Steve has done interviews before. Like, a lot of interviews. YouTube, podcasts, print, TV stuff. Not as a brag, or anything, just. He's been an influencer for a long time, for better or worse, and it's part of the deal.
Usually, he's comfortable in front of the camera. Usually, he's poised and well-spoken. But today, this time, sweat pools under his arms and beads along his hairline, the lights beating down on him in a harsh glare.
"Steve Harrington," Murray Bauman crosses his legs, smiles big for the cameras. "It's been a while."
He smiles too, tries to seem like he's not about to have a panic attack. "I've been a little busy."
Murray laughs and it's then that Steve understands how screwed he really is. Murray's show, it's all glitz and glamour on the surface; mixed drinks and hijinks until the celebrity guests lose their inhibitions, admitting things they probably wanted to keep secret.
It's just that, before, Steve didn't have any salacious rumors to worry about, and now--
"You've had a rough year, Steve, yeah?"
"Not my best, for sure." He leans back, tries to seem calm, unbothered.
"I was sorry to hear about your divorce. I think that announcement really took a lot of people by surprise."
His hands clench, but he manages not to shift or bounce his leg. "Thanks for, uh. Yeah. We were also sorry it didn't work out."
Murray nods, face full of sympathy. "You and Nancy, you'd been together since high school? That's almost--what? 15 years?"
"It's--" he clears his throat. "About that long." Steve takes a sip of the drink next to him, an apple martini that's both too sweet and too strong.
"Am I right to assume that you didn't see it coming?"
And isn't that a question? Sure, now in hindsight, he can see the fractures that lead to the end, but six months ago did he--it's all so--what if all along--
"All marriages have rough patches," is what he says. "We just couldn't come out of ours as a couple."
"Do you know what I've found really remarkable about this phase of your life? The content and tone of your videos in the midst of the maelstrom of rumors and gossip didn't change at all. 'Your kids' as you call them, are still as bright and vibrant as ever. You're laughing, dancing, cooking, having a great time."
"I needed that--that normalcy you know? And the kids, they're such an important part of my life, having them around helped."
"Including Nancy's brother, Mike?"
Steve laughs and it's not fake. "Totally including Mike. My relationship with Nancy has nothing to do with my relationship with him."
"He's kind of an antagonist--would you say?--in your videos, though."
"We have conflict sometimes, but it's never serious. We know how to play it up for laughs."
"So, nothing's changed between you?"
"Not at all."
"The cheating rumors." Murray's smile is soft, but all the air still leaves the room.
"What about them?" It's more combative than he means, but--
"Did Nancy cheat on you with Jonathan Byers?"
He swallows and it hurts. She did cheat, is the thing. It's not public information, still only speculation, but--
"You can't believe everything you read, Murray."
"So, she didn't cheat?" There's a glow to Murray's eyes that tells Steve he already knows the answer.
"Like, I said before, marriages are hard. We spent a lot of time apart because of our jobs. It took a toll."
"And she was traveling with Jonathan, yes? He's been her photographer for the past decade, from what I understand."
"They were co-workers, but we're all close. And those rumors didn't help our relationship, for sure. It's--not easy to hear that a bunch of people think your wife and close friend may be having an affair, that people 'ship' them. Even when it's not true, it creates--"
"Tension? Distrust?"
"Both, probably." He takes another drink as he nods. "After a while you do start to wonder if there's truth to it, and you're too ignorant or too--too trusting to see it."
"And it eroded the relationship."
"It certainly didn't help." He takes another drink.
"And how about your relationship with Jonathan's brother, Will. Has that been impacted?"
"Of course not. Never. Whatever happens between Nancy, Jonathan, and I, it has nothing to do with the kids. They know that.
"You talked about it."
"Yes. Extensively."
"I know there's often speculation on the relationship you have with them; if you're really close or it's all for the cameras."
"Murray." He leans forward. "We've talked about this before. I met Dustin through Mike, and the whole group followed. I've known them all since they were 8 years old. They're--I mean, not to be cliche, but they're my family." He sips the last bit of martini.
"And where does Eddie Munson fit into that family?"
The question shouldn't be a surprise, but he almost does a spit take, has to fight to keep it together.
"Eddie?"
"Yes." Murray's smile is chilling. "Your close friend Eddie Munson. Musician. Plays Dungeons and Dragons on YouTube. You made out with him in a music video. Ringing any bells?"
"I'm familiar with Eddie," his grin is rigid. "I don't know what that has to do with my marriage ending."
"Well, the rumors weren't all about Nancy, were they?"
"Eddie and I have--we became mutuals online years and years ago. I used one of his songs in a video and the kids are obsessed with his dnd stuff, so. We've become close."
"Friends?"
"Isn't that implied?"
"After that music video, I don't think so."
Steve rolls his eyes, lets the irritation show for the first time. "He asked me to be in his video. There's nothing scandalous about it."
"What's your relationship with Eddie right now?"
"Like I said, friends."
"Do you want it to be more than that?"
"Eddie's really important to me."
"Is that all?"
"Not really sure what you want me to say here, Murray."
"You were married to a woman for years, but now there are questions about your sexuality."
He grits his teeth. "My sexuality isn't anyone's business aside my own. People can say shit on Twitter all they want, that doesn't mean they know me. But--the end of my marriage--it definitely gave me the space for self-discovery, I guess? In a way I hadn't had before."
"And is Eddie a part of that self-discovery?"
"Yeah, as one of my closest friends, he is."
"Do you have feelings for him?"
"That's--that's not--I'm going through a divorce. My focus isn't on starting another relationship right now."
"You, famously, tattooed your initials on the inside of his thigh during an Instagram live. That's pretty intimate."
"We were just having a little fun."
"Huh. That seems like more than 'a little fun' to me. So, how's Eddie doing with the increased attention?"
It takes Steve a second to track the change of subject, mind still stuck on the tattoo, on how the ink had looked on Eddie's pale skin.
"It's hard." Steve eventually answers. "Of course he enjoys bringing his music and dnd to a wider audience, but the focus on his personal life is--it's a lot."
"Well, he should have thought about before letting you tattoo him for your 850,000 followers. Does he want a relationship with you?"
His throat is dry, burning, he wishes he had more martini. He wishes he'd never taken a sip. "You'd have to ask him. I'm just taking it day by day, you know? That's what I need right now."
"We're getting to the end of our time, but you know I have to ask. Your best friend, Robin Buckley, she very famously unfollowed both Nancy and Jonathan on all social media when news broke about your divorce. Can you tell us why she unfollowed them?"
"I have no control over Robin's accounts. I didn't even know she followed Jonathan ever, and she and Nancy have a relationship outside of me, you know? I can't say what happened between them."
"She's been in your videos with Eddie. She like him?"
"Very much. It's kind of annoying actually. They keep ganging up on me."
"Much to everyone's delight, I'm sure. So, what can we expect from the newly single Steve Harrington?"
"There are a couple things in the works, but only time will tell."
---
He walks through his front door an hour later, and Eddie's sitting on the couch, playing a soft melody on an acoustic guitar. He stops when he sees Steve, setting the guitar aside, and standing.
"How'd it go, baby?" He asks. His soft smile is so beautiful, Steve gets a lump in his throat.
"As expected." He crosses the space between them, lets Eddie pull him close.
"He ask about us?" Eddie's breath tickles his ear.
"Of course."
"And you--"
"I want--it should be just for us. We should be able to announce when we're ready. Not when Murray-fucking-Bauman asks."
Eddie kisses him, then, sweet and slow, making him lose his breath.
"Whenever you're ready, I'll be right by your side."
"You sure? All my mess--"
"Is mine too. Afraid you're stuck with me for the long haul, Steve Harrington."
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Spencer Reid X Reader Fluff
In which a certain doctor asks you out for halloween weekend.
“Those who can dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.”
-Edgar Allan Poe.
There is a certain comfort that can be found in books. The written word creates an alternate reality in which your worries and stress can be forgotten. Even though physically, all you can see are letters on a page, you find friendship among the characters, wonder among the civilizations, and a home in a theoretical land that you will never get to touch.
There is a structure within novels. Every story has a start and end point, a climax and a resolution. Even when times get tough and your heart gets shattered, you know there is a happy ending. Perhaps this is why they draw you in.
A happy ending is a concept that keeps you moving. It keeps you standing, even when life stands on your doorstep threatening to blow your house down.
It made sense that you would grow up to work in a library. When literary icons become easier to relate to and connect with than real people, it makes sense that you would surround yourself with them all day.
What you never expected, however, was that these icons would one day push you to make connections with another broken soul, another person who believed that books were easier to bond with than people.
It started four years ago…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hello the-” you jumped at the sudden appearance of the man next to you, dropping the pile of books you were sorting back onto the shelves.
“Oh! I’m so sorry. Let me help.” He immediately bent down to retrieve the fallen treasures. However, you were already bending down, causing you both to bump heads.
“Jesus-”
“I am so sorry-” You both spoke at the same time, clutching your heads. You quickly gathered the books and set them aside, turning towards the stranger and giving him your full attention.
He seemed taken aback, a slight tinge of color in his cheeks. He opened his mouth a few times, as if he were about to say something, only to quickly shut it again.
“What can I help you with?”
This seemed to snap him out of his daze, he immediately lowered his eyes and pulled out a slip of crumpled paper.
“Yes. I was looking for this book. I tried finding it myself but it wasn’t in the spot it should be. I’m filling in for a lecture today and it was something I was looking into for the class. I know it’s extremely last minute, but I just found out I was even going to be able to attend this lecture. My schedule is normally far too busy to allow myself the free time to be able to do so, but somehow I was able to clear some space for it. If you could check to see if you still have it that would be great, but I also now see that you’re busy so I can just go ask someone else. I’m sorry I really shouldn’t have bothered you. Now I’m just taking up more of your time by explaining things that you probably didn’t even need to know…”
Your eyes widen at the sudden information dump this stranger had just landed on you. Before even giving you the chance to speak he moved to walk away and find another associate to ask for help. Lunging forward, you grabbed the sleeve to his sweater, noticing the way the cuffs looked worn out and stretched, as if he had been pulling on them.
“Come to the front with me and we can look into it.” Without giving him an opportunity to deny your services, you lead him towards the front desk, not letting go of his sweater. Surprisingly, he let you lead him forward.
You finally released him, leaving him staring at the newly stretched area that matches the cuffs. You typed aggressively on the decades old keyboard as he told you the name of the book he was looking for.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news here but it does look like someone checked it out less than an hour ago.” You glance up at him, not missing the slightly disappointed look on his face.
Something about that look irks you, you don’t even know this guy’s name but you feel the urge to help him.
“Oh…okay. That’s okay. Thank you anyways, I’m sorry I wasted your tim-”
“I have a spare copy in my apartment if you need one. Wait… not that I’m inviting you into my apartment… I just meant that I could go grab it for you if you need a copy. I understand being in a time crunch, you would be surprised at the amount of last minute events I have had to accommodate while working here,” You add as you pick your nails nervously, watching his face for a reaction.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re in the middle of work. It’s okay, really,” He murmurs. You notice he starts tugging on his cuffs.
You ignore his protests, “What time is the lecture? I get off in 20 minutes and can meet you on campus. Before you can argue again, I’ve already decided I’m doing this. You’ll find I can be very hard to sway.”
His cheeks turn a lovely rosy shade again as he stutters out, “It starts at 6, but I was planning on getting there at 5 to give myself time to prepare.”
Hearing exactly what you needed too, you raise your hand across the desk. “I’ll meet you in the library then.”
He hesitates, staring at your outstretched hand. Quietly, he adds, “Handshakes are extremely unsanitary. There is an extremely high level of pathogens passed during them. It would actually be safer to kiss someone rather than shake their hand.”
After realizing what he said you both are glancing at your feet. You can feel your cheeks warming and are sure his are the same.
As if realizing his error he attempts to correct himself, stuttering, “I- I only meant that-”
“I know what you meant. It's okay.” You let out a nervous chuckle.
“I have to go. I’ll, um, I’ll meet you there.” He rushes out the door before you get a chance to catch this stranger's name. Laughing to yourself at this odd encounter, you return to your forgotten friends and resume placing them on the shelves.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Georgetown University library was always one of your favorites. Even the dark corners that would normally scare people away offered you a sense of comfort that you couldn’t deny.
Even with the oddness of the day, you somehow found yourself incredibly calm at the idea of meeting a somewhat stranger, whose name you didn’t even know, to hand over a book you have spent countless hours scanning, annotating and highlighting the contents of.
You find said stranger wandering in between some of the shelves, looking closely at the spines in front of him.
Taking a moment to watch him, you noticed his long hair that he kept tucked behind his ears, not missing the lock that kept falling into his face. He repeatedly tucked it back, the action looking so mindless it is clear it's something he does often. He was wearing converse, not matching the formal look of the rest of his attire. It seemed out of place, yet somehow fit together. As he examined a book from the shelf, you watched him flip through so quickly you thought he was just skimming, only to realize the intense stare he held proving he was deeply invested in whatever it was. It was a feeling you were all too familiar with, getting lost in another world hidden between the pages.
Smiling, you walked over quietly, not wanting to disturb his focus. You stopped in front of him, still somehow unable to notice you he goes to flip the next page.
“Hello there.”
This startles him, you giggle slightly as he drops the book he was holding. Both reaching down to pick up the fallen literature, you bump heads.
“Wow this situation seems oddly familiar,” you laughed as he grabbed the book from the ground. When he stands back up his cheeks are flushed again and he quickly places the book back in its designated spot on the shelf.
“I- um… So you were able to find the book?” He stuttered out, swallowing roughly.
“All yours professor.” You pulled the item out of your bag, offering it to him hesitantly.
“I’m not an actual professor. I actually work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico. I’m just here as a guest speaker. It’s something I do for fun when I have the time.” He gently takes the book out of your hands, fingers being careful not to brush yours as he takes it.
“So Agent?”
“Doctor.”
“Doctor…?”
He stares at you for a few minutes with his eyebrows pushed together, titling his head.
“Nevermind.” You giggled. “So you still have about forty minutes to kill before your lecture. How would you feel about a pre-speech coffee?” You drop your gaze to your shoes once more, pulling at the loose thread on your sweater.
“That sounds great actually.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You never would have thought that he was a 1% coffee 99% sugar kind of guy, but here you were watching the not-so-strange-stranger dump 10 packets of sugar into his coffee. Your lip formed a hard line and your eyebrows were attempting to shoot for the stars as you watched him take a sip and not throw up from the unholy amount of sweetness that he had concocted.
“Are you okay?” He asks. The man creased his eyebrows looking at you, searching your face for signs of illness.
“Would you like some coffee with that sugar?” You chuckled.
His eyebrows pushed together, a look of concern forming until you pointed to his coffee cup. His mouth morphed into an “O” shape and he looked down as you both moved towards the area he was speaking at.
“I like it sweet,” he whispered.
“Sweet would be an understatement.” You laughed at his reaction.
“You’re drinking black coffee,” He said it like a statement, a tone of finality following his words.
“I prefer black.”
“Loneliness is a black coffee and late night television; solitude is herb tea and soft music,” he muttered as you approached the door.
“Solitude, quality solitude, is an assertion of self-worth, because only in the stillness can we hear our own unique voices. Pearl Cleage,” you finished his quote.
He glanced sideways at you, eyes wide. “I- uh-”
“I work in a library and have a PhD. in English literature. I can recognize quotes from my icons doctor.” You smirk as he stumbles over his feet.
Before he is able to continue you both arrive at the classroom he will be presenting in. He turns to you, still not quite meeting your eyes and pulls on his sweater again.
“Thank you for the book…and the coffee. I'll-uh be sure to return it to the library.”
You go to agree but the words die on your lips. Somehow the idea of today’s strange events ending unsettles you. You could easily leave and let him return the book to your workplace. He knows where it is clearly. But without even a name you are unsure you will ever see him again. Telling yourself it is out of concern for your belongings, you speak.
“Actually, I was thinking about sticking around and listening in…if that's okay?” Now it is your turn to stare anywhere but his face. “That way I can make sure it doesn’t get lost in the library's books, you know?”
He hesitates for a moment and opens his mouth to speak, thinking better of it he simply offers a smile and nods, rushing inside to get set up. You follow a group of students inside and find a seat, waiting to see the action.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the last student clears out you return from your daze you had found yourself in while listening to the man’s lecture. You found yourself admiring his nervous tics and the way he paced the front as he discussed behavioral analysis and criminology. You also didn’t miss the way his eyes somehow found yours, as if making sure you were still there, every so often. It was an interesting lecture, but perhaps the most interesting part about all of this was that you finally knew the stranger’s name.
“Doctor Spencer Reid.”
He glanced up from his belongings that he was quickly packing up, confused, “what?”
“I finally learned your name,” you smiled.
He returned the smile. It was genuine and broad, transforming his entire face. Crinkles formed around his eyes and a dimple complimented the upturned direction of his lips. As if realizing you were staring at his lips you cleared your throat and tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks.
“Here’s your book back…thank you.” He extended the subject of today’s debacle. Hesitantly, you took it, although this time you noticed your fingers brush against one another and shockingly, he didn’t immediately pull away. Checking your watch you quickly put the book back in your bag and looked back at him.
“I have to get going, it's getting a little late, but thank you for the lecture and the entertainment,” offering him the most sincere smile you could pull off you added, “Spencer.”
With that, you turned and began walking out the room but not before you heard him protest.
“Hey, wait. You never gave me your name either.”
Not stopping, just casting a glance over your shoulder, you offered back, “You’re a behavior analyst who works for the FBI, I’m sure you can figure it out.” Walking out the door you leave the doctor, who for once looked at a loss for words.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been four years since then. Spencer began frequenting the library shortly after, finding excuses to come in and read something new. Somewhere along the way he developed a knack for bringing you coffee as well. A trade-off of sorts, coffee for books and company. You couldn’t deny the friendship you both had, or how much it meant to you both.
Walking around the pumpkin and ghost covered library you hummed a happy tune. Halloween was always your favorite time of year. The temperature dropped and spirits were raised as everyone anticipated ideas for costumes, how much candy they would get, or what parties they planned on attending. For you, however, it was the aesthetic of it all. The changing of the leaves, the pumpkin carving, the pumpkin spice everything. You sometimes find yourself wanting to share it all with someone.
Spencer walks in just then, interrupting your thoughts with promises of caffeine. You drop your task at hand and meet him halfway.
“Please tell me you have brought coffee, otherwise I might just die on the spot Spencer.” You take the cup from him as he chuckles slightly, seeming to be in a good mood today. Halloween was something the two of you both shared a love for.
“You do know the average human is only supposed to consume four cups of coffee a day? I’m assuming this will be at least your sixth.” He gives you a pointed look with his eyebrows raised expectedly. “But yes, there is caffeine in there.”
You smile triumphantly and take a sip, “and this is why you are my favorite professor-slash-agent-slash-doctor there ever was.”
His cheeks turn pink and he looks down. Giggling at his reaction, you nudge his foot.
“So what brings you here today doc?”
“You know, the origins of halloween are incredibly fascinating, it’s one of the most popular holidays, only rivaled by Christmas. It’s a sort of melting pot for a lot of different traditions from different cultures, but I always liked the idea that the Celtics and Europeans believed it was the one night a year that ghosts and spirits could walk the Earth again. This was what started the tradition of wearing costumes and masks, so that people couldn’t be recognized by the ghosts.”
You did know all of this, but you weren’t going to kill his mood like that, so instead you simply smiled along. “And here I thought halloween was all pumpkins and spice and everything nice.”
His attention seemed elsewhere for a minute, he gave a sad smile and turned back to face you, “not always.”
“Don’t worry doc,” you nudge him slightly. “I’ll protect you from the ghosts and goblins.”
He stares at you for a moment, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something. You notice a slight pink color creep up his neck and he looks down before speaking again.
“So what are your Halloween weekend plans?”
“Still toying with a few ideas. There's always so much going on, it’s hard to choose to be honest.” You returned to your desk, sorting through a stack of discarded books. “What about you?”
You notice he hesitates, toying with the sleeves on his shirt. The pink has turned into a lovely shade of crimson that has you holding back a smile before he pushes forward, “There is actually a reenactment showing the nineteenth century phantasmagoria that I was looking into. It was invented in France and was basically a pre-cinema projected ghost show in which the showman attempted to spook the audience using science magic. I- I, uh, I have an extra ticket if maybe you’d want to possibly come with me. If you aren’t busy, but you also said you were thinking about doing something so it’s okay if you say no.”
You drop the book you were holding with a very loud thud on your desk. “Shut. up.”
Spencer finally looks up confused, you interrupt him by grabbing your purse from behind you, pulling out two tickets. You show them off with a laugh.
“I have an extra ticket to the Edgar Allen Poe shadow puppet show. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come with me. I didn’t know anyone else that would be interested in old man, creepy poetry shadow puppets.”
He immediately looks relieved. “We could always do both? They’re at separate times. Maybe even take a break for some dinner? If you want too…obviously you don’t have too.”
“Spencer Reid, are you asking me out on a date?” You covered the feeling of your cheeks heating up with a smirk, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Spencer was by no means unattractive, and at this point you had both definitely gotten to know each other on a pretty familiar level. You both had even hung out outside of the library before. But taking that next step had never been something either of you had even talked about.
“I- uh- Well… I-” Suddenly the human robot began to malfunction before your eyes and you couldn’t help but cackle at his response. He coughed roughly and pushed out his next words, “If that’s okay with you?”
Something about how nervous he was only made the butterflies worse, but truthfully you knew there was always a fondness for the man that existed on a deeper level than just friends. You were on a first name basis with each other’s skeleton’s and never shied away from the closets they hid in. It had taken a while for you each to get that comfortable, both too scared by your own trauma to think about sharing it with someone else. Truthfully you didn’t think you trusted anyone more with your heart.
“Only took you four years to ask doc.”
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