#steddie: how to lose a guy in ten days au

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

part one part two

Steve, Robin, and Nancy head out to their favorite bar after work. It’s a hole in the wall dive, a place that only the regulars--a handful of older, bearded men and their old ladies--know or care about. They’re greeted by name by the bartender before they order their drinks and make their way over to their favorite table in the corner of the dingy room.

They’ve been there for about an hour and Steve is already on his second rum and Coke when Robin’s elbow digs into his side.

“Hot guy alert, ten o’clock,” she mutters, her mouth practically against his ear. “He’s staring at you.” He shoves her away when he feels her hot breath on his skin.

“Ew, Robin, get away from me,” he grumbles, glancing around the room. “I don’t even know where ten o’clock is. Can you be normal?”

Robin rolls her eyes and nods in the direction she wants Steve to look. Both Nancy and Steve glance over to see a man with long, dark, curly hair sitting at the bar. He’s got on a leather jacket and sunglasses. Steve’s face heats before he turns back to Robin.

“He’s literally wearing sunglasses indoors, you can’t even tell where he’s looking,” he says. 

“I can, it’s about the vibe. His vibe is vibing in your direction.” She moves her arms rapidly back and forth, as if to demonstrate the direction of the stranger’s aforementioned vibe.

Nancy’s still staring at the stranger, who’s ordering another beer from the bartender. Her brow is furrowed in concentration.

“Nance, don’t hurt yourself,” Steve says, trying to draw her attention back to the table so the hot stranger doesn’t think they’re being rude or something. 

“Guys, wait,” Nancy whispers, finally turning back towards their table. “I’m pretty sure that’s Eddie Munson.”

“Really?” Steve asks, confused. “Why the hell would Eddie Munson be here?” He glances back over his shoulder at the bar, where the stranger is taking a pull from his new beer. Now that Nancy mentioned it, he did look really familiar. 

“Oh my god, Nance, you’re right!” Robin exclaims, almost too loud in the quiet space of the bar. 

Before Steve can say anything, the bartender appears at their table, three new  drinks in hand. “Hey, guys, the guy at the end of the bar wanted to send these drinks over.” He smirks as he places the drinks in front of each of them. The three of them turn at once to look at the stranger, who smiles and waves. Steve blushes again, hard.

“This is humiliating,” Steve mutters once the bartender departs, staring down at the table in front of him. 

“No, it isn’t!” Robin insists. “Why is it humiliating?”

“Because Robin,” he hisses at her, irritated and embarrassed. “He clearly caught us staring at him.”

“Or it’s like I said and he was staring first and sent these drinks because he thinks you’re hot! You should go talk to him!”

Steve and Robin argue back and forth about whether Steve should go thank the stranger who may or may not be Eddie Munson for the free drinks. 

“Wait, guys, shut up,” Nancy cuts in, a smile slowly spreading over her face. Steve is sure that there’s an invisible lightbulb bursting to life over her head. He hates it when Nancy has one of her brilliant ideas. They usually get him in trouble. “This is perfect.”

“What do you mean?” Robin asks, confusion written on her face.

“Erica wants us to get some new information about the band, right? She wants our piece to be an ‘intimate portrait of the inner workings of the band’, right?” Nancy rolls her eyes as she quotes directly from the email Erica had sent them after the pitch meeting. 

“Yeah?” Robin crinkles her nose.

“So this is perfect! He’s interested in Steve, organically. Our access to the band doesn’t start for another few weeks. Steve gets close to him, gets a feel for who he is as an actual person and not as the lead singer of one of the most famous metal bands on earth who’s known for the spectacle.” Nancy’s eyes are shining in the dim light of the bar. “It’s perfect,” she repeats.

“Wrong, so wrong,” Steve insists, feeling even more irritated than before. “First of all, we don't even know if he’s interested. Second, it’s unethical to manipulate a subject. And third, everything would be off the record if I don’t disclose that I’m a journalist.” He ticks his reasons off on his fingers and almost cringes when he uses the word “journalist”; he means it in the loosest sense of the word.

“Anything he says is off the record, but how he acts, how you interpret his character... that’s all fair game.” Steve can tell that Nancy isn’t going to let this drop any time soon. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Steve says firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Nancy groans, but it’s Robin who speaks. “I don’t know, Steve.” Steve turns to her in shock and she holds her hands up. “I mean, your portion could be more like an Op-Ed or memoir-like,” she actually cringes when she says that part, “than anything else. Nancy’s right, his behavior towards you and how you interpret his actions are technically fair game.”

“But he wouldn’t know. It’s unethical!” He repeats, voice veering a little too far into hysterical.

“Erica promised we’d get to write better stories if we did well on this, Steve,” Robin tells him, and she sounds so earnest it makes his heart clench. It’s so hard to say no to Robin. “I can’t watch Erica give away another one of my pitches. I can’t do it, Steve, it’s not fair.” 

Steve wavers. Robin isn’t wrong. It isn't fair that Erica won't give them a chance. But he’s still pretty certain that all three of them are talented enough that if they put in the work now, they could be writing stories they actually want to write in five years’ time. But could Steve really wait that long to start his life? He was already pushing thirty. Print journalism wasn’t as superficial about reporters’ looks as broadcast, but Steve knew that being young was always an asset when chasing a story. Witnesses were more likely to open up to younger people, especially if they were good looking. Steve knew the way he looked was a large part of why he got to cover red carpets at movie premieres and award shows.

He looks at Robin and Nancy, both putting on their best puppy dog faces. He sighs, glances back over towards the stranger, who’s lifted his sunglasses into his hair and is chatting with the bartender again.

“What do we do when the actual interviewing process starts? You’re not gonna keep me from the actual reporting, are you?” Steve asks.

Nancy smiles and claps her hands together. Robin squeals before throwing her arms around Steve’s neck and squeezing.

~*~

Nancy’s plan seems simple enough, but Steve certainly doesn’t agree with her that it’s fool-proof. He can feel the skin on his forehead wrinkling as his expression grows more and more skeptical the more Nancy talks. Basically, she explains, she and Robin will handle all the pre-interview meetings while Steve focuses on vetting and background, calling family members and friends over the phone. Then, when it’s time for the actual in-person interviews, they’ll say Steve was added to the story late, when it became obvious that the magazine’s metal issue and the central interview would be a more substantial project than they had originally believed. Steve couldn’t imagine it would work in a million, trillion years and he makes sure to tell Nancy so.

“And besides,” Steve says, starting to talk with his hands as he gets more and more worked up. “What if he asks me what I do for a living while we’re ‘getting close’?” He rolls his eyes as he puts air quotes around his last two words. “I can't lie or else he won’t trust us when it comes time for the interviews and it would all be for nothing.”

“Tell him you’re a writer,” Nancy says shrugging, like what they’re discussing really is no big deal. “Technically true and absolutely not a lie. You don’t have to tell him what you write.”

Steve scowls. “Well, who says he’d even be interested in getting to know me anyway?”

Nancy glances back over toward the bar before looking back at Steve. “He’s into you, trust me.”

Steve feels himself blush for about the thousandth time tonight. To cover his embarrassment, he turns toward Robin, who’s been suspiciously silent.

“Do you really think this is a good idea? For real?” He asks. Steve knows that Nancy can be ruthless when it comes to chasing a story, has seen her intimidate other reporters on the scene so she can get a scoop to Erica first. She doesn't exactly have the strongest moral compass, at least not when it comes to her job. But Steve trusts Robin’s judgment and if she’s really sure that they can get away with what Steve is pretty sure is journalistic malpractice... well, he’d be a lot more willing to consider the whole thing.

“Steve,” Robin’s voice is quiet. “It’s all we’ve got.”

Steve takes a deep breath, but before he has the chance to speak, Nancy cuts in again.

“Whatever we’re going to do, we need to make a decision quick. Looks like he’s getting ready to head out,” she nods toward the bar, where the stranger is throwing back the last of his beer and sliding his sunglasses back onto his face. Steve takes one last look at Robin and Nancy before taking a deep breath and making his way toward the bar.

The stranger must catch on the movement from across the bar, because Steve can feel his eyes on him, even though he can’t see his gaze behind the dark glasses. The stranger pushes them back up into his hair and his eyes catch on Steve’s. Steve almost stumbles, breath catching in his chest. Fuck.

The walk toward the bar feels like it takes ten years. Steve feels like he’s wading through mud, all the blood rushing in his ears. His chest feels tight and his hands feel hollow, like they’ll float away at any moment. He thinks he might be just a little too tipsy to do this.

“Thought I might’ve scared you off,” the stranger says smiling once Steve sidles up to the bar next to him. “I can come on a little strong.”

Steve smiles back, but it feels forced on his face, plastic and wrong. He tries for a little laugh, tries to relax his shoulders. “Just a little intimidated by your whole...” He lets his eyes trail over the stranger’s body, from head to toe and back again. “Look,” he finally says, looking into the stranger’s eyes.

The other man smiles again. “I’m Eddie,” he says, leaning in close. He holds out his hand for Steve to shake. Fuck. Steve was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t Eddie Munson.

“Steve,” Steve responds, taking Eddie’s warm hand in his own.

“Well, Steve, I’m actually on my way out,” Eddie tells him, standing from his barstool. “Early morning tomorrow.” Steve can feel his own face fall and Eddie notices. He quickly adds, “But hey, can I get your number? Maybe I can give you a call some time next week.”

Steve can’t tell if Eddie’s just taking pity on him or if he really wants Steve’s number. Steve takes the chance, knowing that Nancy would probably stab him for real if he didn’t give Eddie Munson his personal cell phone number. 

“Sure,” Steve says, holding out his hand. “Let me put it in your phone.”

“Uh,” Eddie says patting the pockets in his jeans and then his jacket. “Don’t have it on me.” His eyes shift nervously toward the bar before he leans over and grabs for a cup of pens by the cash register, grabbing one of them between his fingers. He snatches the napkin from under his empty glass and shoves both toward Steve. Steve quickly scrawls his number across the damp paper. “Awesome,” Eddie says, shoving the napkin in his back pocket. Steve’s half convinced it’ll get forgotten and destroyed in the wash. “See you soon, Steve.” He flashes a grin before he’s gone, slipping out the front door as a group of loud divorcees make their way inside.

Steve makes his way back to the girls, who practically interrogate him. They both beam at him when he tells them that Eddie asked for his number, even though he’s pretty convinced that Eddie only asked him to be nice. Even though it’s still relatively early, Steve feels exhausted by the time they finally part ways to head home for the night. 

As Steve makes his way up the stairs to his fifth floor walk-up, he feels his pocket vibrate. He always tells Robin and Nancy to text him when they’re home--can’t sleep when they forget--but he lives the closest to the bar and he’d only just got home. He pulls his phone from his pocket and glances down at the screen. He has a text from an unknown number, so he unlocks his phone and slides the text open.

Hey, Stevie. Nice to meet you tonight. Talk soon. E :)

Steve can’t help the smile on his face as his walks up the final steps to his apartment. 

~*~

I do not know how off the record/on the record works so just pretend this is realistic!

A few people asked to be tagged in the first part: @kozuuji @yellowdevilkitten @thepenguinlord

[stumbling-penguin]

How to lose a guy in 10 days but it’s Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson

[unclewaynemunson]

(Pt 4 of my Steddie ft. Rose Harrington AU) | Full version AO3 link

'How's Rose?' was the first thing Eddie asked when Steve walked into the practice room on Wednesday evening.

It had been awkward, running into him just after he picked up Rose from the daycare. Steve had known it would only be a matter of time, of course, but it was still awkward. As long as Eddie didn't know about Rose, Steve felt like he could pretend there might be something between them. He could cautiously flirt with him, and Eddie would flirt back often enough to give Steve hope that something was growing there. But now that the guy knew about Rose, that would be over, of course. Because what twenty-year-old would be interested in dating the son of a cheater who was also the pseudo-father to his shunned three-year-old half-sister?

But the look in Eddie's eyes made it seem like he was genuinely interested in how Rose was doing – like he genuinely cared.

'She's great,' Steve answered. 'She liked you. Asked me if she could get curls like yours, too. But I told her I'm not gonna let her anywhere near a curling iron for at least ten years.'

'That's too bad,' said Eddie with a smile on his face, while Steve went to sit down on the stool next to him and opened his guitar case. 'I can totally imagine her rocking the hell out of a metal look.'

Steve laughed. 'I'm not too sure about that. She's actually scared of one of her teddy bears. Not exactly a lot of metal potential there.'

'Hey, um...' Eddie hesitated for a moment before he continued talking. He seemed uncharacteristically reserved. It made Steve feel like he was losing something; he didn't want things to change between them.

'Do you want to keep it just us and the music, or can I ask you a question?'

Just us and the music. It sounded so simple. So safe. So naive, as it turned out. Of course it couldn't stay that way forever. But Steve appreciated that Eddie gave him the illusion of a choice.

'You can ask me anything,' Steve said, even though he couldn't quite look into Eddie's eyes as he said it.

'How did she get into your life?' Eddie asked. 'You said it was a messy story?'

'Yeah, um... My dad – he hasn't exactly been very faithful. To my mom.' Steve stumbled his way through the words. It was all still fresh, still difficult to talk about.

'We basically all knew, but we just kinda pretended that it wasn't there. Not a great coping mechanism, but it worked pretty decently, I guess. Until this woman showed up at our doorstep with Rose in a buggy a few months ago. She just – she just left her, man, it was awful. Said it was my father's turn to take care of her now and – and that was that. I felt so bad for her – for Rose, I mean. She's a person, you know, not some animal you can bring to a shelter when you're done with it.'

He still felt bitter anger rise up in him when he thought about Rose's mother, but he tried to push it down. He knew that the woman had a complicated story, and that his dad was just as responsible for Rose's existence as that woman, but it still drove him against the wall, thinking about how Rose must have been treated all her life. How unwanted she must feel.

'Jesus,' said Eddie.

'Yeah.' That was a pretty accurate way to sum up what a mess that day had been. 'My mom was furious. I guess knowing my dad wasn't faithful was one thing, but an actual child on your doorstep – that's something else. She wanted nothing to do with her. As if it was Rose's fault. And my dad isn't exactly the warm cuddly type either.'

He replayed the events of that afternoon in his head: his parents, screaming at the top of their lungs at each other, while Rose was watching that whole shitshow go down in front of her, afraid and confused and crying, with no one paying attention to her. Steve had gotten her out of her buggy and held her in his arms to calm her down, and to his surprise, it had worked. He had whispered all kinds of comforting sweet-nothings in her ear and taken her for a walk when he noticed that his parents were too busy arguing to even look at them, and he'd carried her around in his arms until long after she calmed down.

Rose seemed to like him, and he recognized the look in her eyes, which made him fall in love with her instantly. It was hard to explain, but he had known right away. He had known that she was just like him, and that he wouldn't be able to live without her, now that he knew who she was.

'I convinced my dad that he shouldn't give her up or get her into the system or something like that. My parents aren't home much, my dad's always on business trips and my mom basically follows him around like a dog – because of the constant cheating, you know. So my dad wanted to set her up with some nanny, but I couldn't – I didn't think that'd be good for her. So now I'm trying to take care of her. It's a lot, but I got some friends helping me out and... It kinda sucks, you know, to grow up with nannies all the time. She deserves better than that. And it gets lonely when my parents are away, sometimes. So I like the company.'

He had mainly been talking to his own hands the whole time; it was easier, that way. But when he looked up, he was surprised to see tears in Eddie's eyes.

'You okay?' he asked, worried.

'Yeah. Sorry.' The guy sniffed and rubbed a hand over his face, seemingly needing a moment to recollect himself. 'That um... That hit a bit close to home.'

Steve held his breath. 'What do you mean?'

Eddie grimaced. 'I was a few years older than Rose when my uncle took me in, but... I guess I can understand what it must've felt like, for her. My mom passed when I was six, and my dad didn't really want me, so he brought me to my uncle. Wayne basically saved my life. I don't even wanna think about what would've become of me if he hadn't stepped up. It's the same with you and Rose, I think. You don't owe her anything, and yet, you give her so much love. You're saving her life, Steve. Just like Wayne did with me.'

Steve felt the overwhelming impulse to kiss Eddie on his lips right there. He didn’t think he had ever gotten a bigger compliment in his life, and that, in combination with those huge brown eyes full of emotion, made it almost impossible to keep thinking straight. But he took a deep breath and restrained himself; instead, he settled for a comforting squeeze in Eddie’s shoulder.

'Thank you,' he said, earnestly. It didn’t feel like enough, after the beautiful things Eddie had said to him, but he was too lost for words to give a better response.

Eddie took a shuddering breath. 'Sorry 'bout that,' he said, plastering on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 'Alright, why don't we do what we came here for and actually make some music?'

Pt5

Taglist: @kardinalkalamity @imzadidragonfly @simpforsauron @undreamingscatworld @nailbatbabygirl @solosnail @theysherobinbuckley  @sharpbutsoft @manda-panda-monium @piningapple @whimsicalwitchm  @withacapitalp @kerlypride @bejeweledbaby @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @cheeseaddict-12 @henderdads @hammity-hammer @nelotegreitic @silentiumdelirium @mad-h-w @evix-syne666  @legitcookie @csinnamon-fox @deleataecount @sadcanadianwinter @shadowofaliar @and-say (honestly it’s WILD to me that so many of you wanted to be tagged. seriously it means so much to me, all your sweet comments and screaming in the tags are making my day <3

[katyawriteswhump]

Steddie holiday drabble: Dirty Little Secret

For @steddieholidaydrabbles day 11 prompt, Royal AU (also boarding school AU--whoops!)

When Steve is sent to school in the UK, he hates everything about it. Apart from the hot guy who lurks in the shadows and seems to get away with anything he likes…

Rating: T

CW: corporal punishment, bullying, cultural prejudices, swearing. Tags: hurt/comfort, whump, fluff. WC: 979

***

From the moment Steve arrived at that creepy castle-come-college, he couldn’t do anything right. 

“You’re using the wrong spoon, Harrington,” sneered some stuck-up idiot, at Steve’s first mealtime in the vast, mediaeval-style hall.

“He wouldn’t know,” jeered another. “Americans scoff cow-pie with their fingers.”

“Hilarious,” snarked Steve. “If I’m using the wrong spoon, how come you’re the one who’s drooled soup down their tie?”

A shout of “Touché!” broke the loaded silence. 

Steve spotted the shouter sitting alone on an otherwise empty table. He flashed Steve a grin which was… Woah! Not actively hostile? And kinda cute.

The kid beside Steve tugged his hair: “Has nobody invented scissors on your side of the pond? Matron’s going to scalp you, mark my word.”

“He’s got longer hair than me.” Steve pointed to the boy sitting alone. 

“He’s not an ignorant little yank with no manners.”

“Oh, sod off.” Steve had mastered some of the lingo.

In the dorm later, somebody stole Steve’s blankets from his bed. After a night shivering, he wore the wrong sneakers—sorry, trainers!—to gym class.

The teacher didn’t let him change into boots. Steve slipped endlessly on the muddy rugby field. The only rule he fathomed was that it was fine for any bastard to dump their butt on his face. Afterwards, the teacher summoned Steve to his office.

Steve mumbled: “What’ve I done now?”

Seriously, this son-of-bitch should worship Steve! If he had the right kit—and knew the rules—he bet he could whip some serious rugby ass.

“Hold out your hand.”

“Why?”

“Don’t be insolent. Do it. Palm downward.”

Steve obeyed, flexing his fingers apprehensively. The teacher produced a wooden cane. Steve’s blood jumped. “No, no, no, no. I’ll watch my mouth. Wear the right shit… uh, kit. Please!”

“You’ve earned five. One more word, it’ll be ten. On your rear.”

Steve battled his panic, fretted his lip. The cane came lashing down, razing a fiery trail across his hand. He smothered a whimper, swallowed bile. By the fifth strike, his knees had turned to jello. His hand was red, his knuckles puffy with one split.

“You’re dismissed, Harrington.”

He drifted mindlessly through the showers, got dressed, wandered out, cradling his hand. Totally lost, he encountered his hated dining companions:

“His socks are falling down! He’s so stupid, he can’t hook his suspenders.”

Steve was terrified of losing his shit, giving these dickheads the triumph of seeing how badly he was hurting, how horribly alone he felt. So…

Steve shoved the lead bully, who crashed onto their butt.  “What moron’s wear sock suspenders? Screw the lot of you!” 

Steve could’ve handled any one of them; with wrecked knuckles, though, no way could he handle six. He wound up curled in a ball, enduring a brutal kicking. As the blows kept coming, he sank beyond wretched, losing his fight against furious tears.  A shout interrupted: “Hey, scumbags—scoot! NOW!”

The kicking stopped. Steve curled even tighter. Everything hurt, his head pounded, and he tasted blood. A gentle touch on his shoulder made him flinch: “Hey, are you alright?”

Steve swiped his damp cheekbones, peeped up. His rescuer was the boy who dined alone, with the cute smile and long, unruly hair. Up close, his brown eyes were mesmerising… and kind.

“Come on, you.”

Dazed, Steve let the other boy help him up. He took him to the matron, who seemed oddly nervous at their arrival. Steve perched on the edge of a bed, while his knuckles were bandaged, his other wounds tended. The other boy—Steve still didn’t know his name—held ice to Steve’s swollen brow till Steve’s uninjured hand stopped trembling enough to hold it himself.

“You can go, Matron,” said the boy. She obeyed. With a curtsy! These Brits sure were odd. Steve was still hurting badly, still furious at the whole world. Yet, now they were alone, he longed to throw his arms around this other boy and sob shamelessly. He was so mixed up.

“Steven Harrington, right? The US envoy’s son?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Eddie. Can I call you Steve? The surname crap makes us sound like a load of wankers. Which, let’s face it, most kids in this dump are.”

“No shit.” Steve chuckled, which made his face ache. 

“Besides, it’s hopeless for me.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Nobody dares say it.” Eddie leaned closer and his adorable grin spread slowly. “I’m the illegitimate son of the Duke of Cumbria.”

“He’s a prince! So you’re—”

“A dirty royal secret.” Eddie jokily pressed a finger to his lips, which Steve couldn’t stop staring at. Steve’s heart hammered like he’d met the Stones or the Beatles. Though, Eddie was the opposite of famous: “This dustbin has hid little secrets like me for centuries. I still get MI5 protection, if needed, and… nobody dares lay a finger on me. Or my chums. Not that I have any, because—”

“—they’re all complete wankers?”

“You’re fluent already, Stevie.” Stevie? Steve blushed and looked away. Eddie tenderly cupped Steve’s chin and turned his face back, tugging a slight smile from Steve, in defiance of his split lip. Eddie grinned all the harder.

The ‘dirty secret’ didn’t just get his own table. He got his own spacious dorm room. Steve moved his stuff in two days later, to find Eddie in a different mode—twitchy and bashful, endlessly fiddling with his hands. “Thanks,” murmured Eddie, as if Steve had done him the favour.

“Woah. That’s my line, right?”

“No. Look, I need to get this out.” Eddie paced, folded his arms. Unfolded them again. “I’m gay, Steve. And I like you. I’m not going to press myself on you or anything, but… It’s okay to have second thoughts. I can arrange for you to have a separate room, if you prefer.”

Steve shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “No sweat, Eds.”

He only hoped it wouldn’t be too long before his almost-prince stole a kiss. 

***

Thanks for reading :)