata to go back to the bathroom and wash his hands properly. they met again in uni and stuck together until they graduated and had to part ways because of their career choices.

and it probably was a gradual thing too, how they became friends. with kiyoomi being generally prickly and yachi being so shy. they just started sitting at the same table one day in the library. then, small nods of acknowledgment became hesitant attempts at small talk. then, it turned into kiyoomi crashing into the chair across from yachi that he has deemed his throughout the semester and immediately complaining about some professor while yachi nods in sympathy. then, it turned into yachi buying two orders of her coffee for that day because she knew kiyoomi would try stealing her coffee under the guise of "i just wanted to try what sugary concoction you brought today, hitoka. c'mon." that he swears he doesn't like. they probably also have matching keychains that kiyoomi bought for them on a whim one day when he was out in the city. and kiyoomi was definitely the person yachi had on speed dial for when she went on dates that started well but ended up making her uncomfortable. and in turn, yachi was the first one he told about you, about the person he was paired up with for a class presentation. she was the first to notice when kiyoomi started crushing on you, even before he himself realized. to notice the way kiyoomi would stare at you longer than necessary, gaze warm with an undercurrent of longing. and the way it might not be as one-sided as kiyoomi deemed it was when she catches you stealing glances at him when you think no one was looking. and naturally, yachi is the first to set the both of you up, ditching the hangout the three of you planned with motoya and tsukasa (that was two weeks in the making, mind you) because "ah, sorry! a very important deadline was moved to today and motoya, tsukasa-san, and i haven't even done half of it." kiyoomi would be disgruntled at how bad that excuse was because the three of them aren't even in the same classes, let alone groupings. and he tells yachi as much. you are none the wiser of course. "i'm really sorry!!! i was so excited too :(( we'll make it up to you both okay? xo" yachi would send to you and to kiyoomi, "if you don't end up kissing them by the end of tonight, don't even bother texting me. good luck!" - [Today 10:19PM] thanks, hitoka

[theweirdgoodbyes]

I love bill and babe so much but they must be excruciating when they are together because they are both two mouthy little shits just in different sizes like oh you thought bill was being a beast here comes babe he’s exactly the same but TALLER and LOUDER

[brewed-pangolin]

I've seen a lot of people headcanon Soap as driving something small and compact while on leave. And as much as I can respect that, I just can't see him in anything smaller than an SUV. Especially being the outdoorsy man that he is. And he needs the trunkspace for his gear when he goes to the range.

So, I'm putting my Soap in a 4Runner. Great off-road capabilities, compact enough for city living, and plenty of space for all the gear he needs for a day of gunpowder and sniping practice.

Soap image credit to @yumethefrostypanda

I'm also writing a fic where he takes you to Poundtown in the backseat. And there ain't no way in hell I'm doing that in the back of a fuckin' Jetta.

4Runner Wingman Masterlist

[uniquecellest]

I'm the og timeline before sending Logan back, I fully believe that it was Hank that got Erik out of the pentagon. Charles was a wreck after Erik got arrested and spiraled ever since.

Imo in the og timeline Hank was already planning on going to the Pentagon to pay Erik a visit. He knew Charles's drinking problem and use of the serum was getting bad and Hank feared the absolute worst. Waking up one day and finding a deceased Charles and there are two people he would hide that from (Erik and Raven) in fear of their reactions.

I digress.

Not wanting to worry Charles, Hank makes up an excuse to leave. Hank also has been looking into Raven and knows (and prays he's wrong but he's not) that she was the actual assassin of the president and knows that she's possibly planning something in Paris. He has to choose.

He goes for Erik. Erik simply because he knows that Charles and Erik got one another on a level that no one else can.

Arriving at the Pentagon the guards bring both him and Erik into a special room like Erik's cell. However, Hank brought metal with him to help Erik escape. The guards are outside and Erik very quietly and sternly tells Hank that he doesn't have anything waiting for him so why would he leave? (Really he wants Charles to contact him but feels as though Charles's silence is enough that even the man who always had hope in him no longer does so what's it to anyone if Erik doesn't care if he's in the cell for a lifetime?)

Hank brings Charles up. Erik is torn bc he wants to know how Charles is - as a possible way to torture himself. Charles has moved on, he's fine, Erik can do that too - and the other doesn't and he isn't sure which is worse. Hank doesn't give him a choice. Hank goes on with the serum, that's why he's not blue and Charles is able to walk (this is where Erik finds out he crippled Charles and is ready to ask for death row) amd not use his telepathy. Erik is understandably angry at this, however Hank tells them that telepathy is like a sixth sense for Charlse and after the loss of his legs he kept hearing more and more voices way more clearly, he could hear two people argue three or four blocks over as if he was witnessing it (and Charlwamkept having nightmares, losing Erik to the waters in Miami, to Emma and the Russians in Russia, losing him in Cuba in the actual events and Shaw winning) and Charles couldn't take it anymore.

After he's done talking Hank tells Erik he's in DC for a day or two at least and slides something to Erik that contains several pieces of metal disguised as plastic. Hank leaves but the guards don't get Erik right away. Watching his retreating form, Erik goes over every piece of information about Charles in his head a hundred times over. Having enough Erik breaks out and he and Hank go back to Westchester where Charles is very pissed at Hank but moreso at Erik. The two argue but Erik helps Charles get better.

(Eventually Raven attempts Trask and sentinels happen. Something something related to Moira and she gets her memories back quicker and Erik leaves again until he and Charles unite years later to protect mutants from the sentinels).

(P.s. Erik totally finds put about Charles family history while getting Charles better.

P.p.s Had Hank gone after Raven and not Erik, Raven I still think would've gone after Trask but not in Paris bc her protective stupid brother became something neither thought he would and knowing she was a piece in that oof. Girl definitely went to check up on him but only in the distance. She couldn't stand to see Charles fall apart from a distance and seeing it up close she knew she'd break down)

[selkiehello]

Wangxian Isekai AU where Modern!WWW gets isekai’d into like a Wuxia novel or smth as the villain Yiling Laozu and the villain gets killed by the hero of the story Hangaung Jun

WWW is like nope to getting killed and just tries to wingman in getting Hangaung Jun and Mianmian together. Except, why does Hangaung Jun look at him like that? He’s not plotting anything evil. He’s trying to be a good wingman to make the romance of this novel happen.

[incorrectgenv]

Andre: Hey Jordan, wanna third wheel on my date with Cate tomorrow?

Jordan: Sure.

Andre: Marie! Wanna third wheel on my date with Cate tomorrow?

Marie: Um, Sure.

Andre: Great! I've always wanted to go on a double date!

Jordan & Marie: ...

Cate: Andre...

[tasteless-lemonade]

as much as people joke about jean grey being homophobic i believe Weirdly Supportive Jean Grey is better, is funnier

jean going to pride parades with a big I LOVE MY GAY FRIEND sign while bobby is happy but slightly embarassed

someone makes a homophobic comment about bobby and jean gives them telepathic headache

you know these xmen pride special arts that look like pictures? jean is taking the pictures

is she trying to make up for outing bobby to himself? is she just enjoying bobby's reaction? who knows