#not when steve finally looks up at him… wide eyed and cradling eddies hand between two of his.. soft smile on his face and asks ‘you ok

[stevieschrodinger]

Dustin’s crying so loud, Steve can barely hear when Eddie speaks, “trust me, Stevie?”

Eddie’s never called him that before. Eddie coughs again, bloody, and it spatters his lips and stains in between his teeth, mutely, Steve nods.

Eddie grabs Steve by the collar of his own denim jacket, pulling himself up and Steve down. He’s surprisingly strong considering Steve is absolutely certain that Eddie’s about to die. That’s what makes Steve close his eyes and open his mouth; lets Eddie have whatever he wants. Invites it when Eddie invades with a wet and bloody tongue. It’s a battle of a kiss, and Steve soaks it up.

Eddie disappears from under Steve’s hands, and he almost falls forward, Eddie disintegrating into a cloud of fiery ash. It settles, and in the middle, there’s an egg.

It’s shocking enough that Dustin stops crying, “what the fuuuuuck?” Dustin reaches for the egg, pulls his hand back, hissing, sucking his fingers.

Steve reaches for it next, “it’s too hot,” Dustin tries to warn him...but it isn’t. It’s pleasantly warm in Steve’s hand and he lifts it comfortably.

They take it with them.

They have absolutely no fucking explanation for what the hell just happened. Steve, instinctively, refuses to put the egg down anywhere. He sits, staring at it, cataloguing the slightly speckled pattern, watching how it catches the light as he turns it in his palms, pale and diffuse in the lamplight of the lounge.

He doesn’t really like other people touching it, but allows Robin to brush it with her fingertips; she draws them back sharply, hissing, blisters already forming. He carries it with him, even going so far as to showering one handed so he can hold it. He curls around it that night in bed and isn’t even worried that he might accidentally break it; he knows he won’t.

They have a day to recuperate, the party all together again, and safe; Vecna is defeated.

Eddie has one living relative that everyone knows about; Wayne Munson. It’s the only possible place they may get some answers; the trailer is just...gone. They contact Hopper, who contacts Owens, and an hour later he calls Steve back. The trailer was impounded by Owens team to study the damage and now closed gate inside; Wayne Munson is in a Motel.

Everyone piles into the beemer.

Wayne looks sallow when he opens the door, distraught, but in a kind of worn in way. Like he’s already accepted it. No one speaks, they just watch as Steve produces the egg, cupped carefully in his hands. Wayne’s face crumples, his eyes well up, and he pulls Steve into a hug, “thank you. I thought I’d lost him, thank you.”

“Okay,” Steve replies, “but we have no idea what’s going on.”

Wayne shoos them into the room. There’s two doubles, Dustin, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan climb onto the still made bed; not the one that’s clearly been slept in. Wayne sits at the foot of his bed, Steve remains standing, carefully cradling the egg.

“He never told you what he is?”

Everyone on the bed is staring at Wayne wide eyed, Steve almost laughs at them, but he’s too busy shaking his head at Wayne.

Wayne nods, scratching his head, “so how long have you and my Eddie been seeing each other?”

Everyone on the bed turns to look at Steve instead, eyes, if anything, even wider, “we...aren’t. That’s not. We’re not…” The egg pulses hotly in Steve’s hands; for a brief moment, it’s unpleasant.

“You must be something, or you wouldn’t be able to touch his egg. Bound in blood?”

“There was blood, he was coughing up blood...when he was dying and he…”

“They kissed,” Dustin interjects, super unhelpful, “right before Eddie…” Dustin makes the form of an explosion with his hands, “you know, went poof.”

Wayne nods, “it’s enough, this time, for Eddie to come back. But if you don’t complete the bond, he won’t last long. Eddie must love you a hell of a lot.”

“Love me?” Steve asks weakly.

“Yeah,” Wayne says, “phoenix’s mate for life, and they won’t come back for anything less.”

There’s a long, drawn out silence, before Steve, finally offers a weak, “we hardly even know each other.”

“Eddie knows. A phoenix always knows. And you have to complete the bond, or he won’t be able to stay.”

“What?” Dustin asks, panicked, “what do you mean, stay?”

Wayne shrugs, “a phoenix, rejected by their mate, will burn up from the inside. He’ll wither and die unless Steve...reciprocates.”

Steve, weak limbed, just gives up and sits on the floor.

“What about you, Mr. Munson, are you a phoenix?” Dustin’s going to start in with fifty million questions. Steve’s kind of glad, gives him a moment to sit here and...stroke Eddie’s egg.

“Nah, I’m his dad’s brother. Him mom was the phoenix; that’s how she died. My brother wasn’t the best of guys and when he fucked it up...she died. Didn’t take long. Eddie’s a half breed, they can see it on sight, so the other phoenix, they rejected him. He’s been with me ever since. Not human enough to fit in here, not...good enough for them.”

Dustin looks affronted on Eddie’s behalf, “that’s not fair, Eddie’s a great guy. They’re...prejudiced, Eddie’s better off without them, anyway.”

Wayne hums agreeable, “they put a lot of stock in their feathers, what they look like. His mom knew at birth he’d never be accepted, but we had to try after she died. I’d hoped that they would take pity on him but...no. They said his colors were an ill omen.”

“What’s wrong with his colors? What colors? Eddie doesn’t even have feathers.”

“He will when he hatches, and they’ll be black as night.”

Steve figures it’s been around seventy nine ish hours when the first crack appears in the shell. He has no idea if there’s a significance to the amount of time, but he doesn’t interfere. He just turns the volume of the television down low and sits and watches, fascinated, as the crack widens and little, damp, black chick gets itself free. The inside of the shell shines like dark mother of pearl; like an oil slick.

Steve already knows he will hide the egg away and treasure it forever. He had sworn again and again to Dustin that the second Eddie showed signs of hatching, Steve would call him. He couldn’t though. He just couldn’t. Something in him screamed loudly that it would be wrong. It would be so wrong for someone else to be here.

He decides to let them have one night together, just him and the tiny, feather light ball of blackness sitting on his thighs. He’ll call Dustin in the morning.

Steve tries to put Eddie down to go to the bathroom before bed; Eddie chirps miserably the whole time. He walks around on top of the comforter once Steve is in bed, and Steve watches in the lamplight as the tiny chick negotiates the mountains and valleys of Steve's bedding. He falls asleep finally, bored of exploring, nestled against the side of Steve’s neck.

“You said you’d call!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, it’s just it was late and-”

“He’s so big!”

“Yeah,” Steve replies. Nothing else to say really. Eddie seemed to have quadrupled in size overnight. He’s now the size of a chicken, covered in long, sleek black feathers. He has a long neck for his size, and his tail feathers sweep along the ground as he follows at Steve’s heels.

“Are you going to go and see Wayne?”

Eddie tilts his head at the sound of his uncles name, watching from his perch on the kitchen counter. Steve had tried him with a bowl of dry cereal, but Eddie had merely pecked at it a couple of times before ignoring it. Steve had added milk and eaten it himself.

“Nah,” Steve replies absently. The thought of leaving the house is...well. Steve doesn’t like it.

The next day, Eddie is the size of a very large turkey and his head, thanks to the long neck, can almost stretch to the height of Steve’s shoulder. When Steve sits on the couch, Eddie flaps up to sit on Steve’s lap, long neck winding around Steve’s, his head looping around to rest on Steve’s chest. His eyes are warm brown, just like Eddie’s human eyes, and Steve isn’t even a little worried about the huge talons or wickedly sharp beak.

On the seventh day, Steve wakes to find a man in his bed with him. He sighs with relief, pulling Eddie closer and whispering, “hello sweetheart,” into his fluffy hair.

Steve assumed they had time, he had hoped they could get to know each other; that Steve could do this properly, but by lunch Eddie is looking tired and has gray hairs at his temples so Steve simply says, “I love you, too,” over coffee and toast and hopes that it’s enough.

[steviewashere]

hehehe coming on here to be evil really quick >:)

CW: Major Character Death

Wayne Being Involved in Season 4 AU

Instead of Dustin going with Eddie, Wayne goes with Eddie. He's there at that final glance between Eddie and Steve—all knowing because Eddie won't stop bemoaning how "Harrington is ruining my life!" but having the wherewithal to understand that it's not just potent jealousy, but something stronger and more meaningful than that—dating all the way back to high school. Wayne is there to watch Eddie perform that "damn song" he's been practicing for days now, on and off and with all the focus in the world. There to cheer and headbang, albeit terribly because he never learned to do it the way Eddie always did—even gives himself minor whiplash because "I ain't doing it right like you, boy."

But...

But.

He's there when Eddie shoves him through the portal. When he cuts that damn laundry rope with his spear. When he moves the mattress to make it so that Wayne can't get back through. They share a final glance, somewhere within all the yelling at Eddie to come back and to come home. It's partially what was shared between Steve and Eddie, understanding that glance deeper now and somberly.

Wayne chases after, of course he does. He runs with his legs bad and his hips stiff and his chest pounding, the air not reaching his lungs well enough, making him cough and stir and dizzy, but he pushes on. Pushes forth towards Eddie like all the adventures in that Lord of The Rings novel his kid is always reading—flashes of weird voices and giggle fits and nights in front of the television, spaghetti dinners at the dining table before he had to go to work, consoling Eddie through two failed senior years, The Hideout and sharing a pint with his friends who don't understand Eddie but still care enough to show up for him, flashes of roughly two decades loving his son. Not Al's. His son.

He kneels beside Eddie, despite the pain and the ache. Nervous hands trembling and clammy as they grasp for the parts of Eddie that aren't bleeding, aren't stained, aren't exposed red raw and gaping. Cradles Eddie in his arms as if he's a newborn baby all over again.

Tears that bandana off Eddie's mangled hair, wiping it tenderly over his face as if he's cleaning spit-up and midnight tears—when he was new and feverish and stirring in his bassinet. He keeps Eddie's neck supported in a way so that he doesn't choke on his own blood, again, like he's supporting a newborn Eddie.

Can't even take Eddie's hand, fearful that there won't be a grasp to his own. So he holds on.

Eddie looks to him, far away and spacey and glistening. "'M sorry, Wayne," he croaks.

Wayne is furious. So fucking angry. "Don't be a hero," Steve had said. So why didn't his kid listen?! Why can't he just listen when he's being told to be smart, to be right, to just follow the rules?

"Don't be sorry, Ed," he gets out anyway, "don't be sorry, boy."

Eddie keeps staring at him. Wide-eyed and wet. His breaths rattling and wet. There's snot dripping from his nostrils and tears cascading down his ruddy cheeks. Eyelashes stuck together. Blood on his jaw. Everywhere, there's blood. He tracks Eddie's right hand as it reaches across his body, unsure and tired, as it lands deftly on the back of his own. Eddie's palm is wet there, too, not sticky—not yet, at least.

"Am I...'m I a good kid?"

He blinks down at his kid. What kind of a question is that? But he licks his lips, chapped as they always are, tongue dry. His throat is brittle, aching in that acidic way it does right before he bursts into tears. Keeps looking down, flipping his hand over so he can finally grasp to Eddie's—going cold, colder.

"Good?" he murmurs, "Ed, you're the best."

"'M your"—a heaving, short, burbling breath—"your only kid."

"Yeah," Wayne whispers, "that's why you're the best. And you're gonna keep bein' the best. You're gonna show the whole world."

Eddie's blinks are getting heavier, slower. And his breath isn't coming any easier. The blood keeps seeping through his clothes.

He should put pressure on them, he knows this.

But the amount of them...the measure of severity?

Wayne was a medic during Vietnam. He knows these kinds of wounds. Severe kind of wounds.

It would just be exhausting Eddie. Trying to keep him going when there's no steam left.

He's aware of this.

He can only hold on tighter.

"Way...Wayne?" Eddie croaks again, nearly a whisper.

"Hm?"

"'M sorry," he says again. "'M sorry, Dad. 'M so sorry."

"It's s'okay, kiddo. You did your best, Ed. S'okay."

Eddie blinks a couple more times at Wayne. Sticky slow. Trying to hold on, but failing. "I l've you. I l've you, Dad. I...I l've you."

Wayne's arm flex as they bring Eddie closer, tight as he'll go against his abdomen, his chest. Holding onto him like a baby he might drop if he isn't careful. Doesn't want this be over, this precious thing they have.

Doesn't want to let go.

Doesn't want to let the son he wanted just slip away.

But he holds on. He holds.

"I love you, too, Eddie. I love you so much. Don't forget that. I love you, you never change. Not for nobody. Not for God."

Eddie's still looking at him. Brown doe eyes far, far, farther away. He's not crying anymore. Not really bleeding much anymore, but it's not like there's much more to bleed. The blood's starting to go sticky, despite Wayne trying his best to avoid it. He touches it anyway.

His kid was born crying and bloody. And here he is.

Here he is.

"See you...in...in the m'rnin'. P...P'nc'kes."

"Pancakes, Ed. We'll have our pancakes and coffee in the morning, promise, kiddo. You get some rest now, you hear me? Just go on and rest. I'll be right here. Keep watch for the monsters."

There's a twinge on Eddie's face. Like he's trying to smile. It's something, barely anything, but it's there. "S've you," he says. And in that, his final breath, Eddie's gone.

Far away. Going cold. Nearly completely limp.

"I gotcha, Ed," Wayne murmurs, choking now on his own tears, "I gotcha, beautiful boy. No more monsters gonna get you. Just...just you and me, boy." He heaves a sob, a sigh. "Just you and me."

[rebelspykatie]

that green light, i want it

Part 8

Hopper checks for a pulse and grimly shakes his head, finally lowering his gun. Steve doesn’t hesitate then, just sprints up the stairs and falls to his knees beside Nancy. 

“Nancy,” he shakes her shoulder gently, “Nance, please wake up.” 

Nothing. No movement, no fluttering behind her eyes. But when he checks her pulse and finds one, all the tension from the past hour leaks out of him. The breath he didn’t consciously start holding leaves him, rushing out and cutting the tension from his body. He collapses next to Nancy’s prone body. 

“Son, I gotta go make some calls.” Hopper stands and looks over his shoulder at Eddie, before bringing his gaze back to Steve. “Are you going to be okay out here, if I head inside?” 

“It’s not the first time I’ve seen a dead body, Hop,” Eddie calls from the front yard, voice getting closer as he comes up the steps. “I’ll stay with Steve.” 

Hopper claps Eddie on the shoulder in a way that’s probably meant to be comforting, but the wide-eyed, frightened deer in the headlights look doesn’t leave Eddie’s face, his eyes darting from Steve to the dead body laying just five feet away from them. 

“Go, Hopper,” Steve tilts his head towards the open door. “Before the neighbors get involved.” 

Steve stands up and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. He moves to stand between Nancy and Henry, gently pushing Eddie behind him again. He flicks his hands around in the same motion as when he hid his car. 

The hand on his shoulder startles him, his whole body jerks away, the past hour catching up to his frayed nerves. Eddie holds his hands up in front of him like Steve’s a spooked horse he’s trying to calm down. 

“Was that what you did to the car?” 

Steve’s shocked he can muster up curiosity in the midst of everything he’s witnessed in the last few hours. 

“Yeah,” Steve replies gruffly. “I can still see him, but everyone else can’t.” 

“Neat trick,” Eddie says, eyeing the blank ground with something like wonder. His eyes move over to Nancy after a moment. “Is she going to be ok?” 

“Not sure,” Steve shrugs. “She drained her power doing that spell. She was already too weak. Containing someone like Henry is like sticking your finger in an electric socket.” He kneels down beside Nancy again. “I might be able to help. Can you help me move her?” 

Eddie moves to Nancy’s other side right away, crouching down until he’s eye level with Steve. “What’d you have in mind?” 

“If I’m what he says I am, being on the ground will help.” He pitches his head towards the front yard. “We need to move her into the grass.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Eddie posits himself at the ready, arms circling around Nancy’s legs, while Steve closes his arms around her torso, lifting and shuffling slowly to the yard. 

Nancy doesn’t weigh much, barely over five feet tall and thin. She’s lost more weight than he realized. Steve’s afraid he’ll break her even further than she’s broken herself. 

The two of them easily get her comfortable in the grass, Eddie leaning back on his heels crouched down in the grass, watching Steve with this all too knowing look.

His hands are shaking, as they hover above Nancy. Healing and defensive magic have always come more easily to him than anything else. Green flows easily from his palms, sinking into Nancy’s chest, lifting her slightly off the ground when the connection is made. 

It takes a minute, Steve’s eyes closing in concentration, but she wakes up with a start, gasping and arms flailing until she feels the ground beneath her. Steve lowers her gently, letting himself be dragged into a hug when Nancy claws at his chest. 

“He’s dead,” Steve whispers into her hair. She’s trembling, shaking with a silent sob. “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.” 

“S-Steve-” Nancy gasps, throat too thick with emotion to get much out. 

“Where’s the rest of the coven, Nance?” He strokes one hand down her hair, cradling the back of her head protectively. 

She takes a deep breath, pulling away from him and wiping at the tear tracks on her cheeks. Nancy’s always had this uncanny ability to pull herself together. In the face of danger, or anything else life throws at her, she puts on a brave face in a world that’s only ever been cruel to her.

“They’re gone. Hopper got them out of here. It’s what took so long for us to join you.” She sniffles into the sleeve of her shirt. “They didn’t agree with Henry's methods. They said that they wanted to stop him, but they didn’t know how. He was too powerful. I told them our plan and they went along with it. I still don’t think we can trust them, but they weren’t on his side.” She looks over Steve’s shoulder, noticing Eddie for the first time. “Who is this?” 

“Eddie Munson,” he says before Steve can. “Nice to see you’re alive. Steve was worried about you.” His eyes dart from Steve to Nancy. “I can give you guys some privacy.” 

“No, it’s ok,” Steve adds quickly, reaching out to clasp Eddie’s wrist. “You already know everything.” 

Steve doesn't even have to look at Nancy to know her eyebrows are raised. They don’t just tell people about all of this. 

“He saw everything at the graveyard,” Steve answers the unspoken question. 

Nancy nods once. He can see the gears turning in her head.

“How did Hopper get involved?” Eddie asks, like he can’t help himself. His curiosity really might get him killed one day. They’ll work on that. 

“His kid,” Steve says, “she’s like us.” Steve wiggles his fingers in the air. 

Eddie nods in understanding. 

“None of this freaks you out?” Nancy asks. 

“I was raised by an old man with tales from the Appalachian mountains. Magic isn’t really all that big of a leap when you grow up hearing about skinwalkers.” Eddie shudders. “I might be more scared of it all now, knowing that magic is real. Wayne’s gonna lose his shit if he ever finds out.” 

“You can’t tell anyone,” Nance says sharply, that pragmatic fearlessness he’s always loved shining bright in her eyes. 

That deer in the headlights look is back on Eddie’s face. “Your secret’s safe with me, Wheeler.” He casts a glance at Steve, some unknown emotion passing over his face too quickly for Steve to take stock in it. “I won’t put you guys in danger.” 

Nancy’s scrutinizing Steve. He can see it out of the corner of his eye, but he refuses to give in and look her in the eye. She’ll see right through him. Knows him too well. 

Hopper comes back out, looks disconcertedly at the spot where Henry’s body should be. Good to know it unsettles the sheriff as much as it unsettles Eddie, that empty spot where he knows a corpse is bleeding out. 

“My guys are on their way.”

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Epilogue | AO3

[burnsopale]

Beyblade WIP2: Truth or dare

Working title: Truth or Dare Summary: The BBA, PPB and Majestics, along with Mao, Rai, Yuriy and Sergei, are staying in Olivier’s summer house for a week. They blade, swim, explore the cliffs, hang out and enjoy themselves, but when you have so many hormonal seventeen-year-olds in the same house, tensions will arise. To settle them, Olivier proposes a special game of Truth or dare. Story rating: Mature Excerpt rating: PG-13 for horny teenagers and some alcohol.

Author’s notes: I promised myself that if I managed to write something on tuesday and wednesday, I’d post another excerpt. So here it is. This takes place a little while after the first, once they reach the end of the questions round. To recap, they are currently playing Never Have I Ever; Olivier reads out statements, and the players drink if the answer is yes.

(Btw, there’s a beydish in the copse. It’ll make sense.)

Takao had kicked off his shoes and tucked his feet in under him. He rubbed his hands together. "Bring on statement number ten! I want to get to the dares." He shadowboxed the coming challenge, throwing a random punch in Kai's direction that Kai caught without effort.

"In that case, Takao,” Olivier said, “you're going to have to tell me if you have ever ... gone skinny dipping."

Takao shook his head. "Not unless you count hot springs."

"What does skinny dipping mean?" Rai's grasp of English apparently didn't extend to this particular concept.

"Bathing naked in a lake or a river or the sea."

"Ah." Rai drank. "I don't see what is so unusual about that."

And yet only about half of the players actually drunk. Mao and Rei drank along with Rai, and Yuriy and Sergei. Giancarlo, Ralf and Johnny drank, but the remaining members of the BBA did not, and of the PPB, only Michael had experienced it.

"What's so special about bathing naked anyway?" Takao asked. "I’m naked in the tub all the time."

"Oh, mon ami," Olivier said, biting his lower lip on a smile. "Giancarlo and I will take you swimming in the moonlight. You have not lived until you have felt your body be cradled by the sea, with nothing between you and the water. It’s like swimming in your mother's womb."

"Aaand now it's creepy," Johnny said.

"What Olivier is trying to say is that it feels freeing," Giancarlo mended.

"And primal," Yuriy added. "Especially in winter."

"I agree with the first part," Rai said slowly.

"Maybe we should all go," Giancarlo said thoughtfully. "When we're done with the game."

It had a strange, silencing effect, and like a ripple in water the same thought seemed to pass through the circle, everyone looking at each other and realising all over again that they were here, they were young, and they had bodies that longed for new and secret things. They were far from home, in a summer paradise by the sea, and they could do ... anything.

Johnny glanced involuntarily in Ralf's direction and was startled for the second time that day to find his friend looking back at him.

Ralf looked away first.

"A fine idea, mon coeur," Olivier said. "But we are not finished with our little game just yet, though this round is about to end. The final statement of round one is ... I have had sexual fantasies about someone in this room."

Johnny's heart thudded hard against his ribcage. For a moment the room was suspended in unbreathing silence.

Giancarlo drank. Then, surprisingly, Kyouju did as well. Takao looked at him, and slowly, guardedly, tipped his own apple cider, creating a moment between them based on a timorous, mutual understanding. Mao drank, glancing at Rei. He drank too. Max drank with one hand tucked between his knees, visibly self-conscious for the first time this evening. Then Michael closed his eyes and poured back the rest of his beer like he was yanking off a band aid.

Ralf did not drink. Why would he.

Johnny tried to breathe evenly, telling himself this was one lie they would never catch him at.

Kai crooked a half-smile and drank. Yuriy shrugged and followed suit, and finally, Rai, staring at his glass like he feared to betray himself if he let his eyes wander, took a sip. Michael had no such control, giving away everything he felt in the covetous way he watched the glass touch Rai's lips.

Olivier exhaled slowly. "My brave champions ... I know we have some liars here, but it's a hard thing to prove, non? So we move on. I would ask you who you've dreamed of, but ... you would not tell me. Not yet."

Liars? The ones who hadn't drunk ... Eddie, Steve and Emily ... Sergei ... Ralf and Johnny ... Who did Olivier suspect?

It was impossible to tell, as the French boy raised his second champagne glass in one last toast. "To a round well played, and to daring hearts who will, I hope, want to play some more."

"Is it dares now?" Max asked after they had drunk the toast.

Olivier nodded, leaning back and reaching for the bowl on the table. "But ..." He hesitated, pursing his lips in consideration. "Maybe you would like to stretch your legs a little first? On the balcony perhaps?"

They threw the doors wide, and everyone went outside, stretching their bodies and groaning. The air was full of the mingled scents of flowers and salt, clearing Johnny's head of the wine-induced fog. He felt a little dizzy, but if he held off on drinking for a while, it would quickly fade.

Some of the boys and girls flopped down in the grass to watch the rapidly darkening sky, while others wandered towards the cliff-side to watch the black ocean melt into the horizon.

Johnny stepped down into the cool grass just to feel it tickle his bare feet. The wind from the sea stroked his knees and thighs. It felt good. His body was awakening again after it's slumber, getting eager to play. He looked around and wondered who he might end up kissing later.

"I suppose, so far, it's not a complete disaster."

Ralf. Johnny looked up at him, mustering a smile, stamping down on his body's immediate response of you could kiss him.

"So you're gonna keep playing?"

Ralf nodded slowly. "Olivier is clever. I believe we will all feel closer to each other now that we've shared secrets."

"Heh ... yeah." How he longed to be closer. Wanted to know what Ralf's waist would feel like in his arms. Wanted to press his lips against the patch of skin behind his ear.

He looked down. Breathed through pain and arousal.

"So, Kai," Max stepped up next to his captain with a show of casualness. "Who have you been fantasising about?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Kai, as helpless before Max' charms as everyone else, only rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"It's me, isn't it?" Johnny said with a sudden burst of inspiration. He grinned. "You can admit it, Hiwatari. I won't be mad." He'd forgotten to keep up his usual behaviour; he had to keep them from looking at him too closely, which they would if he acted out of character.

Kai crossed his arms over his chest. "The only fantasy I've had of you, McGregor, is blading you into the ground."

"Fantasise all you like, cause that's the only way you'll see it happen." He made a rude grimace.

"Meet me in the copse after the game and I'll make it real for you," Kai offered.

"Really? Meet me in the bushes after dark? That's your come on? You're not even gonna offer me a bed?"

But rather than spark Kai's temper, the question made a dangerous light appear in his eyes, and the smile turn sharp.

"Since you're so eager for it, McGregor, maybe the game will give me an opportunity to put you on your back."

Johnny couldn't help the full-bodied shudder that gripped him at the naked insinuation.

"Hiwatari." Ralf's voice was deep and cold. "Watch your tone."

Kai's eyes shifted to Ralf's, and there was a surge of electricity in the air, making it hard to breathe. Johnny watched without comprehending as the two predators tested each other's strength. Why was Ralf angry?

"Guys." Max stepped in between them. "Don’t fight."

Takao and Steve, down in the grass, had sat up and were watching, waiting to see what would happen.

For another endless second, the two red-eyed boys stared each other down. Then the challenge faded from the air. They exhaled.

Kai righted the collar of his grey shirt and turned away. "This misery is all yours, Jürgens. Enjoy it."

Ralf's lips pulled back from his teeth in a silent little snarl.

"Seriously? Are you drunk already?" Johnny looked at Ralf uncertainly. "What even was that?"

Ralf looked at him, and the hardness left his expression. "Nothing, I ... I suppose I am a little tipsy." He dragged a hand through his hair, thumbed open another button on his own shirt.

Johnny's mouth went try at the glimpse of a pale collar bone. He licked his lips. Turned away.

Luckily, Olivier chose that moment to call them back inside. "Are you ready to play some more?"

There was a chorus of yes-es, but Johnny wasn't so sure.