#steve x tommy x carol

[augustjustice]

I’m a big fan of Steve “queer all along but didn’t realize it” Harrington, but in the most specific way possible, which is this: Steve was in quasi-poly queerplatonic relationships with both Tommy and Carol and then Nancy and Jonathan without knowing it. 

Like, Steve and Tommy grew up as close friends, and when Tommy started dating Carol in junior high, Steve just...kept hanging out with him, but now as a trio rather than a duo. Thirdwheeling on dates without ever thinking anything of it, attached at the hip. 

And, so, when Steve and Nancy started dating, Steve really didn’t see anything wrong with the fact that Jonathan sometimes ended up tagging along on their dates, both at Nancy’s invitation to make it a group hang out and sometimes an invite from Steve himself. 

Though nothing explicitly non-platonic ever happened, it’s only later, when Steve looks back on it, that he realizes 1) that he’d had crushes on Tommy and Jonathan he hadn’t recognized as such and 2) there was something eyebrow-raising, in most people’s eyes, about inviting a third person to tag along on your date. 

(He hasn’t broken pattern yet, though. Because now he has Eddie and Robin, his boyfriend and platonic soulmate respectively, and Robin frequently ends up crashing his dates with Eddie. Everyone is fine with this.)

[mojowitchcraft]

Stommy Starter Pack

Bella @bilbosmom-belladonna said she was getting into Stommy so I thought I'd do a fic rec list of my faves!!

This is by no means an exhaustive list, please feel free to post more Stommy recs in the replies!

If you're a Steddie shipper and you are just warming up to the idea of letting Tommy infiltrate your OTP try these Stommie (Steve, Tommy, Eddie - aka Frog Stack) Fics:

movie night by pizzabones aka @glitterfang Post S4 | Rated E | 9k | One Shot This is a series with 2 parts so far, with a 3rd one on the way

Nightly demodog attacks, a town that's held together by duct tape and sheer pettiness, a scrappy group of survivors living in Hawkins high and one, Tommy Hagan. After coming home to Hawkins to check on his family and running into a fair bit of trouble, Tommy manages to find himself roommates with none other than Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. It's actually not that bad all things considered. At least there's still porn at the end of the world.

Strange Overtones by WabiSabiPapi aka @arimakes Body Swap | Rated E | 38k | 4/4 Chapters

When he makes it to the small clearing, quick footsteps come up behind him, and before he can turn around, someone tries to shove him. Astonishingly, his center of gravity is on his side and he plants his feet in time, holding his ground. Spinning around, he puts his fists up and freezes when he sees himself panting and angry with fists clenched to his sides. “Woah, trippy,” Eddie remarks. Tommy dressed him poorly today—the absence of his battle vest is going to draw a lot of attention from his comrades. “What the fuck did you do to me, freak?!” “Tommy?” Eddie doublechecks, hopeful that their game of musical bodies is only between the two of them and not some other third party. “Yes! Did you fucking curse me? What the shit is this?!” ----- Eddie Munson and Tommy Hagan don't like each other and they don't have anything in common - or at least, that's what they think until one morning, they each wake up in the other's body.

MORE RECS BELOW THE CUT!

pretty secrets we share in the dark by poopypantsbennett aka @dontcallmeeds PWP | Rated E | 3k | One Shot

Then, a throat clears from the back of bedroom and Tommy’s entire universe becomes hell frozen over. Steve scrambles away from Tommy, takes his hand back. The loss of touch makes Tommy have to bite back a whine. “Well, don’t stop on my accord,” a somewhat familiar voice comes from a plume of smoke by the window. (Or Tommy and Steve get caught by everyone’s favorite stoner, Eddie Munson)

And the boy who loves you the wrong way is filthy by whateverokayFINE aka @batmunson666 PWP | Rated E | 4.5k | One Shot This is in a series with 2 parts so far

“You wanna kiss him?” Eddie’s voice is warm on his neck. The sun was starting to set. “Yeah.” or Tommy Hagan goes over to Eddie Munson's trailer to buy weed, sees that he’s not alone and the guy that he’s been in love with for years has been keeping his drug dealer company.

friend, love, freefall by @becomingfoxes Rated E | 10k | One Shot Plus there's some really lovely art in the fic!

Eddie leans into his face; his big, stupid, chocolate bambi eyes wide as he bats his eyelashes at Tommy and says, “Pretty, pretty please.” And really, Tommy tries not to react but he can’t help that his eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips and back up to his eyes. So he pushes at Eddie, just to get some distance and watches as he flops back onto the bed in a mess of uncoordinated limbs. “Jesus fuck.” He sniffs, “Sure, okay. We can watch your dumb, creepy doll movie.” “Yesss.” 

And then if you want another fun threesome you can try Stomarol (Steve, Tommy, Carol)

and steve makes three by Adure aka @toburnup AU | Rated E | 8k | One Shot

"Steve doesn't like me." Tommy knows better than to lie. "He'll come around." He knows that the reason Steve hates Carol is the same reason that Tommy loves her. The same reason he loves Steve, really. They have the same bite, the same oil-slick filthy mouths that get them in trouble. They both smell like hairspray and bubblegum. They both like Tommy.

And then if you're ready for the full Stommy experience:

hold the line by pizzabones Post S4 | Rated E | 8k | One Shot

Standing at the precipice of a big change, Steve's dragged to a Hawkins High bonfire by Dustin. It feels like a personal low, showing up to a high school gathering at twenty. Oh well. It's fine, he'll be out of Hawkins soon enough. It just figures that Tommy Hagan, the last person he expected to run into tonight, is also standing in the keg line. As the poets (Toto) say, "love isn't always on time".

sidelong by Adure AU | Rated E | 6k | One Shot

Tommy draws his knees up toward him and leans his folded arms on top. He stares, unashamed, at the length of Steve's neck as he looks around. His chin. His nice smile. Tommy's drunker now that they're sitting in the brunt of the sun, and maybe that's why it takes a few extra seconds for him to realize that Steve's stopped talking. "Is there something on my face?" Steve asks, rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand. He looks confused. And he's waiting, because Tommy is slack-jawed and a little bit in love and he's really, really not ready for this shit. (Tommy can't help but look, and Steve can't stop catching him.)

here you come again by @cranberrymoons Post S4 | Rated E | 16k | One Shot

Vaguely, over the sound of a bland pop song playing in the background, he hears the squeak of a pair of sneakers come to a halt at the other end of the aisle. He turns his head toward the sound… and promptly fumbles the tube of Pringles he’d been reaching for. He bats at it with his hand in a futile attempt at catching it, instead knocking it further toward the ground like a spiked volleyball. He clears his throat. “Um.” The tube rolls across the linoleum and comes to a stop at Tommy Hagan’s feet. Steve stares at it for a long, agonizing beat of silence, then he looks back up at Tommy’s face. “Sorry.” Tommy raises his eyebrows, and Steve’s heart kicks in his chest. Steve and Tommy haven't talked in nearly three years. After everything, maybe the best way forward is back.

no pressure by Adure No Upside Down AU | Rated E | 11k | One Shot

Steve Harrington has the worst porn collection Tommy's ever seen. His own is better in every way, no doubt about it, and it seems like Steve agrees as he looks over the rows of tapes. "Which one's your favourite?" "Huh?" "Your favourite. Which one?" Steve asks again, slower this time. Makes Tommy feel slow, too, as he reaches over for a well worn tape near the top of the box. Steve gives him a smile that's sly enough to make Tommy feel like an idiot for saying it. For giving up something damning and getting shit-all in return, just Steve grabbing a fistful of his sleeve and pulling him toward the door. "Let's watch it." Steve kisses Tommy. It's a joke, it doesn't mean anything. There isn't an explanation for what happens after that.

After Everything by WabiSabiPapi Soulmate AU | Rated E | 23k | 4/4 Chapters

It's 2003 - nearly two decades after Eddie sacrificed himself to save Hawkins, leaving Steve behind to navigate a life without his soulmate. He has made his peace knowing that falling in love is not in the cards for him until one day, someone from his past shows up unexpectedly. Maybe it's not too late to find love, after all.

Again, this is not an exhaustive list, just some of my faves by my fave writers and friends! Would love recs (yes self recs too!!!) in the replies!!

[devondespresso]

Just Let Me Come Home

T | 2850 words | Stomarol, post s2, pre-relationship | also on ao3 | cw: very minor implied child neglect

Gift for @momotonescreaming Happy very late Birthday Momo!!! STWG prompt: Home

Thank you so much to @pearynice for betaing!!

Hawkins’ sun sets early in November.

When school starts tapering off into winter break, so does the light each day, the world getting darker until it looks like midnight at six in the afternoon and no one can see Steve riding shotgun in the police chief's car.

It’s been a hell of a week. Or, more accurately, one hellish night with consequences bleeding into the days after, until the bruising on Steve’s face starts fading into uglier muddier colors and Hopper decides he’s been waiting in the hospital long enough, telling him to start the mental list for what he’ll pack in his overnight bag.

Steve looks out the window as Hop drives, letting the cold glass ice the headache pressing against his forehead, watching the lamplit storefronts as they drive, staring out as the occasional passerby glances over the car, unseeing, before turning back to whatever they were doing before.

It’s dark. They can’t see much, and they don’t really need to. They don’t really care.

Which makes it awfully convenient that hell keeps coming to Hawkins just after dark. It brings a lot less questions that he can’t answer, about nausea and terror that he can’t explain, that he wouldn’t know how to even if he could. 

It’s convenient. Gives Steve less people to worry about, less names to remember when things go bump in the night.

Hop drives past the end of Main street, the end of paved sidewalks and streetlights. He stops at a four-way to let another car turn, then takes a left down a darker road.

House lights take the place of street lamps, windows flaunting squares of lustrous orange light in every house they pass. The distance makes the light hazier, easier on the ache behind his eyes.

The street is familiar, more than just small-town same-roads familiar. It becomes depressingly familiar as the Perkins' house appears ahead, that feeling more of an indicator than the house’s appearance right now. Light fills almost every damn window, except for Carol’s bedroom upstairs.

Her powder blue convertible is missing from the driveway, too, and its absence leaves the whole house sickeningly monochrome.

It's probably in Tommy's driveway. He could check to be sure, they’ll pass by it in a block or two.

As quick as it appeared, Carol’s house disappears again, passing behind them just like every other house on the block.

Steve closes his eyes.

Keeps them closed, until the car slows drastically but doesn't feel the turn into the driveway.

Steve opens his eyes, glances towards Hopper and finds him looking out into the dark ahead, warily. Steve follows his gaze, and his stomach turns.

There’s a powder blue convertible stalling in front of his house—roof uncharacteristically up and hiding the interior—haphazardly parked half off the road. The people in the front seat are arguing, and there’s smoke billowing out the back still like they’re ready to take off at any second.

Hop rolls closer, headlights lighting up everything. Steve leans forward to get a better look, and Tommy’s face turns around in the driver’s seat to look back at them.

Tommy’s eyes pass over Steve, unseeing, then skipping by Hop too as he just sees a cop car and panics. He gets ready to drive off, only to be stopped by Carol’s hand from the passenger’s seat. 

It's uncomfortable just looking at them. Tommy is awkwardly crammed into Carol’s front seat like he’s too big for it—maybe because he is, maybe it's still adjusted for Carol—and Carol looks like she's fighting the seatbelt that's keeping her from jumping across the dash and taking the wheel herself. 

And what’s worse, they’re sticking with it. They’re parked on the side of the road and yet neither get out to switch seats and go back to what they're used to.

Hop shifts the car into park, and Steve glances over to find Hopper already looking at him, eyebrows raised and quietly asking. 

Steve turns back to the car in front of them for a second. Carol glances back from her spot in the passenger’s seat too, then turns to her real objective of saying something to Tommy. Something Tommy, apparently, doesn’t want to hear. Has already heard several times, if the overplayed frustration is anything to go by.

Steve sighs.

“I’ve got it.” Steve mutters, and ducks down to find his keys in his bag.

Hopper doesn’t say anything and goes back to eyeing Carol's car, but when Steve sits back up he shoots him another uncertain look.

“You’ll know if I change my mind.” Steve says, and gets out of the car.

The headlights sting his eyes even from behind so Steve squints and turns his head away from them, watches his step and shoves his keys into his pockets as he walks over. A car door in front of him opens, letting the tail end of a very annoyed “Carol!” slip out before it slams shut again and the familiar clacking of boots makes its way over to him. 

Steve looks up properly and Carol stops, squinting from the headlights, staring at the bruising on his face openly, shock softening a very reassuring grimace. Steve closes the last bit of distance so he doesn't have to be loud, doesn’t make this any bigger than it has to be.

“Can this happen at literally any other time?” 

Carol stares at the worst spots of his face for another second, trying to juggle new thoughts with whatever the hell she was planning to say, but a voice from the other side of her car beats her to it.

“Steve?”

He and Carol both look over at Tommy, standing from the driver's seat to get a better look over the hood of the car, equally taken aback, if only for a second.

Tommy jogs over—that slowed down jog to keep from looking too uncool—and stops, a little further away than Carol is, keeping a cold distance. It nicks an old nerve, one he's used to having hit, but now it’s fanning a bitter flame that he’s happy to indulge.

“What the hell happened to you?” Tommy says.

“Why do you care?”

“Steve.” Carol snaps at him.

“No, actually, what are either of you even doing here?”

“Looking for you, asshole.” Carol says, and takes barely a step forward. 

“Carol dragged me with her.” Tommy says, with that light, cocky tone he’d use in the hallways or on the court or in the locker room, where everythings a goddamn joke.

“Tommy.” Carol hisses, hitting Tommy’s arm and Tommy scowls at her.

“Well that makes this easy then.” Steve says, letting bored disdain leak out with every breath. He directs an extra bit of bitterness Tommy’s way, then turns back towards his house.

“Steve–” 

Tommy grabs his arm. Reaches out and grabs for him. 

Steve turns back and looks down at Tommy’s hand on his forearm, pointedly, then back up at Tommy. Challenging, to let Tommy know he’s doing it—reaching out and touching another boy—and waits for Tommy to let go or pretend it’s more aggressive than he meant it.

Tommy’s hand slips away and falls to the side.

“Look, man,” Tommy starts, “We heard about Wheeler–”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve says, and even though his voice wavers Steve tries to make it harsh, be cold and detached like he would be if they were in the halls right now. “You just know everything there is to know about Nancy Wheeler these days.”

Carol makes a face at him and Tommy scowls again, and it feels like so much, feels familiar and nauseating, soothing and insufferable.

“Man, I’m fucking trying, alri–”

“To do what?”

Tommy pauses, face still scowling but his eyes searching, confused.

“What are you trying to do?” Steve asks again.

Tommy looks away, shoves his hands into his jacket pocket. “Fucking talk, man, what…” Tommy smiles, shoots him a look of casual apathy, doing it on purpose now. “What does it look like I’m doin’.”

Steve tamps down a curled lip, keeping mostly neutral as he stares at Tommy. Making a show of listening even after he stopped talking, waiting for either another deflection or a real answer.

It takes Tommy a good few seconds to realize Steve isn’t planning on playing along. He connects the dots and drops the casual act, apathy hardening into irritation, and refuses to say anything.

Steve glances over to Carol, standing off to the side and mostly watching Tommy. She catches Steve’s eye, but with nothing written on her face. 

She looks at Tommy again but doesn’t try to intervene, doesn’t try to say anything.

Steve turns again quietly, away from the cars and headlights, and starts up his driveway. Gets a little ways away before Tommy does anything about it.

“Steve, fucking– hold on!” 

Steve turns before Tommy can reach him, catching him off guard, so instead of grabbing Steve’s arm Tommy gestures around with that energy, pointing to him and Carol and right at Steve’s chest.  

“We came out here because it was always the three of us, always! You, me, and Carol. And then you ran away, you keep fucking off to do your own thing like neither of us ever mattered.”

“So you came here to yell at me.” 

“I came here because you sure as hell weren’t coming back! You were getting off on ‘caring about other people’ but you don’t give two shits about us!”

Tommy lets the words hit, then loses steam with a loaded huff. He stares Steve down like Steve’s dragging the word out of him, like Steve’s the one forcing this conversation to happen.

“And you’re happier now.” 

Tommy looks sick with it, keeps channeling anger over the sickness and it’s working, he’s yelling, but Steve can’t stop seeing what’s under there. 

“But we still give a shit about you, and Carol dragged both our asses over here cause she’s the only one with enough balls to admit it.”

Tommy’s hand moves again, barely a reach that’s pulled back, a small reflex that Tommy probably doesn't notice, but Steve does, only because he’s looking for it.

A lump forms and clogs Steve’s throat—and Tommy sees it, something of it because he lets the anger melt out, smooths it down a little until–

“You tell me to fuck off and I’ll do it, but you’re going to let me fucking try first.”

–until he just looks like Tommy again.

Steve crashes forward and pulls Tommy in tight for a hug. Wraps his arms around him, ducks his face down into Tommy’s shoulder, half for himself, half as a final test, to see if Tommy would let him– let himself give as much of a shit as he used to.

Tommy jumps but grabs onto him with that reflex, wraps his arms around Steve's back and holds him just as tight, maybe tighter. Tears well up in Steve’s eyes, the treacherous kind that aren’t asking if or when they could fall, so Steve buries them in the collar of Tommy's shirt.

Tommy laughs a little, light with surprise and wonder and fucking joy, rumbling soothingly from his chest, from his throat right by Steve’s ear, and it makes Steve smile, too. Smiling so wide, even as tears fall freely and he silently chokes on his relief.

Tommy presses his face, too, into Steve’s shoulder, not quite tall enough to tuck his chin over. He presses his smile into the collar of Steve’s shirt and leans his head against Steve’s, so much softer, so much more confident, and more truly at ease than Steve’s seen him before.

Steve takes in a deep breath, slow and long so it feels like enough, and revels in the steadiness,  the warmth around him. And for the first time in a while, it’s easier to keep himself upright.

Another hand settles gently on his shoulder, light enough that it doesn’t hurt the bruises that have to be somewhere around there.

Steve pulls back, just enough to stand up straight and see Carol keeping her hand on Steve’s shoulder, looking slightly worried and only getting worse when he meets her eyes.

Steve shakes his head, wipes the wetness from his eyes, cringing when he presses against bruises, just making more tears fall.

Steve swallows hard and takes a deep breath again.

“I missed you guys, too.”

Carol moves fast, pulls him into her own tight hug immediately, squeezes a choked sob out of him instead of words. He hugs her back tightly, buries the lower half of his face in her hair, and gets a strong whiff of Farrah Fawcett hairspray.

Carol gives him one more squeeze before her grip mellows out into something gentler, decidedly gentle, and just as steady. And she stays there, face resting on his shirt, right over his heart like it's just as much for her as it is for him. His throat clogs up again, and Steve doesn't think he’s ever been happier.

After a moment or so, Carol mutters something that Steve doesn’t catch.

“What?” Tommy asks before Steve can.

Carol huffs with so much of her signature annoyance that Steve can't help but snort to himself too. She moves back but with an arm still tucked around Steve, shoots him a quick glare that doesn’t hide any of her fondness—if she was even trying to hide it—and turns to Tommy to enunciate everything at him.

“I said, it took you two long enough.”

 Tommy rolls his eyes immediately, like he’s heard something like this a million times before.

“Yeah, thanks for helping, by the way.” 

“You’re welcome.” Carol says, all over-innocent and cheery and it makes Tommy roll his eyes harder, “You two needed someone sensible around. All this emotional constipation really isn't a great look.”

Steve wrinkles his nose at the word choice while Tommy scoffs.

“Yeah, you’re real mature, like you didn’t bite Nichole Turner’s head off for finding that old swim team hoodie you won’t get rid of.”

“Tommy!”

Carol hits Tommy’s arm again, betrayed and annoyed but not trying to deny it.

“You kept that?”

Carol glances over before resolutely avoiding eye contact and shrugs, but doesn’t refute it.

“Awww Caroooool,” he says, drawing the words out comically, putting an arm around her, “You missed—” 

“It’s a sweatshirt.”

“You missed meeeee.” He sings and hugs her again, playing up the schmaltzy sweet flair.

“You two are such—” she starts, then sighs heavily before giving up, dropping her head to lean into Steve’s hug.

Steve smiles and looks back over to Tommy—to give Carol her moment to recover—and catches a soft smile on his face, too.

Tommy’s eyes flick up to meet Steve’s and he pauses like he knows he’s been caught.

“So…” Steve starts.

“Yeah.” Tommy says, landing a hand on his shoulder, casual except for how Tommy keeps it there, normal except for how it’s making Steve melt. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. I'm gonna head inside—”

“And find a bag of peas or something,” Carol interrupts, pulling away to give Steve another look, “I mean, like, in a nice way–”

“Don’t hurt yourself.” 

“You look like you’ve been hit by a car.”

“Yeah.” he laughs.

“Did you?”

“No, no…” Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s uh… long story.”

Carol raises an eyebrow, and when Steve turns to Tommy instead he finds him also giving Steve a searching look. Steve smiles a little, enjoying the care despite the context and the subjects he has to breach at some point—god especially when it comes to school again, basketball’s about to be a fucking mess—

“I’ll tell you guys later. Promise.” He says and he means it, even if he can only throw together some half baked explanation—maybe blame a little more on Hargrove than he really needs to—he wants them around enough to know. And also, maybe selfishly, wants them around enough to know when he’s lying, to know when there’s things he won’t say.

But for now, Tommy and Carol both accept the promise for later. And Steve nods over towards the front door.

Carol takes the silent invitation immediately, heads up the dark driveway and to the front of the house with Steve and Tommy not far behind her.

Carol waits by the steps for them as they catch up and lets Steve go ahead to the door, whispering something cheeky and teasing to Tommy that catches him off guard, makes him stutter for a second before muttering something snippy back.

Steve bites back a laugh and turns to the door. He finds his keys in his pocket and picks out the house key smoothly as Tommy and Carol linger behind him, their presence and their voices calming something in him, making the gaping void behind them feel less vast, less pressing.

He clicks the lock and opens the door wide and it’s somehow darker than what they’re already standing in.

Steve wanders in blindly, and Tommy and Carol follow right behind.

[little-bumblebeeee]

love how we all agree that something was definitely going on between these three

[griefabyss69]

Congrats on the 100 followers!!!

I'd like to request the prompt 'chocolate' everything else is up to you 💜

Haha remember when I said I could get SO romantic with this prompt? Well I didn't <3 <3 <3

Stommy + Carol - Rated: M - 573 Words College AU where they're all still friends but like more 🤙🍫 (Full thing under the cut)

It starts with Tommy waving his fingers in Steve's face.

He’s got melted chocolate on them; it's summer-hot out, Tommy's hands are always warm, and he took the whole bar out of the wrapper to hold while he ate it.

He's laughing, acting like he's gonna touch Steve's face and get it all gross, and Steve’s acting like it’s not bothering him even though he literally just showered a half hour ago after practice, and he doesn't want to have to wash his face for like the hundredth time today.

Though with all of the sweat, he might.

It's a few days away from the end of their freshman year of college, both of them somehow landed at the same place, even though Tommy's grades fucking sucked and Steve barely even thought about any of his applications. But it’s too hot even for May.

"What're you gonna do?" Tommy asks, his smirk too goofy looking to be threatening even though Steve knows he would, and would smear it in his hair too if he got the impulse.

He doesn't answer, just gives him a disinterested look, trying to replicate the ice in Carol's eyes since she's not here to glare at him.

There's a little twist in his heart when he thinks about that, thinks about how she fucking smacked their heads together and kissed both of them on the lips before snapping her gum, the kind of smirk on her face that Tommy wishes he could pull off.

She'd said goodbye and gotten into her car and drove off to the hot-smart-rich-girl University she was breaking hearts at right now.

Tommy hadn't even been mad she kissed Steve, they had broken up on paper so they both could, as Tommy put it, "fuck around without all of the drama", but he had stared at Steve's mouth for way too long after Carol's car was out of sight.

Steve thinks about that, and it’s his gut twisting this time as he glances at Tommy before opening his mouth and sucking two of his fingers into his mouth.

"Jesus! Steve!" Tommy shouts, going stiller than Steve's seen him maybe ever.

He just makes eye contact and sucks harder, using his tongue to start to clean him off, like he does to his own fingers after he's finished making a date cum. Tommy's gaping at him, hand frozen as he lets him do this, a hot flush coming out to mingle with the freckles over his face.

It's not really a stalemate, clearly Steve's the one here hip-checking the knight or whoever the special winning piece is, but it probably looks like one even with the way Tommy presses his fingers in further.

Steve wishes he could telepathically communicate just so he could antagonize him about that with his mouth full.

But he can't so he just sucks, flicks the tip of his tongue over the web between his fingers.

Eventually Tommy pulls his fingers out, maybe his brain finally started working again or he just decided he wasn't gonna win that one, but he stares down at his hand, two fingers still messy with chocolate and two just absolutely covered in Steve's spit.

Steve palms himself while he's not looking, tries to adjust himself in his shorts to hide the way he’s aching right now.

"Uh," Tommy says, looking back up at him, holding his hand out. "Can you do that with the rest?"

[depressedtheatrekiddo]

Ohohohoh I'm a sucker for whatever the past ship of Stevie + Carol + Tommy is called

Imagine me when an idea appears on my mind and says

LISTENLISTEN

It's Christmas, okay? And Carol it's pressured by her family to bring a boyfriend because we know how that shit works

So

She brings Tommy

BUT they're all together at that moment. Because they know they are. Together.

It goes something like this

. ° — ° — ❄️ — ° — ° .

"So yeah— my parents..."

"Oh, I can go!" Steve says, lovely smile in their face "Then we can go to my parents too, they asked me to bring someone too and I doubt they told me that as to bring a friend"

And then Tommy and Carol go silent.

And Stevie knows they talked about it before. Before telling her.

"Stevie, I thought about bringing Tommy— He's— You know...A real man" And fuck it, it burns like hell, and Steve remembers themselves to not cry, he tries not to.

"Oh" Carol tries to touch her arm, Tommy smiles softly, 'sorry' Stevie can read in his expression. She doesn't care, they know Carol and Tommy love him for who she is, but they don't always think about what they say, and the one who ends hurt is Steve. Because she doesn't say anything. Because they love him. "It's 'kay- I'm gonna go home"

Carol tries to talk, Tommy looks at Stevie as she stands up from Tommy's bed, as they're in his bedroom. The two of them realize they fucked up once they heard Steve calling his house a home. Because they were supposed to be her home, his safe place.

"Lemme walk you to the door" Tommy stands up too, and then Carol nods.

Steve let's them walk with her, he doesn't say anything.

"See ya tomorrow Stevie" Tommy mutters, his gaze trying to be softer, very different from when he talks normally. She sees that he tries to think what to do. But he doesn't do anything.

"W-we can go the three of us together to prom— It's just—" Carol mutters, a weak smile on her face. But she doesn't say sorry. Neither of them actually verbalize it. And Stevie remembers the relationship of their parents. And fuck it, it burns even more.

"It's okay— I understand" And he doesn't. But they love them. Why does it matter?

[threewaywithdelusion]

Currently reading a fic that's selling me on Steve/Tommy/Carol as a ship. Which isn't really a new idea in the fandom, but the author isn't even writing the ship. I'm sitting here like a clown, being convinced to ship a rare-pair that ISN'T EVEN IN THE FIC.

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Week 2024

July 5th Prompt: Reunion

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 6 | Day 7

@steddie-week

“Babe,” Eddie calls from the kitchen. Steve’s in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, so he garbles out an unintelligible one minute! before quickly finishing.

He walks into the kitchen, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “What’s up?”

Eddie’s eyes are dancing with mirth as he helps Steve fix his collar. “You’ll never guess what just came in the mail.”

Steve raises a brow. “You’re acting like my parents are groveling at the door right now.”

Eddie barks out a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, no. I’d very much be laughing in their faces if that’s what was happening.” He grabs Steve’s glasses from the counter he’d forgotten them on last night, unfolds them, and carefully slides them on Steve’s face. “No migraines,” he murmurs, and Steve’s hit with a rush of love so big he just has to tell Eddie.

“I love you.”

Eddie smiles softly; a small, disbelieving, hopeful thing that’s never changed from the first time Steve said it. “And I, my love,” he murmurs back. “But no, it’s not your parents.” His grin grows into a giggle. “It’s fuckin’ Hawkins High.”

Steve makes a face. “It’s still standing?”

Eddie snorts. “Apparently-fucking-ly.” He grabs two letters; one with Steve’s name, one with Eddie’s. “One letter for each of us. I already opened mine. It’s a reunion.”

Steve furrows his brows, rips into the envelope, pulls the paper out. “Hawkins High School… forty-year reunion… de-” he frowns up at Eddie. “Decennial?”

Eddie hums, nods. “Every ten years. God knows where our other ones went.”

Steve hums. “Guess we can throw these in the trash, huh?”

Eddie shifts. “You don’t want to go?”

Steve stares at him incredulously. “You do? You, Eddie Munson, want to go back to the place where—and these are your words, here—apart from our group of friends, only the- the backwoods of inbreeding resides?”

Eddie cackles. “Oh yeah, I did say that, didn’t I?” He’s delighted. Steve’s finding it hard not to smile in the face of that joy.

“So you want to go back?”

Eddie shrugs. “Think about it,” he requests. “I don’t want to go to see how anyone else is doing. Frankly, I don’t have the time to give two shits about them. But you know I’ll always jump at the chance to show you off.”

Steve raises both eyebrows this time. “You want to show me off? In fucking Hawkins?”

Eddie deflates. “You don’t want to go.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, babe, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that even though it’s legal, even though we’re officially married now, if there’s one place that isn’t gonna be accepting…” he trails off, lets Eddie finish the thought for himself.

“What if I convince Nancy to come?”

“Well, she’ll have to come if we go, won’t she? Cause you know she’ll go anywhere Robin does, and Robin’s gonna follow me, so…”

Eddie snickers. “Okay, yeah, fair enough. But babe, we’ll have Nancy and Robin on our side. The three of you took on Vecna, I think you can take on some overweight, washed-up, balding fifty-something-year-old.” He squeezes at Steve’s biceps, and Steve tries not to preen.

He’s proud of the care he’s shown his body, he’s proud of the way he looks, he’s proud that Eddie likes the way he looks. He can feel his resolve waning, is about to tell Eddie fuck it, let’s go, when his phone rings.

He pats his pockets, looks around for it. “Room,” Eddie supplies, and Steve gratefully peck his cheek before jogging to their room, where it’s laying on his nightstand. Eddie walks in as he answers it, having followed at a more sedate pace. “Hello?”

“Are you going to the reunion?”

“Hey, Robbie,” Steve chuckles, meets Eddie’s eyes. “Yeah, we are.”

“Yes!” She cheers. “You’re the best, we’re getting joint hotel rooms, right?”

He laughs and sits on the edge of the bed. “It’s Hawkins, Robs, I don’t think it has anything quite that fancy.”

Robin groans, loud and long enough that both Steve and Eddie have to stifle their giggles. “But I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“It’s been barely a week, Robbie.”

“That’s what I said!”

He relents. “I know. I miss you too. We’ll see you there?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, and hangs up.

Steve looks at Eddie, amused. “I guess we’d better pack. And you should tell the guys, don’t you have something going on that day?”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie says, and runs to the living room for his phone.

Steve surveys their room and sighs. He calls out to Eddie, “bring me a notepad on your way back, please!”

Eddie does, so he sets to work making a list for everything they need to pack while Eddie types away, postponing his plans.

While they might not get joint hotel rooms, Steve, Eddie, Robin, and Nancy are carpooling back to Hawkins in Robin’s van. She’s driving, Nancy’s in the passenger seat, Steve’s right behind Robin and Eddie’s right behind Nancy. Their luggage is piled precariously in the back, meaning every time Robin turns, the luggage slides from one side of the van to the other. Steve, with his mostly-undiagnosed OCD, flinches every time. And every time, Eddie pats his hand.

Besides the shifting suitcases, it’s a nice ride, even if Steve does grab Eddie’s hand and squeeze, just a hair tightly, whenever they pass the Welcome to Hawkins! sign.

Everyone gets a little quiet, after that. Robin fumbles with the radio, and Eddie perks up. “This song,” he says, practically bouncing in his seat.

Steve snorts. “Iron Maiden,” he tells her.

“The fact that you know that-”

“It gets worse,” he tells her, grinning. “The song is called Wasted Years. I know all the words.”

Robin grins, turns the volume up.

The joke’s really on her, though, because she’s always been good at music, patterns, and she’s singing the chorus with him and Eddie by the time they get to the end of the song, Nancy laughing at them. “So understand,” they sing, Robin glancing in the rearview mirror, Steve looking from her to Eddie and back again. “Don’t waste your time always searching for those wasted years. Face up, make this stand. And realize you’re living in the golden years!”

Steve and Eddie are practically screaming it at each other by the last line. Robin’s given up to join Nancy in laughing at them. Steve joins in as Eddie plays air guitar to the end of the song, collapsing in a laugh when it’s finally over.

“Okay,” Eddie says, grinning. “I think I could take on anything now.”

“Yeah?” Nancy asks, pointing ahead. “You’re ready for the reunion?”

They’d decided, since the last time they took a proper road trip had been too many years ago, they could do it the same day as the reunion.

They’d forgotten how getting old, coupled with the problems every one of them still has from the Upside Down, means they’re all very much sore from sitting in a car for upwards of five hours.

The plan was drive the five-something hours, go to the reunion, crash in the hotel, and drive back home the next day.

Steve hates the plan now and wants to go to the hotel to rest like the old man he’s letting himself be.

However unfortunate it may be, the reunion is today, which means Steve gets to suck it up, say hi to people he probably doesn’t even remember anymore, and then leave.

He hops out of the car and stretches a little, laughing when Eddie attempts the same hop out of the car and almost eats asphalt. “Dumbass,” he mutters. Eddie shoots him a Cheshire grin.

Before long they’re ready to walk inside. Steve takes a breath as he passes through the doors. The hallways are the same, but the lockers are new. It still smells like teenagers and feet, he notices, wrinkling his nose. The things you’ll get nose-blind to, he supposes.

The letters they’d gotten said the reunion was to be held in the gym, so that’s where they head.

Steve didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t a few snack tables along the edge of the room and a single Reunion of ‘85 banner. “Goddamn,” Eddie says from beside him, “depressing much?”

Steve snorts in agreement and walks over to the drink table. If he’s going to talk to people, he’s at least going to have questionable-looking punch while he does.

When he turns after getting punch, he nearly runs into someone. He quickly steps back. “Oh, sorry!” He looks up into the shocked face of Tommy Hagan. He blinks. “Tommy?”

“Steve.”

Steve smiles. “How’ve you been?”

Tommy blinks, like he can’t believe Steve’s being nice to him right now, and that’s when Steve remembers they’d parted on not-so-nice terms. Oh well, he would’ve feigned politeness even if he’d remembered. “I’m good, yeah, uh, how- how’re you?”

“I’m good,” Steve agrees. “Really good. Last I remember you and Carol were dancing around each other, yeah? What happened there?”

“We got married,” Tommy nods.

“Congratulations!”

“And then divorced two years later,” Tommy adds, smirking. Steve winces. “How about you? Last I knew, it was you and Wheeler, ‘cept she cheated on you with Byers, yeah?”

“God,” Steve laughs, “that was so long ago. Yeah, that happened. We talked it through and Nance and I are really good friends now. She’s married to someone else, as am I, but we both keep in touch with Jon, thought he’s out in California now.”

Tommy’s brow raises. “Married? Who’s the lucky girl?”

A presence beside him makes Steve turn to see Eddie grinning at him. “My ears are burning.”

“They should be,” he laughs. “Tommy, you remember Eddie?”

“Munson,” Tommy nods, then does a double take. “Wait, you’re married?”

“As of three years ago now,” Eddie says proudly. “But together for…”

“Thirty-seven years,” Steve provides, smiling at his husband before turning back to Tommy. “Did you ever get remarried after Carol?” Tommy shakes his head.

Eddie whispers in Steve’s ear, “You know he totally had the hots for you, right?”

Steve winces at the blast of static from his hearing aid and quickly shuts it off. “Ow,” he mutters, grinning crookedly at Eddie, who looks apologetic. He quickly signs what he’d whispered, and Steve laughs. “Don’t you remember my initial panic?”

Eddie thinks, back to when Steve had asked him what’s gay versus friendly, becoming increasingly confused when most of the things Eddie ticked off in the gay category were things Steve and Tommy had done that Steve had thought firmly resided in the friendly category. “Oh, yeah.”

Steve snorts, shakes his head, pushes him away. “Go talk to someone else. Rescue Robin, she looks like she needs it.”

“Nah,” Eddie says, “she can hold her own,” but goes anyways after a quick peck to Steve’s cheek. Steve turns the hearing aid back on.

“Man,” Tommy says wonderingly, “what happened to you?”

“Concussions,” Steve answers flatly. “Three of ‘em. Then I grew up.” He sighs, looks down at his cup, then up at Tommy. “Listen, man, about what we used to do-”

Tommy winces. “I know. I had that revelation a while ago, actually, but it was definitely shitty of me.”

Steve smiles, shrugs. “You had a crush on me. It’s not an excuse, but it does make a certain kind of sense you’d react that way, especially considering the kind of home life you had.” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Feel free to stop listening if the therapist side of me comes out. I swear I’m not trying to, like, diagnose you with anything.”

Tommy’s brows raise. “You’re a therapist?”

Steve hums affirmatively. “Started as a school counselor, if you can believe that.”

Tommy fixes him with a wondering grin. “Y’know? I think I can see it.”

“Do my eyes deceive me,” someone says from their side, draping their arms across Steve and Tommy’s shoulders, pulling them into a hug.

Steve comes face-to-face with Carol. He grins. “Hey, Carol.”

“Hey, you,” she says, raking her eyes over him. “Time’s been good to you.”

“You’re one to talk,” Steve says happily, but its true; she doesn’t look a day over forty, instead of the fifty-odd she is now. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” she agrees.

They go through the same song-and-dance, but this time when she asks who he’s married to, he sees Eddie juggling water bottles, talking to a couple of people. “Oh, for-” he mutters, then louder, “Eddie, what in the everloving fuck are you doing?”

Eddie drops a bottle, puts the other two on the table behind him, and jogs over to throw his weight onto Steve. “Making friends.”

Steve snorts, elbows him off. “Say hi to Carol, babe.”

Carol clocks it immediately, based on the twitch of her eyebrow, but only says, “I didn’t peg you two as a couple.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie snorts, “it was Bumfuck, Indiana in the 80’s.”

Carol tilts her head in agreement, then turns to Tommy and says coolly, “Tommy.”

“Carol,” he replies, tips of his ears red.

Eddie looks between them, then turns a raised eyebrow on Steve, who quickly signs, “Married for two years a while ago. I don’t know any details.”

“He clearly is still into her.”

“I refuse to be a part of whatever you’re planning.”

Eddie pouts. “You’re no fun.”

Carol clears her throat. “Sign language?”

Steve snorts. “Turns out brains aren’t supposed to get banged around. You’ve got a real good chance of messing something up that way.”

Eddie pokes his cheek. “‘S not your fault.”

“Never said it was,” Steve placates.

Carol shakes her head. “How many concussions do you have?”

Steve hums. “Three? Four?”

“Three,” Eddie corrects. “Not that we need to get into it right now.” He gives Carol a tight smile, and Steve hip-checks him.

“Down, boy,” he murmurs with a smile. “I’m alright.” He turns to Carol with a wider smile. “Long story short, the concussions caused irreparable hearing loss. I’m almost completely deaf in my left ear, but I get by.”

“Damn,” Carol says lightly, “life, huh?”

Steve snorts. “You can say that again.” He tilts his head. “How are you?” He asks. “Really?”

She gives him a crooked smile. “Let’s walk and talk.” Steve offers her his arm, which she takes with a laugh.

“How am I,” she muses. “Well I thought I found love, but we imploded two years later. Thank god for prenups, I guess, but at the same time, that made it feel like we were doomed from the start.”

Steve hums. “Eddie and I have been legally married for three years,” he tells her. “Together for thirty-seven. We’ve got prenups. Not because we think we won’t work, but because we want the people we care about to not have to worry about any of that.” He’s silent for a few steps. “I used to think love is out of our control. That we don’t get to decide who we fall for. And maybe, to a certain extent, that’s true. But love is also a choice you make every day. Eddie and I are still in love because we choose to be.”

“You look at each other like you’re on your honeymoon.”

Steve giggles. “And to think we didn’t even have a honeymoon!”

Carol laughs, too, then sobers. “You always were more fortunate in love,” she says. “What do you think? Do we have a chance?”

Steve hums. “I think it’s obvious, just by looking at him, that he’s still into you.”

“No shit.”

“So what’s important is how you feel. Marriage is work, I’m not gonna lie and say it’s not. So are you ready, and I mean really ready, to work for it?”

She works her lower lip. “I think so,” she admits. “But I- I’m also not completely sure I’m straight.”

“Okay,” Steve shrugs. “Do you know what he and I used to get up to?” He shrugs at her look. “I’m just saying, neither is he.”

“I mean, I definitely still like guys.”

“Well duh, you’ve taken more dick than I have and I’m married to a man.”

She snorts. “But women…”

“I know,” Steve says sympathetically. “It’s hard, isn’t it.” He pats her hand. “If you’re ready to try, though, you need to talk to him.” He turns her around, gestures toward Tommy, who quickly looks away, cheeks burning. They both laugh softly.

Carol leans up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Steve. Let’s keep in touch.”

“Let’s actually keep in touch,” he agrees, handing her his phone. “Where do you live?”

“Columbus for now, but he’s in Dayton.”

Steve hums. “We’re in Detroit.”

“We’ll do phone calls,” Carol decides, laughing.

Steve chuckles, saves her number. “Plan to meet up-”

“Never actually do-”

“Oh, Carol, it’s been so long-”

They both break off into giggles. “You’re fun,” she decides. “I wish we’d kept in touch.”

“To be fair, we competed for title of bitchiest.”

“To be fair, I don’t think we ever grew out of that,” Carol retorted, and Steve snorts, gently shoving her.

“Alright, go get your man, and send mine over here.”

She gently steps on his shoe as she leaves, impish smile in place, and Steve turns only to run into Nancy and Robin. “Hey, guys,” he smiles.

Nancy gives him a look. “Making nice with Carol?”

Steve shrugs, grins at her. “Turns out we were just kids. Who knew, right?”

Just then, Eddie comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “What’re we talking about?”

Nancy smiles at him, wraps an arm around Robin’s waist. “Being kids.”

“That so?” He presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek, pushes back to look at him. “You look lighter.”

Steve hums. “‘S cause I love you.”

“Charmer,” Eddie mutters, turning bright red. “C’mon, seriously.”

“Seriously,” Steve agrees. “I was talking with Carol about her and Tommy, and I told her that why we work is because we work at it.”

“Very true.”

From behind them, someone cautiously asks, “Eddie Munson?”

They both turn, and suddenly Eddie’s scooping her up in a hug. “Ronnie! What the hell are you doin’ here, huh?”

She laughs and hugs him back just as hard. “Did you ever know a Jackson Starnes?”

Eddie’s brow furrows for a second, then smooths out. “Oh, Jackie! Yeah, he was cool.”

“Mhm. He’s my husband.”

“No shit? I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” she laughs, then nods at everyone else. “Who’s the hunk you were hangin’ off of?”

Eddie chuckles. “Ronnie, meet my husband, Steve.”

She turns an eyebrow on him. “You got married?”

“He proposed,” Steve corrects her, grinning.

“To the preppiest of jocks,” Robin adds.

Eddie laughs. “What can I say? It’s love.” He swoons, placing a hand over his chest, almost pulling Ronnie over with the arm still over her shoulder.

She laughs and dumps him off of her. Steve swoops in before he can fall, hoisting him up with a quick kiss.

“I’m Nancy,” she says, extending her hand to Ronnie. “And this is my wife Robin.”

“Oh!” Eddie says, literally jumping back into the conversation. “Robin and Steve are like how we were.”

“Platonic soulmates,” Steve agrees.

“With a capital P,” Robin emphasizes.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Ronnie says.

“How’s Wayne?” She asks Eddie.

“Dead.” He snickers at her face. “‘S alright, Ronnie. It’s been years.”

“Still. I can be sorry.”

“You can,” he agrees. “It won’t help anything, but you can.” He digs his phone out of his pockets, opens his contacts app. “Here, lemme get your number, yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” Ronnie says, “let’s hang out, just lemme know when so I can get a sitter.”

Eddie chokes on nothing. “You have a kid?”

Ronnie grins, a shit-eating thing as she hands his phone back. “Three.”

“Goddamn,” he says, “you got pictures?”

Ronnie rolls her eyes, grabs her phone. “What kind of mom would I be if I didn’t? Here, this is Cassie, Alex, and… that’s Elijah.”

“Oh, man, Alex looks just like Jackie, doesn’t he?”

“I carry him for nine months,” Ronnie bitches good-naturedly. “‘Nough about me, though, how’re you? Corroded Coffin ever take off?”

Eddie snorts. “You hear about the psychopath in ‘86?”

“I remember something about it.”

“Yeah. I got caught in the crossfires, wrongfully blamed, and spent…” he looks at Steve. “A year?”

“Almost.”

He turns back to Ronnie. “Almost a year hiding out. Corroded Coffin was officially disbanded after I was allowed out of hiding.”

“Fuck,” Ronnie says, “there goes my entire foot in my mouth, I guess. What’re you doing now, then?”

He chuckles. “A little bit of everything, honestly. A little music, a little writing, a little D&D. Nothing that’s made me a household name, but enough that I’m kept busy and we’re comfortable.”

Ronnie nods. “And how about you?” She asks Steve.

“Oh, nothing as fun as that,” Steve chuckles. “I’m a therapist.”

Ronnie tilts her head. “Any specialties?”

“C-PTSD, mainly.”

“Damn, I know about eight people who could use someone like you.”

Steve snorts. “That’s usually the way it goes, yeah.”

“Well it was great seeing you, Eddie,” Ronnie says. “And meeting all the rest of you. But I’ve got to find my husband and get back home, so we’ll have to continue this later.”

“Of course,” Steve says. “See you later?”

“Absolutely,” Ronnie nods, then turns and walks off.

They decide to leave not too much later. They’re all tired, so the drive to the hotel is filled with only the sound of the radio, turned almost all the way down.

“Y’know,” Eddie murmurs, tracing the ring on Steve’s finger, “she was my first kiss.”

Steve snorts, an explosive thing that he definitely learned from Robin. “She what?”

“Yup,” Eddie nods. “I knew I liked girls, but she’s the only one I got close enough to to actually know. We got stupid one night and decided to kiss and it basically went how it would if you and Robin were to kiss.”

“Ew,” Steve says on reflex. Eddie snorts.

Robin slaps at him from her seat, then yells when he slaps back, “Don’t distract the driver!”

“Bitch,” he tells her, “you slapped first!”

“You said ew about kissing me!”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Hell no!”

“That’s why I said it!”

Eddie leans up to murmur to Nancy, “should we break it up?”

“Eh, give it a minute. Once they resort to cursing their lineages we can break it up.”

He chuckles. “Always the wise one, Wheeler.”

“You’d best believe it,” she nods smugly.

“Nancy!” Robin says. “Baby! Defend me!”

“About kissing Steve? Who I’ve kissed before?”

“Oh, no,” Robin says, horrified. “I’m stuck in the car with the two people who are experts on Steve kissing.”

“Why’d you make it sound like a bad thing?” Steve demands.

And… yeah. Eddie’s glad they got separate hotel rooms.

Based on the look Nancy throws his way when they part, she’s glad, too.

[616witch]

random headers of wanda maximoff and her loved ones. from left to right; pietro maximoff, hank pym, janet van dyne, jericho drumm, lorna dane, the vision, crystal amaquelin, billy kaplan and tommy shepherd, steve rogers. made for a white tumblr background, 16by9 ratio.

❗❗ NOTICE ❗❗these were made based off available art. I know there are some characters I missed!!

[afewproblems]

Give me Steve, Eddie, and Robin at a bar on a Friday night.

They've had a few drinks, and a shot or two when a song comes on, and Steve immediately jumps to his feet with an, "Oh shit!!"

It's Madonna's Get Into the Groove and for a moment Robin and Eddie think Steve is in pain, that he hates the song as is going to ask the DJ to change it.

Except Steve waltzes onto the dance floor, right into the center.

There aren't too many others dancing, it's early still, barely nine in the evening but the spot lights are on and the DJ flicks on the multicolor strobe as Steve parks himself on the dance floor.

Robin laughs and wishes she had brought the disposable camera instead of leaving it in her junk drawer at home.

Eddie meanwhile rolls his eyes, and pretends not to notice the tightness of Steve's jeans or how the light catches the flecks of gold in his hair and eyes.

He's been attempting to hide his pathetic little crush for awhile now, complaining to Robin every chance he gets when Steve does something particularly charming or handsome.

She tells him, as sagely as she can muster, to grow a pair and do something about it already.

But how can he, Steve was, well, Steve...lovely caring, hot as hell, Steve.

What chance did Eddie have?

So he sits there, miserable, nursing his beer, letting his eyes trail after Steve while Robin giggles beside him.

They've never seen him dance, it's bar, they're drunk, the worst that could happen is he makes an ass out of himself and they all go home with a great new story to tell the party later.

God Robin really wishes she brought her camera with her.

But then Steve is moving and he's fluid, never missing a beat. It's some kind of choreography, intentional and practiced movements that wouldn't be out of place in a music video. Eddie and Robin look at each other because, what the fuck, where did this come from??

And people are cheering and whooping, strangers scattered here and there sitting off of the dance floor. There's a sense of comradery, like they're all witness to something and being allowed to share and indulge in this little impromptu performance, but all too soon the song is over and Steve heads back to his seat with a small round of applause and a blinding smile pulling at his flushed cheeks.

"Steve, what the fuck was that??" Robin blurts out before Steve can even sit. Eddie nods, a little dazed, beside her and tears at the paper label on his beer bottle, maybe if he can keep his hands occupied he can keep them to himself.

"What was what?" Steve breathes out as he hops onto the stool beside them, Robin in the middle.

Robin's mouth falls open as her face scrunches into something exasperated but fond, "What was--that! The dancing!"

"Oh, that," Steve huffs with a lazy smile, he leans his elbow on the sticky wood bar and waves at the bartender to signal for another gin and tonic, "I used to help Carol with her choreography for cheer".

Eddie pinches his thigh below the bartop and chews the inside of his cheek as the image of Steve in the Hawkins High cheer uniform begins to solidify in his minds eye, fuck.

Robin elbows Eddie without looking, somehow reading his mind, and throws her hands out, beckoning Steve to continue because that isn't nearly enough information.

"Yeah, she'd come up with routines and you know, they are meant to be done with more than one person, and I mean she and I were friends before Tommy so," he shrugs and smiles at the bartender as they pass him the drink, "I dunno, it was fun, and I remember that one the most".

"Plus," he says with a smirk, "Carol always said the best thing about dance is that you can tell who appreciates the performance and who appreciates the person doing it," he winks as Robin scoffs and calls him gross, but Steve isn't looking at Robin.

Eddie swallows as molten heat creeps up his neck and over his ears, the urge to hide his face, run for the door, melt into the floor, is immense.

But Steve doesn't move his gaze, he smiles softly at Eddie and winks again over Robin's head which she promptly drops into her hands.

"I'm surrounded by horny idiots," she grumbles but the words are muffled in the din of the bar and her own hands as Steve tips his head back to the dance floor and holds out his hand for Eddie to take.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Bob Seger

Ship: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Is there a handbook for what to do when your crush walks into your store to buy a gift for his girlfriend? There should be!

Word Count: 5,432 words

Warnings: Stancy, Steve being deeply in love and then getting his heart broken, brief mention of Steve's asshole dad, pining reader, hurt/comfort, Tommy & Carol, language, innuendo

Note: Inspired in part by Steve's rendition of Old Time Rock & Roll.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Nancy hadn't been herself, not since Barb disappeared, and her mood had only been getting worse every day. Steve could feel her retreating into herself, hiding from the world and from herself and from him. He could feel Tommy and Carol getting progressively more frustrated with her (and with him for putting up with it) with every passing day.

And it's not like Steve blamed Nancy. Her best friend had gone missing while Nancy hung out with people Barb wasn't the biggest fan of. And, to rub salt in an open wound, Nancy had been having sex with Steve while Barb disappeared.

Steve felt a little guilty, to say the least. He'd had the thought of If I hadn't wanted to sleep with Nancy so bad, she would have gone home with Barb and they'd both be safe. But after a while, he wasn't so sure about that. The longer he thought about it, the more he became convinced that if Nancy had gone with Barb, they both would have gone missing.

Whether it was through his own guilt or because he wanted to make Nancy feel better, he wasn't quite sure, Steve found himself driving to the record store just off Main Street after school got out. He'd blocked out the noise of Tommy and Carol bickering, Tommy in the passenger seat and Carol leaning forward from the back seat, too busy trying to remember which bands had played from the radio the night he was studying at Nancy's house, and whether or not Nancy had actually liked them. He didn't want to screw up his little surprise by getting her music she wouldn't listen to—or a vinyl she already owned. Maybe he should have discreetly snooped through her pile of records before he'd made up his mind to do this...

Tommy sharply elbowed Steve in the ribs. Before Steve could snap at him, he said, "You're overthinking this, man. She's either gonna pretend to love it and not actually care, or she's just gonna not care."

Behind them, Carol giggled. It sounded far more sinister than it should have.

Steve glared at him for a second before he made the turn into the store's parking lot. "You're no help, you realize that?" He parked the car and turned to the two of them. "You're gonna stay here and wait, got it? And don't do anything stupid, I'll make you clean the back seat this time."

Carol grinned. "What if it's the passenger seat?"

"Or the driver's," Tommy added, leaning back to kiss Carol, before Steve could snap that the passenger's seat was Nancy's seat. Steve felt his throat constrict.

"Do not get it on in my fucking car," he warned, "or I'm never driving you anywhere ever again."

He got out, slamming the door behind him, and sent a warning glare back over his shoulder. Tommy flipped him off through the windshield. Beside Steve, an elderly woman gasped in offense and Steve winced.

"Sorry about him," he muttered, but the woman was already scurrying off into her own vehicle. Steve sighed and pushed open the front door to the record shop.

A little bell above the door chimed once as he swung the door open, and then again as it closed behind him. Steve had only been in the store a handful of times, but he loved it more and more with every visit. The walls were plastered in old vinyls, displayed so that the name of each band was readable. No vinyl was the same color, some of them blue, some red, some multicolor, but all of them were different. A small gold plaque designated the oldest vinyl the store had on the walls, which was a reddish Vocalion from 1922 and was positioned directly above the door.

Rows and rows of alphabetized vinyls spread throughout the store, which was bigger than it looked from the storefront. In the lefthand corner nearest the door, a cashier's desk was set up, though there was no employee behind it. A plastic sign read I'm in the back! I'll be back soon!

Steve headed for the aisles of vinyls, then recognized what was playing over the speakers—Bob Seger's Night Moves.

Humming as he flipped through the stacks, Steve didn't notice the door to the back open, or you walk out of it and back to your desk.

"Mmm, sweet summertime, summertime," Steve sang, keeping his voice low, still embarrassed by his voice, an instinct his father made sure he would never shake.

But you heard it, even with the volume of the radio. You looked up from the desk, gaze scanning the rows. You spotted the back of Steve's head and recognized him immediately. That hair was unmistakable.

Heat burned in your belly. Suddenly, you really wished your coworker hadn't gone home just ten minutes earlier, complaining of nausea. If she'd just stuck around a few more minutes...you wouldn't have to face your long-time crush who was absolutely not available, happily dating Nancy Wheeler and unlikely to leave her any time soon.

You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands. Sure, you'd liked him since middle school, long before he'd become part of the popular crowd and back when his hair was still a mess that hid his eyes from the world, and yes, you had two classes with him, but it's not like he'd know who you were, right? You'd keep relative anonymity and he would remain none the wiser of your long-standing admiration of him.

But then the song changed to The Fire Down Below and Steve was shimmying where he stood, singing the line "Here comes hot Nancy, she's steppin' right on time" with the hugest grin on his face.

You sighed. The school, your best friends, the entire senior year was right—Steve Harrington was down bad for Nancy Wheeler.

The tiniest bit of hope that he might one day notice you was dashed every time you heard that loving croon of his voice every time he sang Nancy's name.

This is why we don't get our hopes up, you told yourself, echoing a sentiment your best friend had drilled into you ever since Steve became the ladies' man that made him so popular in high school. Not that it erased the previous middle school years of drooling over Steve, back before anyone else had really considered him attractive.

You watched as Steve meticulously went through every record in the store, clearly searching for something specific. You normally would have gotten up and approached a customer taking this long, but it was Steve. You knew the instant you got up from your stool, your legs would give out underneath you. And if that didn't happen, you'd walk into a shelf on your way over to him. And if that didn't happen either, you'd start stuttering the moment you tried to talk to him. And if that didn't happen, you'd turn bright red and combust on the spot when he either asked for your help or turned you away.

Too stuck in your head, you didn't even realize the record had stopped playing until you heard Steve's singing stop. A pang went through you at the sound of silence—Steve's voice was almost more soothing than the music itself.

You turned around and dug through your pile of vinyls the store let you play until you found another Bob Seger—the album he'd released last year. Steve had been singing Bob Seger, and you desperately wanted him to keep singing.

You cleaned off the record before placing the needle down. A few bars into Even Now, you turned back around and squeaked, jumping in surprise.

Steve was standing at your desk, a pleasant but awkward smile on his face.

"Uh...hi," he said. "Sorry if I scared you."

You blinked at him and cleared your throat, hoping your voice didn't come out squeaky. "It's...it's fine. Can I help you with something?"

"Uh, please, I'm looking for—" He snapped his fingers. "You're in my chemistry class, aren't you?" You nodded, meekly adding that you were also in English together, and he beamed. "I knew I recognized you from somewhere!"

"Yeah, uh... Hi, Steve," you said. "You said you were looking for...?"

Steve shook himself out. "Oh, yeah, um... I'm trying to find a record for Nancy, my girlfriend, because I want to cheer her up after...everything. I'm sure you've heard about it."

The tiredness in his voice surprised you. But you nodded without bringing it up. "I have. How's she holding up?"

Steve sighed. "Not...fantastically. That's why I'm doing this, I want to get her something to take her mind off things."

You raised your brows. "So you decided on a record?"

Steve shrugged, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. "I thought it would be something we could dance to, and that that might make her feel better."

Your heart squeezed. How are you so sweet? "Alright, makes sense. What does she like to listen to usually?"

Steve shut his eyes as if thinking for a moment, then said, "She likes ABBA and Michael Jackson, she has a Fleetwood Mac tape but only ever listens to Rhiannon, but she sings under her breath every time Journey comes on the radio, doesn't matter what song it is. She's got Madonna, Bowie, Blondie, and The Beatles already as tapes and vinyls, so I don't want to get her those."

You blinked at him. "You really do pay attention to everything, don't you?"

Steve smiled shyly. "I...I guess so, when it comes to Nancy."

You left the back of the desk, hoping you weren't visibly shaking too much. "Let's go find you a Journey vinyl, okay? They just released a new album a few months ago, I'm pretty sure we've got it on vinyl..."

Steve followed you to the J section and the two of you started flipping through, both of you softly singing along to Love's The Last To Know as you did.

Halfway through the song and completely through the Js section, you interrupted the song with a gasp.

"I know where it is! Wait here," you told him, and hurried into the back room. You dug through the most recently delivered box of records until you saw the familiar blue album cover of Frontiers, letting out a victory cry as you grabbed it.

Steve was leaning on the shelf, still singing "We lost our way and our love's the last to know" so mournfully you wondered what heartbreak he'd been through before.

"I got it!" you said, grinning and holding the record aloft.

Steve beamed. "Thanks! I really appreciate it. I know I was kind of...out of my depth for a bit there."

You shrugged. "Eh, that's nothing. I've had people come in here demanding records we don't carry from bands that only just released music." You rolled your eyes. "'No, sir, we don't carry Metallica, and even if we did, the album came out last week, so we wouldn't have it yet anyway!'"

Steve snorted with laughter, handing you cash to pay for the vinyl. "Let me guess, it was the Munson kid."

"The Munson kid," you confirmed.

"Thanks again," Steve said, though he didn't seem inclined to head out the door.

"Any time," you said, instantly regretting the words because if you saw Steve at your workplace more than this, you were going to have a heart attack, but you paired the words with a kind smile anyway.

"See you in class tomorrow," he said, stepping out the door and waving goodbye. You watched him go, putting the record in the back seat, snapping at Tommy and Carol in his car, and pulling out of the parking lot.

You let go a tense, nervous breath. The pain in your chest eased. Well, at least Steve knew of you now. And even if his dedication to Nancy was unfailing, at least you might get to talk to him now, even if it only worsened the ache in your heart.

~❊~

Steve skipped third block.

The entire school seemed to be talking about why—or at least, his entire gym class, who had told a story about Billy Hargrove getting in his face the entire basketball game, and then Nancy dragging him out of the class to "talk" about something. At first, everyone had assumed they were banging in the locker rooms, until somebody reminded them Nancy hadn't been in first block, and she never skipped, and that Steve usually drove her to school—but he hadn't missed first block. Then when he'd come back, upset and angry, from his talk with Nancy, people started to put a story together.

You weren't sure you wanted to believe the story, or the many versions of the story, that were floating around you chemistry class. It didn't line up with what you knew of Steve, or what you knew of his relationship with Nancy, most of which you heard straight from him.

But then again...

You shook yourself out of your head, your gaze straying back toward Steve's empty seat. You sighed, pulling your notebook toward you and copying down the notes on the board as neat as you could—undoubtedly you'd need to give them to Steve when he decided to come back to class.

But when your best friend came into the class, handing your teacher a doctor's note, her wide eyes already told you Steve wasn't coming back today.

She sat down beside you, hissing your name. You looked at her. "What? What's wrong?"

"Is there a reason I just saw Steve Harrington crying in his car?" she whispered to you.

Your eyes went huge. Whatever had happened between him and Nancy, it wasn't good. "Keep your voice down and don't tell anyone else about that," you said.

She flipped her notebook to a blank page and started writing. "You better fill me in on everything I missed today," she said.

"Obviously, but only once I know exactly what happened," you said. "Which means only once Steve tells me what happened. However long that takes."

~❊~

It became painfully clear that Steve didn't want to talk—to anyone. He snapped at anyone who tried to bring it up with him, and his mood was waspish. The situation was made worse by the rumors spread by Tommy and Carol—that Nancy had only been with Steve for his money and the sex; that she left because Steve wasn't good enough for her; that she was cheating on him with Jonathan.

You knew that the jibes about Jonathan hit Steve a little too close to home. The same rumor had circulated last year when Will and Barb went missing, but this time, you were almost positive they were true.

Nancy was entirely unbothered by the whole thing. Seeing her prance around with Jonathan, not caring that doing so was hurting Steve more than anything, made your blood boil.

On your way to the record store for another one of your slow closing shifts, a week after Steve skipped chem class, you saw the two of them walking together along the sidewalk. You rolled your eyes at them. You had once thought Nancy to be the luckiest girl in the world: smart, pretty, and dating the hottest man Hawkins had to offer. Now you were certain she was the most careless, throwing it all away for a mediocre man.

Steve's car was in the store's parking lot when you arrived. You parked next to him, looking over to find him in the driver's seat, staring into his lap.

You got out and knocked on his window. "Steve? You okay?" He looked up, sporting red-rimmed eyes. You could hear Bob Seger's Comin' Home playing quietly on his radio. "Oh, Steve..."

Steve got out of his car. Voice quiet and rough, he asked, "Can I hang out for a while?"

"Yeah," you said. "Whatever you need."

His lip trembled. "A...a hug?" His voice as meek and barely there. But you heard it and the request made your heart break. You enveloped him in a tight hug, letting him soften into your hold. You remained that way until Steve decided he was done, not caring how many of your classmates walked by, staring in wonder at Steve clinging to you, new gossip already burning on their tongues.

~❊~

A good day meant boppier music at the record store as soon as you started your shift and shoved your coworker from the mid-afternoon shift out the door. So you swapped out all the mellow music in the stack of records beside your record player with music with a good beat that you could dance to while you restocked and reshelved.

Not even half an hour into your shift, the Naked Eyes record spun into Always Something There To Remind Me. You turned up the volume as high as you could without destroying the speakers and being chewed out by your managers, singing along and dancing by yourself while you worked.

"Well, how can I forget you, girl? When there is always something there to remind me!" You finished stacking your records in the aisle and turned back for a new pile. "Always something there to remind me. I was born to love her, and I'll never be free, you'll always be a part of— Steve!" You careened into his chest, grateful you weren't holding anything, because it all would have dropped to the floor. Steve's arms looped around you, stopping you from falling. "Don't sneak up on me, you scared me!"

"The doorbell rung!"

"Well, I didn't hear it!" You finally looked up at him, heart beating wildly out of your chest at the feeling of his chest against yours, his arms around your waist. You realized he looked downright miserable. "What happened?"

He sighed. "Remember how I said I was gonna try and patch things up with Nance?"

"Yeah..."

Steve's lower lip started to tremble. "It...it didn't go well."

Your heart dropped to your feet. "Oh, Steve, I'm...I'm so sorry."

He sniffled. "It's, uh, it's over. She...she doesn't love me, has never loved me, I'm still bullshit, and she's been sleeping with Jonathan. So..." He heaved a heavy sigh. "It's over. Completely, totally, officially over."

"Steve," you whispered. "I'm so sorry, honey. Is there anything I can do?"

He smiled, lips trembling and eyes watering. "Change the song?" The words came out with a little hiccup and a laugh.

You realized what the song was about. "Oh! Yeah, sure, right—sorry. It's such an upbeat song in the actual music, I didn't even think about the words!" You untangled yourself from his arms to change the record. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Nothing romantic, please," he said, sitting down on your stool. "And, after you're done..."

You looked at him, sensing his hesitation. "Yeah?"

"Can I have another hug?"

You smiled at him, looping your arms around his back where he sat. He fell into you, burying his head in your shirt. "Of course, Steve."

You held onto Steve as tightly as he held onto you, praying he wouldn't notice the fast beat of your heart while he wallowed in his grief. It was a strange feeling, for Steve to be hiding from the world, form Nancy, from his broken heart in your arms, all while you harbored a horribly deep crush on him and a secret, guilty delight that it was over with Nancy.

"I just..." Steve huffed, clearly trying his best not to sob into your shirt. "I don't know where I went wrong. I don't know why I wasn't good enough."

Without really meaning to, you put your hand in Steve's hair. "Does there need to be a reason? Some people just aren't meant for each other, Steve."

Steve looked up at you with his red rimmed eyes, tears on his lash line. He hesitated a moment and then said, "If I tell you something...promise me you won't just...laugh at me."

Your heart broke for him. How many times had he told Tommy or Carol or, what the hell, even Nancy something, only to be laughed at, for him to ask that of you? "Of course I won't laugh at you, Steve." You squeezed his shoulder. "Why would I laugh at you?"

He didn't answer your question. "I know it sounds...ridiculous, but...I just—" He sighed. "I thought Nancy was the one. I've never been happier with a girl before, and she was honest, she was smart, she was determined, she had goals, she was nothing like the girls I was with before, and she made me feel alive! I thought for sure that I was... That I was maybe gonna spend the rest of my life with her."

You bit your lip. "There was no maybe about it, was there, Steve?"

He sighed, letting his head fall back into you. You muffled your grunt as he hid his face in your stomach, his arms sliding up your back and hold you closer to him. "No," he mumbled into the fabric of your shirt.

You smoothed your hand through his perfect hair and kissed the top of his head. You froze, hearing his tiny intake of breath. "Oh, I'm...I'm sorry, that was kind of...automatic, I guess?"

Steve peeked up at you and tugged you closer to his body until your feet hit the legs of your stool he was perched on. "It's okay. Um... Can you...keep doing that? With my hair?" Pink tinged his skin. "If you don't mind."

"I don't mind," you whispered, rubbing your fingers across his scalp. He sighed, pushing into your touch. Heat bloomed across your body.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I know this is...weird. But, um, Nancy never... Never really touched me or— Or held me or anything, so..."

"You don't have to explain yourself," you whispered. "Not to me, not to anyone. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, slowly relaxing in your arms.

"I've got you, Steve," you assured him. "I've got you."

~❊~

Before he'd even pulled into the parking lot, Steve was mentally apologizing to you. You'd told him time and time again when he visited you while you were working that you enjoyed your slow closing shifts. It meant there was no one to bother you while you were in the middle of a restock, making you forget where you were; it meant there was no one to complain about the music you played, so you could listen to whatever you wanted; it meant your final hour was spent just closing up shop instead of shooing customers out the door—except for Steve, who had become a regular and always stayed until you left, sometimes to give you a ride home and other times just to have a friend around.

But today, he wasn't coming alone. His car was full to bursting with young children: Dustin, Max, Lucas, Mike, and Will, all of whom he'd been tasked with picking up from their after school activities for the day. He had tried to get them to go home quickly, but his attempts to rush them out of his car had led them to discover that he was seeing a girl, which they all took the wrong way, of course.

Sort of.

Now that Steve was prowling the world alone again, he'd realized his initial estimation of you—pretty, smiley, shy with new people but confident with your friends—was right, but it was a muted reality compared to how you really were. It was like he'd been looking at you with sunglasses covering his eyes this whole time. Now that those glasses were gone, the record shop girl had become more than just his best friend.

And he was really hoping the kids were not about to point that out.

As per usual, you were playing Bob Seger when Steve pushed the door open. He'd yet to figure out if you played Bob Seger so much when he came to visit because you loved Bob Seger, or if you had (correctly) pinned Steve as a fan.

(Not that Steve had ever told anyone he was a fan; he let them think the only reason he even knew about his music was because of Carol's obsession with Risky Business.)

You weren't at your desk like Steve had expected; you were carrying a huge stack of records in your arms, shelving them as you walked along the rows, singing along to Sunspot Baby without a care in the world.

"Sunspot baby," you sang. "She sure had a real good time."

"I looked in Miami, I looked in Negril," Steve joined in. You turned with a grin, heading back to your desk. "The closest I came was a month old bill."

You noticed the kids as you put down your stack. "You brought company today, I see."

Steve gave you a look while the kids were still behind him. You stifled a giggle. "Uh, yeah, these are the kids. Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Max Mayfield, Will Byers, and Mike Wheeler."

Dustin walked straight up to your desk. "So you're the girl Steve talks about all the time?"

"All the time, huh?" you said, smiling in a way that suggested you were sure Dustin was exaggerating.

"Every time we see him," Mike groaned. You stared at the younger Wheeler in surprise.

"Oh, really? Is that so, Steve?" you teased.

He rolled his eyes, unable to stop his blush. "Sorry to interrupt your quiet shift. They wanted to stop in and grab some records."

"No we didn't—we just wanted to meet you," Lucas said. Steve's calm expression became painfully forced.

The young redhead snorted. "Speak for yourself." She looked up at you expectantly. "Do you have any David Bowie?"

You grinned. "I like you, you have good taste. Back side of the first row."

Max grinned and dragged Lucas with her.

You looked back at Steve. "Do you have enough room in your car for one more?"

"Need a ride when you leave?"

You nodded.

"Yeah, I've got room. I'll just make the kids rearrange."

You laughed. "You don't have to do that," you insisted.

Steve leaned across the counter. "Don't worry about it—I want to. I'd feel terrible if I left you to get home on your own."

You smiled at him, noticing Dustin nudging Mike and Will and pointing in your direction out of the corner of your eye.

~❊~

Somehow, the kids' presence lightened up the rest of your shift. Time passed quickly with them there, adventuring through the store and asking you question after question about the vinyls lining the walls.

You waved off Steve as he tried to get the kids to leave you alone. "They're fine, Steve. It's okay. You wanna help me get everything packed up? I've gotta lock up soon."

"Oh, yeah, sure." Steve took the vinyl off the record player and slipped it back into its case. He glanced over his shoulder and called to the kids, "Hey, guys! We're gonna head out soon."

You ran through your closing tasks as quickly as you could, anxious to head home for the night.

"Alright, everybody out. Got everything?" you asked, ushering the kids to the door and taking out the key. You set the alarm system for the building and locked the door behind you.

Steve put a hand on your back. Warmth bloomed through you from where he touched you. "You're all ready to go?"

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

The kids opened the doors of Steve's car, jumping in quickly. Dustin made his way to the passenger's seat. Steve stopped him, gently shoving him toward the back seat with everyone else.

"Hey—move it, Henderson, she's got the passenger's seat."

You stared at Steve. "No, no, it's okay, he can—"

Steve shook his head, holding open the door for you. "Come on, it's fine, just..." He gestured into the car. The kids whispered and giggled at him. He sent them a glare and Dustin's annoyed face shifted into a gleeful smirk.

You got in the front seat, unaware of the glances being exchanged in the back or the glare Steve was giving them.

"Seat belts!" Steve said as he got into the driver's seat. You giggled at him as the kids groaned. You caught the way his face lit up when he looked at you, and butterflies tickled your insides.

Once the kids had listened and all were buckled, Steve pulled out of the parking lot and started his way through Hawkins, dropping them off one-by-one: Will first, on the outskirts of town, his mother waiting at the door; Max, who was relieved the Camaro wasn't in the driveway; Dustin next, his new cat sitting on the front step; Lucas, who was immediately met with his snarky young sister; Mike last, Nancy already at the door—saying goodbye to Jonathan.

You glanced at Steve. "You alright?"

Steve looked at you, releasing a deep sigh. "I'm okay," he said. "I...I'm doing better now."

"Good," you said. "You deserve it."

Steve gave you a curious look before he said, "Let's get you home, right?"

"Right."

And if Steve drove slower the whole way back to yours compared to driving the kids home, you weren't going to say anything.

When he got back to your house, Steve pulled into the driveway and sighed. "Well. Home sweet home," he said.

You looked at Steve with a smile. "Thanks for the ride home." You picked up the bag you had put on the ground. You got out, then stopped yourself before you could close the door. You crouched to look at him in the car. "Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?" Was it just your imagination, or did he sound nervous?

You took a deep breath. Now or never.

"I talk about you all the time, too."

For a moment, Steve processed your words. Then his eyes went wide. Hope bloomed on his slack-jawed face. "You..." He bit his lip, holding back a smile. "You mean that you..."

"Yes, Steve," you said, voice quiet. "Always have. Just ask my friends—they'll give away my secrets just as quickly as Dustin gave away yours." You drummed your fingers against the roof of his car. "Do with that what you will. It's up to you if...you want to even acknowledge it or not." You closed his door and started for your front door.

A door squeaked and then slammed shut moments later; running steps approached you.

"Wait!"

You turned as Steve's hand fell on your shoulder, pulling you close to him. He yanked your body close to his, his arms sliding around you, his hands gripping your shoulder blades. For a split second, you reveled in his hug, noticing the difference in it, relishing in the love in his arms instead of the misery.

Those few seconds became nothing as Steve pulled back. You gave a sound of protest, quickly squashed by Steve's lips.

Your heart had stopped beating, but was simultaneously pounding. You moved on instinct, looping your arms around his shoulders, yanking him down to you. Never once did your lips part from his as the two of you grappled to hold each other in the best way possible.

Thunder boomed overhead. You gasped, pulling apart.

"Was it supposed to storm?" you asked.

"I didn't think so," Steve said.

You kissed him again. Steve smiled into the kiss.

"You should get home before it pours," you whispered against his lips. But neither of you made any move to let go of each other.

Steve adjusted so that his head was against yours, his mouth at your temple. "See you tomorrow in class, then?"

You hummed. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I don't wanna leave."

You looked up at the sky, watching the already-grey skies grow darker as storm clouds rolled in. "We're going to get soaked if we stay out here, Steve."

Steve squeezed you tightly. "Tomorrow, then." He kissed your forehead again. "I'll see you tomorrow...sweetheart."

You beamed at the nickname while Steve blushed while he gave you the moniker.

"And to think," you whispered. "You'd known me all this time, but this? This happened all because you stopped in my store one day."

Steve hugged you tight to his chest. "I wish I'd noticed you before, sweetheart, really I do."

You kissed him. "Well, you've noticed me now." Light rain started, dusting Steve's hair until it sparkled. "Now go, before that pretty hair of yours gets ruined."

He grinned, brushing his hand through it. "I knew you liked my hair."

"Always have." You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "Always will."

☞ ❊ ☜

Stranger Things // Steve Harrington

part 2? lmk!

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the S.H. taglist!} @ohatropa@nix-rose@live-the-fangirl-life

[harringroveera]

So meeting the new guy in school didn’t go so well for Steve

[atimeofyourlife]

Steve loved people easily. Too easily. He thought there was something wrong with him, because no one ever seemed to love him back in the same way.

The first time he loved anyone was his parents. It was the natural, unconditional love that a child would hold for their parents. Even from a young age, he would do anything he could to make them happy, make them proud. For the first few years, it seemed to work. His mother would show him off to her friends, who would coo over how adorable he was. His father would brag to his associates about how good Steve was, how he would grow up to be strong, athletic, smart. Occasionally, he'd be left with a babysitter, or his grandparents, for a weekend if his parents had to attend a conference, but it wasn't enough for him to feel left behind.

That changed shortly after he turned four. His parents decided he was old enough to be left with nannies most of the time, so they could travel whenever to fit the needs of the business. Even when they were home, which was often little more than a week out of each month, most of the childcare was passed off to the nannies. They didn't seem to care enough to talk about, or even to him anymore. Any attempt he made to show them love was met with "Not now, Steven," or "Don't be so childish, Steven." And as he got older, they cared less and less. After he turned nine, they decided he was old enough to look after himself outside of that one week each month, only having the housekeeper checking in on him twice a week when cleaning the house and restocking the groceries. By the time he was twelve, the amount of time they were home had dropped to one week every two months, and they started missing holidays, coming home two days after Thanksgiving, and then not being home again until well into the new year. He was thirteen the first time they forgot his birthday.

Once he'd turned fifteen and got his learner's permit, they cut the housekeeper. He was more than old enough to take care of the house on his own, and as he could drive, he could get the groceries himself. They'd leave money each time they were home, a little over what was enough for the two months of groceries. A few days before they were due home, they'd call with a list of groceries they expected to be stocked by the time they got back. They actually remembered his sixteenth birthday, buying him a brand new BMW to replace the small second-hand black car they'd got for him to learn to drive in. But they missed the date by six weeks.

At eighteen, he only saw or heard from them if there was something they weren't happy about. Like his poor grades, or not getting into college. They didn't bother to acknowledge his graduation, taking the attitude that it didn't matter as he wasn't going to be making anything of himself. They made him get a job to cover his own expenses, believing that he needed to take life seriously if he wanted their help. They didn't even make the time to come home after hearing he'd been injured in the mall fire. Just leaving him a message saying that they'd give him a two-month grace period before he would be expected to find another job.

He hadn't even reached nineteen the last time he heard from them. After the earthquake he got a call, not to find out if he was injured, just to find out if the house was ok. A couple of days after that, they called again to inform him that they'd found a new house and movers would be coming in to collect the rest of their belongings. They'd wanted to sell the house, but the property market in Hawkins was nearly impossible after everything that had happened, so they were going to sign it over to him. It was after the movers had left Steve realized, they hadn't even left a forwarding address or their new number.

------

Steve loved each of his babysitters and nannies until he realized that they were being paid to take care of him. They gave him a love and attention that he didn't receive from his parents. They cared enough to let him ramble about his day. They spent enough time with him to know his likes and dislikes. To keep track of his hobbies. They were the ones to look after him when he was sick or injured, to comfort him after a bad dream. They would see when he needed new clothes, either from wearing through or growing out of his old ones.

But they were temporary. They only loved and cared about him for as long as they were getting paid to. Two or three times a year, a new nanny would take the place of the old one. He was seven when he realized that they didn't actually care about him, they only cared about getting paid. Overhearing one talking on the phone, "This kid is a bit too clingy, but at least the pay is good for this family." Once he was old enough to be left alone, he missed the companionship of having a nanny, but he couldn't bring himself to miss the false love they brought.

------

As soon as Steve met Tommy and Carol, they meant everything to him. Meeting Tommy at age six, and Carol two years later, when she moved to Hawkins at age eight. He clung to them, the first people his age that seemed to return his love for them. And it was all good, at least while they were young. They spent most of the time together, with each of them inviting Steve over at least once a week. Bringing him into their families, giving Steve a chance to see how bad his own was.

Steve couldn't see it at first, but the friendship between him, Tommy, and Carol became less about the love they had for each other, and more about the love they had for what he could provide. When they were eleven, they realized that Steve having the house to himself most of the time meant that they had somewhere to escape from supervision, and to get away with doing whatever they wanted. As they got older, it meant they had a place where they could have sex without being caught by their parents, siblings, or the police. They loved that he would feed them, always having the best snacks, learning how to cook their favorite meals, giving them food off his lunch tray at school. Once they started high school, they loved the empty house for the ability to throw the biggest parties, securing them top spots on the Hawkins High social ladder. After Steve had received his car, they loved the free rides, basically treating him as a taxi service. His car was much nicer than anything either of them could afford, and gave them a taste of freedom as long as they could give to them.

Steve noticed it after his fight with Jonathan. When they cared more about getting even than how Steve felt. They'd wanted to get revenge on Nancy, framing it as them helping Steve, rather than finding out what Steve actually needed them to do. Wanting to get back at Jonathan instead of being concerned about how Steve was after the fight. Steve couldn't help mourning the friendship, as they had meant so much to him for so long. But he couldn't believe how long it had taken him to realise that they had stopped loving him, and instead loved what he could give to them.

------

He fell in love with Nancy hard and fast. She was beautiful and smart, ambitious and determined. He didn't care what his friends thought of the relationship, he just wanted to make it work. He tried to find ways to bring her into his world, trying to include her in plans with his friends, inviting her to parties. Then Barb went missing from his yard. He knew he handled it poorly, but he felt lost on what he could actually do. Paired with the uncertainty of what his parents would do upon hearing about it, and the encouragement from Tommy and Carol, it pushed him to do things he later regretted.

He apologized, and she accepted it. They got back together a month after the Upside Down happened, just in time for Christmas. He vowed to himself that he would do better, be better for her. He made her happiness his top priority. He used small surprises to cheer her up, little gifts and imaginative dates. He comforted her through the sadness, grief, and guilt, making himself available whenever she needed him. He supported her in the difficult moments, like going to regular dinners with Barb's parents. And he found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with her. She seemed to hold the same love for him, so he didn't feel wrong for daydreaming about a future together. A family together. Every word of love from her, every action that showed her interest, it cemented it a little more. She would show up to the pool while he was lifeguarding over the summer, with the excuse of bringing Holly, but really just staring at him while he was on duty, and chatting during his breaks. She would be at every basketball game, every baseball game, every swim meet. For the first time in his life, he consistently had someone to cheer him on in the stands. Despite the difficulties they'd had, Steve felt like nothing could bring them down.

Then it crashed and burned. Steve genuinely didn't see any issue with the relationship, any sign that the love was unrequited, until his heart was being ripped out and shattered on the bathroom floor of Tina's Halloween party. His head spun with the words. "Like we're in love," and "You're bullshit." He started questioning himself, how long had she felt like that? Had she ever loved him? How had he never noticed? He got Jonathan to take her home, feeling hurt but with the love and care he had for her, he wanted to make sure she got home safe. He tried to isolate himself from her, not picking her up for school. But she wanted to talk while he was in gym. Pinning the problems on him. Denying the words she said while drunk, refusing to take responsibility for them. Not even being able to lie and say she loved him. It was like a knife to the chest finding out from Tommy that she'd run off with Jonathan after less than a day. He still tried to make it right, showing up at her house to apologize, for her not to be home. When everyone finally grouped together, seeing her with Jonathan, the confirmation he hadn't wanted. Nancy looked at Jonathan with a love and adoration that Steve had never seen directed at him. If it weren't for the fight needed for the Upside Down, he would've isolated himself and broken down, wondering why he wasn't good enough. Why he was unloveable.

------

Having a younger brother figure thrust on him wasn't something Steve expected at seventeen, but he would be eternally grateful. Dustin burst into his life at possibly the best time for him. After Nancy broke his heart, he needed somewhere for the love to go. He gave advice, was a listening ear. Doing what he could to help build Dustin's confidence. He was there for the kid whenever he was needed. And Dustin gave him so much in return. A place where he could take himself less seriously, where he didn't need to be Steve Harrington, or King Steve, or 'The Hair'. He could just be Steve, with no expectations or strings attached. Dustin showed up to his graduation, was there to cheer and clap for him when no one else was, and singlehandedly organised the other kids into surprising Steve after. With a grocery store cake that they'd pooled their money to buy, and a handmade card that they'd all signed. He'd missed him like crazy while he was away at camp. And having him back after improved his mood so much, despite being thrown into the Russians.

Steve could feel it changing slowly. Right from the first mention of Eddie Munson and Hellfire Club. He knew he was being replaced as the older brother friend, being swapped out for someone Dustin considered cooler because of the shared love of D&D. Dustin had become more abrasive to him, and was spending less and less time around. It almost felt like a repeat of losing the love of Tommy and Carol, only being wanted when he was useful, for what he could provide. Even after the fight with Vecna, Eddie was still the preferred older brother friend. The one Dustin sought for rides and advice, only coming to Steve if Eddie wasn't available. Dustin had endless patience for Eddie's questions, despite not extending Steve the same courtesy. He never once insulted Eddie's intelligence, despite the fact that the man took three years and a shady government department intervening to complete his senior year of high school, whereas Steve's intelligence was a free for all, overlooking the fact he was the one that was able to pass enough classes to graduate on his first attempt, just because he didn't have much direction in life. Losing the love of Dustin hurt, but it wasn't surprising. Steve knew he was replaceable, expendable. Only needed until a better choice came along.

------

The love he had for Robin was unexpected. He denied it and pushed it away at first. Partly because he felt certain that she didn't like him back, but mostly because he felt wary about loving again. Not wanting to get hurt again, to feel unloved again. It was slow at first, the playful insults having a charming quality to them. Then it hit fast, when he saw how smart she was, how brilliant she was. He could picture being happy with her as his girlfriend, different to other girls he'd dated or been with. He confessed his love while high on Russian truth serum.

She didn't love him back like that. She couldn't love him back in a romantic sense. He didn't have time to feel hurt about it, being caught in the centre of the action. By the time his head had cleared enough to be able to think clearly, he realized that a different kind of love between them could be just as good. Loving each other platonically, best friends, soulmates. It wasn't the love he'd first thought of and expected, but it was the most love he'd ever received. And he didn't doubt it for a second.

------

The love he had for Eddie scared him. It was unplanned, unexpected. What he initially felt for Eddie was mostly distaste, and a little jealousy. Until spring break. He was wary at first, knowing Eddie's reputation. In any other town, it would have been as simple as a drug deal gone wrong. But Hawkins had to be different. Eddie got dragged into the mess of the Upside Down in the worst way possible. Steve didn't really notice the change in his feelings, other than that of friendship, until after it was over. It wasn't until they'd got out of there, injured but alive, that Steve let himself read into the comments, the flirting. Steve started to love Eddie quickly and it terrified him for two reasons, it was his first time having romantic feelings for another guy, and he didn't have a good track record of people loving him back.

Eddie was the one to start it. Steve had come out to Eddie and Robin, and it was a few weeks later while they were a little drunk. Eddie kissed Steve, and took him to bed. Eddie was the one to address it the next morning, asking Steve out. Steve allowed himself to fall again. He loved all of Eddie's quirks, how passionate he was about his music and D&D. How he was anything but a morning person, but always wake up enough to kiss Steve goodbye in the mornings before work. How when he was sat doing nothing, or just watching the tv, his fingers would be constantly moving as if they were moving across the frets on a guitar. Eddie was the first to say I love you. That was what pushed Steve further, into believing it couldn't go wrong. Because there'd never been a time where he hadn't been the first.

And it seemed to go right. Weeks, months passed. It was nearing the year before it fell apart. Steve had noticed that Eddie kept him separate from his other friends, his bandmates. He didn't blame him for it, he'd been an asshole in high school, and while he couldn't remember doing anything to Eddie's bandmates, he'd never given them much reason to trust him either. He would have liked a chance to meet them properly, to make it right, but he wasn't going to push it. He didn't want to give Eddie a reason to have second thoughts about the relationship. It blew up when Steve was planning to surprise Eddie at the trailer. He let himself in using the key Wayne had given him, trying to keep as quiet as possible. It threw him a little, to see a couple of boxes stacked by the tv that hadn't been there a few days before. He started to make his way down the hall, but stopped short when he heard voices. "You're not going to call off whatever you've got going with Harrington before you leave?" It was one of Eddie's bandmates, but Steve couldn't identify which one. He held his breath while waiting for Eddie's reply.

"It's not like it's anything serious. I just keep him around because he's hot and a good fuck." Steve's heart shattered at Eddie's words. He was torn between running out of the trailer, bursting in to confront Eddie, or staying put to try to hear more. In his inner turmoil, he missed the other guy's response, but he heard Eddie's next words loud and clear. "It's not like I even care about him that much. I'll leave town and in a week he'll be back to chasing skirts. He'd probably just strike out, because look at him. I don't understand how could anyone love Steve Harrington."

Steve fled the trailer, not caring about the noise as he moved, choking back sobs that were desperate to burst out of his throat. He threw himself into his car and just drove until the tears blurred his vision so much he couldn't see the road. He couldn't understand how he'd been so stupid, so blind. It was the same pattern repeating again, and Eddie's words had destroyed him, it was the question he'd asked himself so many times before.

How could anyone love Steve Harrington?

My last fic ended fluffier than I first planned, so my brain went have 3k of angst with just a brief fluffy platonic stobin interlude. I'm sorry. I did plan to get this up like 2 days ago but migraines decided otherwise.

[formosusiniquis]

have your cake

So way back in August 2023 the steddiemicrofic challenge was Cake and 311 words, my head empty brain came up with one thought and it was Steve Munson having a bakery called Mun's Buns and so many months later I finally got around to finishing my vision

Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins; implied/past Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington/Carol Perkins WC: 6408 | T | tags: Future Fic, the lightest of post homoerotic friendship breakup angst, fluff, Tommy POV AO3

The bakery has a stupid name, is the first thing Tommy thinks when Carol tells him where he's supposed to meet her on his lunch break. He’s still thinking that, when he sees the place for the first time through his rain speckled windshield. It's a modest storefront, small for what Carol says is a booming business, tucked in next to a used bookstore and a music shop. There's a baby yellow awning hanging from the front just underneath a sign lettered in soft blue that reads Mun's Buns.

He's late, is the second thing he thinks after pulling up. Caught up in some stupid bullshit for his dad he hadn't managed to slip away until 12:30. Even then it had only been because Tommy had told him he was going to be late for their cake tasting. He'd rolled his eyes when his father and Greg, a guy that Tommy only considers a co-worker in the sense that they are technically on the same payroll since Greg in every other aspect is incompetent and an idiot, had winced. Shooing him away like a kid who'd just admitted that he's already twenty minutes past curfew. But catching sight of the way Carol has her arms crossed, tapping her foot fast enough to kickstart a motor, while her hair hangs limp in a way that it hadn’t this morning a third thought crosses his mind: maybe he should have been a little more worried.

Waiting isn’t going to make things any better. So he steps out of the car, let’s the misty damp cling to him in a way that makes his dress pants and button down feel like a poorly tailored second skin, and takes his licks like a man. "Late, thirty minutes late. Christ, it's the only thing I've asked from you Tommy." Her right hook stings just as badly as it did sophomore year when she punched him for asking out Erin Murphy instead of her.

Shit like that is probably why no one expected them to make it this long or this far.

When they went away to college; different schools, hours apart. His parents had been gleeful as they'd warned him that high school relationships didn't always last. That he should keep his options open, he didn't want to miss out on the love of his life just because of comfort. He didn't get offered the family ring when he decided to propose right after graduation. Carol has always been particular. Wanted the house to come back to before the wedding could happen, wanted a long honeymoon. That meant saving, a lot of it. Tommy knew and Carol did too, they'd overheard his mother and aunt gossiping in too loud voices after too much wine that they hoped the long engagement meant they were both trying to figure out a good way to break it off with one another. 

Still, over the course of their now five year engagement no one's asked once if they wanted to trade for it.

Carol thought it was horrendous anyway. She’d had her ring picked out since ‘85, styled her class ring so it would look like the oval cut diamond she wanted. Had him slide it on her finger the second it came in.

Cause in the politest of terms, Carol could be a raging bitch. She was Tommy's favorite person in the entire world.

There’s going to be a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow, even if she’s guiltily smoothing a hand down his arm now. Thrust toward the door first in offering, Carol is sorry she hit him but she’s not apologetic. “I’m serious, Tom, if we lose this appointment and have to go with Sweet Treats for our cake I'll- I'll-"

Whatever threat she was preparing is drowned out and then cut off by the echoing TONG of the door chime. A light in the back shifts color for a second, out of place enough that he wonders if he even really saw it. Head tilting toward Carol, his question catches in his throat when he notices her pinched off appraising. Better not to add to the ammunition she might already be building.

And if Carol is looking he better do it too. She'll want to debrief when they're having dinner tonight, just like they did with the florist, the caterer, the three wedding planners they'd met with, and each of the venues that they'd visited. And it wasnt because she was demanding, fuck you Greg. It wasn't because she was being nitpick-y, alright it was a little bit because she was but he liked being particular with her. He liked being involved in his wedding.

So he looked around.

The way they utilized their space -- a building that big and there's barely enough room to stand, we want someone who knows how to work with limited space for the venues we're looking at -- was the reason their first wedding planner hadn't gotten hired. Small, but not cramped. There are a handful of tables scattered in the open space in front of the counter. It’s the kind of small town cozy that Hawkins had tried for and he doesn’t see very often anymore now that they’ve moved out to Indianapolis.

It’s lunchtime, still too early for people to be seeking out the rows of deserts in their neat glass counter and too late for the breakfast crowd. But one of the tables is occupied by a teenager with long, black braids scribbling in a notebook while a slice of ice cream cake melts on a plate by her elbow. 

Everything was neat, organized, and compliant with health code regulations -- they hadn’t even made it in the door of the first caterer’s when she noticed a trail of ants and roaches marching into the open kitchen door.

Carol had always been quick when she was making up her mind about something. Like those Sherlock Holmes stories they’d had to read in school, in a couple of seconds she could spot everything she needed to make a decision. After a decade Tommy still couldn’t keep up; but he was always best at following someone else’s lead.

The smile she’s got frosted across her face is as sugary and fake as the roses on the cupcakes he can see behind the low topped counters as she approaches the only visible staff member. A girl, young in the way that nebulous way anyone younger than him was now, with thick squared glasses that magnified two distressingly blue eyes. The counters looked like they were designed to sit low enough that she could easily see over the top while in her wheelchair.

“Welcome to,” her customer service tone borders on bored. Two words into a clear script and she sighs, as if saying the name physically pains her, “Mun’s Buns. We’ve got a special series of summer flavors: Strawberry Lemonade, Lavender Mint, Chocolate Fudgsicle, and,” she sighs again, “for the grownups a boozy Blue Moon with orange zest.”

“How about a wedding cake.” He’s impressed. Carol made it through the speech without interrupting.

“Do you have an appointment?” the girl raises her voice, enough to make them both flinch back. Customer service isn’t a requirement for this part of the job necessarily, but Carol had bailed on two venues because the staff hadn’t been polite enough.

Her smile doesn’t crack though, “Yes.”

Even though he’s pretty sure this girl has to be basically blind with the inch thick frames, she levels Carol with a lethal stare. “Not you.”

From the open entryway behind her Tommy had been able to make out what sounded like the highlights of yesterday’s game. He assumed that space had to be the kitchen where these rows of deserts were made. He’s still surprised when a guy’s voice is shouting back, “I don't know, Max, do I? Why don't you check?”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Max shouts back, glowering at then in stand in for her mystery boss.

“With your finger, asshole. It's in braille. When I gave you this job you said you were actually gonna work.”

“Douchebag." Her eyes never leave them, while her hands rummage around in a space beneath the counter where the cash register sits. Max offers no explanation or apology for her shouting or for her boss. A large red appointment book gets slammed down on the nearest counter, making Carol jump but the neat two by twos of chocolate frosted cupcakes don't budge. He watches, a little fascinated by the way her finger scans the page before slowing. "Did you write this or did Dustin?"

Carol has always valued gossip over professionalism, he thinks that’s why she’s done so well as a hairdresser even though she was always awful at chemistry. It’s also why he’s held off from pointing out that they could solve this a lot faster if this guy would come out from the back. "Why?" 

“Cause one of you can't spell and one of you is trying to invent braille shorthand. So I'm not really sure what to do with TomGan Wed.”

“It might be Thomas and Wedding.” Carol leans over the appointment book as she says it, using a tone of voice he has never once heard her use in the entire time he’s known her. He thinks it’s supposed to be helpful.

“Wedding sampler.” The girl calls toward the back, “It's getting late.”

“I’ve got it,” the voice from the back shouts back.There’s an effortless assurance Tommy can hear from where he’s standing. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he grabs Carol’s arm on instinct.

“Really,” she says, cutting her gaze over to him. He’s not sure what she sees. “If we could hurry this along, it's just we've only got an hour.”

“You're late.” The glare she gets shuts Carol down faster than he’s ever seen.

“Right.”

“Okay I've got it.” The voice from the back is now the voice in the doorway. Hidden for a second by a serving tray loaded with samples of rich looking cake, it’s the first time since arriving that Tommy has actually wanted to be here. Not just because he can make out strong shoulders and a body of a man that’s still very fit but clearly enjoys his work too; the hint of love handles above strong thighs. Only then that tray dips, and for the first time since 1985 Tommy finds himself looking at the shocked hazel eyes of Steve Harrington. “Oh.”

Carol reacts for him, taking in a breath sharp enough she might puncture a lung. They’ll both wind up suffocated on the floor of this stupid bakery with an awful name, because Tommy can’t manage to breathe at all looking at Steve. Still unfairly handsome, faintly pink at the shock of seeing them too he imagined.

His hair is long, is the first real thought his half fried brain manages to put together. Soft looking even where it’s damp at the temples where sweat has pooled. He has it pulled back with a couple of the same butterfly clips that Carol likes to use.

His second, somehow more hysterical thought: this wasn’t how Steve Harrington was supposed to be included in his wedding.

Tommy was six years old and knew he wanted to marry Steve. When he’d told his mom -- to ask for her ring, Steve thought it was romantic like princes and princesses that they had a special ring that they got married with -- she’d grabbed by his arm so hard it’d left finger shaped bruises. So he’d held that certainty quiet in his heart until he was ten, and suddenly it was okay to want to play with girls on the playground -- he thinks it’s because Steve got tired of there never being an even number when they tried to play kickball, he had a way of making everyone want to do the thing he was. Carol wasn’t afraid to tell Tommy C. that he was dumb or to tell Mark L. that he hadn’t actually made it to the base, Steve liked her fast. Too fast, and Tommy had to tell her that one day he was going to be able to keep Steve all to himself. But he knew that it wasn’t right to say that now, even if he wasn’t all the way sure why it wasn’t. He was ten, but he would be eleven soon, and he took this part of him that he’d kept secret for so long and he whispered it to Carol under the slide while Steve tried to convince Brad P. that he could too pick two people for his kickball team first.

He was ten and Carol said they could share. Boys can’t marry boys, but girls can. So they could both marry her and live together forever.

It became a joke when they finally shared it with Steve, thirteen and boys going out with girls wasn’t funny the way it used to be. Sarah Jane asked Carol if she had a chance at going steady with Steve. She told Tommy about it later and they both told Steve that he was too good to date any of the girls in their grade. “Well I’ve got you guys,” his voice cracked when he said it, throwing an arm around both of them. Carol didn’t care as much, but even she’d noticed the way Steve was changing from boyish to handsome.

They were sixteen and disaster was just around the corner, not that he knew that. Steve dated around but he always came back to them. The head, the heart, the body. They don’t feel complete without each other -- at least Tommy doesn’t. Mr. Kripke, who was hungover more often than he wasn't, passed out ten minutes into study hall. Carol didn’t even wait to see if he’d wake back up before she left her assigned table for theirs. She smoothed out a lined piece of notebook paper for them, and Tommy scoffed like he was supposed to. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing MASH?”

“It’s dirty MASH, and I thought you’d think it was funny.”

“I think it’s funny,” Steve had said, “that you’re getting eiffel towered on your wedding night. Who else is joining in, Carrie?”

“We couldn’t agree on who got you for their side of the aisle. So we’re taking you to bed instead.”

He was sixteen and the way that the two of them looked when they shared a joke was the hottest thing in the world. The way their smiles mirror when they turned to him, sharp and ready to flay open the softest parts of him.

Tommy’s two days older when Steve lets him kiss the taste of Carol out of his mouth.

It was three days after he turned seventeen and he had to pretend he didn't want to die when he saw how Steve looked at Nancy Wheeler. Like he didn’t want to rip his hair out because Steve was fucking infatuated with this mousy little teacher’s pet and wouldn’t even look at him anymore.

He still doesn’t like to think about the breakup. He pokes it like a fresh bruise. Less often now, but when he does he digs his fingers in. Baits Carol into fights he doesn’t mean just so he can pretend like he hasn’t lost something that hurts like a limb.

Steve Harrington turns twenty-eight next week, and he’s standing in front of them both holding pieces of what might turn into their wedding cake.

“Wow I can’t believe you’re in Indy!” False excitement grates, but at least Carol has gotten herself together enough to speak. He thought he’d have at least another few months to prepare for the thought of seeing Steve, by their ten year reunion he was going to be married and happy and over it.

“Yeah, this is- Married, wow! I kinda can’t believe you haven’t already.” He says it to Carol, his platitudes had always been for Carol, but his eyes find Tommy. 

While Carol chatters at them and for them both, nervous, he knows she’s nervous. The situation is sudden and strange and fraught. But Tommy just looks at Steve, who looks at him. He’s getting married in three months, one week, and two days from now and for the first time in eleven years Steve is looking at him.

"Takes a while to save up for when you want the best of everything. Dad's still the skinflint he always was, I think he'd pay me less than minimum wage if he could get away with it."

And those soft brown eyes look so sad, looking at him. Sometimes he thinks no one will ever understand him the way that Steve did.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best, or having a long engagement." Carol defends. It's the same line she's been giving everyone. Defensive of him and herself and the choices they've been making. He can't believe Steve is someone she thinks they have to defend against.

“I really hope you're happy, man," he says, and the sincerity is a balm on the sting of this conversation. He pushes his hair back from his face, the way he always has when he's uncomfortable and trying not to make it obvious. And there's a fresh new hurt when Tommy catches sight of a plain gold band on Steve's finger, shining bright between the golden highlights of his hair.

“I’m happy about this,” he can say honestly. Carol is one of the only things he’s ever been sure about. She held him steady as she could when his other sure thing left him with a cracked foundation in a convenience store parking lot. “What about you? How long after meeting the future Mrs. Harrington did you wait to put a ring on her finger?”

“Tommy,” Carol chides as the teen in the corner snorts. To anyone else it would sound like a reprimand for being nosy, he, and he suspects Steve, knows she’s telling him to stop worrying a scab that has no hope of healing right.

Married and they didn’t know. Wouldn’t have found out until the reunion. It’s not like he expected an invitation, maybe an engagement announcement sent to their parents’ houses. They’d sent one to Loch Nora when the real ring had finally made it to Carrie’s finger. It was equal parts olive branch and offering. They’d gotten it back return to sender with no forwarding address.

The bell above the door tongs again, loud enough to make Carol jump. The platter of cakes doesn't shift at all in Steve’s hand. His arm shows no sign of fatigue. It’s almost distracting enough that he misses the obvious. The bell signals someone is coming into the store.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.

“Munson?” Carol has the reflexes and the personal grace to address him first. Shock more than the disgust it might have been when they were still kids.

Tommy feels like a kid still. Looks to Steve in an instinct he’d thought he’d stamped out years ago, only to be met with wide eyes and teeth grit tight enough to draw out the square line of his jaw.

“Christ, I still get nightmares that start like this.” Munson says, eye darting between the three of them. “Max, am I naked?”

“Don't know, don't wanna know.”

“I thought you'd be able to tell by the energy in the room.” He wiggles his fingers, still bedecked in silver, like they can divine the vibrations or some witchy shit.

That’s enough to make Steve break just a little. A soft, exhaling scoff before he finally starts to move out from the counter. Tommy catches, and he doubts Carol misses it either, how Steve passes the closer tables to set his tray down between them and Munson.

“I can tell I don't want to be here for this.” Their redheaded audience member says, “I'm taking my 15.”

“Don't go harass Mike, he's finally working,” Munson says.

“Will and El are on shift on the other side,” Steve calls out, not looking at any of them as he moves cakes from his tray to the table. A deliberate selection he seems to be making.

“Whatever, I’m gonna call Lucas and break up with him so he can play better or whatever.”

“Don’t be too harsh,” Munson calls out, “I’ve only got him on a five point spread.”

If Carol’s nails break from how hard they’re digging into his arm, somehow it’ll be Tommy’s fault. Not the fact that they’ve advanced the worst part of their ten year reunion by months, and also Munson is here and knows shit about basketball.

“Sorry, think my hearing’s going, sounded like you said you want him to lose and he’s getting kicked from the next one shot. I’ll let him know.”

“She gets that from you,” Steve and Munson say in sync. Glaring playfully at one another the way Steve used to with Carol.

“I’ll tell Robin you were-”

“Do not sick Buckley on me, Max made the deaf joke not me.”

“Weird, that’s not what I heard.” Steve has always claimed his hair as his best feature. It isn’t -- Carrie liked his eyes, Tommy his hands -- but it’s hard to deny that it doesn’t look good, flipping over his shoulder. His smile is private, just for Munson, soft the way he got whenever he picked up a new girl. Carrie taps the back of his hand, two sharp smacks, their signal for years that he needed to pay attention and notice something she had. Wide, nervous eyes dart to Steve -- like he hadn’t already been looking at Steve -- so he does his best to assess the way Carol would.

Jealous, viciously, Steve had been theirs in every way that mattered since they were ten years old and Carol had never liked sharing her toys with anyone but them. She watched his face for any sign of unhappiness anytime a new girlfriend came along, and when she found one she passed it along to him. So he could pick and joke until Steve was all theirs again.

So he checked the face. Tried to ignore the way Steve was lit up from the inside out with a joy he could barely remember, and then he saw the hearing aid.

He tapped back, three times. O.M.G.

“The 1985 Homecoming court here to reveal that this has all been a long con, Stevie?”

“Yeah I faked the name change paperwork and picked up a fake ID, sorry I took my business somewhere else.” Steve says it with the sincerity he’s always made those kind of jokes with, his strange sense of humor never coming across when he always sounded so serious. 

Munson gets it though, snorts loud and ugly, before a smile pulls wide across half his face the otherside taught with a gnarly scar. “Now I know why my fake ID business went belly up when we got to the city, not like I only sold three in high school.”  He gestures to the three of them in a wide arc.

Sophomores, they had decided it was time to throw their first real party now that Steve’s parents had moved out of Hawkins in all but name. Steve was a latchkey kid of new proportions and took to self sufficiency in a way that had seemed adult to him then; and in hindsight looked more like a child fighting for his life. Steve bragged how he’d been saving up the weekly checks they’d sent to ‘sustain him’ while they worked in the city during the week. His contribution to Tommy and Carol’s vague plan to throw a kegger by the pool. When they’d floundered, immediately, with the hows, Steve had been the one to suggest going to Munson.

“Love this preview of the reunion,” Carol cuts in, there’s no bite but Munson bristles anyway like she’s being rude for reminding them that there are customers present. “Steve?”

It’s funny, Tommy thinks, the way Steve still straightens his back at Carol’s tone. All this time and he can’t fight the old ingrained instincts either.

“Dustin made the appointment,” Steve apologizes, even as he’s posture perfect and preparing his pastries. The unsaid, ‘I definitely wouldn’t have’ doesn’t go unheard and it doesn’t sting any less even this far from their last interaction.

“Munson could join us,” Tommy offers, a new olive branch since their last one was never seen. Even if it does raise three sets of brows and makes Carrie’s nervous smile tighten even more in the corner of her mouth.

“Well at least one of us has to,” Munson, Eddie, says. Just says, tone like it was meant to be something said under his breath.

He's grown up a lot since high school, they both have. Still, he's only got twenty minutes left on his lunch break and it's been a long day. "God, is that why it's called that?" Growth, he doesn't say that Steve Munson sounds a lot dumber than Steve Harrington.

"It's charming," Carol and Steve both say. Though Carrie is definitely lying and Steve barely gets it out from between his gritted teeth, a sore spot. He's always been good at finding Steve's bruises.

"It's charming," Tommy agrees, like he always did when he was out voted.

Eddie has a smirk spread across his face and a ‘too proud of himself’ look in his eyes. Mouth open to make some quip that Tommy is going to pretend is funny, for Steve’s sake. Now that they’re here, he’s going to do something to show that they could talk to one another again. Steve clicks his tongue, taps his index and middle finger down to his thumb two quick times before he can.

He turns to the girl in the corner, "Erica, scram, go help Robin and the kids with the new donation that just came in."

The teen continues to scribble in the notebook in front of her, bulky headphones over her ears, she makes no sign that Tommy can see that she's heard Steve speak. "Erica, go, or I'll tell your mother you moved out of the dorms. You're 20, it's not child labor, and you've got a timecard."

She sighs and wordlessly packs up her things, she gives Steve a scathing look that takes Tommy back to high school. The withering eyebrow and rolled eyes would have been just at home on Steve’s own face in 1985, but she marches behind the counter, the sound of her dish rattling in the sink before she disappears out the same door that the redhead had gone out.

Now that the room has been cleared, an awkward silence has found the space to squeeze in. Munson, the original, still standing in the doorway and Steve standing between his unlawfully wedded husband and the two people who had lost their chance at him years ago.

The wedding and the reunion both on the horizon had dredged up a nostalgia that Tommy and Carol had been dealing with in their own ways. Dredging up old yearbooks, Carol had found a shoebox of old notes that she’d kept. Conversations written in three different inks by three different hands, nonsensical after all this time. Tommy woke up from dreams that he hadn’t had in years. Always of Steve and Carol, a study in opposites, but similar where it mattered.

“Well,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation like he always would when the other two faltered, “you’re here for a reason. We might as well get started on it.”

Steve’s fingerprints are still on them, just like he’d noticed theirs on him, molded as they were together. They’ve always bowed to his expectations, and his whims. When he ushers them to the table with a spread hand, Tommy and Carol go where they’re beckoned.

And so does Munson.

They keep an empty chair between them, an artificial divide for Tommy’s sanity, but with the sprawl of Munson’s legs their knees still occasionally brush together. Carol had taken the spot closest to Steve, who has stayed standing. He is their gracious host, marking the head of the round table.

“I pulled out the full sampler before I realized it was you,” Steve says. Even with as off balance as the interaction has felt, Tommy doesn’t feel his hackles raising. While it’s possible he’s gotten more subtle with his digs, Steve’s vicious tongue was usually unmistakable. “I can tell you about as many of them as you want though if you want to pretend like we don’t already know what I’ll be making you. I’m sure neither of you have eaten lunch yet.”

“You are going to take us on?” Carol asks. Shock always gives her tone an extra edge, defensive and catty, even if she’s really just waiting to see if another shoe will drop.

“Obviously,” Steve says, placing a faintly orange square of cake in front of her. He slaps Eddie’s hand away from another piece without looking away from either of them. “That’s as far as I’ll be going in participation though.”

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s mouth twitches up with the joke, a filthy smirk that leaves Tommy flushing hot. Too warm to not be a bright and obvious red at the acknowledgment of that old private in-joke.

It doesn’t get better when Carol moans, “Oh my god, Steve!” Even if it is about the cake.

He laughs, and Tommy suspects the two are actually trying to kill him. He chances a glance over at Munson who looks like he doesn’t care at all that his husband has made Tommy’s fiance moan. He is watching Tommy though, an inquisitive look like the one Carol gets when she happens to catch a nature documentary.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with Carol, “I’ll do something small with that citrus cake for you and Tom so you’ve got something you’ll actually eat on your wedding, maybe a pineapple buttercream on top like that nasty Juicy Fruit gum you like so much.”

“I mean it’s really crazy how you’re so good at this when you’ve never had any taste,” Carol compliments, she never did learn how to be nice.

He could probably count Steve’s teeth in the answering smile. Tommy can feel it like an ache in his chest how much he missed this. He snatches another cube of cake off the tray just so has something else to focus on.

“That’s the fancy one for the people who hate their guests,” Munson says as the cake has settled on the flat of Tommy’s tongue.

“It’s lavender,” Steve corrects, and the floral flavor is lodged in the back of his throat at least gives him a reason now to feel so choked up. “And it is for a particular sort of bride.”

“Are you saying I’m not fancy and particular, Munson?” Carol asks. 

She’s obviously talking to Eddie Munson, who lifts his hands up in answer. But it’s Steve who says, “If you tried to feed that to Gail she would leave the reception bitching the whole time.”

“Well go on,” Tommy finds himself goading now that he’s swallowed, “finish calling your shot, Stevie. You said you knew what we were walking out of here with.”

Carol reaches across the table, locking eyes with Eddie as she snags the piece closest to him. The one his fingers had been inching toward like he thought Steve wouldn’t notice him trying to take it.

“I’ll make a small citrus cake for you, Carrie, we’ll hide it in the back of the larger cake so you can get the pictures of you cutting it and smashing into each other's faces-”

“We will not be doing that,” she interrupts, the warning for him and also unnecessary. He already knows how she feels about being embarrassed in public.

“Then the big cake for your guests will be a chocolate cake, I can cover it in a buttercream or a fondant icing also chocolate, because it’s the only kind of cake the Hagan family will eat. Even though I’m sure John hasn’t given you a dime for the wedding, he’ll complain until Hannah gets married if he doesn’t like the cake.”

“Really,” Steve continues, “the only thing up in the air is how many people you were able to get away with not inviting, Care.”

The two of them start talking actual wedding logistics, and as Tommy grabs another bite of cake -- this one looks like it might be a normal flavor -- he figures the real show of good faith would be talking to the only other person at the table while he eats what Steve correctly dubbed his lunch.

“Y’know he never actually answered me,” he says in an undertone.

Munson seems surprised at being spoken to, only widens his eyes in response to Tommy’s unasked question.

“I asked Steve how soon after the first date he proposed, he never actually answered.”

Eddie softens at the edges before he can even say anything. Steve had a way of doing that, bringing out the romantic in a person. He loved with a passion that demanded it be matched. “Technically I proposed to him, but he says it doesn’t count because we weren’t together and I was high on morphine after a major surgery and thought he was Apollo, come to whisk me away.” The smile on Munson’s face looks dopey and drugged up now, like the very memory of whatever hospital stay is so ingrained in his mind he can feel the high now.

“But,” he goes on, “he told me we were getting married whether it was legal or not about three months after he got legally married to another woman.”

“Stop,” Steve has always been able to sense when he’s about to be the butt of the joke. He has a finger pointed at Eddie like a teacher delivering a lecture. “You can’t tell people that. It was for tax reasons, I’m not cheating on my wife.”

“You say tomato, I say whichever one of us is your least favorite has to be the extramarital affair.”

“I say, you’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” Tommy can hear the warm affection behind the insult, the way their picking is a safer way to express their passion for one another.

He thought he would be jealous of whoever finally managed to reel in Steve Harrington for good, and he is. The emotion is there, present in the snarling tangle of emotions that this encounter has left in him. One that he and Carol will have to slowly tease and pick out tonight when they’re home in bed. Trying to make sense of what each thread is and what it means for them. But the one bright pulsing thread he can make sense of is happiness. He’s happy for Steve, happy that he gets to see an old friend so at ease and obviously cared for.

And he’s sad that his time is up, his lunch hour so close to an end he’ll be late getting back to the office. Something he can already hear his Dad and fucking Greg giving him shit for. Which means they have to end their time here.

Steve walks them to the door, flips the sign to mark them closed for lunch.

“Congratulations again, you two,” he says, “I really am happy I can get to be a part of this with you all. Even if it’s a little different than we used to imagine.”

Carol reaches out for the both of them, puts her hand on his arm. Tommy finds that he’s the one who actually says, “We’re glad you found someone who makes you this happy, dude. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, he’s alright most of the time.” It's said with such fondness it becomes a declaration. It’s hard to imagine how they thought they could ever be the something that could make Steve this happy. But maybe in a different life, under different circumstances it could have been.

There’s a minute where they all stand in the doorway. He wonders if they’re all afraid that this might be the last time they see each other, speak to one another, until Steve is delivering the cake on the day of the wedding. Maybe it’s just him, he was the one who pushed back the hardest after things ended.

Someone finally gives in and pushes the door open. It’s TONG a death toll for their current conversation. But it also sends a jolt through Steve, he straightens to his full height like a shock has gone through him. “Here,” he says, “here, um.” He digs around in his apron until he finds a pen and a receipt pad. Jots down something before tearing it off and putting it in Tommy’s hands, “It's our home number, in case you have any cake emergencies or something.”

They really can’t stay any longer.

Carol takes the note, better at keeping track of these things than Tommy is. It’s hard to know if they’ll actually use it, maybe after they talk about it, but if they do she’ll be the one to do it. She’s always been braver than him.

There’s no way of guaranteeing anything but the fact that they’ll have a cake on the table on their wedding day. But he hopes that Steve might stay for the ceremony once he brings it, he can even bring Eddie if that’s what gets him there. 

Alone in his car, Tommy lets himself take a minute to think about Steve Harrington one last time. He isn’t going to get what he wanted as a kid. Doubts that he’ll ever be as close to Steve as he’d been in childhood, too much time has passed and too much has changed.

But there’s an opportunity to get to know Steve Munson, and he isn't going to pass it up. Even if he doesn’t know how to name a bakery.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

It's too bad we didn't get to see Tommy/Carol and Nancy bitch it out over Steve. Another reason why there should have been twenty episodes. Given some time, Nancy would have destroyed him with her words.

[sycamorelibrary754]

Guardian Angel

Chapter 10: MacGyver

Summary: Wanda and Monica hurry to Rome to save the team from San Castillo's catacombs while you anxiously wait for news about Wanda and your newfound family.

Warnings: Mentions of injury, asthma, anxiety

Word Count: 8k

A/N: The latest chapter of Guardian Angel is the longest yet. Thanks to everyone who's reading! I'm excited about where the story is headed, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Guardian Angel Masterlist 

Tony slowly opened his eyes, but all he could see was darkness. The faceplate of his Iron Man helmet slid open, and he heard the dripping sound of condensation. The only indication that he was still alive.

Steve stirred next, feeling the damp air and touching the hard stone floor. He started crawling on all fours and ripped off his oxygen mask, coughing as small pebbles from the drop scraped against his skin.

“Buck, come on. There you go.” Steve tapped his friend's cheek as he started to come around. “Wow,” Barnes gasped as he looked back up at the height of the drop.

Yelena crawled towards Natasha, her face and arms stained with dirt and blood. Despite the pain in her wrist, she began moving the small pile of rubble that had buried her older sister's lower body.

“Are you okay, sestra?” Her voice was muffled under the oxygen mask, but she managed to ask.

Nat slowly sat up and let out a hiss as the pain in her right leg began to hit her. Looking down, she noticed a gash spanning the length of her lower leg, visible through her suit. Although the cut wasn't deep, it was enough to cause her discomfort.

All around them, there was an eerie silence that sent shivers down their spines. The darkness was so thick they could barely see anything beyond a few feet.

Carol quickly sprang into action, helping Peter and Kate to their feet, while Sam and Clint sputtered and coughed as they crawled out from behind a chunk of stone slab covered in a cracked fresco painting that had fallen along with them. The sound of the debris crashing against each other had been deafening, and it had taken them a few moments to get their bearings.

Thor was the last to appear, tossing rubble and rocks aside like Legos. His strength and determination were evident as he worked to clear the wreckage.

“Is everyone alright?” Steve asked the team.

A smattering of grunts and mumbles floated out of the team in response. Everyone was nursing a modicum of injuries, but somehow, all were alive.

"FRIDAY, can you give me an IR scan of the space?" Tony's voice echoed through the underground catacombs.

FRIDAY's response was unexpected. "This is not part of the previously mapped subterranean pathway, boss."

Tony's curiosity was piqued. "What do you mean? Are there any air currents?"

"This catacomb is not accessible to the general public. Therefore, no air currents were constructed at this depth," FRIDAY replied.

Steve had a sudden realization, "How much oxygen is left in the masks?"

"Undeterminable, Captain,” FRIDAY said.

Panic set in as the realization hit them - they were running out of oxygen. "Maria, can you hear me?" Nat urgently called out through her comms, hoping for a response. But all she got was static. "Is comms working for anyone?" she asked, looking around for a glimmer of hope, but no one could get through. 

Not waiting for further instruction, Carol swiftly flew up the shaft. The team could hear the distant sound of energy blasts as scattered debris and water droplets fell from above. She returned shortly after, displaying an air of calm anxiety similar to Natasha's.

"We fell at least one hundred feet," Carol reported, removing her oxygen mask. "The top of the shaft narrows, and the passage is blocked by rubble from the fall."

Thor looked around in frustration, "This is ridiculous," he lamented. "I'm getting us the hell out of here," he declared as he started to spin Mjölnir.

But Bruce quickly stopped him. "No, don't you remember what Friday said before the fall?" he said, grabbing Thor's forearm. A core reactor holds the tunnel together. We have no idea what is behind the energy surges. Introducing thunder into the mix could collapse the entire catacomb."

Thor's face contorted in exasperation, "So what do we do now?" he asked, the tension rising.

*^~^*

“How far out are we?" Wanda inquired.

The low and gentle hum emanating from the Quinjet reverberated through the atmosphere as it soared through the endless expanse of the bright blue sky.

"Just a few minutes. Their trackers are still active, but I can't say how long they'll stay online," Monica replied, glancing down at the GPS display.

Wanda wasn't sure what to say. This was the first time she and Monica had been alone together since the events in Westview. Despite the hug they had shared on the loading dock, Wanda wasn't sure where they stood. However, she couldn't bear to dwell on what they might find when they arrived in Rome. She needed a distraction.

"So... how have you been since, well, since..." Wanda began.

"Since you trapped Westview, New Jersey in an idyllic suburban illusion of your grief and turned me into a photon," Monica finished for her, raising an eyebrow.

Wanda buried her face in her hands, feeling embarrassed. "In a manner of speaking, yes," she mumbled.

"I've been okay. After the Hex was dismantled, Fury sent for me. I was recruited into S.A.B.E.R. I've been shuttling back and forth between Earth and the space station for the last year," Monica explained.

Wanda nodded in understanding, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions as she absorbed Monica's words. After a moment, she turned to face her. "Listen, I-"

"You don't need to say anything, Wanda. You already apologized, and I meant what I said that day. I understood how you felt, and given the circumstances and your powers, I would have tried to bring my mom back, too," Monica said, her voice filled with empathy.

Wanda nodded in recognition and gratitude, feeling a weight lifted off her shoulders.

"Now, I have a question for you," Monica said. "What's the deal with you and Y/N?"

"Our meeting was pure luck, and now... now I can't imagine my life without Y/N. Losing Vis was a turning point in my life. The world around me crumbled, leaving me and my boys vulnerable and exposed. But I had to be strong and protect them, even if it meant building a fortress around my heart. But Y/N, she shattered the fortress the moment our eyes met. It's weird; sometimes it feels like Vision sent Y/N to me, you know? Like she's my guardian angel."

"That's amazing, Wanda. I'm so happy for you,” Monica declared.

"Approaching target landing zone. Cloaking technology initiated," FRIDAY announced.

*^~^*

Darcy seemed to have an unmatched familiarity with the Overwatch system—she navigated through it with precision and ease, almost as if she had designed and constructed it. You couldn't help but notice how meticulously she calibrated her equipment, making every adjustment with utmost care and attention to detail.

“What kind of data were you seeing before the fall?” Darcy asked.

“Mostly thermostats,” Maria said. “A core reactor holds together the stabilization of the tunnel structure.” 

At this point, they could have been speaking a foreign language. You were having difficulty washing off the shock of the last few hours. You were also worried about Wanda putting herself in danger to rescue everyone.

“Why were they all on this mission, anyway?” Darcy continued. “Jack Sparrow doesn't usually push all his Poker chips into the middle of the table for surveillance.” 

Maria pulled up the mission file on the screen, "In the city of Rome, there are more than sixty catacombs composed of miles of underground tunnels in which thousands of tombs are found. Currently, only 5 of them are open to the public. For the last month, we have received some unusual readings from the Catacombs of San Callisto. It spans five floors and more than 12 miles in length,”  Maria continued. “Despite our best intelligence, we were unsure about what we were walking into because it wasn't publicly accessible. Fury wanted us to be prepared for any contingency."

Darcy caught sight of your zoned-out expression. “Hey, Y/N, you okay over there?” 

“Yeah, I just,” you trailed off. “I mean, I make candy for a living. The most dangerous thing I encounter in my day is Harper forgetting to turn off the stove,” you said, starting to get worked up.”

“Y/N,” Maria said, seeing your anxiety rising. 

“I just watched the Avengers fall to God knows where, and my girlfriend just left to try and rescue them with her magical powers…. What the hell is my life?” 

“Y/N, it’s going to be okay,” Maria repeated as she and Darcy approached you.

“How can you possibly know that? This is fucking terrifying!” You shouted. “What if we never see any of them again?”

As you were spiraling into a state of panic, Darcy's hand came down hard and made contact with your cheek, jolting you back into the present moment.

“You were spiraling,” Darcy said, patting you on the back with a smile. “All good now.”

Y/N," Maria said as she placed her hands on your shoulders and looked you in the eyes while you rubbed your cheek. "Everything will be alright. Their trackers are still sending signals, and I just received an update on everyone's vital signs. They're in distress, but they're still stable. Wanda and Monica will find them.”

After a deep breath, you said, "I'm sorry, Maria. I don't know how you guys do this every day,” wiping your hand across your face. “With Natasha down there, I don't know how you're holding it together." 

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, and if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Nat doesn’t give up. If anything, this entire ordeal has pissed her off, and she’s even more of a fighter when she’s angry,” Maria said.

You glanced at your watch. "Shoot,” you sighed. It's almost 3 p.m. I have to go pick up Billy and Tommy from school. Please call me as soon as you know anything.” 

*^~^*

As you arrived at the boys' school, a sense of nervousness washed over you. You had only met Billy and Tommy once before, and you weren't quite sure what to say to them. You remembered Wanda’s request not to go into detail about the reason for her unplanned departure, so you were hesitant about how to approach the conversation.

Within just a few minutes of your arrival, the sixth-grade class began to come out of the building. It didn't take long for you to spot the twins, carrying their backpacks and books, scanning their surroundings for you.

You called out, "Boys, over here!" Billy and Tommy ran towards you.

“Hi, Y/N, how come you’re picking us up today?” Tommy asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, where’s our mom?” Billy added, looking a bit confused.

“Your mom had to go on a last-minute mission with the rest of the team,” you said, trying not to go into too much detail. “So, she asked me to look after you boys until she gets back. Is that okay with you?”

Billy and Tommy looked at each other, seemingly communicating a message without words, and then turned back to you with a nod. You couldn't help but wonder if they had some secret twin language that only they knew. Either way, you were relieved they seemed alright with you taking care of them. 

It felt odd stepping foot in Wanda’s home without her. It was your first time there, and the absence of her presence made the atmosphere feel eerie. However, you took a deep breath and tried to shake off the feeling, reminding yourself to focus on Billy and Tommy.

Once settled, you asked, “Okay, so what do you guys usually do first when you get home from school?” 

Tommy and Billy stood in the kitchen, looking up at you with hopeful eyes. "Well," Tommy began tentatively, "Mom usually lets us play video games after school."

Billy nodded eagerly, adding, "And then we have ice cream. It's our favorite snack."

You couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm. "I see," you said, playing along with their little routine. "And after video games and ice cream, you'll probably get started on your homework, right?"

At this, Tommy's face fell. "We don't have any homework," he admitted sheepishly.

You chuckled, leaning back against the counter. "Listen, boys," you said, adopting a more earnest tone. I know we don't know each other very well yet, and you're probably thinking this is a free-for-all. But you should know I invented the 'I don't have any homework' line," you said, placing your hand on your chest. "I was a kid once, too, you know."

“It was worth a shot,” Billy said. 

Why don't you two bring your homework out here, and I’ll fix us a snack in the meantime?” You suggested. 

“Okay,” they said in unison before clambering down the hall. 

You shook your head at their cheekiness and set about preparing a snack. You sliced up some crisp apples, added a dollop of creamy peanut butter, and poured some refreshing lemonade.

After spending some time helping the boys with their homework, which turned out to be more challenging than you remembered, you decided to tidy up around the house. As you walked into the living room, your attention was immediately drawn to the family photo on the wall. Vision stood tall and robust, with Wanda's arm around him, while Billy and Tommy grinned from ear to ear. The image was a gentle reminder of her life before you. Rather than jealousy, you felt a deep empathy and sorrow for all the hardships and heartbreaks she had endured.

You couldn't help but wonder if Wanda was okay right now. If they were all okay.

*^~^*

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, a soft glow began to spread across the ancient cobblestones of the Appian Way. The air was still and quiet, and the only sound that could be heard was the distant chirping of birds. The surrounding landscape was bathed in a golden light, casting long shadows stretching across the fields and trees. Amidst this stillness, the Quinjet lay concealed in a nearby field. Wanda and Monica walked down the cobblestone path and made their way through the Arch of Dursus, their footsteps echoing in the quietness of the night. The entrance of the San Callisto catacombs suddenly materialized, rising from the ground like an ominous apparition.

The iron gate had been meticulously re-welded shut—Tony’s standard attempt at not drawing suspicion after they entered. Wanda’s hand began to swirl in red. 

“I got it,” Monica said, breaking the lock with electrifying blue energy. 

The two women donned oxygen masks and walked down the stone stairs into the catacombs, their communications and body cameras crackling to life. 

As they descended the steps, their feet moved steadily, one after the other. The count of each step eluded them as they were fully immersed in descending. As they reached the end of the stairs, the first of the tombs revealed itself, emerging from the darkness before them. 

Do you feel anything?” Monica asked, “Anyone?” 

Wanda shook her head, “Not yet.”

“We’re looking at 90 acres of catacombs to search, ladies,” Maria said over the comms.

“So, you know, it may take a minute,” Darcy added. 

*^~^*

Yelena frustratingly turned to Tony, "Can't you fly us out of here? I thought Iron Man could do anything?"

Tony snapped, "Oh gee, I hadn't thought of that blondie. Thank God you finally mentioned it after five hours!"

Natasha intervened, "Take it down a notch, Tony."

Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead, "Don't you think if I could have flown us out of here, I would have done it by now? The energy surges compromised the calibration of the thrusters. FRIDAY is down, too.”

Sam nodded in agreement, "Same here. It's a complete multisystem failure."

Suddenly, Kate's voice echoed off the stone, "Help!!"

Peter dropped from the wall onto the floor, webbing still hanging loosely from the rocks. "I couldn't find any other openings."

Bucky added with a hint of sarcasm, "Terrific. Well, Steve, we died once; looks like it's going to stick this time," he lamented, as he pulled a small flask from inside his leather jacket and removed his oxygen mask.

“Bucky, stop,” Steve sighed.

Clint chimed in, "Hey, give me some of that," as he took a swig out of the flask. 

The archer passed the flask to Thor, who reluctantly sipped,” Your human alcohol is so weak.” 

Natasha stood and hobbled over to Bruce, the cut on her leg now causing her more significant discomfort. 

“Do you want me to look at your leg?” Bruce cautiously asked.

“No,” Nat said, ripping off her oxygen mask. “I want you to get your green ass off that rock and go MacGyver something with Stark to get us the fuck out of here!”

“What’s a MacGyver?” Peter asked.

“It's not a what, it's a who,” Kate responded. 

“I've never heard of him,” Peter continued. 

“MacGyver is amazing!" exclaimed Kate, her excitement bubbling over. "He’s a super resourceful secret agent who uses his vast scientific knowledge to escape dangerous situations. He uses everyday items like matchsticks, paper clips, and rubber bands to complete his missions.”

Nat's voice echoed through the cramped quarters as she shouted, "Knock it off!" The two young Avengers quieted down immediately, their eyes fixed on her. 

Steve took a deep breath and scanned the room, his eyes settling on each of his teammates in turn. "Look," he said, getting everyone's attention. "We don't know how long Wanda and Maria will take to find us, but we must assume they're close. That means we need to stay calm and do everything we can to conserve oxygen in this tiny space and our masks. We don't know what will happen next, but we're in this together, and we're going to make it through."

*^~^*

It had been an hour since the boys had gone to bed. Now that you were finally alone with your thoughts, you couldn't hold back the tears. Your mind was consumed with worry and fear, and you had not received any updates from Maria and Darcy. The silence was deafening, and the longer it persisted, the more scared and anxious you became.

You gazed at your phone, considering calling them, but decided against it. Instead, you wiped your eyes and scrolled through your camera roll, looking at pictures of you and Wanda that reminded youof your favorite memories together.

You suddenly felt like someone was watching you. You looked up and saw Billy poking his head around the corner.

"Hey, Billy. You okay?" you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Are you?" the young boy asked in return, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your thoughts are really loud."

It took you a moment to realize what he meant, but then it hit you. Of course, like his mom, Billy could hear other people's thoughts. You wondered how often he had to deal with that and how overwhelming it must be.

"I'm sorry, Billy," you said, trying to keep your thoughts in check. "I didn't mean to be so loud."

"It's okay," he said with a shrug as he joined you on the couch. "I'm used to it.”

You sat in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say next. Then, you remembered why you were there in the first place.

"I'm just excited for your mom to come home," you said, trying to inject some positivity into the conversation.

"Same," he said, his face lighting up a little. He scooted closer to you on the couch. It was a small gesture, but it made you feel like maybe you were doing something right.

"You and Tommy love your mom a lot, don't you?" you asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Yeah, she's amazing. She's always there for us," he explained with a smile.

"I can tell," you said, pulling a soft blanket off the back of the couch and placing it over Billy. "She talks about you and Tommy all the time. She's so proud of both of you."

"Really? What does she say?" Billy asked curiously, his eyes widening with interest.

"Well," you began, "she says you're both brilliant, funny, and sweet young men. She admires your sense of humor and your kindness towards others. Tommy is a great athlete, and you like to draw. She thinks you're a very talented artist."

"Mom told you that?" he said, surprised. "I didn't know she talked about us so much."

"Yes, she does. She loves you two very much," you replied, smiling at him warmly.

You followed Billy’s eyes as he stared at the family photograph you admired earlier. "I miss Dad," he said. "Tommy does, too."

"I know you do," you replied. “I’m sorry.” 

"We were happy in Westview," Billy said, fidgeting with his hands just like Wanda. "Then, one day, we woke up, and Dad was gone and Mom said we had to go."

"That must have been difficult," you said softly.

"Yeah, at first it was tough," Billy continued, "but then we came here. Mom got Uncle Tony to build us this cool house, and we have a lot of fun.”

You couldn't help but smile as he talked about Wanda. "Your mom is the coolest person I know," you said, and Billy beamed with pride.

"You miss her too, don't you?" he asked, and you felt a pang of longing in your heart.

"You're good, kid," you said with a smirk as you ruffled his hair. "Yes, I miss your mom very much."

“She talks about you too, you know,” Billy mentioned.

Your surprise showed on your face. "Really?" you asked.

"Yeah," he said matter-of-factly. "She says you make her happy, and you make the best chocolate in the world."

You giggled at the compliment, but then you noticed the time. It was almost 2 a.m. "I think we both could use some shut-eye, Billy. We want to be well-rested when your mom gets home."

"Okay," he agreed, climbing off the couch.

But before he left, you had an idea. "Hey, what do you say you and I and Tommy make brownies tomorrow as a treat for everyone when they get home?"

Billy's eyes lit up. "That would be awesome!"

"I think so, too," you said with a smile. "Okay, now, bedtime. Off you go."

Unexpectedly, the young boy hugged you goodnight, and you felt a warmth in your heart. "Thank you, Y/N. Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight, Billy," you said.

*^~^*

Meanwhile, half a world away, Wanda and Monica ventured through the dark and musty catacombs. The eerie silence was only broken by the echo of their footsteps. They had been walking for hours with no sign of anyone. Suddenly, Maria's voice broke through their comms, sending chills down their spine.

“Our last point of contact was down this secondary tunnel just ahead,” she said.

Wanda's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the area. "Watch your step," she warned. "If this is near where they dropped, we're on unstable ground."

As they continued, the walls around them became adorned with ancient symbols and paintings, marking Papal tombs. But their peaceful exploration was abruptly interrupted when Monica came to a sudden halt. "Stop," she said, sensing a change in the electromagnetic spectrum. 

Wanda spun around to face her. "What is it?" She asked, her anxiety rising.

Before Monica could answer, the ground began to shake violently, throwing both women to the ground.

As the ceiling crumbled, debris rained down onthe two women. Acting quickly, Wanda summoned her powers to redirect the falling fragments away from them.

“Are you two okay?” Maria asked nervously.

“Yeah, we're okay,” Wanda said as she helped Monica to her feet. “What was that?” 

Take a look around," Darcy pointed out. "Do you see those fissures along the walls? Someone is utilizing the catacombs as a natural storage space for geothermal energy. But there is something wrong with the core reactor. It's causing the structure to become destabilized.

Monica's voice trailed off as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "So, in other words, we're..." she hesitated, unsure.

Darcy picked up on Monica's hesitation and completed her thought. "Walking on eggshells. You need to find them, and soon.”

*^~^*

Clint, feeling a tad bit drunk from sipping from Bucky’s flask for the last few hours, began singing to himself, “Nobody knows the troubles I've seen.” 

“No, we need to find some physical conductor for the thrusters! We can't use Thor or Danvers down here,” Bruce exasperated.

Clint, not paying attention to the conversation, continued his solo performance, “Nobody knows my sorrows.” 

Tony suggested, “We could use Barnes’s arm,” side-eying the super soldier sitting against the wall. 

Bruce momentarily thought about it and responded, “That could work. We could use the vibranium and cybernetic implant to hot wire the thrusters”.

“Nobody knows the troubles I've seen,” Clint shamelessly continued. 

Bucky, who had been quietly listening, pulled down his oxygen mask so that only his eyes were visible and said, “Come try to take it; I dare you.”

“No one at all!” Clint finally finished singing. Natasha gently coaxed her best friend back into a sitting position beside her and Carol.

Nearby, Yelena, Peter, and Kate sat on the ground. Kate’s head rested in Yelena’s lap, doing her best to clean the cut on the young archer’s forehead. 

"Ouch!" exclaimed Kate, her voice muffled by the oxygen mask.

Yelena had attended to Nat's leg gash and now turned to the cut on Kate's forehead. She took out a disinfectant wipe from her vest pocket and dabbed the wound gently.

“Stop moving, and it won't hurt so much, Kate Bishop,” Yelena said, trying to hold her still. 

Suddenly, the sound of Peter wheezing broke the blonde's concentration away from Kate's forehead.

"Woah, are you okay, spider?" Her voice was filled with concern as the boy tore off his oxygen mask.

Peter gasped between every word and said, "I don't know, I can't,” he sputtered. “Catch my breath."

Kate sat up nervously, "Hey, what's happening? Where is your inhaler, Peter?"

Peter's voice strained, and his breaths became shorter as he said, "On the jet."

Bruce took charge of the situation, moving Peter into a sitting position against the wall. He placed an ear to his chest and frowned at the raspy, short breaths.

"Peter, look at me," Bruce said gently as he held the boy's face. "Are you certain that you don't have a rescue inhaler with you?"

He shook his head, his eyes filled with fear as each breath became more labored.

Tony quickly turned to Steve and said, "Help me out of the suit."

Steve was confused and asked, "What?"

"FRIDAY is down. I need you to get it off me, do it!" Tony's voice exclaimed anxiously.

Steve found the central seam of the Iron Man suit and tried to pull the chest plate apart, but it wouldn't budge.

"Buck, Thor, help me!" Steve shouted.

The sound of Peter's shallow breaths was drowned out by the metal bending as Bucky and Thor worked to free Tony from his suit.

"It's going to be okay, Peter. Stay with us," Sam said, as he and Carol did their best to keep him calm.

Peter's vision began to blur as his breathing was reduced to a squeak.

"Shit!" Bruce exclaimed, realizing the gravity of the situation.

Tony quickly stepped out of the broken pieces of his suit just as Peter was about to lose consciousness. He reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a rescue inhaler. He shook it several times before removing the cap as Nat lowered Peter’s head into her lap. Tony tilted the puffer slightly, angling it down his throat as he gave two puffs into his mouth. 

"Slowly breathe in, kid," Tony instructed. "One, two, three, four, five."

Tony administered two more puffs of the inhaler before Bruce listened to Peter's chest and confirmed his breathing had improved.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark," Peter whispered as his lungs began to open up. "Where did you get that inhaler?"

From Aunt Mae. It was one of her conditions for you to join the team. I always have it on me," Tony explained.

"You broke your suit," Peter realized.

"It's an easy fix, kid. You're not," Tony smirked.

Peter continued to use the inhaler as Tony kissed his forehead and walked away, his hands trembling.

Kate and Yelena comforted Peter while Bruce examined him.

"You're okay, Peter," Bruce said. "Continue using the inhaler, and when you feel up to it, put your oxygen mask back on." He picked up Peter’s mask, but his eyes widened with anxiety. The gauge was empty, and the light had turned red.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked.

"The mask is out of oxygen," Bruce whispered.

"I'll give you mine," Carol offered, taking off her mask and giving it to Peter.

"Thanks, Carol," Peter said as he continued to use the inhaler.

Steve pulled Bruce to one side. “Be honest with me, Bruce. How much time do we have left?”

"It's hard to say. With Peter's preexisting medical condition, he may have been using more oxygen than the rest of us. I'll check the other masks, but with so many people in this small space—”

“Bruce,” Steve said solemnly. 

“An hour. Maybe,” Banner conceded.

*^~^*

Instantly, an avalanche of disordered thoughts rushed into Wanda's mind, emanating from Peter. The intensity of his anxiety was so profound that Wanda had to cling to the wall of the tunnel to steady herself. Overwhelmed with relief and anguish, she burst into tears. It was as if Peter's distress was contagious, and his emotions threatened to engulf Wanda's consciousness. His mind was a chaotic maze of thoughts, all leading to the same inescapable conclusion: they were all going to die.

Monica's voice interrupted her thoughts, "Wanda, what is it?"

Wanda had to grab the side of the wall for support. "Peter. I can feel him; he's close."

It was as if Peter’s thoughts broke the dam, and one by one, the desperation and fear of her teammates came through. But soon, it was replaced with something else entirely: acceptance. They seemed resigned to their fate, and Wanda couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.

“This way,” Wanda said as the two women doubled back. 

A dark tunnel forced the two women to duck as they crawled through it. As they forced their way through the ancient passage, they were relieved when it opened into a larger space—rubble scattered everywhere and the feeling of uneven ground underneath their feet. 

Maria's voice echoed through the comms, "What do see?" 

Monica took a deep breath and replied, "It's much cooler in here." The air around them was refreshing, starkly contrasting the humid air in the rest of the catacomb.

Wanda knelt and placed her hand on the ground, feeling the dampness seeping through her fingers. "The ground is damp, too," she added.

Darcy's ears perked up at their report, and her eyes widened. “This is it! If the water sinks into the ground, it's coming out somewhere.” 

Monica took notice of the uneven gravel. “Don’t move,” she said as she phased through the ground, leaving Wanda alone with the team’s thoughts in her head. 

*^~^*

Bruce, true to his word, carefully examined all the oxygen in the ten remaining masks. Unfortunately, five more had depleted, leaving the group with only five masks to share. They sat in a circle and passed the masks around, agreeing on five-minute turns, but the adults made sure Yelena, Kate, and Peter had the masks on for a bit longer without saying anything.

As they breathed heavily and coughed occasionally, it became apparent that the air was running out. Suddenly, a low rumbling sound made everyone scramble to the walls. Yelena instinctively reached out for Natasha, who was struggling to stand on what was now most likely an infected cut in her leg.

"Cover your head!" Steve shouted, not sure if it was another energy surge or if the catacombs were finally caving in.

Suddenly, Monica dropped through the stone ceiling and landed on Carol, causing her to grunt in pain. Monica quickly stood up, dusting herself off and helping Carol to her feet. 

Kate screamed in relief, "Oh my God, it's Monica!!" and hugged her. Yelena tried to pry Kate off Monica while everyone else watched in surprise.

"You found us," Carol said, hugging her next.

"Actually, Wanda found you,” Monica said as she held Carol. “She heard Peter's thoughts," turning to the young Avenger.

"Thank you for having asthma, you wonderful little arachnid!" Clint said, kissing Peter on the cheek.

"Umm, you're welcome," Peter replied.

"Wanda is here?" Steve asked.

"I knew she could do it," Natasha said under her breath, recalling the day Wanda returned to the compound.

"Wanda," Monica said, pressing her comms closer to her ear. "You were right, they're down here."

"Are they alright?" Wanda asked, her voice a mix of anxiety and relief.

"More or less," Monica responded, looking around at the sweaty, exhausted, and dirt-covered group. "When I give the word, you do your thing."

"Got it," Wanda replied.

"Everyone move away from the center," she instructed. 

After ensuring that everyone was safe, she issued the command, "Alright, Wanda. Now.”

The redhead stood still, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Her hands and eyes began to emit a bright red glow, almost like they were on fire. As she closed her eyes, your words echoed in her mind.

“The magic that courses through you is the true measure of who you are, Wanda. Don't let a single mistake define you or your legacy."

She focused her energy and channeled her magic to lift the endless amount of heavy rubble that blocked the narrow shaft. As she lifted the debris, the sound of rocks and debris tumbling down from above echoed through the small space. The team looked up as they saw a faint ray of light piercing through the small opening over a hundred feet above them. 

Wanda's heart pounded as she floated down, eager to reunite with her family. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Natasha enveloped her in a warm embrace. "No arm tied behind your back anymore," she whispered, her words full of relief. 

Tears filled Wanda's eyes as she nodded, overwhelmed with emotion. Then, Tony stepped forward and hugged her tightly. "I can't even tell you how happy I am to see you, Red," he said, his voice filled with genuine joy.

"Same here, Tony," Wanda replied, a smile spreading across her face.

But their reunion was cut short by Maria's voice crackling over the comms. "You can all exchange pleasantries on the way home; time to rejoin the above-ground dwellers," she said briskly.

Wanda quickly wiped away her tears and, with a wave of her hand, conjured a ladder leading out of the shaft. 

After Wanda and Monica checked the stability of the ladder, Bucky, Clint, Sam, Thor, and Carol led the way up. Monica offered her assistance to anyone who needed it. 

"Does anyone need a lift?" Monica asked, glancing around at the group.

Tony immediately pointed to Peter, who quickly protested, "What? No, not necessary, Mr. Stark. I'm fine."

However, Tony was quick to dismiss Peter's objections. "Nice try, kid. Your asthma almost killed you. Let the Photon carry you. That's an order," he said, picking up the broken chest plate of his suit and ascending the ladder.

Peter reluctantly acquiesced. "Fine," he grumbled, "but no one tells MJ.”

Monica picked Peter up bridal-style and flew up the shaft, ensuring that he made it to the top safely.

Natasha leaned on Yelena and Kate for support as she hobbled toward the ladder.

"May I offer you a lift?" Wanda asked with a smirk, knowing that Nat would be hesitant to accept help from anyone.

"Do I look like Peter?" Nat replied sarcastically, trying to shrug off the offer.

Wanda's smirk turned into a concerned expression as she noticed the pain she was in. "No, but your leg looks pretty bad, and I have someone on the line who wants to speak with you," she explained, handing Nat her comms earpiece.

Nat begrudgingly grabbed it, knowing precisely who would be on the other end. She put it on and said, "Hi, Maria.”

Maria's voice echoed through the earpiece. "Natalia Alianovna Romanoff! I can see your leg on their body cameras. Let Wanda help you, or I swear to God, you are sleeping on the couch until it heals," she shouted in a stern tone. 

Natasha let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that Maria was right. She reluctantly handed her earpiece back to Wanda and nodded in agreement.

"Have a nice conversation, did you?" Wanda teased, noticing the annoyed expression on Natasha's face.

"Shut up, and get me out of here," the Black Widow grumbled.

"Good choice," the redhead said with a smile as she used her magic to lift Natasha out of the shaft. She then turned her attention to Yelena and Kate and gestured for them to follow. "After you."

The last one to leave, Steve smiled broadly at Wanda, his dirt and blood-covered face unable to conceal his immense pride in her.

“Are you going to give me some big hero speech, Cap?” Wanda asked, half-joking.

"Maybe later," Steve replied with a sigh. "But for now, all I want to do is this." He wrapped his arms around Wanda, pulling her close. "Welcome back, Wanda," he said, his voice filled with warmth.

Night had descended upon Rome by the time the team finally boarded the Quinjet. Monica took control of the jet and put it on autopilot, allowing her and Wanda to attend to everyone's injuries. The mood was somber as they tended to the team.

"No more underground missions!" Sam declared loudly, wincing in pain as Wanda wrapped his shoulder. "I mean it. If we need to go underground, Fury can send in the incredible shrinking Scott or use Red Wing. I was chasing ghosts down there, and we still don't know what the hell was going on."

Monica tried to reassure him. "You were probably just hallucinating from a lack of oxygen," she said.

Ha! Probably!" Sam responded, his tone skeptical. "See, that's not exactly comforting. Steve, I need you to make sure this is included in the mission report. We can't afford to overlook any potential threats."

Looking around at the team, Steve agreed with Sam. "I think we could all use some rest first though," he suggested. "We can reconvene in the morning and go over everything in more detail.”

*^~^*

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone ringing on the coffee table. You had decided to sleep on the couch after Billy went back to bed, in case either of the boys woke up again. As you picked up the phone and saw Maria's name on the screen, your heart skipped a beat.

Anxious and nervous, you answered the call, "Maria? Have you heard anything?”

Maria's response brought tears to your eyes, "They're all safe. A bit bruised and battered, but alive. ETA is about 2 hours."

Relieved and grateful, you could feel a weight lifted off your chest. "Oh, thank God… and Wanda?"

"She was amazing, Y/N. You would’ve been so proud," Maria's voice was filled with admiration.

You couldn't help the tears that fell down your cheeks. You asked, "So, what happens now?" while looking around the corner to make sure Billy and Tommy were still asleep.

"Well, they'll have a short debrief when they get back and presumably a visit to the med bay. But I know Wanda will want to see you and the boys ASAP," Maria explained.

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you, "Okay," you said while running your hand through your hair and looking at the clock. "We'll be there."

"Good, see you in a bit, Y/N," Maria said.

"Bye, Maria," you replied before hanging up the phone. 

As you were putting the couch back together, Billy and Tommy, still in their pajamas, walked into the kitchen. You greeted them with a warm smile and said, "Good morning, boys! I have some good news for you - your mom is on her way home."

Tommy's face lit up with delight as he exclaimed, "Yes!"

Billy looked at you with curiosity and asked, "When will she be here?"

You checked your watch and replied, "In a couple of hours. I was thinking we could all meet her at the compound. What do you think?"

Both boys nodded eagerly, thrilled at the prospect of seeing their mother again.

Then, you added, "Cool! So, I was thinking, would you like to help me make some brownies to bring as a welcome-home treat for everyone? It's a very special recipe from The Candy Bar."

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for their response. The boys looked at each other, then back at you, with wide grins on their faces. "Yes, please!" they exclaimed in unison.

As you stepped into the kitchen, you were struck by the state-of-the-art sound system that Tony had built into the house. You paired your phone with it and turned on your “Baking playlist” to set the mood for your baking session. Billy and Tommy sat at the kitchen island, eagerly awaiting their tasks. You laid out all the ingredients for your fudgy chocolate brownies on the sleek granite countertop, admiring how they gleamed under the overhead lights.

“Okay,” you said, clapping your hands together. “Tommy, you mix the dry ingredients, and Billy, you mix the wet ingredients.”

You couldn't help but grin as the boys rolled up their sleeves and got to work, their eyes fixed on the recipe book as they measured each ingredient with utmost care.

While the brownies were baking to perfection, you whipped up a decadent chocolate frosting that would add an extra layer of sweetness to the treat. The smooth, velvety texture of the frosting was the perfect complement to the chewy, chocolatey goodness of the brownies.

Once you finished frosting the brownies and placing them in the refrigerator, you checked the clock and said, "Okay, why don't you guys get showered and dressed? You want to look your best for your mom."

In perfect unison, they responded, "Okay." That's when Tommy suddenly zipped away and returned in a split second, ready to go. 

"Whoa! That was fast," you said, impressed.

"I know, right? I have super speed, just like our Uncle Pietro!" Tommy proudly announced.

"Ah, your mom has told me a bit about him," you replied, nodding in understanding.

"Well, that's why I'm so awesome at sports!" Tommy exclaimed with a huge grin.

"Actually, that's not true," Billy interjected. "Mom doesn't want him to use his powers while playing."

"Ugh, don't listen to him. Sometimes I use them when she isn't looking," Tommy said, a mischievous look creeping across his face.

"What?! I'm going to tell Mom!" Billy shouted, looking outraged.

"You will not!" Tommy said, pushing his brother playfully.

"Hey, hey, hey!" You stepped between them, breaking up their squabble. "Billy, you can go get ready, and Tommy, how about you help me pack the brownies?"

"Fine," Billy grumbled.

"Okay," Tommy said with a nod.

*^~^*

As you entered the compound, you were informed that the team had already finished their debriefing and were receiving post-mission examinations and oxygen treatments in the med bay, as per Fury's orders. You and the boys patiently waited outside the medical facility, observing as doctors and nurses went in and out.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally caught a glimpse of Wanda. The sight of her filled you with joy, and you couldn't help but smile. Wanda was scanning the room before her eyes landed on you and the boys. The twins' excitement was palpable as they ran towards Wanda with unbridled enthusiasm.

Wanda hugged Billy and Tommy tightly, kissing the tops of their heads. You hung back, holding the Tupperware full of brownies, not wanting to impose on their family reunion. 

“I missed you boys so much!” Wanda said, kneeling to hug them.

“We missed you too,” Tommy replied.

“Yeah,” Billy agreed, “but we had a great time with Y/N. She's so much fun, and we made brownies for everyone, see?” pointing back at you. 

Wanda glanced back at you, and her eyes lit up with joy upon seeing you standing there. “Hello, my love. I missed you too," she said, pulling you into a warm embrace, and giving you a soft kiss on the lips, which made you blush.

“You brought everyone home,” you said, repeating the words you spoke to her before she left. “I knew you could do it,” you said, as you both tried to hold back tears in the middle of the med bay. 

Lost in the moment, Tony's voice brought you back to reality. "Aww! Look at the lovebirds," he exclaimed. You saw Stark walking towards you, holding Pepper’s and Morgan’s hands. He looked a bit worse for wear than the last time you saw him, with a limp, butterfly stitches above his eyebrow, and a cut on his cheek.

You hugged all three of them. "Mmmm, what do we have here?" Tony asked. "Very nice! I don't remember you making brownies for me when I came home from a mission,” turning to his wife.

Pepper shot back, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm a little busy running your entire company. If you want brownies, make them yourself."

Natasha appeared next, being pushed in a wheelchair by Maria, followed by Yelena and Kate. Natasha's lower right leg was heavily bandaged, "Oh, Nat, are you okay?" you asked.

"I'm fine," she said, reassuringly smiling as you leaned down to embrace her. "This is all just precautionary."

Maria chimed in, "Right, that’s why Dr. Cho also gave us precautionary antibiotics," doing air quotes, and you couldn't help but laugh at her comment.

"My sister has always been stubborn," Yelena said as she and Kate joined the group. The blonde adjusted the brace on her wrist before hugging you and grabbing two brownies.

"Yeah, you should have seen her down there," Kate added. "It was like the Black Widow on steroids," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around you.

"What was that, Bishop?" Nat asked, giving Kate a suspicious look.

"Nothing," Kate responded nervously. "Would you like a brownie?"

"Mmhm, that's what I thought you said," Nat smirked as she took the brownie.

*^~^*

You joined the team for dinner but retired early to your room, wanting to give the group some space to decompress after a traumatic mission. While resting on your bed, a knock on your door caught your attention, and Wanda poked her head inside. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Were you sleeping?” she asked.

“No, just resting my eyes,” you replied as you sat up with a yawn. 

Wanda joined you on the bed, giggling. “Yeah, that's how I usually feel at the end of the day with the boys, too.”

You wrapped your arms around her and kissed her cheek. “The boys were great. It was nice to spend more time with them.”

“They feel the same way, love. To quote them, Y/N is super cool,” Wanda smirked.

“Super cool. I should put that on my business card,” you joked.

“Seriously, Y/N. Thank you. I know two 11-year-old boys are a handful, and I put you in a challenging position, but it means so much to me that I can trust you.”

As soon as the word "trust" was uttered, memories of your parents' dubious actions over the remains of Sokovia and your conversation with Tony flooded your mind. The weight of the past seemed to take its toll on you, and your anxiety was on full display, which the redhead must have picked up on.

Wanda glanced at you with concern etched on her face. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice laced with tenderness and care.

You tried your best to put on a reassuring smile and push the nagging thoughts out of your mind. "I am now that you're home," you replied softly.

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