#the way mike plays drums is so cute look at him

[sissylittlefeather]

Time for another Elvis movie character story!

Spinout: a Mike McCoy Story

A/N: So I lowkey love Mike McCoy from Spinout. Like, he might be my favorite Mike. He's definitely the one I watch the most! He's such a little shit, but he's so cute I'll allow it. Still, he needed to be brought down a peg, so please enjoy this unorthodox fic 😂

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, lots of sex in this one, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation, also they drink alcohol in a couple of scenes

Word count: ~5.8k (I know; it's long. But I think it's worth it)

(There are NO GIFS of Mike McCoy, which is criminal. I'll make a few and come back)

After he married off the three women that had insisted on marrying him, Mike McCoy went back to his life of singing, racing, and hooking up with any woman who was willing.

You start as his new drummer not long afterwards and it takes you about five minutes to realize what he's like. You are less than impressed, to say the least. Still, he's cute enough, so you flirt with him on stage when he comes back to play one of your drums. He winks, and you smile despite yourself, but you're not sold on him yet. Once the show is over, he comes to you, fighting off the crowd of women that's gathered around him.

"That was some show, kid."

"Oh, thanks." You start to pack up your drum kit.

"No, I'm serious. You're great. Would you like to-"

"No, thank you Mike." He blinks, confused.

"You don't even know what I was gonna ask."

"I feel like I do and I'm saying no."

"Okay." He looks at you funny and then goes back to the crowd of women.

The one thing that's changed since you came around is you demand that the group stay in motels instead of camping. He agrees only because it makes it easier for him to bring home girls.

You load up the car with the guys and then head back to your rooms. Mike has a girl in the front seat, so you squeeze in between Larry and Curly in the backseat of the Duesenberg. She giggles obnoxiously as you ride to the motel and you roll your eyes. Mike really is insufferable.

Back at the motel, you have your own room, but you share a wall with Mike. Needless to say, the girl he brought home didn't get any quieter once they reached the room. You put a pillow over your head and try to drown out the sounds. You know whats happening; you don't need sound effects.

When morning rolls around, the guys come to your room to eat the breakfast you've thrown together on the skillet you travel with. This was one of the stipulations to joining the band: you have to feed them. Mike shows up without the girl, thankfully. He smiles at you glowingly.

"You like tired, y/n. Couldn't sleep?"

"Was a little difficult with all that noise."

"Oh, I'm sorry honey, were we too loud?"

"Please don't call me honey. And yes." You go to walk away but realize you're in a small room and there's nowhere to go, so you head out the door to get some fresh air. You're out by the car when he catches up with you.

"What do you want, Mike?"

"I really am sorry, honey- I mean kid. I didn't mean to bother ya."

"Mhmm." You nod unconvincingly.

"Listen, why don't you let me take you out tonight after the show? Make it up to you?"

"You really don't need to do that."

"No, but I want to." You look up at him and do a quick appraisal. He's not really your type- too pretty- but he's not bad. His eyes are kind and his smile is sweet. You'd really like to see what he looks like without his hair fixed. And you haven't gotten laid in months. At least this way you wouldn't have to listen to him with anyone else.

"Oh, alright. Just one drink, though."

"Okay. I can work with that." You give him a half smile and head back into the motel room.

******

That night, after the show, you find yourself three drinks deep with Mike McCoy and you're having more fun than you expected. He's only had two drinks, but you go ahead and order a fourth one. Once you finish it, you lean over on his shoulder and intertwine your fingers with his. He looks down at you with the strangest expression on his face. But you don't care. He's warm and strong and he smells good and you're in the mood. When he decides it's time to go home, you grab the front of his jacket and pull his lips to yours. He backs away slowly, same strange expression on his face. He shakes his head a bit and then kisses you again quickly. You put your arms around his neck and slide your tongue into his mouth and he pulls back suddenly.

"Yeah, we need to leave."

"Whatever you say, Mikey." He hurries you out to the car, where he puts his hands on your hips and pulls you in for another deep kiss.

"I'm sorry, honey, I just didn't want to kiss ya like that in the bar." He kisses you again. You let him keep kissing you, he's not a half-bad kisser, so you hope it's a hint at things to come. Finally, he ushers you into the car and you drive back to the motel with your head on his shoulder and your hand in his lap. You can feel his erection through his pants, so you begin to stroke him gently. He grunts.

"Honey, you better be careful. You're gonna have to finish what you start."

"Oh, I plan to." He groans and kisses you again before turning back to the road.

When you get to the motel, he swings into a parking space and practically drags you out of the car and to his room. He gets the key in the door and the door open all without taking his lips off of yours. It's clear he does this a lot and you start to get excited that this might be a pretty good night.

He walks you backwards into the room and pulls your dress up and over your head in one move. You get off all four of his layers on top, though it does take longer than you expected. Once you're in nothing but panties and he has on his slacks, hardness straining against the crotch, he lays you down on the bed. He kisses your neck down to your nipple where he nibbles on one and teases the other with his fingers.

"Ow!" He pinches you just a little too hard.

"Oh god, I'm sorry. Did that hurt?"

"Yeah, it's okay though, just keep going." He keeps moving down your body, dropping hot kisses on your skin as he goes. When he reaches the place between your thighs, you lay back ready to enjoy the pleasure he's about to bring you. But after a few seconds you sit up on your elbows and look down at him. Based on the way he's moving his mouth on you, you'd guess this is the first time he's ever done this. You know that can't be right, though. Still, he's moving all wrong in all the wrong places. You're not quite sure how it's possible the be this wrong about what he's doing.

You let him do his thing, hoping that at some point he'll get to the right spot, but he never does. After way too long, he pulls back and says,

"Cum for me baby." And you'd love to. You really really would, but it's just not there and you're not the kind of girl that fakes it.

"Umm... I can't." He looks up at you confused and exhausted.

"What?"

"I said I can't."

"Oh..." He sits up and wipes his face with his hand. "Too much to drink?"

"Sureee..." You'll let that be the excuse. He seems to be okay with giving up and climbs up your body to line his cock up with your entrance. He's got a beautiful dick, so you hope that this part will be good, at least. But once he pushes into you, you lose hope for that possibility.

He's a jackhammer, and not a graceful one. He pounds into you relentlessly, but somehow also not passionately? He soldiers on, seemingly unaware of how bad he is and you let him, just waiting for it to be over.

"Is that good, baby?" He whispers as he slams into you over and over again.

"Mmm" you give him a half-hearted moan.

"Yeah, it's so good." He grunts and pulls out quickly to pump his cock and squirt his seed all over your stomach. Somehow, he doesn't even do that part right and it gets all over everything.

He rolls over onto his back next to you and you lay there wondering how on earth this is possible. The girl he was with last night sure sounded like she enjoyed it. Maybe it was a fluke? You're not sure you want to try it again though.

"Was that good for you, honey? Did you...?" Again, you're not one to lie to him, but you don't want to hurt his feelings. Still, there's really no other way to say it.

"No, not really." You say it quietly and he sits up, stunned.

"What?" You sit up too and try to ignore the fact that he hasn't cleaned you off yet.

"Well, do you want me to lie?"

"Maybe..." He runs his hand through his hair, legitimately puzzled.

"Can I get a towel or something?"

"Oh, sure." He gets out of the bed and gets a towel from the bathroom. "You want me to...?"

"No, you've done enough, thanks." You take the towel and use it to clean yourself off.

"Why didn't you say anything while we were... y'know... during...?"

"I don't know. How do you tell someone in the middle of sex 'hey, you're bad at this'?" You get out of bed and begin to put your clothes back on.

"That's fair."

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, Mike."

"Hey, can we not... tell the guys?"

"Sure. Goodnight." He walks towards you like he's going to kiss you, but you open the door and walk out, back to your own room.

******

The next few shows you play together are painfully awkward. He tries to flirt with you on stage like normal, but you pretty much ignore him. You're still not sure what to make of the weird sexual experience you had together. Part of you wants to give him an opportunity to redeem himself, but most of you is okay with letting it go. About a week after your encounter, Mike comes to you when the show is done.

"Hey, honey, are you mad at me?" You smile at him awkwardly.

"No, I'm not mad. Why?"

"You just haven't talked to me in a week."

"Oh, well, y'know..."

"Is this because of-" He mouths the next part silently. "...the sex?"

You sigh and put your hands on your hips.

"You want me to lie?"

"It is. Will you give me a chance to try again? Maybe with no alcohol this time." You seriously doubt that'll help.

"Mike, I really don't think it's a good idea."

"Why not?" He pouts and it's admittedly very cute.

"Mike...."

"Come on, please? Just one more chance. I'll make it worth your while." He steps close to you and looks down into your face. His eyes are mesmerizing.

"Um... " He leans in close and kisses you gently. Maybe you could give him one more try. When he pulls back, he smiles.

"Let me take you to dinner tonight."

"Okay. We can try this again." He kisses you on the cheek and then goes back to packing the car.

******

After dinner, you find yourself back in Mike's hotel room naked with him again. He lays next to you on the bed sweating and breathing heavily.

"That had to be better." You look at him and grimace. To his credit, he did try to add several position changes, but that just seemed to throw off his momentum and make it even more awkward. "You're kidding me."

"I'm sorry..."

"What the hell am I doing wrong?!" You look at him skeptically. You're not even sure where to begin.

"Oh, Mike, I'm sure it's just me." It's not you, but you're willing to accept the blame if it means he'll leave you alone.

"No. There's a reason girls don't sleep with me more than once. I always told myself it was because I didn't want to get attached, but they don't usually try again." He almost sounds like he's on the verge of tears. "You gotta help me."

"Mike, no..." He turns and looks at you.

"Please?"

"How would I even do that?"

"Teach me." You roll your eyes and look away from him.

"No."

"You're really gonna just let me go back out into the world like this?" You laugh and turn back to him. "You're doing a disservice to all of womankind, really."

"Maybe you could just keep it in your pants."

"Oh no, honey, you know that's not an option." He rolls onto his side to face you and runs his fingertips down your cheek. "Come on, it'll be fun. You can boss me around all you want."

"That is tempting." You roll over and look at him. He seems so genuinely desperate. "Okay, listen, I'll think about it."

He smiles and for the first time you notice how attractive he really is.

"Thank you, honey."

"I haven't said yes, yet."

"Well, thank you for even considering it." He has the strangest desire to ask you to stay in his room overnight. Thats totally not his style at all. He hasn't slept in a bed with a woman in years. Something about you is different, though. He's noticed it since the beginning, but it just gets stronger the more he's around you. Like he doesn't get tired of you and want you to leave.

You get up out of the bed and start to get dressed again. He watches you quietly. Once you're put back together you turn back to him.

"Goodnight, Mike."

"Goodnight, y/n. And thank you... for your honesty."

"Of course." You walk through the door and pull it closed behind you.

******

Two nights later, you play another show at another bar. Afterwards, you expect Mike to either do his normal hunting routine or try to come talk to you, but he doesn't do either. Instead, he sits at a table alone with a drink and looks at the crowd of people around him. You watch him stare down at his drink and then take a big swig. He looks so pitiful just sitting there by himself. Part of you wonders if this is an act for your benefit, but he seems to really be feeling down. When a girl walks up to him and starts flirting with him, you realize he's not acting. She's pretty, but he barely even smiles or looks up at her. His confidence is shot and it's your fault. The girl finally shrugs her shoulders and walks away. You make your way over to him.

"Alright, fine." He looks up at you nervously.

"Fine, what?" You roll your eyes impatiently.

"Fine, I'll teach you." He stands up and smiles a little.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Come on. Let's go." You hold your hand out to him and he takes it quickly, following your lead to the car. When you get there, you realize how excited he is and you hesitate.

"Mike, I'm not making any guarantees here. I'm not an expert."

"No, but you're obviously better than me. I'll take any kind of help I can get." You nod and he leans down and kisses you. He wraps himself around your waist and you put your arms on his shoulders. Suddenly, he stops and pulls away. "Wait. Am I bad at this part too?"

"No, surprisingly you're a pretty good kisser. So I know you have it in you. Somewhere."

"Oh, gee, thanks."

"Listen, if we're going to do this, you're going to have to be okay with me being totally honest with you." He straightens up and nods.

"Yes ma'am. I'm here to learn." You laugh a little and get in the car with him to drive to the motel.

******

"Okay, where do we start?" He asks almost as soon as the door to his room is closed. He's obviously eager. You think for a second about how to begin. You've never had to teach someone how to have sex before, so you're not exactly sure what to do. Then, you launch into a monologue about how every woman's body is different and just because you teach him yours doesn't mean he won't have to learn again with a new girl.

"Ah ha. That's where we start. You need to know how to read if you're on the right track."

"That seems like a lot of work, honey."

"You wanna get better or not?"

"Yes. Okay. So how do I know?"

"Well women will respond to certain things when they feel good."

"They usually do moan and say 'yes' and stuff." He offers. You purse your lips. These women are not helping.

"You know that's really easy to fake, right?" His mouth pops open. He had genuinely never considered that a girl might be faking pleasure with him.

"Noooo, I know what an orgasm sounds like." You roll your eyes and then start to moan. You gasp and cry out and moan even louder. You close your eyes and throw your head back, running your hand up your chest.

"Yes, yes, oh Mike, yes!" Then you stop suddenly and raise your eyebrows. When you finish your dramatic presentation he stands there with his mouth hanging open.

"Okay. Point taken." You sit down on the bed and he sits next to you. "So how do I know if it's real or not?"

"Look for body cues. Arching her back, grabbing the sheets, curling or flexing her toes. Also like, gritted teeth, faster heart rate and breathing. Sweating. It's hard to fake sweating."

"And if she does those things I should keep doing what I'm doing."

"Yes. Keep it steady, especially with your mouth. Like change it up a bit but if she doesn't respond then go back to what you were doing before." He nods.

"Okay. This is good. What else?"

"I'm not sure. You know what, just try to start and I'll stop you as we go." You gesture with your hands for him to touch you. He looks at you funny again and stays where he is next to you on the bed. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I just got really nervous all of a sudden." He smiles awkwardly.

"We've already done this twice before."

"I know but I just... I know it'll be bad..." He looks down at his lap.

"Hey! Look at me." You put your finger under his chin and tip his face up to look at you. "You're trying to get better. That's good. You could just keep going only worrying about your own pleasure, but you're not. Give yourself some credit."

The way you talk to him fills him with a kind of warmth he's never experienced before. He has the urge to kiss you, but not because he wants to have sex with you. He wants to kiss you because he wants to feel connected to you. Gently, he reaches out and puts his hand on your cheek, leaning in to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is more tender than anything you've experience with him thus far and it makes your stomach flip flop. He parts your lips and dips his tongue into your mouth passionately. The intensity continues to increase as your mouths move against each other and, without thinking, you climb onto his lap and straddle him. He runs his hands up under your shirt and pulls it up over your head. He kisses down your neck and for a second you forget that you're supposed to be giving him lessons. But then he takes your bra off and grabs your breasts aggressively.

"Okay... stop." He pulls back and looks at you breathlessly.

"What?"

"You're grabbing my boobs like they're trying to get away from you. Slow down. Touch me to feel me. Think about the sensation in your fingertips." You take his hands and put them back on your breasts. He looks down at them and squeezes softly. Then, he carefully runs his thumb over your nipple.

"What about my tongue?"

"What about it?"

"Can I focus on that sensation too? Like this?" Leaning forward, he gently licks your nipple until it hardens and you moan softly. He ghosts his lips across to your other breast and gives it the same attention, running his thumb over the other one to keep it hard. Your breath quickens and you run your fingers in the back of his hair. He drags his tongue up your chest to your neck and nibbles on your earlobe.

"There. Was that better?" He whispers in your ear and you nod with your eyes closed.

"Yeah, don't stop." He smiles and moves his hands to your back, kissing the supple skin of your breasts. You grind your hips against him and he groans.

"What happens now?"

"Now you flip me onto my back and use your mouth."

"Yes ma'am." He stands up with you wrapped around him, turns, and then lays you on the bed. He continues the pattern of gentle kisses down your body to the top of your pants. You arch your back and moan again.

"Ha! You arched your back!" He sits up and his eyes sparkle with pride. Something about that really tickles you and you erupt in a cascade of giggles. He frowns. "What? You did! I'm paying attention."

"No, you're doing great. You're just really cute. But don't stop." He smiles again and kisses the place between your bellybutton and the button on your pants.

"Can I?"

"Yes please." He unbuttons your pants and pulls them down and off. Next, he slides your panties down and tosses them to the side. He goes to move his mouth down to your center, but you stop him.

"Okay, now, here, give me your hand." You use your finger to guide his to where your clit is.

"Oh!"

"You feel that? That's where you want to focus your attention. Like this." You show him how to move his finger over and around it and whimper with the pleasure. You move your hand away and he presses down a little too hard.

"No! Gentle pressure." He adjusts to be softer and a small moan escapes your lips. "Yeah, like that. Now, give me your hand again."

He stops what he's doing and you take his middle finger and press it into you.

"I haven't done this since high school."

"Oh lord." You laugh. "You should do it pretty much every time." He moves it in and out by himself and then adds a second finger.

"Like that, honey?"

"Mhmmm." He notices that your breathing picks up again. "Now put your mouth on me where you had your finger a minute ago."

He leans forward and presses his tongue to your clit.

"Oh fuck..." You moan and you feel him smile. He begins to move his tongue the way he had moved his finger over and around you and you grab the sheets and whimper. "Yes, Mike, just like that."

Your hips buck into his mouth and he pumps his fingers in and out as he licks you in a consistent pattern with more fervor. You feel the pressure of your orgasm start to build.

"Mmm mmmm don't stop." You whisper through gritted teeth. He does a tickling motion with his fingers and you groan loudly. He feels your walls flutter and he pulls back.

"Are you close?"

"Yes! Don't stop!" You put your hand in his hair and push his face back to your center. He smirks at your neediness and then goes back to licking you with a new determination. He feels your sensitive bud as it hardens in his mouth and your walls flutter around his fingers again. Finally, the coil of your orgasm snaps and your release spills out of you onto his hand as you shudder and pulse around his fingers. You feel the pleasure rush through you in waves that crest and fall as it crashes out to your fingertips.

"Mike, yes! Fuck!" You squirm under him as he continues to lick you. You run your fingers through the front of his hair and push him off of you. He sits up excitedly.

"Did I do it?! Did you cum?"

"Yeah! Can't you tell?"

"Well, after seeing and feeling that I don't think I've ever successfully done it before now. But I did it!"

"Aw, baby." You sit up and hold his face in your hands. He's unbearably sweet in his excitement. You pull him to you and kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. He rips his jacket off and you tear at the rest of his clothes until he's as naked as you are. You line his perfect cock up with your entrance, but he hesitates.

"I don't want to do it wrong."

"Think of everything you've learned so far. Be gentle. Go slow. Feel the sensations instead of just driving towards an orgasm. And watch my body for cues." He nods and slowly starts to push into you. You moan as he fills you up and you stretch around him. He starts to pump in and out of you.

"Hmm." He makes a strange face again.

"What?"

"This feels so much better."

"Imagine that." You both smile and he kisses you again.

"Does it always have to be this slow?"

"No. You can go faster and really give it to me, but it needs to be because you're feeling the passion, not just because you're trying to rush through it."

"So, if I do this..." He holds one of your hips with his hand and picks up speed, slamming into you with increasing intensity.

"Yes. God, yes that's good." You grab him and kiss him deeply again and the passion builds between you. Both of you begin to sweat and he watches as your breasts bounce with his thrusts.

"Do you wanna get on top, maybe?"

"Yes." You push him backwards and he sits with his back against the headboard. You put one knee on either side of his hips and he grabs yours and lowers you onto his cock. You bounce on him and his hands go to your breasts again.

"God, honey, that's so good." You grind against him, pushing him deeper and deeper while he kisses your shoulder.

"You like that, baby?" You ask, moaning softly. Again, you forget you're supposed to be giving him lessons.

"I do. Is it good for you?" He asks as he runs his hand through your hair.

"Yes." He smiles.

"I'm gonna cum soon, honey."

"Okay. So when you do, try to direct it to one spot on my body."

"Yes ma'am. Where do you want it?" You pull off and lay with your stomach on the bed. He smiles and climbs on top of you, finding your entrance from behind. He starts with long, deep strokes as he kisses your back. After a few seconds, he picks up speed and reaches around you to gently squeeze your breast again as he continues to press his lips to your shoulder.

"I'm gonna cum. Oh, fuck!" He pulls out quickly and pumps his cock as he directs his release onto your lower back. "Yes, y/n, god, yes!"

He rolls over onto his back, his chest glistening with sweat. Without prompting, he jumps out of bed and grabs a towel to clean you up. He's still breathing heavily when he lays back down next to you and you roll over onto your side next to him. You put your hand on his chest and he grabs it and kisses your fingers.

"Was that any better?"

"That was much better."

"Yes!" He does a fist pump. You roll out of bed and start to gather your clothes. "You wanna stay?"

He's not sure where that came from or why he said it. All he knows is that something about you makes him feel relaxed in a way he never has before. He wants more of that feeling.

"Oh, umm, no thanks. I'll see you in the morning?" His smile falls a little bit.

"Yeah, sure." He gets up and puts his pants on to walk you to the door. When you get there, he pulls you to him and kisses you deeply one last time.

"Goodnight, Mike."

"You too, honey." He closes the door and then stands with his back against it. Why do you make him feel this way?

******

Even the guys notice that things between you and Mike have improved. You laugh and flirt and the next few shows you play have a better energy than they have in weeks.

What they don't know is you're giving Mike sex lessons every couple nights and have been for the last two weeks. He proves to be a pretty good student and he tries hard to implement what he's learned. Sometimes his attempts fail miserably, but you both just laugh and keep moving. He revels in the freedom he has with you to try and fail and still wind up in your arms again a few nights later. He's never really had a relationship before, so he's blindsided by the way he feels when you tell him you have a date and can't come to his room that night.

"But, honey, I thought we had a date?"

"Did you...? Do you..? Mike do you think we're dating?" He blushes a deep pink and goes back to packing up your drum kit, which he has started doing recently.

"No, I just..." His disappointment is palpable.

"Do you want me to cancel it?" You're not sure why you said that. You have no reason to actually date Mike McCoy.

"No! No, it's fine. I'm fine. Have fun." He finishes packing up and goes to get a drink. There's a weird feeling of guilt or sadness or something that settles in your stomach.

Mike decides it might be time to test out what you've taught him, so he goes to the bar and starts chatting up several different girls. He's not feeling particularly drawn to any of them, though, and he starts to really wish you were there. Still, by the end of the night, he's narrowed it down to a sweet little thing with blonde curls and big blue eyes.

Back at the room, she kisses him and he tries to remember everything you've taught him. He imagines your voice telling him to be gentle and go slow and really feel the woman he's touching. Eventually he opens his eyes and he sees you instead of the girl he's actually with. Suddenly, it gets easier to remember your lessons. He reads her body for cues and adjusts as necessary, just like you said, but he still can't get the image of you out of his head. She makes all the right noises and he can tell that her orgasm is authentic. But what should've made him glow with pride really just disappointed him that it's not you he's doing this with. He shakes his head to try to refocus and goes back to what he's doing. But when he cums, he has to work very hard not to moan your name.

He rolls onto his back, sweating and she laughs.

"That was incredible." He pops his head up.

"Really? You're not just sayin' that?"

"No. That was amazing." She rolls onto his chest. "I could stay. We could have round two in the morning?"

He's never had a girl volunteer to stay and have sex with him again. Something about what you taught him worked. He knows he should say yes, but he just can't. The only woman he wants in his bed is you. So, he does something he's never done before and says no to sex with a pretty girl, sending her on her way confused and disappointed.

He hopes your date was really bad.

******

The next morning, you do a morning walk of shame and the guys are already in your room waiting for breakfast. Mike looks at you, tries to say something but can't, and then looks away quickly. The other two laugh and make jokes about you showing up in clothes from the night before. You're surprised when Mike doesn't join them.

"Shut up, guys." Honestly, he's tired of thinking about you with another man, but he knows that can't be his excuse. "Y'know, just... leave her alone."

The rest of breakfast goes by in awkward silence.

As you go to leave the motel and travel to your next destination, Mike grabs you and pulls you aside.

"How was your date?"

"Oh it was gr-"

"Never mind. I really don't want to know. My night was terrible."

"Oh? What happened?"

"I brought a girl home."

"Ohhh and you forgot everything I taught you?" He purses his lips.

"No. I remembered everything. It was great. She wanted to stay and do it again."

"I'm confused." You shake your head, puzzled. Mike looks like he might explode if he doesn't open his mouth and say something, but he also stays quiet. He shifts from one foot to the other nervously. "Mike, just-"

"She wasn't you." Your mouth pops open.

"She wasn't me?"

"No. The whole time I just kept thinkin'... I just wanted you." You're not quite sure what to do with this information.

"Mike..."

"I think I want..." He looks up at the sky and sighs deeply. "I think I want to, y'know, be with you."

"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"Yeah. Or my wife. Someday. I don't know I just know that I want you. For a long time. And I don't want anyone else to have you. Ever." You stand there staring at him in shock. Did he really just say wife?

"I thought you didn't want to get married."

"Yeah, I know, but then I met you. And I need you with me, so I think that means we should get married, right?" You laugh a little. He really might be the cutest man you've ever encountered.

"I think it means we should try being in a relationship first. And maybe that'll lead to marriage."

"Are you saying yes?" You think long and hard about your answer. But you'd be lying if you said you weren't thinking about Mike the whole time you were with your date. There's just something about him. You imagine walking down the aisle to him at the end of it in a tuxedo. There are worse things.

"I'm saying yes... to the girlfriend part! We'll see about the marriage."

"Really, honey?" He's practically giddy with excitement.

"Yes." He picks you up by the waist and spins you around. Then he sets you down and kisses you deeply. When you pull back, you look up at him and smirk. "You need more practice anyway."

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @60svintage @deltafalax @aliypop @rjmartin11 @your-nanas-house @tacozebra051 @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @from-memphis-with-love

[cosmicanamnesis]

he tastes like chocolate pt. 9

[part 1] [part 8] [part 10] [read on ao3]

December 31st, 6 hours to midnight

“What the hell is happening right now?” Gareth asked after a long moment. Jeff, who had been hiding behind the half-assembled drum kit, could only shrug.

Steve looked at Eddie. “Wingman,” he said, pointing to Dustin.

“D&D group,” Eddie replied, gesturing vaguely towards the house. They nodded at each other as Dustin stepped around the giant speaker he’d been leaning on.

“Oh… my god,” he said, pointing at both of them, smiling through his dawning realization. They both shot him intense looks, choking off whatever he was about to say. “Steve… That band I make you play all the time…” Dustin tipped his head towards the makeshift bandstand being set up in the garage. Steve and Eddie turned back to each other with twin shocked expressions.

“That song-”

“It’s our cover-”

“You guys are really good-”

“I can’t believe this is happening-”

Gareth’s and Jeff’s phones dinged at the same time while Dustin pressed himself into a corner, trying not to be noticed. Eddie rolled his eyes. He knew what that meant.

“Oh, Jesus… Hang on,” he said, holding up a finger to Steve as he pulled out his phone to see what disaster was happening in the group chat.

Dustpan: you guys will never believe who Eddie’s “cute boy” is

Garebear: Who the hell is this guy?

Microwave: who is it?

Leia: who?

JIF: I feel like I’m missing something

Dustpan: just get down here

if you shitheads say anything i swear i will tpk you all next session

Wildred: OMG

Leia: hang on, i’ll be down in a sec

“Steve??” Mike cracked the door to the garage open and stared Steve down, blinking like he was hallucinating. "Is that… Robin's shirt?" He didn't have time to get an answer.

“Steve is here!?” They heard a girl's voice echo in the kitchen before the door was thrown open more and El slid into the garage, dressed entirely inappropriately for the weather.

“Ellie J!” Steve yelled, throwing his hands up over his head as she ran and tackled into him. Laughing, he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up, giving her one good spin before he set her back down.

“I thought you were going to a party with-”

“Well,” Steve said, cutting her off. “Turns out I accidentally got invited to the same party twice,” he explained, glancing back up at Eddie, who looked both shocked and mortified.

“So… Are you staying?” El asked.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled. “I think I am.”

El grabbed Steve’s hand and started dragging him back into the house. He tossed the helmet he was still holding at Eddie on his way in, giving him a look that he hoped said something along the lines of, you have some explaining to do. 

That left Eddie alone in the garage with Dustin, Gareth, Jeff, and Mike all staring at him intently.

“What?” Eddie broke the silence.

“How about we start with how the hell did you meet Steve?” Mike said, stepping out into the garage, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I would also like to know,” Dustin said, raising his hand, sitting down on top of the speaker he had set up before.

“Oh, please. You guys aren’t stupid,” Eddie said, but Dustin and Mike met him with blank expressions. “Jesus, do I have to spell it out for you? What does Steve do for a living?”

“He works in a coffee shop,” Dustin said.

“Yes. And the guy I’ve had a crush on for like, three months?”

“The barista that always takes your order when you do the coffee run,” Mike continued.

“And Steve’s coffee shop happens to be where…?” Eddie was met with blank stares. “Oh my god, have none of you ever been into the Waystation?”

“How often do you think we go downtown, Ed?” Dustin asked sarcastically. Eddie nodded, rolling his eyes.

“He’s like, two doors down from my tattoo parlor, guys. That’s how I met him.”

“And in all the time you two have apparently known each other, you never bothered to mention us?” Mike asked, almost sitting down behind Gareth’s drums, but Gareth thwacked him in the arm with his drumsticks. “That hurts, Eddie. Right here.” He tapped his chest over his heart a few times to punctuate the joke.

“I mentioned you a couple times!” Eddie countered. “Just, I guess, not by name. In my defense, he mentioned you guys but never by name either. Shit, he even told me about your sister, Wheeler. Just-.”

“Not by name,” Mike and Dustin said in unison, cutting him off. He nodded and looked around, finally deciding to just set both helmets in the front seat of the van.

“Okay, hang on,” Jeff crossed his hands, calling for a time-out. “Eddie, you know Steve from work. Dustin, Mike, you know Steve from…?”

“He dated my sister,” Mike said flatly.

“And he used to babysit us,” Dustin added.

“And we know you ‘cause I’m dating Will,” Gareth said, clapping his hands together once as loud as he possibly could, drumsticks tucked under one arm. “And the circle of stupidity is complete.”

“Great. This has been unbearable, can I go now?” Eddie asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Go where?" Gareth asked, going back to twirling one of the drumsticks in his hand. "We need to finish setting up and sound check. You're here, now help. You two, begone!" He waved his free hand at Dustin and Mike, shooing them back into the house. Grant, the last member of the band, snuck in past them as they were leaving.

"Eddie, is that your barista friend in the living room?" he asked, pointing behind him as he crossed through the garage.

"Ah huh," Eddie nodded. He hopped up into the back of the van and started dispersing guitars. "Steve. Turns out, uh, he's already friends with the boys."

"Huh. Weird coincidence," Grant said, taking his bass from Eddie.

"Yeah. Dunno if you saw the group chat, but if Dustin or any of you so much as breathe a word to him about me liking him, your characters are all dead next session."

"Roger that," Grant laughed, giving Eddie a small salute. 

In the house, Mike and Dustin cornered Steve, who was sitting on the living room floor looking at El's most recent paintings. It was definitely the living room of college-aged boys. Every piece of furniture was picked up off street corners and at least fifteen years old, and decorations for at least three holidays had become permanent fixtures around the room. 

"You're getting better at perspective," Steve said, as if he had half an idea what he was talking about. He'd learned a lot of art words talking to Will over the years, and figured he could fake it enough for El's sake.

"Thank you!" she said, shuffling the small canvases around. "I've been practicing with more dynamic poses."

"Ahem," Dustin cleared his throat conspicuously as he leaned in the doorway between the kitchen and then living room. Mike leaned against the other side, and as Steve turned to look at them, Lucas came down the stairs and into view between them.

"Steve!" Lucas smiled. "Thought you couldn't make it."

"He came with Eddie," Dustin said pointedly, arms crossed as he waited for Lucas to catch up.

"You- oh," Lucas nodded, understanding.

"Oh what? Why do you guys keep saying that?"

"Wait, Eddie's date is- oh," Max said, coming down the stairs, nearly running into the boys in her hurry. "Hey Steve. Thought you weren't coming."

"Eddie's date??" Steve balked, standing up. The second he was on his feet, though, the doorbell rang.

"You wanna get that?" Dustin asked, glancing at the front door, which Steve was closest to. 

Steve rolled his eyes but peeked out the small window anyway, expression changing from annoyance to shock in moments.

"Robin!" he yelled, throwing the door open.

"Steve? I thought Eddie was taking you-"

"Yeah, funny story," Steve cut her off, smiling tensely, as she came into the house and tossed her jacket over the arm of the couch on the pile of other coats. "Turns out Eddie's friends are also, uh, our friends."

"What? How the hell…?" Robin left the question open-ended, staring at Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Max who had yet to move out of the doorway to the kitchen, waiting for an explanation.

"Y'know how Will's boyfriend is in a band?" Dustin asked. Robin nodded. "And one of his bandmates volunteered to run a D&D campaign for us?"

"Our DM is Eddie," Mike said, cutting right to the chase. "The guy Steve's had a-"

"Another word and I will personally set fireworks off in your bed, Wheeler. Don't try me." Steve glared at Mike, shutting him up instantly.

"Wait, Eddie? Like, Eddie Eddie? Huge complicated order Eddie?" Robin asked, turning to Steve. They could all practically see the wheels turning in her head. Eddie you have a crush on, Eddie?

"Yeah. That Eddie," Steve nodded. They didn't have time to be shocked anymore as two more pairs of footsteps came down the stairs.

"It's Steve!" Will said, glancing backwards to Erica as she came into view.

"Steve? Dustin said you weren't coming-" Erica started.

"We're well past that," Dustin said, holding a hand up to cut her off.

"Wait… Is Steve Eddie's-"

"Yeah," Max nodded. "He is."

"He is… what?" Steve almost yelled. "I'm Eddie's what?"

"Sorry, Steve," Lucas shook his head. "Under penalty of death, we can't say."

Steve and Robin looked to teach other, their silent conversation going something like,

What the hell are they on about? I'm not Eddie's anything.

They seem to think you are. Do they think you're his date?

I'm not his date! A house party isn't a date!

I think you should probably tell Eddie that. 

Everyone's hands shot to their ears as they were interrupted by a piercing feedback squeal from the garage. 

"Sorry!" Gareth yelled into the house.

"Well," Dustin said, turning his attention back to the guests in his living room. "The important thing is that you're here, right?"

“I think the important thing is that Steve’s wearing Robin’s clothes,” Max muttered. Will covered his mouth, trying not to laugh.

“The important thing is that you are all very clearly hiding shit from me!” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips in his best “mom stance,” as Max always called it. Fuck it. Might as well lean into the role. For half a second, he wondered if I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed would have any weight.

"Sorry, man," Lucas said again with a halfhearted shrug. "Orders from on high."

The rest of the group all nodded or shrugged in agreement. Steve stared each of them down, one by one.

"Orders… From Eddie, you mean?" All eyes went wide, confirming Steve's guess. "He's got some secret that you all know and I don't and he made you promise not to tell?"

"He threatened to TPK us," Will admitted. Steve sighed. If Eddie was their dungeon master, then Steve knew more about him than he thought.

Steve had heard about the D&D campaign at length, and about the DM running it plenty. Ruthless, the boys always said, but fair, and a storytelling genius, and they always forgot all the NPCs were just him with different voices for as fully as he embodied every single one. But from what Steve had heard, Eddie hitting the party with an asteroid or something wasn’t exactly out of the question. And they were at a really critical plot point in the game, last they told him. Something about some vampire guy with a funny name. 

A lot of things started clicking into place, and Steve conceded with a nod. He could always talk to Eddie himself. 

Speak of the devil.

The band started filing back inside, either not noticing or not caring about the entire rest of the party sardined into the living room doorway. Jeff made a beeline for the fridge and started passing water bottles around. Gareth grabbed one and smiled at Will, coming up to wrap an arm around his waist.

“Oh, don’t touch me, you’re sweaty,” Will laughed, halfheartedly trying to push Gareth away.

“Never stopped you before,” Gareth flirted, making Will blush. That public display of affection was enough to make the group dissipate in a chorus of gagging sounds.

“Gross, dude,” Jeff shot Gareth a disapproving look. “Anyway, oven’s preheated, first batch of pizza rolls going in,” he announced loudly, pulling a bag out of the freezer.

“Oh my god, you were serious,” Eddie said, catching a glimpse of the inside of the freezer, packed full of pizza rolls and waffles with the biggest bottle of vodka Eddie had ever seen peeking out from under the rest of the hoard.

And so the party was on. Most of the group chose to hang around the kitchen table, which Steve recognized as his parents’ old one, passing bags of chips around as they stood and chatted. Eventually beers and sodas got passed around and the pizza rolls came out of the oven and somebody connected to a bluetooth speaker and the tension of earlier evaporated.

“What’s up, Robs?” Steve asked. Robin had turned away from the conversation they were having with Will and Lucas, brows furrowed, staring at nothing.

“Just… thought I heard something. Lucas, is anyone else com-”

She was cut off by the front door opening.

“Hello?” Another familiar voice called into the house. Steve and Robin peeked out from the kitchen to see Nancy, Jonathan, Barb, and a man neither of them recognized coming into the house.

“Hey Nance,” Dustin said from the couch, not looking away from the game of Mario Kart he was absolutely demolishing El, Eddie, and Mike at.

“Hey! You guys made it!” Eddie smiled. The group shed their coats into the growing pile and joined in the party with relative ease.

“Steve! It’s good to see you!” Nancy grinned, coming up to wrap her arms around him. 

“Nance! Hey!” Steve wasn’t exactly surprised that Nancy and Jonathan came to the party, since they were the actual older siblings of the group, but it seemed like she knew he was going to be there, which struck him as odd. As Nancy continued on her path to the fridge, giving hello’s and hugs to everyone on her way, Steve looked at Robin, then Will and Lucas. “Why is Nancy the only one not shocked to see me?”

“Maybe she just figured you’d be here, ‘cause you hang out here all the time,” Will shrugged.

“No, Eddie said he was bringing you,” Nancy said, cracking a soda and joining them by the dining table. Of course she overheard. “I mean, I did figure Dustin would invite you, but-”

“Wait, what do you mean Eddie said he was bringing me?”

“He told Barb he was bringing you… And Barb told me.” It was Nancy’s turn to look confused. “Steve, you know Barb and Eddie work together, don’t you? The tattoo parlor by the Waystation? It’s Argyle’s shop.”

“Who?” Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Ar- Oh, duh, you two haven’t met. Argyle!” Nancy yelled into the living room to get his attention. 

“What’s up, chica?” Argyle joined them in the kitchen, slinging an arm over Nancy’s shoulder.

“Argyle, this is Steve,” Nancy introduced them. “Steve, Argyle. He’s Jon’s boyfriend.”

Oh yeah. Steve had heard a little bit about Nancy and Jonathan’s… arrangement, he guessed, from the boys and El.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said politely, offering his hand out, expecting Argyle to shake it. That was not what ended up happening.

Argyle moved away from Nancy and took Steve’s hand, sure, but it was immediately followed by the man pulling Steve into the tightest bro-hug he had ever experienced.

“Heard all about you, man,” he said, still crushing Steve’s ribs. Steve was pretty sure he felt his back pop. After what felt like a decade, Argyle finally loosened up, letting Steve breathe again. “Eddie talks about you-”

“Eddie what now?” Eddie said, leaning around the doorframe into the kitchen. “Y’all talking shit about me?”

“All good things, my man,” Argyle laughed. Eddie just nodded, making eye contact with Steve.

“Smoke?” he asked, tipping his head back towards the front door.

“Sure,” Steve nodded, grateful for the save. He pushed past Nancy and Argyle and back into the living room where Eddie was holding Steve’s coat out to him already and Dustin was reveling in his unsurprising Mario Kart victory.

There was something underneath Eddie’s smile that Steve couldn’t place.

----------

so. if this goes how i want it to, it'll end up being 10 chapters(11 parts on tumblr). for the love of god somebody hold me to that, i don't have the energy for another 100k+ word fic.

anyway THE LORE!! for the life of me i can't figure out how to work this into the story this late in the game so here is the background:

in this little au, eleven and will are actually twins and her name is Eleanor Jane, and steve is the only person in the world who gets to call her Ellie J. the boys all live together in campus-adjacent housing bc they're college sophomores, Max is also a student but officially lives w her mom ("Susan's in on it, too," this will come up later) but spends most of her free time at the house with Lucas, El is not a college student and just lives at home with Joyce nd Hopper, and Erica lives at home bc she is a senior in high school. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant all grew up in the trailer park, they are the other kids in the sparkler fight photo on the fridge, and Gareth and Will met in a required psychology class when Will was a freshman and Gareth was a junior (if anybody else saw noah.i.c's A Very Steddie Christmas series on tiktok, that's what got me on the Will/Gareth train, and if you HAVENT seen it go watch it it wonderful)

tagging: @original-cypher @avacrebs @dangdirtydemons @rainydays35 @changenamelater @phantypurple @alienace @renaissan-vvitch @krazyperson @steddiereid @kittsu-makes-glass @i-must-potato @jaywhohasthegay @henderdads @mightbeasleep @straight4joekeery @sharingisntkaren @micheledawn1975 @thehumblefigtree @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @potentialheartofdarkness @dreammetheworld08 @steveisabicon @biatcgh @alittlegreyfish @r0binscript @estrellami-1 @shitnshit

[kalsiferdraws]

The Deadlights: The Concert

Stan started this band as a way to, as one does, express his feelings for someone else. Someone close to him. Someone who was so blind and oblivious that here he was standing in the front section of the concert crowd, with some girl Stan's never seen before. And she's wrapped around him like they're together? Is Bill... with her?

Stan feels his stomach tighten. His hands are shaking as a rush of crushing realization hits him. He doesn't even realize when he hits the ground from his knees giving out. They aren't on the stage performing, thank whatever entity was smart enough to stop them. But that didn't stop everyone back stage from gathering around him.

"Will you give him some space?" Stan knew that voice. He looked up, seeing Richie. Richie had joined as the bassist, and after a lot of convincing the back up dancer. He was always the "fun" of the concerts, dancing and causing mischief as he played, a large smile on his face the whole time. But right now, that smile wasn't anywhere to be seen. His eyebrows were pinched together as he was pushing people away from Stan. His large hands were practically shoving stage production away with little effort.

A hand touched Stan's shoulder, drawing his attention to another man. "Stanley, you ok?" Mike asked, his voice way more gentle than what Richies just was. Mike joined as the piano player at first but eventually took up drums as their music taste adjusted. Stan looked into Mike's coffee coloured eyes, trying to find an answer. He was confused, lost. He looked to the ground, the corner of his eye catching Richie leaning with the other two.

"Want me to go say something?" He heard Richie ask. Stan let out a shakey breath. He slowly looked to Richie. He didn't see that anger anymore, just... an understanding. Of course Richie would understand, out of everyone, of course. He had seen this same pain on Richie's face every time they saw Eddie Kaspbrak talking to a girl. No matter what Stan, Beverly, anyone told Richie, that pain was always there.

Stan shook his head, clenching the green flannel that hung off his shoulders. It was funny earlier when Stan put it on. How small it looked on him if he wore it normally, making him look like all his clothes shrank or something. He always had something of Bill's on him when he performed. Shirts that he had modified, socks when he couldn't find a pair of his own. But this flannel, was new to the concert scene.

Bill had left it over during a sleepover. And Stan was going to return it, honest, but he needed something for the concert. It fit so well with his black halter top, jeans and green, black shoes. It was like Bill had chosen the outfit himself. Of course the fishnet under the jeans were Stan's idea, but he couldn't take all the credit, truly.

He had draped it down, looking at himself in the mirror, moving and checking poses as he did. He put his hands on his hips, practically beaming with excitement as he felt "perfect". Even Bev and Eddie praised the outfit. Saying things like "awe you're so cute" and "the flannel completes it". It filled him with pride he only felt when he did these concerts.

At least, that was before all this started. Before his world came crashing down. He was so torn. Angry cause how dare Bill be so touchy with that girl, that none of them ever heard of. Confused, cause he made his feelings obvious, right?And... embarrassed.

Richie and Mike exchanged a look, and before either of them said a word, even a letter, Stan grabbed their hands. All three stood and Stan looked back out to the crowd. His chest had a pain that he could only describe as if someone was squeezing you too tightly. Suffocating. He closed his eyes, taking a large breath. "I need the set list," he stated, his voice threatening to crack. "We're making some changes tonight."

[lillypad910]

Headcanons about Emerson! Reader and Gareth’s brother/sister bond.

Warnings: talk of porn mags, but only once so I’m not worried about it. Pretty cute, literally all just fluffy sibling dynamic.

Just some cute headcanons about the Emerson siblings from Brother’s Best Friend! I thought it would be fun to share some ideas I had on their dynamic.

You and Gareth are a year apart so he literally does not remember a time without you around.

Growing up, you both would go everywhere together, refusing to leave each other’s sides unless to sleep and use the bathroom, but like you even bathed together. Your mom stopped the bath times together when you were 5 and he was 6 tho.

Gareth has always been very protective of you, clearly stating to his friends that you were off limits for dating them. (Eddie obviously didn’t listen in the end)

You always looked up to him, thought he was really cool.

Sometimes when you both get disgusted or excited about something, you have the same facial expression.

You’ve always had at least one valentine every year because once you moved to middle school (when it was no longer required to give a valentine) you didn’t receive one all day until the end of the day. He heard you complain to Jenny (your best friend) about it at lunch so he had your mom bring you a card with a heart Lollipop and stuck it in your locker. You literally saw him do it but you never told him, so he did it every year after.

In freshman year Gareth mentioned needing to run to the store for Valentine’s Day. The guys made fun of him at first thinking he was getting one for a girl he liked, but that first year when he slipped it into your locker, they ended up joining him in the giving the next year when you were a Sophomore. You had at least 6 that year (Mike didn’t join in), and you knew Gareth was one of them, but the others you never knew was from the other guys.

Up until you were 13, your mom gave you both haircuts at home, but she got busy with work (she’s a middle school English teacher who also works with the Journalism Club) so you decided to learn how. You started cutting your own and his hair until he went to college. Sometimes he still give you a call when you are both planning to be home and asks you to cut it. He claims you do a better job than the salons. No matter how many Cindy (his wife) gives him.

You REFUSE to go into his room. Utterly refuse. He needs something? He can get it himself. You learned the hard way to not go snooping in a boy’s room. Asked you to go grab him his textbook and you ended up finding his spank mags. You could never look at him the same, and he never knew why. No one ever found out.

Gareth adores you. Your joy brings him joy. Even now as fully grown adults he still can’t help but smile when you smile. Your mom claims its sibling magic, you both think you just spend too much time together.

He’s let you try playing his drums. Though you weren’t good at first, you genuinely did get way better. You haven’t played in a while obviously but you do know a couple rhythms and songs.

You two are the same person different body trope. Sometimes you act too much alike for your own comfort. Like one time when you were 15 Jeff was over for a sleepover and ask about pineapple on pizza, you both gave him that same disgusted look and at the same time went “That’s an atrocity on pizza.” He felt very uncomfortable after that.

You’ve played DnD with him. You have a half elf rogue that’s your favorite to play, but you also have a halfling bard that’s fun too.

Jeff thought you were cute when you were younger, like 14 and 15 (he’s Gareth’s age) he’s the reason Gareth made it clear your were off limits. He may know those boys but that’s WHY you were off limits. He had no idea Eddie would be the one to date you in the future.

When you joined high school he got a little annoyed because he felt like he finally secured a friend group that didn’t have to revolve around you. It’s not that he didn’t like hanging out with you, he just go so used to having an actual group of friends without you in it.

When Mike met you he was rude and all the guys bullied him for a week, at Gareth’s request. Boy sworn on his life that day that Mike would rue the day he messed with you.

Dustin has always been really sweet, Lucas was neutral, so he never had a problem with them, until he realized Dustin talked about you a little too much. “Dustin, what about Susie.” He caught the poor kid off guard once. “What?” “Susie? Your girlfriend?” “Oh my god, Gareth I’m not trying to hit on (Y/n)!”

When you met Cindy, if was at the Christmas Party of 1988. You looked Gareth dead in the eye and said “Marry her.” So he did. Best decision he ever made. The whole family loves her and you two are like two peas in a pod around each other. The three of you are always hanging out when you get the chance. (You call them at least once a week now for each other’s life update. You were also one of the only people on his family that could make it do the engagement. Your mom felt so bad but made it up to them by helping Cindy with wedding planning, and paid for a large portion.

There is a Christmas photo out there from when you were 17 where you flipped him off in the background. No one can find it when they go to look for it, it’s only when you don’t look for it that you come across it.

If you both cut your hair short it gets curly so when you both were little and had short hair, people thought you were twins because sometimes your dad would dress you both in similar outfits to make it easy. Your mom hated him for it, not because she didn’t like you in boyish clothes, but because YOU didn’t like it (girly! Reader) although now you’ve definitely mellowed out about it, in your teens you would steel Gareth’s clothes for concerts and gatherings to look ‘normal’ in the crowd.

You weren’t home that day when Jason came to your house. But when you got home that night and found your brother all beaten up, you made one call. Jenny made sure that guys life was a living hell for the next week. Walking up to someone’s own HOME and beating them up? That’s disgusting.

You also made sure Hopper was called, against Gareth’s wishes. But you were so mad you weren’t letting it slide. The rest of the guys never seen you that mad before, it wasn’t like you were yelling or anything, just your whole demeanor changed. You were ready to spill blood. You had him on trespassing, assault, battery, what ever you could pin on him. But like magic his stupid dad got him off everything within a day.

Gareth genuinely had no idea you had a crush on Eddie. Poor kid was oblivious. He always thought you just liked spending time with him and his friends (which was true too).

[ravenwraithe]

Chasing Pasts in Shadows

part 4 | part 5 | part 6

"Hey, um, that still doesn't explain why she was at Maguire's. She had a lot of money," Mike drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. 

"Maybe she wanted to hide it from Reyes,"

"And posting on Facebook is the best way to keep a secret, thank you for your valuable contribution, Max,”

“Shut it Byers, that was just a theory,” Max sniped.

Will ignored her, scrolling down further on her page. “Her page is so saccharine, eaugh. Here, ‘A very happy journey to my sweet Anna. Say hi to baby Julia for me!’” Will read out the caption of a photo of Emily with someone who looked similar to her.

Max guffawed. “What were you expecting? Have you never been on Facebook before?”

“Um, no, why would I?”

“You haven’t?” Mike asked, incredulously.

“Why would I? It’s not like I had anything important to keep up with or talk to. Why would either of you have a facebook?”

“Well, technically it was my mom’s account. El and I looked up other people’s profiles and what they were doing on her tablet when we had sleepovers.”

“You were stalking other people?” Will nodded at Mike’s question.

“It was not stalking! We were just seeing what others were up to!”

“That is the definition of stalking, Max! You are making my sister commit federal crimes!” If dad found out about this-

“You are the one to talk about crimes, Mr. ‘Let’s-go-to-Vegas-and-commit-fraud-by-asking-El-to-reprogram- the-machines’!”

“That was different, because I haven't done it yet.”

“Because you legally can’t be near a machine.”

“Touche.” Will conceded, stumped. 

Mike had been oddly silent throughout this entire exchange “What did you do on Facebook, Mike?” Will asked.

Mike winced imperceptibly. “It’s not important.”

“Why do I get the feeling it’s something embarrassing, Wheeler?”

“It’s not embarrassing,” Mike stated, eyes on the road, and face impossibly red. “It’s just, not relevant.”

“Mike, what are you hiding?” Will asked because he was acting dodgy and sue him, but flustered Mike looked really cute.

“Nothing,” Mike started.

“If you don’t answer, I’ll ask Nancy.”

“Fine.” Mike huffed as he hunched over the wheel. “I had a secret account when I was like, 10, I used it to look at celebrities.”

“You see, Mike, if the entire thing was that simple, you wouldn’t be so shifty about it. So, did you look up swimsuit pictures or what?”

“I looked at Steve’s photos from lifeguarding at the pool, okay?” Mike spit out, more awkward than angry, and Max burst out laughing.

“You, Nancy and Jonathan had a crush on the same guy at the same time?” Max sputtered between her laughter.

“It’s not that funny,” Mike pouted. Will looked away, because if he didn’t, he would do something and Will didn’t particularly want to get into a car crash.

“It’s okay, Mike, we’ve all been there,” Will said, returning back to the google doc.

Max sobered up. “Yeah that was a dark time for both me and you, Will. Remember the ice cream parlour uniform, 3 summers ago?”

Will nodded, a smile coming to his face. That summer was one of the best in his life, with the new music shop and renovated movie theatre, all the party spent the entire time at Steve’s workplace or in Mike’s basement, playing DnD and stuffing themselves full of snacks and sneaking into movies. Mike and Will always paired up for the last one, because there never were enough seats for all of them together.

“Yeah, that hat was so fucking ridiculous.” Mike leaned back in his car seat as they approached their neighbourhood.

“Cool of him to let us use the employee entrance to get in,” Will said, putting his phone away, as Mike pulled into the driveway of his house.

“And giving us free sundaes,” Max said, as they got out of the death contraption that was Mike Wheeler’s car. “Though, I suspect Erica had something to do with it.” 

As Will reached into the trunk to grab the recorder, he caught Mike’s eye. He looked troubled. “Mike?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?” Will slowed stepped closer to Mike, voice low.

“Yeah,” Mike said, not meeting Will’s eyes. “I'm okay, why do you ask?”

Will was worried because Mike was affected by hauntings in a way Will was not, he was worried because Mike would suffer in silence if something was bothering him, he was worried because Mike would lie to protect people he cared about. But Will won’t let Mike be alone in his problems, because he cared about Mike too. Will opened his mouth to elaborate-

“Come on, I can't wait to hear Dustin’s snark about incomplete procedures and half-assed data,” Max said as strutted into Mike’s house like she lived there.

___

im backkk, whos excited? /jk

sorry for dying for like a week, i was so fucking sick it was hard to stand up

also i was in no state to write some psychological fuckery bc i was out of it, high on meds, so here's some madcleradin fluff, reminiscing about being kids, and byler moments, consider this like a chill post

ill be back w horror stuff in the next installment <3

as always, this was edited only by grammarly and hemingway editor, so lemme know if anything is wonky

im not promising about time anymore bc that seems to work like a jinx 💔, but ill do it soon

please tell me what you liked (comments motivate me❤️‍🩹)

[thislovintime]

The Monkees, 1966.

“‘Do you know, while we’re sitting here talking, I’m getting mad because I got kicked out of Disneyland because I have long hair?’ Dolenz asked. ‘Our show is going to go higher and higher in humor,’ Jones said. ‘We are trying to take Peyton Place’s audience away.’ ‘Mike wore a hat as a trademark,’ Tork said, ‘but as soon as he had to wear it, he got tired of it. So he began wearing a bowler in public.’ ‘I’m having the original hat bronzed,’ Nesmith said. ‘We’re doing a story about a kid who is tossed out of Disneyland because he has long hair,’ Dolenz said. ‘Micky has a monorail mind,’ Tork said. ‘Tell your readers to picket Disneyland,’ Jones said. ‘Don’t pick it, it will never heal,’ from Tork. Peter picked up his guitar and began to sing. ‘Peter sings at the drop of a hat,’ [Davy] said, dropping Mike’s green wool hat. They all joined in for a pretty chorus.” - Article by Joan Crosby, Hope Star, October 22, 1966

“[Before filming the pilot episode] they put us in a room with $20,000 worth of equipment and told us to sort out who would play what. I could sing but couldn’t play anything. I was trained as an actor. Micky Dolenz was a guitar player but we needed a drummer so he took up the drums! Peter Tork can play about 10 instruments so he got hold of the bass guitar while Mike Nesmith picked up a guitar, an instrument he’d taught himself.” - Davy Jones, Record Mirror, January 7, 1967

“[Peter’s] really a genius, a prolific musician — he plays about seven instruments.” - Micky Dolenz, Record Mirror, February 11, 1967

“The most important thing is that we’re such different people. Know how I see us? Well, I’m tall and skinny and ugly. And there’s Micky who’s wild and keen like a little chihuahua. And Davy who is cute and cuddly. And Peter who is the one who plays a dummy, though he isn’t a dummy and he sort of makes a comment on that.” - Mike Nesmith, Record Mirror, February 18, 1967

“It makes me mad and violent to hear people putting the others down. I know how darned good they are on their instruments and in their playing and in their acting. I don’t care for myself because I’ve been around long enough to be able to look after myself… but to say guys like Mike and Peter don’t play is just plain ridiculous.” - Davy Jones, Record Mirror, February 18, 1967

“I have a great deal of respect for Mike as a musician and a songwriter. He’s very good. He could make it on his own easily. Also he’s one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Micky has a practical side that he tries to hide behind his jokes and imitations, but it’s there nevertheless. I’m not practical at all, so I admire this in him. He’s got his business affairs in order at all times and knows just what happens to all his money and things. I never do. I can’t keep track of how much money I have with me at a given time. Davy has a lot of guts. Internal fortitude if you prefer. I wouldn’t want to be as popular as he is. I mean, I’d like it, but it scares the heck out of me to see the way twenty million girls will rush him at once. What knocks me out is that it’s always me or Mike that’s trampled or ripped. Little Davy (oh, I hope he doesn’t see that) is never harmed, though there will be twice as many after him. I think it has something to do with small people being quick and light on their feet and big people being slow and plodding.” - Peter Tork, Flip, August 1967

[dirtykpopsnaps]

Micky Dolenz Smut

A/N: Again, this is super old and kinda shitty. Enjoy😬😬

Words: 1.6k

————————————————————————

Nervously, I check the house number again to make sure I have the right one. Biting my lip, I knock lightly on the door and wait. “Door!” I hear someone shout from inside.

“Yes, Peter, we heard the knock!” Another person shouts back.

“I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” A third person shouts.

Behind the door, there’s the sound of someone skidding across the floor. Seconds later, the door opens to the same attractive man from yesterday. He smirks and goes to lean against the door frame, but miscalculated how far away it is and stumbles. “Hi!” He says, a little breathlessly, finding his balance again. I giggle lightly at him, feeling my nerves sink away.

“Hi, there. It’s...Micky, right?”

“That’s me!”

For several weeks now, I’ve seen the same group of four men coming to the restaurant I work at at least once a week. It’s always the same four men. A talkative one with a twangy, Southern drawl, another with a neat British accent, a tall blonde who seems endearingly sweet and awkward, and a fourth with frizzy hair who seems rather smart. They always sit at the same table, one of my tables. The frizzy haired one always tries to flirt a little bit, though it’s fairly clear he’s not used to it. I flirt back because, well, he’s cute and I won’t deny that.

However yesterday, the frizzy haired smart one came alone to the restaurant and ordered takeout for four. While he waited, he struck up a conversation with me and introduced himself as Micky. He said his friends were working a little late and asked him to pick up dinner. When his food finally came, he seemed almost sad to go. As I started to leaving the table, he caught me and invited me to their house. Actually, he nearly shouted it at me, however, I agreed. Now, here I am with Micky directly in front of me.

Suddenly, the southern twang that I’ve associated with Micky’s friend floats through the air. “Well, are you gonna invite her in, or are you gonna stand there like a fool?” Micky shoots a look over his shoulder as the brunette with the wool beanie stands behind him. I throw my hand over my mouth, giggling again, and Micky invites me inside.

“Hello!” the blonde says excitedly, standing up from the kitchen table.

“Hello! It’s nice to see you outside the restaurant,” I smile. He smiles back at me and Micky promptly stands next to me.

“Would you two please leave us alone?” He asks shortly. The blonde’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline and he stands up from the table, going up a spiral staircase. The brunette with the beanie throws his hands up in defense.

“Well, someone’s touchy,” he says, walking out towards the deck and beach.

Once both boys are gone, Micky heaves a sigh of relief. “Sorry about that. I would’ve taken you somewhere less crowded, but we’re a little short on cash right now,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“It’s alright. Seems nice here,” I smile, looking around at the open space. A little ways away, I see a set up of several instruments. “Do you play?” I ask excitedly. Micky nods his head.

“Yeah. I play the drums, Mike’s on guitar, Peter plays the bass, and Davy usually does the tambourine or maracas,” he explains.

“So, you’re musicians?” He shrugs lightly.

“Yeah, you could say that. We’re not really big yet, but I think we’ll get there one day.”

I look over the instruments again. “You know...most girls like guitarists, but I’ve always had a thing for drummers,” I say offhandedly.

“Oh, really?” Micky chuckles lightly. I nod my head.

“Mhm. Sometimes I wish they would bang me like their drums.” I glance over at him, trying to see if he’s catching on.

“Well, I think that can be arranged.” His voice is darker and more sensual now.

Smoothly, he holds out his hand and, when I take it, he leads me upstairs. I see several rooms upstairs, but Micky leads me towards the room at the end of the hall. Once inside, he closes the door and locks it. “Don’t want any distractions,” he says. I giggle lightly, stepping forward and pressing my chest against his.

“Absolutely not,” I smirk.

Within seconds, his lips are against mine. His kisses are rough, but somehow still soft. I twist my fingers into his hair, pulling lightly, and he moans into my mouth. Soon, he’s leaving kisses along my neck and collarbone. “You know you’re beautiful, right? Every time I step in that restaurant, I pray that we’ll get you as a waitress so I can just stare at you the whole time we’re there,” he hums lightly. I lean my head back, exposing my throat.

“M-Maybe you should request me. I-I’d love to be your waitress,” I moan lightly, tugging at his hair again.

Micky pulls back and stares at me. “Take off your shirt now before I rip it off,” he groans. Immediately, I throw off my shirt and start to undo my pants. He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Did I say to take off your pants?? You’re an eager slut, aren’t you?” I nod my head quickly.

“”Y-Yes, Micky. Such a needy slut for you,” I mumble, pressing my chest against him again.

“Get on the bed. Now.”

Quickly, I climb on the bed and look back at him as he slowly takes his clothes off. “Now, you have until I get all my clothes off to tell me what you like,” he explains, unbuttoning his shirt.

“I-I like being manhandled...and I like being fucked rough, like a dirty slut,” I mumble the last part. However, he seems to hear it, because he chuckles darkly.

“Oh, that sounds good, babygirl. But, I think you should call me ‘daddy’ from now on.” I nod my head quickly.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he smirks.

Slowly, he climbs onto the bed and flips me over onto my stomach. He wraps an arm around my stomach and pulls me up to his chest. “Now...I’m gonna fuck you like the dirty slut you are,” he whispers to me. I whine softly, praying that he’ll do something, anything! He pulls down my pants and we slip them off, throwing them across the room, followed by my underwear.

Before I fully realize what’s happening, Micky is rubbing small tight circles against my clit. I moan loudly, arching my back against him. He holds me tightly to his chest, pressing sloppy kisses against my neck while he work. “Oh-Oh shit, Daddy!” I exclaim. He groans softly, lifting his face from my neck.

“As much as I like hearing you moan for me, if you don’t want things to be a little awkward afterward, I suggest you be quieter,” he whispers in my ear. I whimper softly, squirming against him.

“It j-just feels so good!” I whine.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he hums. He goes back to his work and I writhe against him, moaning.

Within moments, my high sneaks up on me. “Fuck, Daddy, I-I’m gonna come!” I moan. He hums contentedly and quickens his pace.

“Come for me,” he whispers, sucking on my earlobe. I let go and let my high wash over me, arching against his chest again. When I come down, Micky lays me down softly on the bed and lets me take a breather. “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?” He asks.

“Yes, daddy, please fuck me,” I say sensually. He smirks and climbs back towards me, lining his cock with my entrance.

He gathered some of my cum to live his cock slightly and begins pressing in. Immediately, I feel the slight burning stretch. Micky’s cock is about average length, but I’d rather thick and veiny. I can almost feel every ridge as he pushes into me. My breath is nearly knocked out of me as he fills me up. “Oh, daddy, *daddy*,” I moan.

“A-Almost done, sweetheart. F-Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans through clenched teeth.

When he finally bottoms out, he takes a moment to let me adjust and I whine softly. Moments later, he pulls out almost the whole way, then pushes back in with one quick snap. I gasp loudly and he throws his hand out my mouth, tutting. “Someone just can’t stay quiet, can she?” He chuckles. I shake my head softly, squirming against the bed. With each snap of his hips, Micky hits my g spot and, at one particularly hard thrust, I scream into his hand.

His thrusts become deeper and quicker with time, speeding up as he begins to chase his orgasm. I’m not very far behind and I let him know. “Oh, god, daddy. Please, please don’t stop,” I moan.

“I won’t, darling, I promise,” he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. With one last thrust, I fall over the edge and my clenching seems to be what pushes him over.

As we finally come down, he pulls out and flops on the bed. “Fuck, that was amazing,” he pants. I nod my head, softly humming and suddenly wanting to just cuddle into his chest.

“M-Micky?” I ask quietly.

“Hmm?” He questions.

“Can we...cuddle? I just really want the contact right now,” I sigh.

“Of course, we can!” He pulls me into his arms and onto his slightly sticky chest.

Calmly, he pets my hair. “Now, get some sleep. We’ll take a little nap,” he says. I nod my head and close my eyes, sighing happily. And that’s how my first night with Micky Dolenz went.

[biggest-stupidhead]

I'm sorry for sending many requests 😭 but I saw something and I had to show you! I was reading about spellchecker mistakes and this popped up:

"Once, close to Christmas, I was wondering if we were going to work the day before, I asked “Hi boss, good afternoon. Are we going to have sex tomorrow? ”. He was on the second floor and you could hear his laughter in the entire office."

I thought it would be funny a levi x reader from that 😂 you pick if it's gonna be platonic or romantic!

 ahhhh this is so funny I love it! Tbh it took me way too long to understand what was happening but now I get it and I think it’s so cute. 

Summary: You make a typo in an email to your boss. 

Word Count:  1.3K

__

You leaned back in your chair and swiveled around to look out at the snowy city. Fat flakes of snow were spiraling down from the sky, you felt like a little kid when that familiar excitement that came with a good snow gathered in your chest. It was nearly Christmas, a time that wasn't celebrated in your office, your boss, Levi was only just recently warming up to the idea of allowing a birthday party for him to be thrown. Behind his back you had heard the interns calling him a slew of mean names: Grinch, scrooge, and even comparing him to that scary neighbor in home alone. You hadn't said anything, simply because you knew that they weren't wrong, but also you knew that Levi was deeper than the front that he put on. You turned around and decided to get up and grab a cup of tea, and probably one for Levi too.

You had gotten to know him well over the past four years that you had worked under him. He was a particular man, who loathed small talk, coffee, you assumed he hated children, and he also hated parties. You had invited him over to your humble apartment once for a beer and movie night with Erwin, Hange, Mike, and Nanaba. He had surprisingly showed, but proceeded to complain and be an absolute sourpuss the whole evening. You marched out of your small office and into the even smaller kitchen, where you weren't surprised to find almost all of the interns.

They had been lagging behind their usual pace the past few weeks, most offices offered a few days off for the holidays, but Levi basically held the employees until Christmas day. The interns all collectively straightened up at your presence, you worked directly under Levi and they were always hyper aware around you incase you had loose lips. Thankfully for them, you were no snitch, you just wanted your afternoon tea. Eren shimmied out of your way as you reached for the burner, he was in the middle of tying his hair off of his face. Mikasa was surprisingly no where to be found, you knew she and Armin were the two good ones. Connie and Sasha returned to their game that they had been playing, a weird spin on rock paper scissors, you had seen them play it before. They used a bowl large enough to fit their head in and an empty bottle of pop. As soon as they both matched the sign, for example, scissors, one would grab the bowl and the other the bottle. The goal was to cover your head before your opponent could bash you over the head with the bottle. It was a loud game, but it kept them busy so you didn't complain. Jean was officiating as always, legs crossed and nose in a magazine as he gave out half-assed hum of approval or disapproval. You finished the tea and stalked back to your office to catch up on emails. You glanced at the calendar and found it to be only a mere week away from Christmas. You decided to shoot Levi an email and attempt to bargain for a few extra days off.

"Hey Levi, good afternoon, is there anything you need? I was just looking at the calendar and couldn't help but notice that your birthday is only a few days away! Crazy how time flies. Anyway, I just wanted to know if we were having sex on Thursday?"

-(Y/n) (L/n)

You pressed send and continued to scroll through your emails as per usual. No less than five minutes later, your door practically blew open when Levi stormed in, stormy eyes dark and clearly crankier than usual.

"Oh don't tell me you were just yelling at those poor-"

"Explain now." He snapped, slamming his hand down onto your desk. You didn't flinch, well accustomed to his fits of rage. However it was a bit concerning that it was aimed towards you.

"I...don't understand sir?" you were careful with your words as you looked up at him, once again swiveling in your chair to stand.

"The email (Y/n)" he sounded exhausted as he gestured towards your desktop.

“Oh...I know it was a bit of a long shot, but I had to ask.” You shrugged, still confused on why he was so upset. Levi growled and rounded your desk, he pushed you rather roughly back into your seat before shoving your chair aside and leaning over your computer. He clicked through your emails before opening the one that you had sent minutes prior. He reached back and hauled you back to your desk. His hand was gripping the back of your chair, causing the leather and wood to groan under the pressure he was applying. You looked up at him with concern written over your features. 

“Levi?”  

“Just read the damn email.” Levi growled as he glared at the screen. You sighed dramatically and turned your gaze to the screen, where you slowly and carefully reread the email. Levi watched your face closely as your eyes scanned the screen. You gasped when you realized that you had somehow replaced work with sex. You turned with a hand over your mouth to look up at him. 

“Levi I swear I didn’t-” 

“Oh no don’t double back on me now (Y/n)” Levi teased as he looked down at you with amusement sparking in his eyes. 

“Please you have to understand-” 

“No I understand just fine, you want to fuck your boss.” Levi hummed, hand still resting on the back of your chair. 

“It was a typo.” you huffed stubbornly, of course you thought he was attractive, but you had never dared cross that line. You were surprised that Levi was being so playful on this matter, usually he was a stickler about in office relationships. 

“Oh a typo.” Levi scoffed as he swiveled your chair to be facing him, you rolled your eyes trying to mask the flustered feelings that were threatening to come to the surface. 

“Yes a typo.” You confirmed as his hand slid off the back of the chair in favor of resting on the arm of the seat, effectively caging you in. 

“Well in that case...yes you can have Thursday off. But only if you get all that paperwork done before then.” Levi’s breath was fanning over your face, the lingering scent of tea and mint flooding your nose. 

“Consider it done.” You assured him as you crossed your legs confidently and leaned back in the chair. 

“And when I have the day off....we can go try out that new restaurant down the street.” You said boldly and Levi hummed in agreement. 

“No plans for Christmas Eve then?” Levi inquired as he drummed his fingers on the arm rest. 

“Levi...I don’t celebrate the holiday.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the way his face screwed into a confused expression. 

“You asked for it off though?” Levi said slowly, not understanding why you were being to difficult. 

“Yeah, my family celebrates it but...I just don’t really.” You shrugged and Levi glowered down at you. 

“That’s not confusing at all.” Levi huffed sarcastically and you rolled your eyes. 

“Maybe if you’re extra nice to me...I’ll tell you why I don’t celebrate the holiday.” You said with a sweet smile up at him. 

“You don’t have to, I don’t celebrate it either.” Levi shrugged as he went to stand, you reached out, hoping to keep him close. You snagged him by the tie and brought him back into your space. 

“So dinner on...Thursday then?” You hummed, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. 

“Yes, dinner...” Levi swallowed thickly at the feeling of you tugging on his tie. 

“Perfect. See you then.” You said, releasing his tie and turning back to your work. Levi let out a relieved sigh as he went to leave your office, glad to have settled that awkward ordeal, and even more excited for Thursday. 

[hournites]

Bait & Switch

Hournite Week 2021 - Day 3: Secret Admirer 

~.~

“And then we can head to the Pit Stop for—eeep!!” Beth jumped from her locker as a piece of white paper landed in her hair.

 “Oooooh!” Yolanda poked her side. “Is that another letter?” 

 Beth reached up for the standard printed paper sheet folded in three. She glanced at it, biting her lip as she scanned the page. “Looks like it, yeah!” 

 “I’m sorry,” Rick interrupted when Courtney grabbed Beth’s arm to squeeze. “Another what?” 

 “Beth’s been getting letters in her locker.” Courtney pointed to the little green shelf attachment Beth had on her inner locker next to magnets and pictures of Yolanda, Court, and Rick. A small pile of like creased letters accumulated there, sitting innocuously. 

 “Love letters,” Yolanda chimed in. 

 Rick’s frown stayed in place. “Since when did Beth have a boyfriend?” 

 “I don’t,” Beth corrected him. “I mean, not yet? I don’t know? I haven’t reached out or anything, I just started getting them a few days ago. I’d ask Chuck to scan them for fingerprints or something, but...you know.” She laughed a bit, pushing down the way Chuck’s blown in frames still stabbed at her heart. “Anyway, there’s no handwriting since it's printed, see?” She handed it to Rick. 

 “Hey Beth, I notice your yellow shoes.” His eyebrows raised past his hairline. “Why does this kid have a foot fetish?” 

 “Rick!” Courtney scolded. 

 “Sounds like Bowin.” 

 Yolanda scoffed at the Isaac comment. “As if Isaac had the balls.” 

“To you, maybe.” Beth took the letter back when she realized Rick wouldn't appreciate it. “To me, it’s kinda sweet?” She flashed her friends a shy smile. “They always have something to say about what I’m wearing.” 

 “So they’re watching you,” Rick deadpanned. “Not creepy at all.” 

 Her face fell. “You think it’s creepy? Like ISA creepy?” 

 “Rick!” This time it was Yolanda. Courtney swatted his arm. 

 “Hey!” 

 Yolanda veered Rick off to the side, speaking in a hushed tone. “Believe me, you and I both know the guys here can be horrible, but this all seems very PG. I don’t see anything wrong with it, and neither does Courtney. Can we not ruin this for Beth?” 

 Rick pursed his lips, but Yolanda crossed her arms until he gave in. 

 ~.~ 

 One letter turned into two, and then three. Rick leaned against the metal row of lockers as Beth tried to catch the fluttering paper before it touched the dirty floor. 

 “More mystery mail?” 

 “Second one today, I didn’t get one yesterday, I was wondering if they forgot.” She tucked it in her pocket and went for her lunch bag.

 “You’re not going to read it?”

 “I thought you weren’t interested.” 

 Rick straightened his back. “No no, I’m interested! I’m very interested.”

 “You just want to make fun of what they said.”

 “No!” Though he was lying and Beth knew it. 

 They walked to the cafeteria, Yolanda and Court were already eating their lunches.

 “C’mon,” Rick pestered the girls. He leaned his arms on the table conspiratorially. “Don’t we all want to hear what Beth’s secret lover has to say today?”

 “I don’t have a secret lover,” she protested, but the girls got excited at the news of Beth getting locker mail twice and Rick leaned back in his plastic chair, satisfied.

 “Secret admirer, then.”

 Beth shot him another look of exasperation, but he merely raised his eyebrows at her.

 “What,” he countered. “Is that not what it is?”

 “Um, yeah,” she scooted in her chair, pressing the letter down and smoothing it out, refusing to look up at any of them, embarrassed. “We can call them that. Aw! They said I’m pretty!” Beth squinted at the paper. “Oh, they spelled it wrong.” 

 As much as he found Beth’s notes weird as hell, he got a rise out of watching her stammer and flush at all the attention. Courtney’s usually the one to flail around with massive blushing and her awkward high pitched voice when confronted about Cameron. In all honesty, hearing Courtney gush about Cameron without either of them making real moves on each other got tiring. Yolanda never looked like she wanted to talk about a love life for herself ever again, so Beth’s bright eyes reading out loud her dumb letters were new. He’d never seen her so eager to get to her locker. She’d drag him out of their class together to make a beeline for it. Really, it was cute. Maybe that’s why Rick couldn’t stop teasing her. 

 ~.~

 Later that week, the group sat together at lunch as usual. Courtney’s hair would not stay up in the messy bun she’d been trying and failing to pull off. She kept wrapping a hair elastic around the ball of blonde curls. Rick watched as she huffed out an annoyed breath at the fifth time it flopped over the front of her face. 

 “You need a mirror,” Rick pipped in unnecessarily. He smirked when she glared at him. 

 “I give up!” Courtney reached across the lunch table to grab Yolanda’s wrist when she gave up for the sixth time. “Help?” 

 Yolanda laughed, scooting her chair over and said, “I’ll just give you a braid.” 

 “Oh!” Beth jumped in her seat as if she just remembered something. “My letter today said something really nice about my hair!” She unzipped her school bag to bring it out. Yolanda peered over at it while she continued to fix Courtney’s mess. She read it out loud for them. 

 “That’s not even that great,” Rick pointed out when Beth finished. “They like your hair. So what? Your hair always looks great, there’s no effort involved on their part.” 

 Beth frowned at her letter. “Really?” 

 “It’s superficial, don’t you think? They don’t say anything about why they like you as a person.” 

 “Yeah,” Courtney cut in. “Probably because they don’t know her that well? Cut them some slack?” 

 “I don’t need to cut anyone any slack.” 

 Yolanda took a bite out of her apple. “If you liked someone, what would you do?” She batted her eyelashes at him as she chewed on her snack, clearly expecting a lame answer.

 “I don’t like anyone.”

 Yolanda shared a look with Courtney. Courtney would do that a lot with Mike and Beth would do that a lot with himself but when Yolanda did that with Courtney, Rick always felt a bit paranoid. 

 “Is that illegal or something?” Rick muttered, stabbing his fork into his food.

 “No,” Yolanda replied, dragging out the syllable carefully. “But let's say hypothetically that you did, would your answer be the same?”

 Now Beth was waiting intently for his answer as well. 

 Rick pushed his plastic tray away, no longer hungry. “If I liked someone I’d let them know… like a normal person.”

 Courtney stifled a laugh that irked him. Her ice blue painted nails covered her mouth to half hide whatever joke she had within. 

 Yolanda tugged at one of her stray curls as a warning. “Court.” 

 “What now?” Rick groused. 

 Courtney leaned forward, gripping the edges of the table. “Would you actually?”

 “No offense Court, but if I liked a girl, I wouldn’t run off to tell you about it.”

 Now Courtney really did laugh, but Rick was dead serious. If he liked someone, he wouldn’t make it overcomplicated. If it were someone that could actually like him back, he’d just be honest with them. No frilly notes or secret rendez-vous. 

 He pushed Beth’s little love letter across the table. Beth took it wordlessly, mouth pressed in a careful line, eyes inquisitive. 

 Not that Rick had much time to think about what he’d do if he did like anyone. There wasn’t much time for Rick to develop feelings other than the deep-rooted anger and hatred that brewed for years over the conditions of his life. 

Rick shook his head at her. This wasn’t anything complicated. If he were the one secretly crushing on Beth, he’d tell her. He said as much to the girls when they pestered him some more. “It’s not that hard.”

 ~.~

 Beth got new letters every day for the next week. It became routine for her to read them during their lunch period. The girls pushed their chairs closer together to scrutinize the text, eyes peeled for anyone they might think to be the secret admirer. Rick played along half-heartedly, though mostly ate his lunch suppressing eyerolls. 

  “That top looks great on you. Also, why did you take off your rainbow necklace? It's cute.”

 “Hmm,” said Yolanda. “Maybe it’s a girl.” 

 Rick scraped his plastic fork against the paper plate on his lunch tray. “Maybe they should stop staring at Beth’s shirt.”

  “I don’t mind,” Beth said, looking up at him. 

 Rick scraped the styrofoam plate again. These letters weren’t amusing anymore.

 ~.~

 Beth approached him that day after training. She drummed her fingers against the green cloth of her cape along her arms, craning her neck up to look at him as he raked through his upswept hair. They were in the loft of the Pit Stop where they’d dumped their bags. Beth was on the couch, in no hurry to change into fresh clothes because she hadn’t sweat through hers the way he had. Chuck was still offline, so she had been cautioned to stay a few paces behind the others for protection. She usually chose to stick by Rick. 

 Rick shook out his aching fingers. His hood was hanging low over his shoulders and the heaviness of his suit weighed after the effects of his tapered strength. 

 “What?” he asked after several moments, acutely aware that she just stood there, staring.  

 “Is there anything you’re not suspicious of? Sometimes you just have to trust people.” 

 Rick sighed, turning around. He thought this was about the training or the sweat or the way his hair stuck up like a cartoon and he didn’t have enough gel to smooth it back down, but Beth clearly wanted to revisit their conversation from lunch. He’d rather not. “If this is about the letters—” 

 “It is. What’s your deal with them, really? Even my mom knows! She thinks it’s funny! I’m having fun!” She grinned widely and threw out her hands to back up her words. Like he needed to see her laugh off the fact someone was following her around the school without coming forward about it to prove it wasn’t something to be reasonably concerned about. 

 Rick sat down beside her on the couch, taking a moment to articulate his phrasing. He didn’t want Beth to bristle at his tone or words. He’d made the mistake enough, seen the hurt written on her face way too many times. She could handle his heat, but it always left Rick feeling shitty to realize she needed to guard herself around him. Steel herself to get offended. He needed to stop offending her, Beth was quite frankly the kindest person Rick knew. This was why Rick felt strongly about the twenty-seven ways this secret admirer situation emerged red flags. “Don’t you want to know who they’re from?” 

 Beth shrugged. “It’d be nice.” 

 “Would you date them if they revealed themselves?” 

 “Um.” Beth flushed. “Maybe? I don’t know. I’m not planning any weddings but I’ve thought about it, I guess.” She side-eyed him. “Are you going all big brother on me now?” 

 Rick almost said yes, but bit his tongue at the last second, making a face. It didn’t feel quite right. He opened his mouth instead to retort about protecting the team. Beth accepted it well enough, wrapping her arms around his middle to thank him for bothering enough to care. Rick stiffened at her hug, thrown off by the carefree way she clung to him. He placed his hand on her back and she pushed her head further against his shirt. 

 “I don’t want you upset with me.” 

 Her words stabbed at his gut. “I’m not,” he said, surprised and dismayed. Of course she’d perceive it that way even after he tried. “I’m not, Beth. Though I guess you’re right, trusting people isn’t my thing.”

 “I know, I didn’t mean to be so defensive about it.” She looked up at him and removed her cowl. Her hair sprung out high, decompressed from the tight, restraining fabric.  “It’s just that I wish when a note makes me smile...You’d smile back at me.” 

 He didn’t say anything for a moment. Beth crossed her legs, eyes and hands now at the clasp of her vintage cape. Her hair expanded, reclaiming its crown over her head. It bloomed in front of him. Not just the hair, her wisdom and hope and trust to share that so candidly with him. 

 “I’ll try?”

 A tiny pleased smile began as her thumb looped through the hook. “You will?” 

 “Yes,” Rick said. 

 The green of the cape flashed in front of them. Only a trace of that smile remained once it was neatly folded on her lap.  “Thank you.”

 ~.~

 Rick tried. 

 It was like now that Rick gave her his disgruntled blessing of the elusive secret admirer, Beth no longer capped the word count on her inner novel of thoughts about it. She’d speak freely without checking back or worrying that Rick would make any comments and Rick had pretty much shut up about it to her face. 

 This was her thing, and it made her happy. Why did it matter what Rick thought about it anyway? 

 Though it did matter, exactly because of how happy those typed letters made her. It wasn’t wrong that Beth saw the best in people or found cheerfulness in all uncertain things. Rick was glad for it, honestly. That persistence in her wrestled with his own stubbornness— somehow it evened each other out. Beth’s drive blazed a fire that refused to be stomped out. Rick liked that drive in her. He appreciated it, even, just as much as it sometimes drove him insane. He didn’t want to be the one to smother that flame— Not him, or anyone else. 

 ~.~ 

 Rick didn’t realize he was intentionally hanging around Beth’s locker to scout out her secret admirer until he caught them in the act. 

 He straightened up from his slouched position against the wall across the drama room, taking in the uneven dirty blond haircut and letterman jacket worn by the person in question. 

At first, Rick figured the guy was at the wrong locker. He stood there rummaging into his gym bag for something. But then he produced a familiar folded paper and Rick realized this was the guy. Beth’s guy. It got very real. Beth had a guy. This guy wanted Beth. Liked her. He liked her and wrote stupid letters every day with things in it that actually made her want to like him back. And he had freckles and looked pretty short, and would probably make her laugh and would offer her his jacket to show her off to the dicks on the football team. 

Rick’s eyes narrowed, seizing him up. That was right, the guys on the football team were dicks. Beth’s secret admirer was friends with them?

 She wouldn’t take that well. 

 He looked new. Young, even. Not any of the faces he’d cataloged that tormented Yolanda over the last year and a half. Should he follow him? 

 Rick lurked. 

 The kid glanced around nervously, letter slotted in the hinges for the locker. How many days had it been? Two and a half weeks? How was this guy still skittish for sneaking around the school to send love letters to a girl? Wouldn’t he know one of these days he’d get caught?

Alright, Rick had two options. He could turn around and keep this to himself. Never say a word to anyone and let this guy and Beth work out whatever they have and just.... watch.

Or he could walk up there right now and get information. What the hell is your deal? Do you have a foot fetish? Are you another supervillain freak? How did you meet Beth? Why are your notes so uninspired? Do you even know her? Are you embarrassed that you’re into her? Why do you care?

Rick's legs marched him over, having made up his mind.

“Hey!” It came out harsher than he intended by the reaction of the football player. He yelped, backing up against the locker and widening his eyes at Rick. 

 “It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” This poor kid’s voice cracked. 

 Rick squinted at him. “Who the hell are you?” 

 “Huh?” 

 “Your name. Parents? Date of birth. Alien status?” 

 The kid didn’t say anything. Rick sighed, already regretting it but knowing he’d have to in order to speed this along. He slammed his fist against the nearby locker, cornering him. The kid looked properly terrified. At least it was something to know those Rick Harris rumors were still thriving. “Well?” 

 “Joe! Joseph Kindersef. Son of Harold and Shoan Kindersef. August 9th, 2006. Um, Non-alien?” 

 “Sounds like something an alien would say.” 

 “I swear I’m not an alien! I’m just a freshman!” 

 “If I back off, are you gonna run?”

 “I’m on the football team!” he yelled out as if that question was undignified.

  Rick rolled his eyes. “You’re fourteen years old. I don’t care what team you’re on. Are you gonna run?”

 “No.”

 Rick relented, pulling back to put some room between them. “So, you’re the one writing to Beth for the last few weeks?”

 “Yes, but—”

 Rick pulled a face. “She’s a bit old for you, don’t you think?”

 “Maybe, but—”

 “Beth really likes the letters, okay? She doesn’t need someone that’s too much of a coward to come up and talk to her. So pick it up and do something meaningful or leave her alone.” 

 Joseph squeaked. “I can’t.”

 “Okay so—She really likes yellow and cute shit so try sticky notes to include—“ Rick backtracked and paused. That didn’t sound normal. “What? You can’t? Yes, you can. You just have to find the guts to tell her who you are and ask her out so she can finally meet you so she can decide if you’re worth a—”

 “No!” Joe cut Rick off. “I can’t leave her alone!” 

 Rick’s stomach sank. Joe heaved, eyes blown back wide as he grimaced as if waiting to get yelled at again.

 But Rick lost the wind in his rant, lowering his voice to a shocked whisper. “What do you mean? You don’t…want to be Beth’s boyfriend?” 

 “No! I don’t really know her! I don’t get what the big deal is!”

 Rick nearly slammed him back against the metal row. “Then why are you leading her on?”

 “Oh my god!” He weaseled out of Rick’s grip, hands up in surrender. “I swear, I can explain! Just don’t beat me up, I get enough of that from the team!” He dropped his gym bag and kicked it, yanking off his letterman jacket. “God, I’m sick of this!”

 Rick was at a loss for words. He clenched his jaw, keeping his fuming to a minimum to give Joe a chance. Not that he deserved one, in Rick’s honest opinion, but Beth probably would’ve wanted to at least hear his case before Rick undoubtedly scared her only potential prospect of a boyfriend away with a piss stain in his pants. 

 He furrowed his brows. “Sick of what?” 

 “This!” Joe gestured at the floor. “Blue Valley High! The goddamn team!” 

 It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. The thought of it all made Rick sick to his stomach. Of course, in a twisted way it all made perfect sense. There was no villain here, only two victims. Raze the newbie recruit on the team and mercilessly bully the girl that raises her hand one too many times in class all at once. Force Joe to do the dirty work and laugh at Beth’s disappointment when her non-existent secret admirer gets shoved in her face. 

 Wonderful. Great plan for a group of football meatheads that barely even grieved Henry Jr’s death. Rick hated this school so much. 

 “Can’t you just stop?”

 “No!” Joe insisted. “I can’t, I would’ve if I could!” 

 “What are they doing to you?” 

 Rick knew the answer wasn’t going to be pleasant. He crossed his arms, eyebrows raised as he stared up at the ceiling while Joe lamented over the football hierarchy in disarray, wanting to make it past waterboy dweeb status, razing punishments incorporating the abandoned construction porta potty beyond the field parking lot, and the daily checks on Joe the team did to ensure he’s following their crazy rules.  

 “You know what I wanna say?” Rick told the guy when his sob story was over. “I wanna say that’s your problem.” Because after this and his last encounter with Sportsmaster Rick was very close to never watching any organized game in America ever again. 

 “It is my problem.” 

 “Actually, it’s not.” Rick scowled. “You’ve entangled Beth Chapel into this, so you’ve made it my problem.” 

 Joe stared at him. Rick muttered under his breath, dragging a hand over his face. For some reason he pictured Courtney. If she were here right now with him, Rick could perfectly imagine what she’d say: This was part of what it meant to be a superhero. You are a superhero now. 

 Rick knew this, theoretically, but thinking about that word in association to himself still felt beyond stupid. Stupid, but so painfully accurate by the way a feeling ate at his insides to help this pathetic freshman. Not just because of Beth. Rick had a magical hourglass and a skintight suit and belonged to a secret crime-fighting team. But it wasn’t just about crime, it was about injustice. And this fits that bill to a tee. 

 He flapped his hand at Joe before he could change his mind. “Go. I’ll take care of it.” 

 “Huh?” 

 “You don’t have to do this anymore.” 

 “But they check at lunch every day for the letters and there are still two and a half weeks left in the month—” 

 “I know!” Rick groaned just thinking about all the ways this was going to ruin his entire schedule. The sneaking and evasion. The random class cutting he’d have to pull off inconveniently now that Yolanda and Pat have drilled it into Rick that he needed to get a decent pass... 

 Joe stepped away, looking over his shoulder at the deserted hallway, unable to believe his newfound freedom. “You need to make it sound like you care or else they’ll get suspicious,” he stressed.

 “I get it.” Rick shooed him away. “Trust me. I get it.” 

 The anxious red splotches all over Joe’s face faded away. He sniffed, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his varsity jacket. “You really want to help me?”

 “Just tell me what I need to do to make this work.”

 He pulled out his dad’s notebook from his bag as Joe ranted about the nonsensical expectations the football team had of him, and what they had planned for Beth via public embarrassment by the end of the month. His dad’s handwriting blurred past as he clicked the top of his ballpoint to start on a fresh page, jotting it all down. He ended up with over a page and a half.  A page is more than he thought he’d need. It was excessive and tedious and stupid enough to put an end to today. He wouldn't, though, end it today. Because of one thing Rick knew for certain. He was going to one-up the Stockholm secret admirer deal Joe had going on. Two weeks of nice deeds weren’t completely out of his reach. 

 ~.~

 Rick stared at the blank word document in front of him, tucked into the furthest computer monitor desk at the very corner of the library. Sneaking in here was easy, though it was stressful enough to make Rick’s hands sweat. It was dumb, nobody questioned a student at the library over lunch. The tenth graders came in anxious packs to prepare for their PSATs, and the juniors freaked out over college pamphlets at the communal tables. Nobody would care that Rick Harris was hunched over a keyboard, glancing down at his lap to refer to an original letter for help. 

 Beth didn’t even notice Rick swiped a letter from her. Her locker door swung open while she chatted about the science homework and then the muffins she planned on making and then the recipe Barbara sent to her phone that she pinned on her Pinterest board. That Pinterest board was very important, something she’d curated since elementary school after her mom accidentally forgot to include a lunch for Beth, exhausted by the first surgery she’d operated on as the new head surgeon at Blue Valley Medical Centre. This was all new information Rick only learned from their walk to get her lunch box, so Beth’s talkativeness did have its advantages some days. Rick reached over and plucked a folded letter from the pristine metal basket right over her head to stuff in his back pocket. Even if she were ever tall enough to catch that, the muffin recipe had too many steps for her to list to ever let her take her eyes off her phone. 

 Rick stood firm in his belief that Joe’s letters were creepy and lame, regardless of how the creepy and lameness parts were now halfway excusable under Joe’s duress and whatever. Still, he couldn’t deny he needed one in his possession to study. At least as an example for formatting one correctly if he wanted to pull this off; the font and size had to be exactly the same. And, most importantly, the letter provided a base of comparison to work from to make the letters going forward less weird. 

 Rick knew Beth better. He could do so much better. And he should, anyway. There’s no harm done. He’s going to have to tell Beth at the end of the month what exactly happened to her secret admirer, so she’ll know Rick became the author somewhere along the line. He’d never be caught dead authoring notes that made it sound like he had a foot fetish or some other weirdness. And if Beth likes the letters more, Joe won’t get as much shit either. 

 So why wasn’t this working?

  Hey, Beth. 

 Rick stared at the screen. His eyes were dry, he needed to blink. A Hey, Beth wasn’t going to get anyone anywhere, and this letter had to be slotted through that locker rust a good half hour before the class that went into lunch.

  I just wanted to let you know how kind you are. I saw you today give away your extra hair elastic to the other girl in the hallway—

 No.

  Beth, 

Your laugh is out of this world. 

 Rick slammed his palm against the backspace button, the stiff keyboard jam startled the senior girl half-napping over her notes beside him. He deleted the word document altogether and started over. Nobody needed to see that. That sentence came out of nowhere. Forget that it was bad and sounded like Hallmark garbage, reading the words on the computer mortified him. Maybe it wasn’t out of limit to find Joe and force him here to do the actual writing himself. At least as a draft for Rick to work with. No wonder Joe’s letters came out awkward and stilted. But where would he even find Joe and was the answer something Rick even wanted to find out? 

 Rick didn’t like Beth like this. How was he going to write to make it seem like it could be implied that he did? This was fucking hard. 

 “Since when do you study?” 

 Rick crumpled Joe’s letter into his fist. He minimized the tab for the Word document. Yolanda’s braids swept over the built-in camera of Rick’s computer monitor, peering down at him with an eyebrow raised.

 “Since today.” He clicked on the school browser to type in one of the chemistry learning sites he went bleary-eyed scrolling through last semester late at night. 

 “When’s the test?”

 He shrugged. Her braids swung over his screen again. Rick shot her an exasperated high brow, flicking them away. 

 Yolanda shook her head at him and took the next seat. The binders she pulled out for her math assignment told Rick she wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. Fine. Rick put the letter on hold. It wasn’t something he wanted to rush anyway. 

 ~.~

  Beth, 

Your laugh is special. Because you can make anything sound great, and find laughter in everything. It’s what you do and who you are. I wouldn’t change that about you, ever. 

 Rick skipped the last ten minutes of class to get to Beth’s locker while the hallway was still empty. In slipped the letter. Out went his breath. 

 They were just words. Once he was able to wrap his head around that fact it got a lot easier. They were just words. Nice words. For Beth. It didn’t really matter if they were poetic or fancy. They were genuine, though, because Rick wasn’t going to lie on top of everything. But they weren’t in the sense Rick felt anything romantic for her. If Beth and the girls read it and felt otherwise, it was only because they were under a preconceived notion. One Rick would explain away when it is all over. 

 Above all, he was sparing her any humiliation by lifting her up and giving some nice compliments. It was a win-win situation. Once Rick was able to digest that, it got a lot easier to justify the emotional connection he teased out of himself to work the right sentiment he needed and had written down. 

  ~.~ 

 The problem was, sometimes letters didn’t cut it. Rick didn’t always have the right words. It was because he knew how Beth’s face brightened up when he wrote something right. She’d let out a breath that was almost a sigh, hugging the letter close. It would put her in a mood nothing could deter for the rest of the day. It’s what Rick noticed two weeks ago when these started, but it was all the better now, admittedly, when they came from him. She’d show them to her mom over FaceTime at lunch, to Barbara and Pat. Beth shared her secret admirer letter with anyone that had an extra second to spare.

  When Rick missed the mark, that was too obvious. Yolanda and Court never seemed to pick up the difference, and Beth never appeared dissatisfied, but Rick knew it wasn’t what she deserved.  

He’d tear out pages in his notebook before and after classes Rick took without her, practicing what he’ll type up by the time he gets to the school library. The pencil in his hand would tap against the paper as he ignored the lesson, thinking about how to best word how much it meant to him to see her turn around and flash him one of those breathless grins without giving himself away. He’d shred the paper after, stuffing it in the trash. The best parts Rick kept memorized to reuse the next day. 

 It took another three more neutral letters for Rick to change tactics. Instead of stressing over ways to tell Beth things he didn’t mean without revealing his identity, he found a way to work around keeping the secret admirer ploy alive while cutting out the amount of time he spent failing at writing. Small things he could afford like her favourite chocolate bars when he filled his car with gas at the station, or cheap bracelets from the dollar store to add when he wasn’t confident that he wrote enough. 

 He kneeled down in the wet grass by the bike rack behind the school on a Tuesday, weaving in the red and yellow roses he plucked from a nice garden a block down Main street through the handlebars of Beth’s teal bike. Beth was the type of girl to press flowers in books. She’d find the roses and would smell them and then keep them with the intention of saving them forever. 

When he managed to get the stem properly wrapped around her handlebars, he realized Beth forgot to lock in her bike properly. He fixed it, then leaned back, appraising his work. 

 He froze when he felt a warm breath against his neck. 

 “I didn’t know you were a part of the garden club.” 

 Rick dropped his hands to his sides, gritting his teeth through a polite nod at Isaac Bowin, who was peering over the bike rack in his pristine band clothes. “I’m not.” 

 “I see.” He scratched his nose. “That’s Beth’s bike.” 

 Rick eyed him. “I know.” 

 “That’s a nice gesture. I didn’t know you liked her.”

 “She’s my best friend.” Rick stood up and brushed the dirt from his pants. “It’s not like that.” 

 Isaac shrugged. “It looks like that.”  

 “Okay,” he replied lightly, rolling his eyes. Rick knew he was saving a high school freshman from being bullied by substituting his required secret admirer quotas because of his newfound moral superhero standards, but conversing with Isaac Bowin was something Rick hadn’t yet tolerated the patience for. He slipped his bag and walked around the side of the school building to go through the back. “Bye.” 

 Later that afternoon, Rick got tackled by Beth. He tensed as he always did when someone got a hold of him from behind, though he released the tension immediately when he looked up and saw her. 

 “I got flowers!” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders from his seat at their shared sixth-period class. 

 “Did you?” He replied, measuring his tone. 

 “Roses! They were on my bike. I wasn’t sure if I locked it properly this morning so I got a hall pass in geography and went to check, and they were there!” 

 “Wow,” he said. “That’s pretty thoughtful, right? Do you like them?” 

 “Are you kidding? The KitKat was great but the last time I ever got flowers was like, my fourth grade spelling bee from my mom!” Beth moved her hands from his back to slide into the seat beside him. “They’re so pretty. I love them!” 

 Rick glanced at her empty desk. She pulled out her school bag and pencil case. “So where are they?” 

 “They’re safe.” She hauled out the large math textbook and flipped to the middle, revealing the two roses, freshly pressed in. “I want to keep them forever.” 

 He knew it. Rick suppressed his grin. “Cool.” 

  ~.~ 

 “... You warm my heart, Beth.” Beth paused, taking it in. She looked dizzy. “Oh my goodness. This is a lot.” 

 “Stop. That’s stupidly cute.” Yolanda groaned as she ran a hand over her face as if the sweetness pained her. 

 “You’ve gotta write them back!” Courtney urged, taking a swig of juice. 

 Beth wrinkled her nose. “I dunno.” 

 “What! Why not?” 

 “I don’t want to scare them off?” Beth took her eyes off the letter at last, raising her head to meet Rick’s eyes. She straightened her back immediately. “Why are you smiling like that?”

 In spite of himself, it grew bigger. “Like what?”

 She didn’t reply for a moment. Her eyes squinted and she tilted her head as if to study him. “I can’t explain,” she said at last. “It’s just different.” 

 Yolanda and Courtney stopped talking to watch him too. Rick felt his face heat up at all of their attention. “Shut up. I’m being supportive,” he mumbled. “It’s what you wanted.” 

 ~.~ 

 The thing with Yolanda was that she didn’t fall for bullshit. Rick should’ve known. Books against the table with a slam, she leveled Rick a serious look of incredulity in their next class.  “Who are you and what did you do to my best friend Rick Tyler?”

 He stuck a hand in his pocket. Still grinning. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 “Says every suspicious clone, ever.”  

 “I’m not a clone.”

 “Then what are you, sick?” She poked his cheek at the stretched corners of his mouth. “You’ve smiled more in two days than I’ve ever seen you smile in three years and in art class you were zoned out completely.” Rick batted her hand away when she clapped a whole palm over his forehead.

 “I don’t have a fever.”

 “You’ve got something .”

 “I don’t,” he insisted again. “I’m fine.” 

 “Well I’m not an idiot,” Yolanda settled on as class started. “But whatever is going on, keep at it. It’s a good look on you.” 

  ~.~ 

  Three reasons why I’d date Beth Chapel 

  I’d be dating the smartest girl in school 

I could share the homemade food she brings for lunch

I’d see one of those perfect smiles & it would be just for me 

   ~.~ 

  Three reasons why Beth Chapel should date me 

  I’d let her sit shotgun in my car 

 She could talk to me all day about whatever she’d like and I’ll listen to it all 

She can stop wearing fuzzy sweaters to classes without heaters because I’d give her one of my jackets so she’ll stay warm 

I actually really like her

  “Ah shit,” Rick whispered harshly to himself at the computer monitor in the library. He buried his head in his hands, putting the computer to sleep. It was supposed to be generic. Nice enough that Beth would feel touched but not personalized enough that it could directly trace back to Rick. It was his ‘66 he was thinking about in the first sentence. Her effect on his mood was when she placed her arm on his during an imploring talk in the second. And the way Rick knew exactly which jacket he’d like to see her swallowed in with the pooling cuffs rolled up six times to reach her wrists for the third. And now that it was out in that 12 point font, Rick didn’t even want to delete it. 

 “Shit. Shit. Shit. I"m a fucking idiot.”

 He whacked the side of the iMac too hard to wake up the monitor and printed the thing before he could incriminate himself more by adding extra lines. The heat that crawled up his face was sign enough that this was bad, but he’d felt that same sickly warm feeling drop in his stomach sometime before his brain kicked in to realize what he’d done. He was supposed to be doing a favour for his best friend to not humiliate her unjustly by being her pseudo secret admirer.

 Not actually become Beth’s secret admirer. 

 The next morning, Rick waited until Beth raised her hand for a hall pass during their class before lunch. Their teacher handed over the laminated card for Beth to go to the bathroom. Rick counted five seconds then leaned over and dragged her backpack from the dusty classroom floor to his side. 

 She started keeping the letters she liked the most in the pocket folder of her agenda. Rick pulled them out, unfolding the papers as he read them over, eyes scanning over what he’d been writing to her, trying to find the moment in which his feelings for her morphed into something more. Rick felt stupid, reading back. 

 He never wanted to lie to Beth, so he hadn’t. 

 He couldn’t lie to himself either. This started before meeting Joseph. This started before the letters. Hell, it might’ve even started before the JSA ever stopped Project New America.

  A part of Rick wanted Beth all along.

 ~.~

That evening, Rick locked himself in his bedroom and wrote a long and frankly terribly written letter to get his feelings off his chest. Staying up all night to perfect it, he overslept halfway through the morning. He drove to school late and worried over how to get through the day. His entire schedule was thrown off and he needed to both find a way to get his letter in and survive seeing Beth that afternoon. Bad turned to worse when teachers chased after him to pile on detentions for skipping class after he’d just started to improve his attendance. 

 If he wanted to make this work he was going to need support. He needed Court. 

 The only time Rick found Courtney alone was during dodgeball in gym class. They were somehow the only ones left on their team. Courtney used handsprings and cartwheels to avoid the red rubber balls as though her gym mark should be the deciding factor of her Stargirl training success. Rick didn’t take it as seriously, but that’s exactly why he was still winning. He launched the ball to the other side, hitting Cameron Mahkent square in the face. 

 “Court, get Jenny out, and then we can free the rest.” 

 “Good plan.”

 Rick picked up another that ricocheted off the wall, missing both targets. “Hey, you know Beth’s letters?” 

 “Yeah?” Courtney hit Jenny, who yelped in her expensive tennis skirt, manicured hands protecting her face even though she got her hip instead. 

“They’re me.” Rick caught a ball and everyone came hollering back into the game. Courtney gaped at him, motionless in front of the red line. Rick tried to warn her when another ball came flying, but it bonked the side of her curly hair before Rick could push her out of the way, and then another ball assaulted Rick from the other side, disqualifying them both. 

 Rick explained it all once they got to the bench. The important parts, at least, without any of the messy stuff. Joe’s razing and the awkward excuses to use the library computer every day. 

 Courtney grinned so wide. “Shut up!” 

 Rick regretted telling her immediately. She shook his arm like she wanted to make a protein shake out of it. “Shut up! Stop! Are you kidding me? That’s so sweet!” She slapped her hands to her cheeks. “Oh my god. Oh my god! That’s why you’re smiling so much! You like her!” She gasped. “You love her?!”

 “Woah,” said Rick, grabbing her wrist to keep her from bouncing off the gym walls. If he wasn’t careful she’d text Pat this for his advice or something which would be horrifying. “I didn’t say anything like that.” 

 Courtney rolled her eyes, undeterred. “Okay okay okay but you totally are into her. Like a lot!!! A lot a lot, oh my god, Rick this is such big news! You’re falling for Beth!”

 “Oh my god,” Rick muttered to himself, wanting to disappear. “Court, if I say yes will you please be quiet?”

 Courtney squealed, dancing in her seat on the bench. “You didn’t deny it!”

 “Okay calm down.” 

 “Why are you telling me? Are you going to confess? Do you need help?” 

 “I need you to print out her letter for today and get it in her locker. I don’t have the time.” 

 Court clapped her hands and squealed. “Yes! Deal! Done!” 

 ~.~ 

 “You know what?” Beth layered on an extra woolly sweater over her already thick-fabric shirt. Just by looking at it Rick knew it was expensive and set off some type of fashion pattern-texture dichotomy scheme. Though, what mattered was how warm it made her after shivering all throughout their homeroom period. What mattered was how she clutched at her sleeves now, creating friction to sweep out the cold that seeped into her bones. The way she held herself in front of him and how she’d feel if Rick hugged her like that soft-spun sweater instead.  She pulled a sticky note out of her school bag’s front pocket and stuck it to her locker door then stepped away from it, nodding along for Rick to follow her down to their first class. “You’re right.” 

 “I’m right?” For his credit, Rick was cold too. The school heater conked out over the weekend and the weather was abnormally cold, even for their chilly Spring Nebraska. He shoved a hand in his pocket so he wouldn’t feel the joint pain settling into his bruised knuckles. 

 “You are.” 

 “About what?” 

 Beth half-spun on her heel, facing Rick in the thick of the school crowd. “My heart is in this. I need to know who my secret admirer is.” 

 The immediate nausea Rick got from that sentence nearly stopped him in his tracks. He couldn’t stop though, it would be suspicious and then Beth would know and then Rick very might well be sick. So he jerkily forced one foot in front of the other and swallowed the lump down his throat. “You...do?” 

 “We always find my letter after our fourth-period class right before lunch. So they have to be sending it out before then, right? If we both subsequently skip our third-period classes respectfully--” 

 “How does one skip class ‘respectfully?’” Rick used air quotes around the last word. 

 Beth elbowed his side lightly. “When a straight-A student like myself has love on the line!” 

 “ I’m not a straight-A.” 

 “Yeah, but you’ll be with me so I’ve got you covered.” She linked her arm in his. “It’s a buddy system. I posted a sticky note on my locker for my secret admirer to visit this morning!” 

 Oh no. Which meant Courtney was going to find it soon and pressure him to tell Beth too. God, no. 

 “And you need me there...why?” 

 Beth furrowed her brows, fidgeting with her rainbow necklace. “I haven’t completely ignored what you said to me this whole time. I don’t know who it really is. What if I put myself out there and they show up only to hurt me?” 

 “Beth, they won’t.” 

 “But what if you were right and it was the ISA, and they were waiting for me to lure them into a trap to kidnap me because they discovered I’m Dr. Mid-Nite without Chuck?”

 “Where was this support when I suggested this as an actual possibility four weeks ago and you all ignored it and called me an asshole?” He was teasing her, honestly, but it was wild to Rick he was finally hearing her address some of his previous legitimate concerns. What good was she doing bringing this up now if she already made up her mind?

 “We didn’t!” 

 “Yolanda did!” 

 “Yolanda doesn’t use that word.” 

 “She doesn’t need to say it! You’ve seen her glare, right? Yolanda could glare at you and brand you “ asshole ” just with her eyeballs.”

 “You are ridiculous.” Beth huffed out an indignant breath. “And I wasn’t ignoring it completely.” She tugged on his sleeve. “So you should come.” 

 “I swear you’re going to be fine by yourself. It’s just some person here that likes you. It’s not a criminal. No need to suit up.”

 “I want you there.” 

 He wavered at her pleading face, her big eyes hopeful sucking him into dangerous territory. “Fine,” he relented, dooming himself. “I’ll come.” 

~.~

 Courtney did not know how the printer at the library worked because she never used the computers at the library because she never came to the school library. Like. Since she moved here. She banged her hand against the table when she got prompted for her Blue Valley High School student account password to access her printing credits. Was she supposed to pay for that? She didn’t know. She promised Rick to get his letter delivered and he was counting on her so there wasn’t any time for messing this up. 

 “It’s just your initials and the last 3 numbers of your student ID card number.”  

A thousand butterflies let loose in her stomach at the tell-tale sound of her crush’s deep voice.

 “Cameron!” she greeted with a nervous laugh. “Hi! What are you doing here?” 

 “It’s the library.” 

 “Right!” She smacked her head. “Dumb me, of course. You must be studying.” 

 “Actually, I have an oral presentation after lunch and need to reprint my speaking notes. I spilled paint on my cue cards this morning. What are you working on?” 

 “Oh!” Courtney laughed it off. “It’s not important. Thanks for the login info!” 

 “No problem. Maybe we can see each other later after my grief counseling?” 

 Courtney nearly knocked the magic mouse off the surface of the table. “I’d love that!” 

 “Awesome, I’ll text you?”

“Great!” She waved as he turned around and sat down at the next computer. Courtney pulled up the tab she had with the word document of Rick’s letter to Beth and fawned over it, imagining herself in Beth’s shoes with Cameron. She printed it out and ambled over to the printing center while it was still warm. According to the school clock, which was probably ten minutes fast if it were anything like the other clocks in her classrooms, she had twenty minutes to find Beth’s locker and get it in securely without being seen. Courtney packed her bag and folded the sheet in three like Beth had been getting since the beginning of March, sticking it between her teeth as she got that bag over her shoulders. 

 “Court.” 

 She twirled around at the tap on her shoulder, not expecting to find Cameron waiting for her with a grim look on his face. “Huh?” She removed the paper and crinkled her eyes at him. “Hey!” 

 “Hi,” Cameron said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I think my essay got mixed up with your uh….letter…” 

 “What?” Courtney checked Rick’s letter in her hand. “No! This is um, uh it’s ‘ The Republic of Marino is a small country in the region of--’ oooooooh crap.” 

 Courtney snatched it from him, giving herself a papercut in the process as she swapped sheets, mind racing when she put two and two together. Oh no. Oh no oh no. The blood drained from her face. 

 “That’s not mine!” she yelped.

 The librarian barked at them both from across the room as Cameron blinked at her with a complicated expression. 

 “I mean!” Courtney added in more quietly but equally harried, hissing at the stinging from her thumb. She sucked at the blood that trickled down her palm. “I printed it obviously! Because we were here and I was at the printer and you were at the printer and I wrote it!” She was going to get blood on Beth’s love letter and make her think that she’s being stalked by an ax murderer or The Gambler’s personal hitman. “These words aren’t from me ,” she stressed. “I didn’t say these things!” 

 Dang it, this was bad. He wasn’t going to draw her flowers anymore or cute stars passed in notes during their shared homeroom. She continued to ramble when Cameron didn’t say anything. “Actually!” She wiped her palm on her jeans and returned it. “It’s for you!” 

 Cameron maintained cool and collected when he pointed at the opening address, becoming amused. “It says ‘ Dear Beth ’” 

“Does it!? Typo!” 

“Look, I don’t blame you for developing a crush on a close friend. It happens, you don’t have to explain it to me.” 

“But!” 

Cameron backed away. “I’m gonna go.” 

 ~.~ 

 Rick let Beth drag him out of class so they could meet up with her secret admirer in the empty hallway at her locker knowing this wasn’t going to end well. 

 Beth tapped at the yellow sticky note on her locker that had the details of her rendezvous. 

 “What happens if he doesn’t show up?” Rick crossed his arms awkwardly when Beth turned around to look at him. “If they don’t show up.” 

He should’ve noticed the second that he saw Beth that this had been her plan since she got out of bed. She was wearing a dress and tights that perfectly so matched her colour, it took a second glance to confirm it adhered to the no dress on skin school dress code. 

 Her hair had clips in them too, a moon clip that parted the left side of her afro in a way that let it drop slightly over her face like her mom’s weave. It was beautiful and she looked beautiful and Rick got stuck in those thoughts all over again when she slid down the lockers to wait, drawing up her knees. 

 “They will.” She patted on the dusty ground for him to sit. 

 “You’re not going to check your locker first?” 

 “You want me to?” 

“Do you want to?” Rick countered. 

 Beth scrunched up her face at him. “I asked first.” 

 His face warmed and he finally sat down across from her. “Usually you rush to it, that's all.” 

She stretched out her legs, pulling at the hem of her dress. “It’s not going to matter what was written in whatever they put in my locker when I get to see who they are. Meeting them in person will be more exciting.” 

 Bold words to say to her secret admirer, sitting right in front of her. Rick sighed and stretched out too. He drew up one leg, the other bent at the knee. “What if they’re really ugly?” 

Beth rolled her eyes. 

 “Just asking. You can like someone’s sentiments but not their face.” 

 “I’m going to like their face,” she reassured him. “Even if I’ll have to learn to.” 

 “Okay,” Rick drawled. He was hoping if he extended the talk long enough, Beth would grow bored and give up. Just because the secret admirer won’t show up today doesn’t mean that they did so with ill-intent. Rick tried to remind Beth of this as they sat around alone. The secret admirer could’ve got swept up in a test in class or had an early dismissal. Beth wouldn’t know the difference. Rick wasn’t hurting her by playing along. 

 When an hour passed and Rick saw how determined she was to stick this through, the internal panic ramped up.

 Of course, the thought came to him that he should come clean. It’s just that. That meant Rick would have to come clean . He hated that Courtney was right to laugh at him over this. It freaked him out to just blurt out the truth. It would take Beth by surprise. Rick hadn’t planned yet how he was going to wind the secret admirer thing down to prepare her about it all. He thought she’d get to read his letter today to gauge how she’d feel. 

 He stared up at the ceiling thinking through five hundred strategy plans to get out of this mess while untangling the secret as Beth played a game on her phone. 

 “Soooo,” Beth said some while later. “Are we going to be waiting another hour or…” 

 Rick jerked up, saucer-eyed and mouth agape. His brain short-circuited.

 “Because we can take all the time you need, Rick.” 

 “You knew?” He banged his head against the metal behind him. She didn’t need a supercomputer to figure out Rick liked her before Rick figured out he liked her, did she? “Of course you knew,” he muttered to himself. The shock wore off as the embarrassment settled in, his face flushing as bright confirmation. A massive shot of adrenaline flooded through him, similar to the rush of his hourglass. 

“I pieced it together a few days ago,” she admitted. “I don’t think you realize how much lighter you are now.” Beth picked herself up and crossed the hall to sit by his side. Her hand went to his right knee and she leaned forward. “Rick, it’s okay. It’s okay to like me.” 

 The words clogged up in Rick’s throat as she spoke softly, overwhelmed. He wanted to explain everything but it was complicated and delicate and if she’d only read his freakin letter trapped in that locker maybe he’d have a chance to get her to understand- 

“Oh my god, you’re really nervous.” She lifted her hand up to give him room. “Rick, it’s just me. I like you too, I’m just a bit confused about how this all makes sense.” 

 “I didn’t know,” he managed out, stilted. “I really didn’t know.” 

 “Didn’t know what?” 

 “I’m not your real secret admirer.” Rick corrected himself. “I wasn’t your first.” 

 “Okay…” 

“There were those weird letters at first. The random ones. And I didn’t understand why they got under my skin so much. But they did. So I found the guy who was making them and I-" 

 "Really," Beth deadpanned.

 "I know, I know." Rick scowled. "I found out it was that they were being forced to.” 

 Sourness etched over her mouth as it pulled her lips thin together. “Oh.” 

 “And I wanted it to quit but by then it was involving the bullying of that other guy, not just you.” Rick sighed. “So I took over to help.” 

 “Rick.” 

 “I just didn’t want you to get crushed!” he told her, going into more detail about Joseph and the football team. “I was going to explain when it was all over what happened, and you were going to laugh it off and thank me and then I would’ve shrugged that off because it was whatever. It was the right thing to do.”  

 “But?” 

 Rick rolled his eyes at himself. “But I liked what I was doing too much for it to be normal.” He raised his head to give her a crooked smile. “I like you. ” 

 “You are so ridiculous,” she giggled out. She stood up and leisurely made her way to the locker. “So you have this important letter in here for me that you want me to read?” She toyed with her combination lock. “What’s in it?” 

 “Uh. A mess?” 

 “I’ll keep it for later then,” she decided and grabbed his hand. He stood up and followed her, hyper-aware of the way she led him away with her hand in his. “Come on, we have something we need to do.” 

 She brought him to the school library, which Rick did not understand. She sat him down at a macbook and darted in to kiss his cheek. Rick stuttered, lightheaded as she booted up his computer. 

 “Uh- What exactly are we doing?” 

 “Writing.” She tapped on his keyboard and moved his still hands over them with an exciting squeeze. “There are four more days left in the month and I don’t know about you but I’d really rather spend our free periods and after school with you on a date.”

 "That is...a really good idea." 

 She glanced up from their screen to find Cameron watching them oddly. 

 Beth awkwardly waved. 

 “Why is he looking at us like that?” 

 “I don’t know. I don’t care.” Rick put his arm around her, ignoring everyone else. He leaned forward to steal her move, gently kissing away her curiosity. 

 Beth grinned and leaned her head against his shoulder as he typed lines and lines of compliments. “Then I don’t care either.”

[pbandjesse]

I am very excited to close my eyes. I am really sleepy. But today was a very good day. Mostly. For the most part. I felt very awkward a few times. But mostly it was good.

I sleep okay. I woke up feeling alright. Tired. Bit thrilled to leave the house. But I got dressed and felt very cute. This is the dress I got engaged in so it makes me feel nice. Which was good because inside I was struggling a little.

I brought pasta for lunch and had a cupcake for breakfast. I left here and went to work. And it was a nice drive. I had left a few minutes early, and between that and not stopping at McDonald's, I got to work very early.

But that was alright. I ran into Joel and it was nice to see him. James greeted us at the door. And I went to go get ready for my programs.

I was not looking forward to leading the cannery. My last ones were just alright and I was still getting turned around. But it ended up being great.

Before the kids got there we were all hanging out in the break room catching up. O'Malley had a bright orange mask on that I loved and I felt like they looked like a very cool cartoon bird. And I said that, I was like I mean this in the most positive way you look like a cool cartoon bird. And I think I upset them!! Like I am not sure but I really hope I didn't. I meant it like. Wow. You look awesome. But then I felt very awkward. And because when I feel awkward it just gets worse and worse I then would say something to Mike about the surprise event last night. And how people come back into the exhibit with drinks because we are okay with it during events. And Mike's like. I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. And I'm like what?? Angie and Kelly said that was what we do?? And so then I felt very awkward about that too. Ugh.

Thankfully the kids were wonderful. This was one of the best leading of the program I have done in the cannery. Gaby and O'Malley said I made a joke at one point and they both went "Jesse's A is really good!" And I was like ahh!! Cause I felt like this one was very good. And the kids were great so that made it a lot easier to do good.

And it was a smooth cannery. No issues I heard about. And they all did a good job.

I took them to do a scavenger hunt next. They loved my stupid prizes of 5 stickers, two beads, a button, and a plastic crystal. And they worked very hard to get as many questions as they could.

After that was lunch. And then I handed over the program to Becca to lead assembly line. That was kind of a mess because there was a miscommunication with the bus and we had to cut all the programs by 15 minutes. And while I was supposed to sit to the side and just observe, the timing was so off I had to jump in. And it was fine, we got all the cars done and finished on time. I was sad we didn't get to go on the car but it happens.

We had a lot of talk after because there was some concerns. But it will be fine in the end I think. I would sit down in the office with Becca doing car parts. I felt a little weird because like 7 of my coworkers were upstairs doing oysters and there was a lot of laughing and I had to try very hard not to feel left out. Like we were working and things were fine. But I have a habit of working myself up and feeling very left out. It's silly but it's how I felt.

Gaby and O'Malley would come join us at the desk to finish car parts. And I felt folded back into the group and would feel a little better.

And we would all walk out together when we were done for the day. And I was determined to stay productive. I have things to do!!

I had an excellent drive home. And got back here to find a few packages. I got a new dress. It's a little tight in the chest but it's so pretty so I don't mind. And another piece for the Ren faire. And a little drum I got for the summer.

I would catch up on 4 days of knitting. Which took forever. But I got that done. I did a little cleaning. And got changed into comfy clothes. And soon James was home.

I played Stardew for a bit. But then I would go and see two of the bears James had cut out for me. But I would hurt my finger and get frustrated so I had to take a break.

James was trying to change their handle bars and there was some issues and they weren't being very nice. And so I was a little upset that they were taking out their frustrations by being angry. And we would talk about it but I still felt bad that their bike wasn't doing what they wanted and I couldn't help.

We had pizza for dinner. And James had DND. I played Stardew and enjoyed listening to them play music as a part of their character.

I got a shower and now we are getting ready for bed. I am so beat. And looking forward to tomorrow. I get to do the print part of the cannery which is my favorite. And I hope to make cookies when I get home. I think it will be a very good day.

Sleep well everyone. Take care of yourselves. Good night!

[letsgetusaghostfriend]

A Green Day concert, a bloody nose and a coming out – Sunset Curve & Green Day I

Summary: Luke and Bobby got them tickets for the Green Day show in LA on November 2nd 1994, also known as the night Billie Joe punched a homophobe and Alex came out to the guys.

Friendship fic, super Alex & Bobby centred, Luke and Reggie are not straight but don’t know that yet. Also, I know most people think Alex came out way earlier, but he has to not be out for this story to work.

((warnings: homophobia, homophobic language (not fully written out except in the band name of the opening act), slight violence, mentioned: alcohol, underage drinking (I am german, so for me it’s not underage drinking but yeah), in general: swearing))

word count: 4.9k, read here on AO3 x

~

Luke and Bobby got four tickets for the Green Day show in LA on November 2nd in 1994, it was one of Green Day’s bigger shows at that time. The boys previously have been to other concerts of the band, but the last one was in a small club in ’92, of course, all four of them being way too young for that place. Luke and Reggie were the first ones out of their group to get fake ID’s, mainly to go to gigs and play gigs. In the beginning, Alex thought he would never do the same, too scared of possible consequences, but then Luke used his stupid puppy eyes. (They still work even after Alex crush died, dead and buried). And if he was being honest, it was really helpful for playing clubs if the owners can at least pretend that they believe the four boys are old enough to be there.

Alex was aware that Green Day’s opening act, Pansy Division, was an all-gay band. And he was excited and scared at the same time. He found out because this one kid in his English class, Josh, went to the San Diego show earlier that week and told one of his friends that he shouldn’t go to the LA show as Green Day was just a bunch of “f*g lovers” and not worth their time. So Alex was scared: what if his friends would say the same thing?

They arrive late and the line is massive, Alex anxiety pitches in and reminds him that if it takes too long for them to get inside, he might miss Pansy Divisions performance. Logically he knows that they wouldn’t start letting people in so late that the opening band already starts when most people are not inside yet, but his anxiety is not that into logical thinking. He can’t help being fidgety, at one point Luke noticed and asks him if the crowd is making him uncomfortable. “Yeah, a little bit” Alex responds, not wanting further questions about why he was so anxious. The boys keep close to the bar, staying in the back first, not too excited to get into the crowd just yet. Alex knows the others would be inside the first mosh pit if it wasn’t for his anxiety, but not once did they show any signs of annoyance about his hesitancy. They just patiently wait for Alex to get used to the crowd and atmosphere, never angry when he has a bad day and he never signals that it is okay for them to go into the more crowded areas. Sometimes, especially when Luke doesn’t know where to put his energy he and Reggie go, but they always make sure that at least one person stays with Alex. He probably should tell them how thankful he is for this more often (the others would disagree here since they feel like Alex thanks them too much).

When Pansy Division started playing Alex didn’t expect them to actually sing about hooking up with guys at rock concerts, loving men, having real, deep and meaningful relationships and just, in general, doing normal daily life stuff, living with a boyfriend and how it feels after a breakup. He feels so excited, almost jumping up and down to the beat, not able to put his excited energy out on the drums like he would if it was their own concert. Alex completely forgets to check the guys for any reactions, too involved in the music. He doesn’t see that the other three boys enjoy Pansy Divisions music just as much as he does. He doesn’t see Bobby eyeing him from the side, a knowing glint in his eye.

Alex doesn’t know that Bobby saw the way Alex would look at Luke when they were 14, at Brian from History when they were 15, and how he sometimes looks at pictures from Billie Joe Armstrong in magazines. Bobby also didn’t miss Alex’ obsession with the song Coming Clean. The other boys sometimes forget about how Bobby’s parents are genuine open-minded people, who introduce him to a lot more diverse people than his friends’ parents do. So yes, maybe Alex was discreet enough for Mr Luke Oblivious Patterson and Captain Reg Oblivious Peters, and his parents who anyway only see what they want to see, but not for Bobby. Bobby, who might from an outsider’s perspective looks like he is standing a bit outside this friendship group due to him being less loud and sociable than his friends, but Bobby who loves his friends with all his heart, Bobby who truly sees his friends and knows that this is where he belongs. Seeing the absolute bliss, happiness and excitement streaming from Alex like waves is contagious.

After Pansy Division finished their set and there was a short break before Green Day would start theirs, Bobby slips from their group, mumbling that he would get another beer. Instead, he goes to buy Pansy Divisions EP, because the band was genuinely good but mostly because he knows Alex wouldn’t buy it, but he will definitely want it. On his way to the little corner where they sell the Green Day merch as well as Pansy Division stuff, Bobby realises that it was actually packed, but he soon saw that it was just a long long line for the Green Day merch. Actually, there are so many people he can’t even see the Green Day merch salesperson. He manages to get to the guy who took care of the Pansy Division stuff, he greets him with a head nod and a short “hey”, while scrambling his money out of his pant pockets to count it. He’ll have to nick a bit off of Luke’s beer later, not having enough money left to buy another one. When he reaches out to hand out the money for the CD somebody joins the guy who cared for the merch. Bobby recognises that it’s the singer of Pansy Division and he smiles at him. “Great performance, really enjoyed you guys’ music!”. The singer grins at that and holds out his left hand, which Bobby finds a bit strange, but takes it nonetheless.

“Jon, nice to meet you.”

“Bobby, pleasure is all mine.”

“Ah, you’re a musician yourself!” Jon says while checking out Bobby as if he could tell whether the kid in front of him was any good based on his appearance. It took the guitarist a second to realise that Jon must’ve felt his calloused fingers from playing the guitar during the handshake. “Yeah, I’m actually here with my bandmates.” A voice in his head, that sounds suspiciously like Reggie tunes in with “We’re Sunset Curve, tell your friends.” But Bobby pretty much felt like a child trying to play in the adults’ league, so he doesn’t say anything else. Jon grabs the CD he was about to buy and opens it while asking “So Bobby, is the CD for you or someone else?” Taken aback by that question Bobby tells him without thinking “We kind of always share records. Em, so maybe Sunset Curve?” Jon who was about to sign the inside of the CD case, pauses and looks up again “You’re in Sunset Curve?”

“Yeah, rhythm guitar.” He answers without much of a thought, it takes him two seconds then he adds: “You’ve heard of us?” Jon chuckles at Bobby’s shocked tone.

“Saw you play a few months ago. Didn’t remember your name till Mike mentioned one of your songs, always called you “the band with the cute drummer” actually.” Jon casually explained to a still shell-shocked Bobby. The comment about Alex makes him choke on his own spit though. Jon smirks, but before he can say more Bobby’s mouth starts talking before his brain gave its okay: “You saw us well enough to say that Alex is cute, but you didn’t recognise me?” After the words left his mouth, he feels his face heat up.

‘Way to embarrass yourself by having too much of an ego, Robert, great job’, he thought to himself. But Jon again laughs it off, as if he made a funny joke, smirks and asks if Alex was here tonight.

“He is,” Bobby says, voice cold, “he is also sixteen.”

Now it was Jon’s time to look embarrassed. “Oh shit, never mind then.” He pauses. “Sixteen is a bit young to play that club you played, isn’t it?” He pauses again. “You guys take this whole music thing seriously, I like that!”

More at ease again after Jon’s reaction to Alex’ age, Bobby’s brain finally catches up with everything Jon said before he called Alex cute.

“Wait, Mike as in Mike Dirnt? As in Mike Dirnt mentioned one of our songs?” he asks astounded. Jon laughs at the utter bewilderment that the younger one’s face was showing. But before he could say something about it a loud voice behind Bobby sneers: “Oh look at that, Bobby the f*g lover.” He turns around and sees Andrew from his math class. “Always knew at least one of you would be a shirt lifter!”

Bobby tries to take a deep breath before he answers but Jon beats him to it. “I would really think people were clever enough to listen to lyrics, but you still find the poser ones at these concerts, especially since Dookie got Green Day so popular outside of the scene!” Bobby needed a few seconds to realise that Jon wasn’t even talking to Andrew but instead just talked about him to Bobby and the guy selling the merch.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that you fucking fairy!” Andrew sneers, stepping closer to Jon. As soon as Andrews anger is directed towards Jon and not Bobby anymore, the guitarists fight instinct kicks in.

“Fairy? Really?” he asks Andrew with a snigger in his voice, “Didn’t know we live in the 50s, Andrew. Learned all these terms from your daddy?” Bobby tries to make his voice sound as degrading as possible. For a second it seems like Andrew might shut up and leave but then Jon starts laughing loudly about Bobby’s comments and before anyone can react Andrew takes a swing and hits Jon right on the mouth. Without thinking, Bobby copies his action and the next thing he knows is that his hand hurts and Andrew has a red square on the side of his face. He glares at the guitarist and strikes again. This time the fist hits Bobby’s nose and he sees black stars in front of his eyes for a few seconds. After that, all hell is breaking loose and Bobby is being pushed around for what feels like a few minutes before he gets pulled aside and finds himself behind the selling booth with Jon by his side who has a busted lip that is still bleeding. Jon has a hand on the teen's shoulder and looks worried at him. “Fuck your nose does not look too good!” he says. Hearing the words Bobby brings his hand up to his nose and winces when he feels a sharp pain as soon as his fingers touch his nose. “Fuuuuuuuuck, Alex is going to kill me!” he groans at the thought of how the blond will react to seeing Bobby like this.

“Hey man, good punch you got on the dickhead there!” an excited voice states beside Bobby, which makes him turn his head probably a bit too quick, considering he just got punched in the face a few minutes before. But the guitarists' instincts were right: standing beside him was no other than Green Days’ singer, Billie Joe Armstrong. The blond (with fading blue in his hair) is smiling at Bobby and continues with “but I think mine was even better” while pointing at something behind Bobby, who turns around just in time to see security carrying a half-conscious Andrew out of the venue.

“You know that guy?”

“He goes to my school!” Bobby answers, still in awe looking after Andrew.

“Oh, you need to tell me about how he looks tomorrow, man I don’t miss high school but I’d love to go to school just to see that!” Billie Joe tells him and Jon, still sounding way too excited. When Bobby turns around again to look at the two musicians in front of him, he catches Jon telling Billie Joe that Bobby is part of the band they talked about the other day. Somehow getting even more excited by the news he fully turns back to Bobby. “Love that! We need more good people in this scene so we can make sure the music stays clean of dudes like that! Well, it was lovely punching homophobes with you Bobby, but I actually have a concert to play!”

And with that Billie Joe is gone through the door leading to the backstage area and Bobby looks at Jon hoping that he can find answers with him (like is he hallucinating?) but he just chuckles at the teenagers in awe face and takes the CD Bobby wanted to buy all along, as well as the money he had already paid and hands both back at the teen with the words “I think you paid enough for this already, thanks for sticking up for me!” And adding, when Bobby tries to give the money back again, “You better go so your bandmates don’t worry and you don’t miss the Green Day show!” Bobby thanks him and with a smile he makes his way back to the other boys while putting the money and the CD into his pockets.

When Alex finally sees Bobby come back to them, he feels relief washing over him. Alex always hates it when they split especially if one of them is on their own and Bobby has been gone for way too long. The first thing Alex notices is that Bobby doesn’t carry any beer or anything else that he could’ve brought from a bar, the second thing is that Bobby’s nose is bleeding. The easing relief is instantly replaced by worry as Alex's brain catches up with his eyes. As soon as the guitarist reaches them Alex starts searching his fanny pack for tissues and anything else that can help with a bloody nose, all while berating Bobby about getting into a fight. Reggie and Luke excitedly ask Bobby about it, but when their bleeding bandmate tries to tell them about what happened Alex just shushes him and gestures for him to look up so that he can take a better look at his nose. While Alex is still cleaning up Bobby’s face the crowd starts cheering and Alex turns around quickly to confirm his suspicion that the main act finally made it on stage. He keeps on cleaning his friends face from now slightly dried blood when he hears Billie Joe's voice over the speakers.

“Sorry guys, I know we’re late, but I had to punch a homophobe…” The rest of the sentence does not reach Alex’ brain as he looks at one of his best friends, whose nose was bleeding after obviously being punched and all he can hear is white noise, while the realisation, that Bobby being the homophobe who was just punched by Green Days’ singer, sets in. He feels a sharp sting in his chest all while feeling overwhelmed by fear, cold naked fear. And his thoughts race through his brain, too fast to actually make any sense, all he knows is that his worst nightmare seems to be coming true: the people he trusts the most will eventually leave him. They will hate him. They will think he is disgusting, and they will leave him. Unconsciously he takes a step back from Bobby, taking both his hands off his friends face but before he can totally spiral into his thoughts, he is caught by Bobby who holds the drummer by his wrists and looks at him like Alex offended him deeply.

“Seriously?” Bobby’s voice comes out sharper than he probably intended, softening his tone as he sees Alex flinch at him, “You actually think I am homophobic? Fuck Alex do you really think that poorly of me?” The guitarists' words and face are both filled with what Alex can only describe as hurt. Bobby attempts to say more but he is cut off by Billie Joe's voice coming over the speakers saying his name.

“A special thanks to Bobby from Sunset Curve! Make sure you check them out they’re a local band that’ll make it big one day, I’ll promise you! I swear, give them less than a year and they’ll be playing here on this very stage! Thanks, Bobby, for helping me punch a dickhead!” And with that they start into their first song, leaving the boys standing completely mind blown in the back, each one trying to comprehend what just happened. After a few seconds, Reggie, Luke and Alex all turn to Bobby with questioning faces, but Bobby concentrates on Alex’ face. “Do you believe me now?” When Alex nods the, still bleeding, guitarist feels relief wash over him. “Good! Because I already have your Christmas present and I literally know no one else who has the same taste that you have!” He actually manages to make Alex smile with his stupid comment, feeling like they might be okay again, he holds onto Alex’ sleeve, needing something to ground him, knowing that Alex is uncomfortable with public affection. He turns to Luke and Reggie who as soon as they have his attention try to bombard him with questions, but he stops them and promises to tell them later.

___

After the concert:

When they leave the venue, a wave of, for L.A. unusually cold air, hits Bobby’s face and clears his head a little, making it easier to think about everything that had happened. As he was the first one out of the four to step out in the cold air, he takes a deep breath before turning around to see the other three boys walk up to him. He notices that Alex pulls his jean jacket tighter around his body, clearly not enjoying the cold air as Bobby does. He smiles at Bobby and then follows Reg and Luke who started walking towards the side street where they parked the van before the concert. The two boys talk animatedly about the Green Days show, analysing every detail. Seeing one of their favourite bands live did distract the two enough for them to not ask any further questions, right now. Alex smile tells Bobby that the same did not count for the blonde boy. Bobby jogs up to Alex to walk beside him, but when he tries to initiate a conversation with his bandmate, the blonde just shakes his head and mumbles, that he has things to think, but as if to calm Bobby down, Alex takes his hand and squeezes it before they reach their van. The van they brought because they actually started to be able to book enough gigs to pay for it (and to actually need it), they all paid for it, even though they don’t talk about the fact that Bobby paid the biggest part, with him having the only parents who actually support the band.

Bobby is driving, with Alex in the passenger seat lost in his thoughts and Luke and Reggie in the back, trying to get Bobby to finally tell them about what happened at the venue. The guitarist promises to tell them as soon as they arrive at the garage, but despite the impatience from Luke and Reggie to find out about everything they still have a quick stop at a small diner on their way home to get their after-concert food.

Alex, Reggie and Luke all go straight for the couch while bobby prefers sitting on the floor, facing them. For a few seconds they all munch happily but soon Luke starts bugging Bobby about what happened at the club, so he puts his sandwich aside and takes a short breath. He doesn’t know where to start, he kind of wants Alex to know that he got the CD for him, but he doesn’t want to put any pressure on Alex, nor does he want the other two to find out about Alex liking boys before Alex wants them to.

“So,” Bobby starts, “we all really liked Pansy Division, right?” he asks with a nervous laugh tinting his words. He looks at the three boys on the couch for confirmation and gets it from two of the boys while Alex looks like he gets scared by the simple indication that he might have really liked the queer band they all saw tonight. Bobby acts like he didn’t see it while deciding, that he won’t tell the blond that Jon was hitting on him. That might be a bit much information for one night. “Well, I thought,” he continues while pulling out the CD he brought earlier “I’ll get us their CD.” He waves the CD then places it on the table in front of the couch so the guys can look at it.

“And that’s where I met one of the band members, Jon, he is the singer.” He looks up at his friends who all stare at him with a mixture of shock and curiosity on their faces, even Alex nervousness seems replaced. ‘I didn’t even get to the really shocking parts yet’, Bobby thought to himself.

“Okay, so we got talking, he found out I play in a band and when he asks for a name to use to sign the CD I just said Sunset Curve, because we always share records, like I mean I don’t even know who owns what anymore!” Luke looks dead serious while nodding his head, Alex starts smiling slightly and Reggie looks like he is trying really hard to separate their shared music collection in his head.

“Anyway, it turns out he saw one of our shows earlier this year and apparently, he was talking about one of our songs with Mike, but before you get too excited, I couldn’t ask him about it because that dick Andrew from my math class interrupted us. He called me a – eh, never mind” he stops himself, giving Alex a short glance – “he started calling me and Jon names and I kind of started making fun of him for using really outdated terms and when Jon laughed about that, Andrew hit him and then I hit Andrew and he hit me back and suddenly everything got crazy. Next thing I know is that I am behind the merch booth with Jon and Billie Joe Armstrong, and Andrew is being carried outside by security.” He tries to rush the words out fast enough so that Luke doesn’t stop him because of the band being recognised and Alex doesn’t stop him because he hit someone.

“And then Billie Joe finds out I am in Sunset Curve and he says something about it being good that more good people will keep the scene going or something and then he pretty much left to play the show and Jon gave me the CD and I went back to you guys so you wouldn’t worry too much.” When he finally finishes his story, he is staring at three really shocked looking faces.

“Mike Dirnt and Billie Joe both know of Sunset Curve?”

“Who knew Bobby is such a badass!”

“You hit Andrew?”

All three started talking at the same time, but then Alex stands up and he looks real mad and everyone else shuts up. Bobby looks at him. “Alex, I didn’t plan to, it just happened. I got so mad when he started calling Jon these awful names and when he hit him, I just snapped.”

“What about our no fighting rule, huh?”

“So, when someone is being super homophobic, I am just supposed to do nothing?”

At that moment Bobby realises that Alex didn’t process until now that Andrew was using homophobic slurs against Bobby and Jon. He sees Alex anger vanish from him in mere seconds, replaced by fear and sadness settling in his eyes. Lips pressed into a thin line Alex sits down on the couch again. It breaks Bobby’s heart to see his friend like this. They all stay silent for a while.

“What did he say?” Alex asks with a voice so quiet Bobby almost misses it.

“Alex,” he sighs, “I am pretty sure you don’t want to know!”

With that Alex's eyes, which were glued to his hands before, snap up and meet Bobby’s. “You know, don’t you?” Alex asks Bobby, seemingly completely forgetting that the other boys are in the room.

Bobby does not know what to answer, not wanting to make Alex come out because he feels like he has to, or because Bobby figured it out already. “I only know what you want me to know, everything else is just a hunch.” He finally settles on.

Alex laughs. “So, you definitely know, and I actually thought I was being subtle.”

“I still love you, you know that, right?” Bobby just needs Alex to know that. Even if this is a weird one, Bobby wants this to be the reaction Alex gets for his first coming out.

It takes Alex a few seconds but finally, he looks up again, searching Bobby’s face for any trace of him lying. As Alex realises that the boy in front of him means what he said he feels like the biggest wave of relief washes over him. This, black-haired, awkward and quiet boy in front of him, who buys CD’s from queer bands, punches one of his classmates because he was being a homophobic bigot to a complete stranger and whose first reaction to Alex half-assed coming out is to tell him that he still loves him. This boy, who is so uncomfortable with most people touching him, who still wants to hold all of their hands all the time, calling them grounding. This boy, who would probably punch more people to protect them because he gets crazy protective about the people he cares about. And suddenly it’s difficult not to start crying and Alex feels like his voice will break if he tries to talk so he just nods.

And in that second, knowing he has Bobby on his side for this, he decides that he wants them all to know. So, he gets up from the couch and “gets on the runway” as Luke likes to call Alex’ nervous walking occasionally. After walking up and down three times, he suddenly stops, turns to Luke and Reg who look super confused by what is happening and he blurts out “Iamgay” so fast that there was no way that any of the guys could’ve understood a single word. So, he takes a deep breath and repeats: “I am gay” while standing there, eyes closed, and breath held.

“Oh, that…” Luke starts, but he gets interrupted by Reggie who says: “That makes so much sense, that is why you were staring at Brian so much last year! That really confused me, man!”

“I was... I was not staring at Brian Denver!” Alex sputters embarrassment creeping in his cheeks.

“You totally were, you even knew who Reg was talking about right away!” Luke laughs and gets up to pull Alex in a big hug, squeezing him tight. Reggie gets a hold of them and pulls them down on the couch where he squeezes between them, and wooshes through Alex’ hair affectionately. Alex, now half sitting on the couch and half lying on Reggie looks up to Bobby, who stands awkwardly in front of the couch. As the other two notice Bobby as well they all kind of freeze in their cuddle pile. Even as Bobby was more comfortable touching his bandmates than he was with touching his parents, or literally anyone else, he still never expressed any interest in being part of a cuddle pile before. Seeing how all of his friends stopped as he approached, the guitarist started taking a step back, but Alex stopped him by holding out his hand for Bobby to take. It takes him a few seconds but finally, he lets himself being pulled on top of Alex into the cuddle pile and even though it feels strange at first he likes the feeling of Alex’ soft t-shirt under his cheek, Reggie’s arm around his waist and the smell of Luke’s cologne.

Later that night Bobby snatches a picture of his best friends still cuddling on the couch hours later, now all fast asleep. He hasn’t shown that picture to anyone except for his daughter when she finds out about the band 25 years later and he decides to tell her about the loves of his life, even if most people wouldn’t recognise them as it since it was purely platonic love. And even though he got married, he never loved anyone as much, with the exception of his daughter, as he loved the three boys who left him when he was just 17 years old.

The next day Bobby snatches a picture of Andrews black eye. He shows that picture to Billie Joe, backstage at an event he attempts without his best friends after the man recognises him as the kid with whom he punched a homophobe. After that Bobby leaves the event early, not being able to hold up the image of Trevor, too consumed by grieve and guilt. Guilt over not being able to protect them. Guilt over not dying with them. Guilt over using their songs.

[broadstbroskis]

surprises- pt 3 | mat barzal

hi again, back with part three! thanks for reading so far💜

warnings: umm a not great family, mentions of quarantine

part 2

-----

Team Baby

Tito Beauvillier: today?

Mat Barzal: for fucks sake what did i tell you at praccy?

Tito Beauvillier: i was asking yn not you mathew thanks for your garbage opinion

Molly Sutton: omg are we telling people?

Mat Barzal: NO

Brian Kelley: You are no fun, sir.

Molly Sutton: he’s practicing dad duties

Tito Beauvillier: 😂😂😂😂

You: no one is saying anything until we talk to both parents

Molly Sutton: you got it momma

Tito Beauvillier: 👍

Mat Barzal: are you fucking kidding me? 

Mat Barzal named the conversation “fuck off motherfuckers”.

Tito Beauvillier named the conversation “team baby”.

You put your hand onto Mat’s. “Don’t.”

He groans. “I still can’t believe they made fucking t-shirts.”

“Can’t you?” You raise an eyebrow at him

Mat hesitates. “Okay, I can.”

“Just need to make sure my brother never finds out.” You drum your fingers on the restaurant table. “He’s going to be all over that fucking t-shirt.”

“You have a brother?” Mat asks. You nod. “Is uh, is he coming tonight?” He’s looking across the table at the two chairs across from you, waiting for your parents to arrive (fashionably late, per usual).

You burst into laughter and Mat looks at you in clear confusion. “I texted him, but I never heard back. He’s a little bit of a drifter.”

“What is this, the 1930’s?” Mat gives you a look. “Honestly, a drifter?”

You ignore that in favor of continuing on with your family traumas. “On the bright side, Chris has already locked down the role of family disappointment so a grandchild should just get like a pursed lip and a cool nod.” You tell him.

The look on Mat’s face at that is what makes you realize he’s actually unfamiliar with your family. There’d been no reason to bring them up to him before; you didn’t really like talking about your parents as it was and while you adored your older brother, he was so flaky you were lucky if he responded to a text every month. “Are you going to be okay tonight?” Mat asks carefully, moving his hand to squeeze yours softly in support, 

“I usually drink before dinners like this, which cuts back on a lot of the sarcasm.” You admit. “But obviously, that won’t be happening.” Mat squeezes your hand again and smiles at you weakly. “I’m sorry.” You tell him, spying your parents walk in the door.

He frowns. “For what?”

“For whatever they might say.” You say grimly, standing up to greet your parents.

You can tell right away that your parents don’t like Mat and you wish you could say you were surprised. It’s in the way they introduce themselves as Don and Karen, in the handshake Mat offers your dad that’s just barely returned. In the tone your mom doesn’t bother to disguise as she responds to Mat’s “nice to meet you,” with a dripping “pleasure.”

Mat handles the whole thing like a pro, keeping his placating smile in place the entire time, but you’re seething internally as you all start searching through the menu, and so when your dad mentions something about ordering a couple bottles of wine, you seize the opportunity.

“I can’t because I’m pregnant, but you all enjoy!” Mat is frozen next to you, his media smile still on his face, but it’s the look on your parents faces’ that you relish. The shock, the disbelief...the disappointment. 

It feels like the moment couldn’t get any better for you but then the host arrives at the table, with a familiar figure-horribly underdressed for the fancy restaurant in jeans and t-shirt and his long hair pulled back into a bun. “What’d I miss?” Your brother grins, pulling a chair from the empty table next to you, before the host can do it for him.

“You’re going to be an uncle!” You grin at Chris.

Chris returns the grin. “Hey, sweet!”

“Sweet?” Your mom hisses. “This is not sweet! This is so far from sweet, Christopther!”

You watch as she stands and storms out and then look over at your dad, who shakes his head and sighs, before following at a much more leisurely pace after throwing a couple bills on the table. “Well,” You say mildly, as Chris relocates his seat at the table. “That went better than expected.”

“That was better than expected?” Mat asks incredulously.

“No one cried; that was a win!” You tell him.

“The bar has been set so low for when we tell my parents.”

“Now do you understand why I insisted we tell mine first?”

He laughs. “ Yeah. I got it now.”

The two of you are interrupted by your brother slapping his menu shut. “Let’s blow this place and grab a pizza. I’m dying for good pizza.”

Mat’s up for that in an instant, standing and offering his hand to you before Chris even finishes his sentence. You laugh, gripping his hand for the assist and joining in the discussion of where you should place the order from. Chris makes the call and you feel a squeeze of your palm, looking down and realizing it’s still engulfed in Mat’s.

“I’m sorry this went so shitty.” He says softly.

You shrug. “I really wasn’t expecting it to go well.”

He squeezes your hand again. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t shitty.”

You lean forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder, happy when his other hand moves to rest on your back, just craving the comfort he provides. “Thanks.”

-----

Mat’s family is due to arrive in town on Friday afternoon and you’ve scheduled the entire weekend. There’s family time for them to catch up, they’ll be able to catch Mat’s afternoon game on Saturday, and you’ll pop over for dinner afterwards for you and Mat to share the big news.

But because timing is a bitch, you run into Mat and his family as you’re walking out of the elevator after coming home from work, and they’re bringing their bags into his place. There’s a moment when you stop walking completely, which might have gone unnoticed had Mat not stopped what he was doing too, which has his mom turning to look at you. “Hello!” She waves immediately, and that brings the attention of his dad and sister over to you as well.

Fuck, what are their names? Mat’s told you, multiple times. “Hi.” You say back, trying to buy yourself some time. 

Something clicks in Mat and he waves you over, even though each step closer to his parents makes you more anxious. Like they’ll know just by you standing close enough to them.

Mat swears they’re going to take the news of a grandchild well; you’re just skeptical of that. How could they? This can’t be what they had planned for their son. 

Mat makes introductions and you smile at all of them, eager to make a better impression than you had at the elevator. “So you’re a friend of Mat’s?” Nadia, his mom, asks.

“Um, yeah.” You watch as she and Mike, his dad, exchange a knowing look, and feel the panic grow in your stomach. “I should-”

“You should join us for dinner tonight!” Nadia grins excitedly.

“Oh, um.”

“You should.” Mat says quickly and there’s nothing saying otherwise when you meet his eyes, so you nod.

“Let me just go change real quick.” You point at your door. “And, um, I’ll be right over.”

“Great.” Nadia smiles. 

Molly laughs at how long it takes you to change- to find something that is comfortable, doesn’t outright show the tiny belly that doesn’t quite seem to go away now, and still cute enough to make a good first impression on your future child’s grandparents-but eventually you make your way back across the hall, flipping her off one last time as you make your way out the door.

“Since when do you knock?” Mat frowns, when he swings the door open.

“Since your parents are here.” You admit; you’d been unsure of what the protocol was. You two hadn’t bothered with knocking on doors since you’d been quarantined together. Even afterwards, when you’d settled back as friends and then with all this going on, you’d still just barged back and forth. But it somehow felt different when his family was there. 

“I told you not to worry.” Mat grabs your hand and pulls you inside. “Come on, let’s just go do it.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, like ripping a bandaid off.”

This is...so not what you’ve prepared for. This was not the plan.

This is pure Mat. Ready to go on the rush, to switch up the play and go with his gut, and you realize looking up at him, you’ve got complete faith in him. If he thinks it’s the right move, you’re going to trust him. “Okay.” You agree.

Mat smiles, squeezing your hand. “It’ll be okay.” 

He’s incredibly calm for this, so reassuring, considering what the two of you were about to walk in and tell his parents, and it’s that that has you nodding along.

Mat’s mom actually starts beaming when you and Mat walk into the living room, hand in hand. You watch it slowly fall off her face as Mat struggles to find the words and you can’t take it anymore. “I’m pregnant.” You announce and then wince at the silence in the room. “Uh, we? We’re pregnant.” You wince at the phrasing, but Mat smiles, squeezing your hand. 

Mat’s sister recovers first, and with all the innocence of a younger sibling, she rushes over to the two of you and throws her arms around you. “Congrats!” Liana gushes. “Oh my god, this is amazing!”

Mat manages a full grin at her but you can only give her the smallest of smiles as you pull away, eyes more focused on Mat’s parents, who haven’t moved yet. “Li, can you give us a minute?” Mat doesn’t give her the option to say no, as he catches sight of you watching his parents, and shoves her gently towards his kitchen.

“What? Wait!” She whines, but goes willingly, leaving you and Mat alone with his parents.

“Look, we obviously didn’t plan this,” Mat says, addressing his parents, more than you.

His mom interrupts him. “Are you okay?” She looks at you, concerned.

Thrown off at the abruptness of her question, you look over at Mat, who looks equally confused, but gestures for you to answer. “Yeah.” You nod. “I’m good.”

She gives you a look, then pats the seat next to her, which you move over to slowly. “It has been many years since I was last pregnant, but I do remember the first few months and how I felt during them.” She smiles at you and wraps her arm around your shoulders. “You don’t have to lie.”

You can’t help but laugh because you’re tired and nauseous and just feeling a little bit bloated all the time. “It’s not terrible.”

Nadia squeezes your shoulders. “Good.”

Mat’s dad has yet to say a thing, and you’d been worried about how he’d react to the news, knowing how close he and Mat are, but when you sneak a peek over at him, he’s smiling at you wrapped under his wife’s arm. “Well I can’t say I thought it’d be this soon.” Mike grins. “But I am certainly going to enjoy watching you chase a kid around. I hope they’ve got even half your energy so you know what you put your mother and I through.”

“Constantly moving!” Nadia recalls.

“Wow, thanks guys,” Mat huffs at them.

“This is the joy of grandchildren.” His dad laughs and his mom squeezes your shoulders as Mike continues and you’re ready to cry at how wonderful they are. “You get to give them back!”

“What, so you’re not going to babysit?” Mat asks.

“Oh, anytime sweetheart!” Nadia smiles. “Although, I think your sister might fight us for that.”

Mat laughs. “Yeah, probably.”

“Better her than my brother.” You add.

“Probably also true.” Mat laughs again.

Nadia smiles. “Let’s go pick out dinner and you can tell us more about this.”

-----

One minute you were in pajamas, the next minute Mat’s mom and sister were banging on your door and insisting you get dressed to join them at his game that afternoon.

They refused to take no for an answer, which is how you found yourself tugging a spare Barzal jersey over your head, the same as Mat’s family all wore, as you, Mat’s parents, and his sister waited for your uber. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude on your family time.”

“Nonsense.” Nadia waves it off. “You are family now.”

Which really only serves to set you off and you then spend the entire ride over to the game trying not to cry. She can’t possibly know what it means to you for them to be so open and accepting, but it’s everything. 

And if you weren’t in awe of this family the night before, you certainly are now. You’ve seen supportive families before, but to actually feel included and a part of one is something else entirely. These hormones are going to kill you; there’s at least five occasions where you almost have to stand up and leave a hockey game because you’re about to cry.

It ends, finally, and you join Mat’s family in waiting for him in the family room, where they’re quickly roped into a conversation to catch up with some of the people already waiting. Not at all eager to bring the spotlight to who you are or why you’re here, you slip your phone out of your purse and lean against the wall, looking back to where your last text with Molly left off.

“Hi!” A pair of arms wraps around your stomach.

“Hi, babe!” You don’t bother to turn around and greet Tito.

He’s frozen though, his hands stuck on the small pouch of stomach. “Oh my god, she’s an actual belly!” He grins.

“Tito!” You do turn at that, and you want to be annoyed because he still hasn’t taken his hand off your stomach and that he continues to refer to the baby as a she even though there’s zero evidence of that fact currently, but his face is caught somewhere between a grin and pure shock and you slow your roll. “You know it’s only going to get bigger, right?”

“Yeah, obviously!” He says. “I just...it didn’t seem real until now, I guess.”

You stare at him flatly. “You had t-shirts made about that fact that it was real.”

“Didn’t seem real.” He repeats, still looking at your stomach in awe.

The look you give him after that will go down in the history books, but you’re interrupted by one of his teammates. “Hey man, you coming to-holy shit!”

“No!” You exclaim quickly. “That’s not-this isn’t-just no!”

Whichever teammate this is bursts into laughter and Tito finally pulls his hand back. “Wow, YN, say that a little faster next time!”

“Cannot stress this enough!” You repeat. “You had t-shirts. T-shirts. Made.”

“Listen, I know my flow’s not as good as Barzy’s but-” You bury your face in your hands as the teammate standing with you makes a choking noise and then Tito rattles off a string of swears in French. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You tell him, trying to avoid the wide-eyed gaze of their teammate.

“Team Baby?” Tito says hopefully.

“I’m going to let Brian beat you up instead of Mat.”

“My fellow members of Team Baby won’t turn on me like that.” Tito says confidently.

“Molly and I have killed a lot of Mat’s plants over the years. Hiding evidence like that really builds a bond; she’s totally on my side.”

“What have I just walked into?” Mat stops next to you, looking between you, Tito, and his laughing teammate across from you, like he’s unsure where to start.

“Tito can’t keep a secret, that’s what.” You tell him, returning the soft smile he sends you.

“I hear you’re going to be a dad!” Across from you, their teammate manages to stop laughing (well, kind of) and grin at Mat.

Mat sends a look over at Tito, who looks anywhere but Mat, and Mat nods back at his teammate. “Yeah, uh, surprise?”

“Surprise all around.” You mutter, unable to hold it back, which brings the smallest of smiles to Mat’s face.

“Any uh, any tips for us, Ebs?”

The nickname triggers the face and name for you and you watch as Jordan Eberle grins back at you. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Colston Hall in Bristol, UK - November 18, 1975

x

The photos could be from either night.

This article from the November 29 issue of Sounds chronicles the second night in Bristol.

Queen triumphant

QUEEN ARE the type of group that make a man want to abandon rock writing. They pose questions and never provide answers. They exist in their own space-time continuum, visible and audible but keeping their secrets to themselves.

On the surface they couldn't be a nicer bunch of people, but they carry English reticence to an epitome. It isn't, as Geoff Barton said two weeks ago, that they're boring, it's just that they're reserved. Or in writer parlance, they don't automatically provide colourful copy. All my instincts as a writer tell me that there is a great story in that band, but after two nights with them I'm hardly any the wiser.

Skin tight

That their insularity has a lot to do with them being one of the most amazing heavy-metal and/or rock bands in Britain - with all the signs that they'll end up monsters on the order of Zep - is fairly obvious, but just how much bearing it has on the matter is hard to say. The enigmas they might pose mightn't even have answers.

Is there any logical reason why they present an image and persona straight out of the Beatles school of interlocking chemistry?

John is reserved, almost nonchalant on stage, as if it's all in a small, personal joke. When asked how he saw himself within the framework of the band he replied, with a small smile, "I'm the bassist".

Roger is his opposite, the cheeky sidekick in a Clint Eastwood movie, and attracting a lot of cheesecake attention in America and Japan.

Freddie is an original - one of the most dynamic singers to tread the boards in quite a few years. His attraction is obvious.

Brian is perhaps the biggest enigma of all. What is this seemingly frail, gaunt astronomer doing on that stage, striding purposefully and blasting diamond-hard rock? They're all equally strong personalities - like the Beatles there's no one major focal point. Ask four fans who their dream Queen is and you'll get four different answers.

Queen have been busy lads these past few months. Having disassociated themselves from their former management and joined with John Reid, the fourth album was seen to. Reid decided that a tight schedule wouldn't cause them undue harm, and figured on two months to record before embarking on this current tour.

Only Queen are driven to better each previous album - which at this stage of the game is obviously producing some excellent results - and 'A Night At The Opera' turned into a saga - culminating in 36-hour mixing sessions in an effort to allow at least a few days for rehearsal. In the end they managed three and a half days at Elstree with four hours off to videotape the promotional film for 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.

Their first few dates had not been without errors and the quartet were still not feeling totally comfortable their second night in Bristol, fourth night of the tour. You'd never know it, though.

Like all other aspects of the group, the stage is sophisticated. A black scrim provides a backdrop bounded by a proscenium of lights both front and rear. At each side the p.a. rises like a mutant marriage of Mammon and Robby the Robot. Amp power is readily evident but the most extraordinary is Brian May's subtle set up: nine Vox boxes stepping back in rows of three. The only packing crate visible is holding a tray of drinks, and you may rest assured that no roadie will rush, crawl or lurk across the stage while the show is in progress unless it's to rescue Freddie's mike from the clawing crowd.

As the auditorium darkens the sound of an orchestra tuning up is heard over the p.a. The conductor taps his baton on the music stand and a slightly effete voice welcomes the audience to A Night At The Opera. The Gilbert & Sullivan portion of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' follows, a brief glimpse of Freddie is allowed, and then in a blast of flares and white smoke the blitzkrieg begins.

Roger is barely visible behind his kit, just his eyes and tousled locks. John is wearing a white suit and playing the-man-who-must-stand-still-or-it-will-all-blow-away. Brian is slightly medieval in his green and white Zandra Rhodes top, while Freddie is...

Around his ankles his satin white pants flare like wings - fleet footed Hermes. Everything north of the knee is skin tight - tighter than skin tight - with a zip-up front open to AA rating. But further south, definitely in X territory, lurks a bulge not unlike the Sunday Telegraph.

There have been sex objects and sex bombs, superstar potency and the arrogant presentation of this all-important area, but never has a man's weaponry been so flagrantly showcased. Fred could jump up on the drum stand and shake his cute arse, leap about and perform all manner of amazing acrobatics, but there it was, this rope in repose, barely leashed tumescence, the Queen's sceptre. Oh to be that hot costume, writhing across the mighty Fred!

Phallic

Freddie is not pretty in the conventional sense of the word; like Mick Jagger of '64, he is his own convention. Also like the Jagger of the time, his stage persona and action is unlike anything else. Although it borrows - like most of the group's plagiarisms - slightly from Zeppelin, in tandem with Freddie's supreme assurance and belief in himself - he always refers to himself as a star - it explodes into something that is a constant delight to watch.

He reacts to his audience almost like an over-emotional actress - Gloria Swanson, say, or perhaps Holly Woodlawn playing Bette Davis. At the climax of the second night in Bristol he paused at the top of the drum stand, looked back over the crowd and with complete, heartfelt emotion placed his delicate fingers to lips and blew a kiss. Any person who can consume themselves so completely in such a clichéd showbiz contrivance deserves to be called a star.

Freddie's real talent, though, is with his mike stand. No Rod Stewart mike stand callisthenics here, just a shortee stick that doubles as a cock, machine gun, ambiguous phallic symbol, and for a fleeting moment an imaginary guitar. He has a neat trick of standing quite still in particularly frantic moments and holding the stand vertically from his crotch up, draw a fragile finger along its length, ever closer to the taunting eyes that survey his audience.

Their show contains lots of bombs and smoke, lots of lights, lots of noise. They fulfil the function of supremely good heavy metal - i.e. you don't get a second to think about what's going on. When they do let up for a few minutes, it's only so you can focus in on the bright blue electric charge crackling between your ears.

Bulldozer

Dominating the sound is Roger's drumming, a bulldozer echo that bounces like an elastic membrane, meshing with your solar plexus so that your body pulses in synch with the thunder. Tuned into that, everything else is just supremely nice icing.

For three days rehearsal, after eight months off the road Bristol was extremely impressive. In speculative mood I quizzed people on how long they thought it would take to headline Madison Square Garden. I was thought a radical at a year and a half. John Reid smilingly assured me it would take a year.

That Queen should end up with John Reid is an entirely logical proceeding. Everything about Queen demands that the world eventually kowtows at their feet in complete acquiescence - so big that bodyguards have to accompany them at every step. Well, no - they found that an annoyance in Japan, but, you know, huge.

Such status demands a Reid or a Peter Grant, and whatever the causes for their leaving Jack Nelson and Trident, an elegant group like Queen is going to look for a man with class. Reid found the idea of managing a group interesting, and having to deal with four strong personalities a challenge. He only concerns himself with their business and ensuring that the year ahead is mapped out. In January they begin a jaunt through the Orient, Australia and America, by which time it's March and they begin preparations for the next album.

Reid's prediction of a year was proven highly credible the next evening in Cardiff. The band had still not paused from the rush up to the tour and spent most of the day relaxing and sleeping - no doubt a factor in their near recumbent profile. Also, unlike most groups, they were keeping their dissatisfaction with the show to themselves.

They stopped off at Harlech TV on the way to see a cassette of the video for 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. The general consensus was quite good for four hours, with much laughter during the operetta. Brian finds film of the group educational - the first time he saw himself was a Mike Mansfield opus for 'Keep Yourself Alive' - "It was 'All right fellows, give it everything you've got but don't move off that spot.' It was terrible." You don't like Mansfield, eh? "Oh, I hate him - we all do... I was horrified when I saw it - I couldn't believe we looked that bad. I looked very static - seeing myself has taught me a lot about stage movement. Some of the things I do are planned for effect, but it's mostly just feeling the audience and communicating that back to them."

Arriving at the motel - several miles out of town - Freddie immediately fell asleep, John held court of a sort, joined later by Brian, while Roger went jogging, a daily event when touring. Tuning in to rock via Bill Haley and Tommy Steele, he became a drummer because he was better at it than guitar. All through school he was in bands; he only went to dental school out of "middle class conditioning, and it was a good way to stay in London without having to work". His mother thought it a bit strange when he opted for a career as a rock star, but she doesn't worry too much now.

The concert starts in much the same manner as the previous night, but there are signs that tonight is work, with posing an afterthought. The endings to most of their songs are magnificent and majestic, especially 'Flick Of The Wrist' and the rapid harmonies of 'Bad Boy Leroy Brown'.

Maniacal

The audience, seeing their faces in town for the first time, are vociferous in their appreciation. Guys know all the words to every song, yelling enthusiastically at every effect and solo. The band picks up, Freddie receiving the crowd beneficently, telling them they’re beautiful.

As the show builds it is obvious that things are gelling more. The previous night Brian had seemed totally out of place, not moving too much, taking solos with the weirdest half blank half possessed stare, talking to himself; cocking ear towards guitar. He was the proverbial stranger in a strange land, one step removed from the plane inhabited by you and me.

Tonight he moves fluidly, the gonzo lead guitarist of a gonzo band. His expressions are just as maniacal, but it only makes him look more demonic. His solo in 'Brighton Rock', an exposition in riffing and echo, is a treat because of his physical response to both music and audience, complete with ham acting. Freddie gets into the same game on 'The Prophet's Song', where he conducts an acapella madrigal with himself. It's a pretty commanding moment.

It’s soon after this that Madison Square seems reasonable. About a minute into 'Stone Cold Crazy' it becomes very obvious that Queen have suddenly Plugged In. Found the metal music machine and Connected. Freddie's movements explode in perfect unison with the music, the lights and surroundings go crazy, and the audience goes berserk.

Freddie asks for requests and receives a roar out of which one can vaguely make 'Liar'. Fred walks along the stage, nodding, agreeing he will do this one and that one while the kids roar on. "I'll tell you what - we'll do them all!"

'Doing Alright' opens slow and portentously. Queen's variation of light and shade is one of the major factors in their popularity, but even so the quiet sections frequently find the audience's mind wandering. One kid starts getting a joint together, totally forgetting it when everything blasts off again; guys talk among themselves, only to instantly leap to their feet, fists flying to the beat.

'Doing Alright' changes into a cha-cha beat, Freddie snapping his fingers, the coolest hipster in town, and then instantly drops into faster-than-light drive - the whole row next to me leaps to their feet as a man, rocking back and forth as Brian roars into a blinding solo.

Two songs later, in 'Seven Seas of Rye', the kids break - very fast - and in five seconds half the audience is a seething mass in front of the stage, climbing on each other in pyramids, sudden openings appearing as a splintering seat sends a few bodies to the floor.

The rest of the show is equally intense, especially for a couple of minutes during 'Liar; where Fred and Brian merge into a tight little triangle with Roger while John stands in front of the bass drum, staring out with his small smile.

Freddie has treated his encores - 'Big Spender' and 'Jailhouse Rock' - differently on successive nights, once appearing in a kimono and in Bristol with rather rude tight white shorts, giving the song title new emphasis. In Cardiff, though, he doesn't bother to change at all. Later it transpired that Brian had twisted his ankle during 'Liar'. While he’s attended to, kids out front pick up chair slivers to keep as mementos.

On the bus back to the hotel Brian sits quietly at the back, chatting with two girls. John sits at the front, as always. Freddie stares out of the window, lost in his own world. Roger bounces around, starts a pillow fight with Brian - which stops as soon as Brian scores a direct hit to the face - then discovers an eight track of 'Sheer Heart Attack', punching it through the channels as he conducts the group. The two hours towards which they have channelled the day's energies are spent.

Ambition

That Queen have become a top attraction through a fair degree of plagiarism is amusing. Stealing is nothing new in rock (or any art for that matter) and mostly Queen use the borrowed material better than the originals. That they would be big I don't think anybody really doubted. All four have immense desire to be successful, and that kind of ambition will keep them slogging until they achieve it.

But there are popular heavy metal bands and there are popular h-m bands. From watching Queen's audience it is apparent that Queen speak for them in a way that bands such as the Who and the Stones and the Beatles spoke (and continue to speak) to their audience. Uriah Heep may be great at what they do, but five years after their demise who'll remember them? Creedence Clearwater Revival demonstrate the same thing - who remembers them? And yet five years ago they were the largest band in the world.

Queen will probably always be remembered, because as their tour is beginning to demonstrate, they have the ability to actualise and encompass the outer limits of their sense of self-importance. Queen and their music, presentation, production - everything about them says that they are more important than any other band you've every heard, and who has there been, so far, who has objected? Certainly not the 150,000 people (plus 20,000 a day) who bought 'Bohemian Rhapsody' in the first 20 days of its release. Certainly not me.

See you at Madison Square Garden.

[text © J. Ingham 2007; photos © Kate Simon]

~ You can see the photos which was mentioned on the article, from the link on the title. ~

[bucky-of-the-opera]

Pass the Popcorn

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Movie night with Steve takes a rough turn when neither him nor Y/N know if they’re on a date.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2,522

A/N: I was inspired by this post to write a movie date fic, so here it is! Enjoy!

Spring had finally arrived in Hawkins after a brutal winter. The last of the snow had melted, the scarves and mittens were discarded, and flowers were beginning to bloom.

Along with the changing of the season came the unlikely duo of you and Steve Harrington. After Steve’s breakup with Nancy and his old friends, he had become a completely different person than the one that Hawkins High had come to know. He was more approachable and less concerned about what his peers thought about him.

The two of you had been paired together for a science project back in January, to your dismay. But as you spent more time with him, you saw the changes within him. By the time you had finished the project, you would come to call Steve a friend.

Ever since then, Steve became a normal part of your life. He drove you to school, walked you to your classes, and made sure neither Billy nor anyone else ever messed with you.

On this particular day, you were sitting at your desk in your math class when a knock interrupted your teacher. The door opened to reveal none other than Steve Harrington, who was supposed to be in his history class.

“Sorry for the interruption, Mrs. Parker,” Steve said as he showed off a folded piece of paper in his hand. “I’ve got a letter from the office for,” he squinted at the paper, pretending to struggle with your last name, “Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, failing to hide a smile as your teacher waved him on and went back to her lecture.

Steve walked swiftly to your desk. He handed you the paper and gave you a wink before leaving the class just as abruptly as he had entered.

You unfolded the paper and read the message:

Wanna see a movie tonight? Yes/No

You did your best to stifle your laughter and quickly circled your answer.

Halfway through the class, you asked to be excused to use the restroom. Stuffing the paper in your pocket, you left the room. You rushed down the hall to where Steve’s classroom was and knocked on the door to announce your presence.

“I have a letter from the office for Steve Harrington,” you explained to the teacher.

Steve was resting his head in his hand as he watched you walk down the aisle. “Took you long enough,” he grinned at you before taking the paper.

You shook your head at him and left to return to your own classroom.

Steve quickly unfolded the paper and saw that you had circled Yes. He breathed a sigh of relief and tucked the paper away in his backpack.

When the bell rang, you stopped at your locker and then met him at your shared lab table in your science class. “You realize you could’ve just waited until now to ask me?”

“You’re saying you didn’t appreciate my pretty face distracting you from math?” he said, as if the word alone made him sick.

“You’re something else, Harrington,” you teased.

***

Later that night, Steve was fussing with his hair when the phone rang. He dropped his brush and ran to answer the call.

“You’ve got Harrington.”

Dustin shouted from the other end of the line, “Can you take me and Mike to the arcade?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Can’t your mom take you?”

“She’s out with her friends.”

“Well, you’ll have to find another ride. I’ve got plans.”

“With what friends?” Dustin asked.

“That’s uncalled for. But if you must know, I’ve got a date with Y/N.”

“With Y/N? Are you sure it’s a date?”

“Of course it’s a date!” But then Steve hesitated. “Why do you think it wouldn’t be?”

“I don’t know. I just thought you two were strictly platonic. But I guess you’ve proved me wrong.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek. “Mhmm. Well, anyway, I gotta finish getting ready for, uh, my date. Good luck with your thing.” He slammed the phone down and walked back to his bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror and gave himself a pep talk. “Henderson’s a kid. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. It’s definitely a date.”

Meanwhile, you were trying to decide what outfit to wear. It took a while, but you had finally found a winner. You walked downstairs to the living room to wait for Steve to arrive.

Your sister entered the room, joining you on the couch. “You actually clean up nice,” she teased. “Excited for your date?”

“What? I’m not going on a date. I’m going to the movies with Steve.”

“Exactly. You’re going out with a cute boy to ‘watch a movie’.” She said, making air quotes with her fingers.

You pushed her hands down. “Stop doing that. It’s not a date. I think I would know if I was going on a date with Steve Harrington.”

“Okay. If you say so.” She looked out the window and saw Steve’s car out front. “Looks like your non date is here.”

You groaned as you put on your coat and marched to the door. When you swung it open, you saw Steve was halfway to the porch.

His eyes widened when you shut the door behind you. “I was just coming to get you.”

“You didn’t have to; I could’ve just met you in the car.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Right. You look great by the way. Not that you don’t always look great. Because you do… always look great, I mean.” He spoke quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You patted his arm. “You look great too, Steve.”

The two of you walked to his car. You both placed your hands on the passenger side handle at the same time and then immediately pulled back.

“Oh, I was gonna get the door for you,” he explained.

“It’s really all right. You don’t have to fuss over me.”

He blushed. “Sure, yeah.”

Steve walked around to the driver’s side. Crap, he thought, Henderson was right. This isn’t a date.

You sat down in your seat, closing the door. Oh no; this is a date, you realized.

Steve sat down next to you and started his car. He pulled away from your house and drove out of the neighborhood.

The two of you sat in silence until you came to a red light and Steve began drumming his hands against the steering wheel.

“Do you have any music?” you asked to break the building tension.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I’ve got some tapes in the glove box.”

You popped it open and searched through the stack. One in particular caught your eye as you held it up. “I thought you said you didn't have this album?”

He momentarily eyed the tape in your hand before bringing his attention back to the road. “You kept talking about how much you loved it, so I went out and got a copy.”

You smiled to yourself and pushed the tape into the cassette player, fast forwarding to your favorite song.

The first few seconds began to play when Steve spoke, “This is the best song on the whole album.”

“Right?”

You and Steve sang along to the album for the remainder of the drive. He continuously switched between singing on and off key, making you laugh as he failed to hit the high notes. Eventually Steve turned onto a field, announcing your arrival.

Squinting, you peered out the window to see a giant screen with at least a dozen cars already parked. “You didn’t tell me we were going to a drive-in.”

“I didn’t?”

You shook your head. “I would’ve brought a blanket if you did.”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got that covered.” He pointed his thumb at the back seat, where you saw a few folded blankets.

“Dibs on the fuzzy one!” You grabbed it as Steve drove up to the ticket booth. You took out the money you had shoved in your pocket earlier and tried to hand it to Steve who waved your hand away.

“It’s on me.”

You huffed and shoved the money back in your money. “Fine. But I’m paying for snacks.”

He parked the car and turned the engine off. You were already wrapped in your blanket with your seat reclined.

“You look cozy,” he said, chuckling.

Your eyes were closed as you responded. “Wake me up when the movie starts.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll just go pick out the snacks by myself.” He opened the door as you grabbed his arm.

“Wait, I’m coming. I have to make sure you get the right snacks.”

“How can I possibly mess up movie snacks?” he asked.

“You need to abide by the movie food groups.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “The what?”

“You need a salty food, a sweet food, and a drink. You can’t load up on just candy or just popcorn.”

“I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions on the matter.”

You scoffed. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

Steve rolled his eyes, despite the amused grin on his face. He stepped out of the car as you joined him to walk to the concession stand. His hand bumped yours as you walked. You thought maybe he was trying to grab ahold of it, but he immediately moved further away from you. You shoved your hands in your pockets and tried to put the thought behind you.

“Why don’t you order for us so I don’t ruin your movie viewing experience,” he teased.

“With pleasure,” you said as you stepped up to the window.

Minutes later you were back in the car with a large tub of popcorn, several boxes of candy, and drinks. The blankets from the backseat were now strewn across you both.

You grabbed a fistful of popcorn. “You know, I don’t actually remember the last time I saw a movie at a drive-in. I was probably really little.”

“Oh man, I used to come here all the time on dates – er days with nice weather.” Nice save, jackass, Steve thought. He picked up his drink and shoved the straw in his mouth to shut himself up.

You ignored his comment, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. When Steve had picked you up, you had practically convinced yourself that he was taking you on a date. But now you weren’t so sure.

Moments later the screen flickered to life, so you were able to stop yourself from thinking too much about Steve’s mannerisms.

As the movie played, Steve kept glancing over at you. Every time he snuck a peek, you were seemingly enthralled by the movie. However, he didn’t realize that you were sneaking glances at him whenever he switched his attention back to the screen. And multiple times throughout the movie, your hand had accidentally brushed Steve’s hand as you both reached for the popcorn. But you both immediately pulled away. At one point, you and Steve had given up on paying attention to the movie and were just focusing on looking like you were paying attention.

When it had finally ended, you sat up, stretching your arms over your head as the blanket fell to your lap. Some of the other moviegoers began driving away as Steve turned his head toward you.

“What did you think?” he asked.

“Uh, it was great. The ending was the best part,” you lied.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, definitely,” he lied. “It’s getting pretty late, I should take you home.” He threw his blanket and the empty popcorn tub and candy boxes into the backseat, and then started the car, pulling onto the street.

The drive back was quiet; the only sound coming from the music, which was set on low, and Steve’s humming. Minutes later he had parked the car on your driveway and turned the music off. His hands still gripped the wheel as he tapped his fingers.

“So, maybe I’ll see you this weekend?”

You were quiet for a moment, wringing your hands in thought. You bit your lip as you asked the question you had been pondering all night. “Was this a date?”

Steve’s hands slipped off the wheel, and he accidentally honked the car horn. “Um, I, uh–”

“Because my sister seemed to think that this was a date. But it wasn't, was it?”

“Did you, I mean… did you want this to be a date?”

“Well, did you?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Yes.”

You turned to face him, but he was still staring straight ahead through the windshield.

“I actually thought that this was a date at first,” he continued. “But then Henderson got in my head, and I convinced myself that it wasn’t.”

“If this was a date, what would you have done?”

Steve finally looked at you, a small smile on his face. He grabbed a large blanket from the backseat, rolled the windows down, and turned the music back on. Then he exited the car and jogged over to your side to open the door and take your hand. He led you to the hood of his car, helping you climb onto it. After sliding onto the hood next to you, Steve draped the blanket over you both and wrapped his arm around you, as you moved your head to rest on his chest.

“You’re good at this,” you said, bringing his hand up to rest over your heart and weaving your fingers through his.

He brought his other arm around you, holding you closer as he pressed a smile against the top of your head. The two of you stayed like that for a few songs until either of you spoke again.

You turned a bit in his arms so you could face him. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you for coming. I promise next time will be better, no awkward beginning.”

“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” you said, biting the inside of your cheek to hold a smile.

Steve narrowed his eyes at you. “Are you yanking my chain?”

“Does this answer your question?” You closed the distance between you both, pressing your lips to his for a brief moment and then pulling away, your noses still touching.

“That definitely answered my question,” he whispered before finding your lips with his again. His hands traveled down to your waist as you brought your hand up to rest on his cheek. You felt his fingers graze your skin as he moved them slightly underneath the hem of your shirt. Your hand on his cheek trailed upward into his hair, pulling slightly on the strands. Steve tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, his grip tightening on your waist. A sudden gust of wind made you shiver, and you broke the kiss to bury your face into the crook of his neck while he held you tighter.

“You should go inside before it gets any colder,” he said, rubbing your arms to warm you.

“Do you wanna come over tomorrow?” you mumbled.

Steve kissed the top of your head before resting his cheek on top of it. “It’s a date.”

[paintedwithapalette]

Monsters Incorporated could be a ticking bomb waiting to happen at times. With its reliance on laughter to fuel their city, it wasn’t entirely uncommon that they’d receive laughter so powerful and potent that it would cause a shortage. This was one of those times. At least, for the upper floors of the massive complex where some sort of outage had taken place, and considering the CEO of the company had Boo with him, he didn’t want to turn her visit into a mess of running from floor to floor like the last time she was there. As much as he and his best friend loved her, they didn’t want Boo slowing them down either. They thought it might be best if she stayed in the lower levels where the power was, thankfully, still intact. 

The good news for Mike Wazowksi and James P. Sulliven was that a certain fuzzy exterminator who carried an oversized key was in the neighborhood. Though, this time he didn’t have the one-eyed duck and green dog with heterochromia iridum accompanything him. Instead, it was an unfamiliar girl wearing a stylish pink dress with her periwinkle fur, large paws, four eyes, and horns. It was a far cry from the much more outlandish looks of Donald and Goofy they remembered. 

After a quick introduction to Kairi and thanking the two for stopping by to do them a favor, Mike and Sulley scurried off to reach one of the main generators on one of the upper floors, leaving Sora and Kairi to care for Boo themselves, They entered Sulley’s office where the two had left Boo to play with her dolls while they stepped outside to have a chat with Sora and Kairi. 

“Boo?” Sora asked no one in particular. The room seemed fairly standard for an office: a desk located in the back with a computer and shelves of books surely collecting dust. “Anyone home?” 

As Sora and Kairi stepped further inside and searched the room for any signs of the young girl, Sora accidentally stepped on a doll and carefully picked it up. 

“This must be hers,” Sora concluded. 

“Do you think she’s okay?” Kairi asked, concern painted on her face. 

Sora didn’t say anything. Monsters Inc. was a big place and there was no telling where she could have gone. Boo was a sweetheart but she could be a troublemaker as well if left unsupervised. Sora crossed his arms and closed his eyes, contemplating what their next move should be. 

“Boo!” 

“AGH!” Sora yelled, wincing. 

When the dust settled, he saw the culprit reveal herself from behind Sulley’s desk, covering her mouth with both hands as she giggled at the reaction she was delighted to have witnessed from Sora. 

“Whoa, Boo! Where’d you come from?” Sora asked. 

Kairi laughed. “Looks like someone got a little spooked.” 

Sora cleared his throat and rubbed right under his nose. “Yeah, scared that you’d get hurt,” he excused poorly.  

Kairi gave a knowing smirk. “Yeah, sure.” 

When Boo looked at Kairi, she tilted her head at the unfamiliarity of her. Kairi recognized the little girl’s uncertainty and hunched over with a friendly wave. “Hi, there! You must be Boo. My name is Kairi. I’m Sora’s girlfriend.” 

Despite the validity of her bold statement, Sora couldn’t help but blush with a goofy smile lingering on his face that was only concealed thanks to his fur. Boo wasn’t sure what exactly a “girlfriend” was but she assumed it was something similar to Mommy and Daddy. With a giggle, she ran towards Kairi, talking to her as if she could understand whatever gibberish she spewed as she took her hand. 

“You are just the cutest little thing,” Kairi cooed as she picked up Boo. “And probably a lot braver than Mr. Scaredy Cat over here.”  

“Whaaaat?” Sora said. “I am not. I mean, okay...” he crossed his arms. “Some of the monsters around this place kinda give me the heebie-jeebies, but... I wouldn’t say I’m a scaredy cat.” 

Kairi sent him a teasing smirk. 

“What?!” he said defensively. 

Kairi laughed, settling into a sigh. “Oh, Sora. Remember when you and Riku would come over and we’d steal scary movies from my parent’s room to watch at midnight? You pretty much hid under the blankets the whole time and couldn’t sleep with the light off for a week.” 

“I was seven!” 

Kairi shook her head, the smile on her face never leaving. “You haven’t changed a bit. Even your monster form looks non-threatening.” 

“Huh? No way! I can totally be scary when I wanna be. Right, Boo?”

The only thing that came to mind for Boo was the unforgettable Funny Face Special that cracked her up the last time he visited. “Scary” was the last thing her developing brain categorized Sora as by any means. She giggled just thinking about it. 

“Aww, no. Not you too, Boo!” Sora dropped his head in shame. 

“Then it’s settled,” Kairi concluded as she and Boo laughed. 

“Hmmm.” Sora folded his arms and looked to the ceiling, thinking to himself until an idea came to him. Maybe if he scared Boo, it would show just how intimidating he could be. With a sinister-looking grin, Sora raised his hands and wiggled his fingers, a low growl murmuring under his breath. 

However, what Sora perceived to be a sinister smile came off more as a silly, non-threatening look Boo assumed was meant to be as funny as it looked and once again rewarded Sora with affectionate laughter. 

While Sora loved making her happy, he wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong either. He spent the next ten minutes doing whatever he could to make Boo at least a little fearful; he made every face he could possibly muster, but they all resulted in either blank, confused stares or laughing frenzies from the girls. 

A lightbulb popped over his head as an idea came to mind. “Stay right here,” Sora requested as he hurriedly turned off the lights, blanketing the three of them in complete darkness. 

“Boooooooo,” Sora sang in a deep, haunting voice. “I seeeeeee youuuuuuu.” 

Sora couldn’t see it, but Boo’s lips quivered. Thankfully, she had Kairi to hold onto tight, making the dark not as scary as it normally would’ve been. Sora carefully and quietly crept around the office. 

“Boooooooooo,” Sora echoed. 

“Kitty?” Boo said in hopes of her favorite monster friend coming to her rescue at any moment. 

Sora stealthily crept closer to where he pinpointed where Kairi stood and snuck behind her. He lifted his finger, ready to tap Boo on the shoulder in hopes of giving her a good fright, but instead, Boo heard him at the last second and grabbed his finger just before he could touch her.  

“Boo!” she said. 

“WHOA!” Sora cried,  rushing back to turn the lights back on. Kairi howled with laughter at how poorly Sora’s plan backfired. He groaned. Maybe that was what he deserved, trying to scare a little girl just to prove a point. Still, as he watched Boo laugh heartily with Kairi knowing that he was the cause, it did make him feel warm and fuzzy inside. . 

“I guess you’re just too cute to be scary, Sora,” Kairi teased. “Just stick to what you do best, okay?” 

Sora smiled. Kairi was right. If anything, he was more glad to have been able to bring Boo such joy rather than be the reason she would have a nightmare that night. “Looks like you win, Boo,” Sora said. “You’re tough! Guess nothing ever gets you down, huh?” 

Boo only responded with more giggles before she spoke a set of words he wasn’t expected. “Funny Face! Funny Face!” 

“Huh?” Sora questioned aloud. To his surprise, she really did remember that from the last time he visited. 

“Funny Face?” Kairi asked. “Oh, you mean like when you first met Donald and Goofy, right?” 

Sora rubbed the back of his furry head with a bashful smile. “Ah, I guess you would remember that, huh?” 

“Yup!” Kairi affirmed with a laugh. “And honestly, I’d like to see it, too.” 

“Well, I guess I can’t disappoint,” Sora said. He set his feet, tied his hands behind his back, dipped his head down with an imaginary drum roll playing in his mind before he shot back up with his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head, showing off his pearly whites. 

Just like last time, Boo laughed like a little madwoman. Kairi found the sight amusing as well, it was her first time seeing this face from a third-party’s perspective rather than when she was inside his heart when he first did it. 

Sora chuckled. “Hey, Kairi, give it a try!” 

“Oh, m-me?” Kairi asked. 

“Sure! Let’s see how silly you can be.” 

“Well, I guess I can give it a try,” Kairi said. She turned Boo in her arms to give her a better look at her before she dipped her head down, imaginary drum roll and all, before she lifted her head with her crossed-eyes pupils and her tongue sticking out. “Neeeeeeeeee!” 

Boo was hit with gut-wrenching laughter she couldn’t contain, tears leaking from the little girl’s eyes as the deadly combo of both Sora and Kairi sending her the silliest faces they could manifest was too much for her to handle. Before long, Sora and Kairi noticed the lights in the room beginning to flicker at a rapid rate. They ceased their onslaught of silly faces, but Boo didn’t stop laughing at the fresh memories. 

Pop! 

In an instant, the lights cut off and shards of glass from the broken lightbulb crashed onto the floor, thankfully out of reach to not hurt Boo but close enough to make Kairi let out a slight shriek. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

Sora nearly forgot that laughter was what fueled the city of Monstropolis. Having Boo laugh so much must have caused some sort of overload. He chuckled nervously. “I think we might have gone a bit too far.” 

Before Kairi could ask a question, they heard Mike Wazowksi’s muffled voice from the other side of the door. “See, Sull? What’d I tell ya? That generator was a piece of cake. Still, where’s the electrician when you need ‘em?” 

“You probably could’ve used the exercise yourself, Butterball,” Sulley replied as the two entered the office only to find that it was pitch black. 

“Uh, guys? You in here?” Mike asked. 

“Yeah, Mike,” Sora said, leading Kairi outside into the light of the hallway. 

“You guys playing hide and seek?” Sulley asked. 

Sora rubbed the back of his head. “I, uh... think you guys might need a new lightbulb.” 

“What the heck is that s’posed to mean?” Mike asked. “What in the world were you two doin’ to make Sull’s whole office pitch black?” 

“Making Boo laugh,” Sora admitted bashfully. 

“Yeah, like this!” Kairi said, offering a demonstration as she made a similar face from before. 

Sora, Mike, and Sulley reached out their hands dramatically. “Kairi, no!” all three said a variation of. 

But it was too late. Boo went into another burst of laughter and before they knew it, the hallway lights flickered and after another resounding pop, they stood in the midst of darkness. 

“Oops,” Kairi squeaked. “Sorry... I didn’t think her laughs were that powerful.” 

“But if the entire hallway blacked out, then does that mean...?” Sora prodded. 

Sulley sighed. “You guys think you might wanna take a trip down to the generator in the basement?” 

Mike nearly had a heart attack. “OH, FOR THE LOVE OF—”

Fin. 

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Definitely one of my sillier and lighter pieces for this week! Lol the adorable full piece will be posted by @amyhayanora​, so check her out!