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the-ace-with-spades · 7 months

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(another unfinished post i found on the way to glasgow - that was the longest train ride in my life - I'm sorry in advance)

When Ice finally passes away, at the age of 73, in his sleep, Bradley moves Mav into their house the same day.

He gets the call in the morning, while trying to simultaneously cook Jake's breakfast and try to make their daughter put on a rain jacket. It's not Mav, but someone from the hospital. Jake doesn't know this — Bradley's face twitches only for a second and then he's back to the nagging, relaxing tone and telling their daughter it's raining and it won't stop. Jake only finds out when he comes back home from the school drop-off and Mav is already there on their couch. Jake doesn't even get the full explanation until that night, just a quick, "Ice passed away overnight."

There's only their three youngest living with them at the time — their 18-year-old daughter who attends UC San Diego, and their 15-year-old son who is still in high school, and their 7-year-old daughter — so Mav takes one of the vacant bedrooms.

The first few nights, Bradley sleeps in the same bed with him. Neither of them looks like they get much sleep. They don't really eat, either, just drink coffee and nibble on the crackers.

The kids start coming back home, and their oldest helps Jake arrange most of the things for the funeral, at least for the first few days. Mav is... numb, not really there, and Jake understands — he would, too, if he woke up one day and his husband died in his sleep next to him. Bradley is silent, mostly, the way he usually rambles to fill out the silence, the way he hums, the way he sings at any given time when there are no words spoken, it's all gone and Jake doesn't know how to fill out the silence either, how to ask, how to make it better without asking.

Bradley doesn't cry, or at least not the way he knows Mav does — he can see Mav's red eyes every morning — but there's something empty in his gaze, in the way his eyes follow Mav and in the way he melts whenever Mav is around, always close, always brushing against him. Mav spaces out a lot, doesn't talk much, doesn't—well, doesn't do much. Every time he tries to help with something, paperwork, the funeral arrangements, the hospital bills, even just sorting out the kids' school leave or Jake's own work leave, he fumbles a bit, not really able to focus on anything for long, and it's like his mind is completely scrambled. Jake doesn't know how to help him — doesn't know if they even can.

The kids, well, did not take it well, as expected. The oldest two try to be brave and help Jake with everything, keep the house going, but their youngest daughter doesn't really understand why her pops isn't back, the middle kids don't understand why now — Ice was in remission, in good health, would go hiking with them once a month, play with them in the backyard, talking about plans for the future with them, nothing that would tell them to expect their pops passing away. Mav and Ice had taken care of all of them for years, while Jake and Bradley were still deployable, and helping out as much as they could. Ice was a huge part of their lives, since the very beginning.

Bradley is certainly not doing any better but one couldn't be able to tell if they didn't know him well enough. He's always been more for packing his feelings into a tight neat box, compartmentalizing until there is too much and it all overflows in some explosive way. His focus is mostly on Mav and the kids, trusting Jake to take care of anything he can't.

Jake can't even ask him how he's doing until the night before the funeral.

Mav tells Bradley he wants to be alone that night and Bradley lands in their bedroom.

He acts normal — checks the kids are in bed, checks on Mav, prepares stuff for breakfast in the morning, has a shower. Only when he sits down in their bed, their dress blues, cleaned and pressed sitting on the hangers hooked up on their wardrobe, right in front of him—only then he freezes, a blank stare still on the uniforms.

Jake sits down next to him on the bed. "Talk to me, Bradley."

"I knew it was going to happen at some point, I just," "I just thought we would have a few more years."

Bradley sleeps curled up on his chest — he sleeps the whole night, soundlessly, and Jake is almost settled.

Almost. Mav is a couple doors down, alone.

Ice's been—had been retired many years now, but he had been high enough in the ranks that the Navy still insists on making a military funeral. Jake tried to take away as much of the flashy bullshit as possible, but there are still things leftover — the sailors with the flag, the flyover. But there's no one who wasn't close with the family at the ceremony, there's no speeches, and no one tries to hand either Mav or Bradley a flag.

The wake has an even smaller amount of people, all packed in their house — Mav hasn't been at his own house since — and thanks to Slider, mostly, and his 'the bastard wouldn't want us to mope around', it's less sad and quiet.

Mav eats two slices of cake, which is the most Jake's seen him eat since, and even laughs at some stories about Ice people are exchanging.

Ice had a good life. A big family. A big happy family that loved him.

But life goes on without him. Jake goes back to work first, then the kids have to go back to school, then Bradley has to back to work. After a couple of days alone at their house, Mav starts bringing up moving back to his own house.

He's not really doing great. He's still quiet, still spaces out more often than not, still forgets himself sometimes, still freezes whenever he tries to say something and the we he uses is one person short. He's—lifeless, for a lack of better word, and seems like he's noticing it now that Bradley isn't with him most of the waking hours.

"That is our home," Mav tells them. "I can't abandon it forever, I'd be abandoning him, too, if I—"

Jake—Jake gets it. He doesn't like it, but he gets it.

Bradley's been fielding off any suggestions of Mav moving out but he's pretty sure that soon Mav is going to pack his stuff and up and leave without asking for permission.

"If he wants to move back home, we can't exactly hold him here. against his will."

"Jake," Bradley says. "I feel like—if we let Mav go back there alone, he's going to die of a broken heart and I won't have either of them anymore."

"Sweetheart—"

"I know it's selfish," he interrupts, "but I can't lose him, too. Not now."

Jake can't make Mav stay with them — so he finds the best solution he can and instead, they all move in with Mav. Hell with it, he's going to try to get everyone to live their lives to the end. They'd done it before, Mav, Ice, Bradley, Jake and their two kids under one roof, when their oldest two were their only two kids.

The two of them and two of their youngest; two of their kids move into their house so they don't have to sell it.

Mav lives on. They try to occupy his mind by throwing their youngest at him — ask him to take her to school, pick her up from school, take her to her gymnastics class, do her homework with her, teach her how to play piano. The other kids pick up on it, too, and their high schoolers would wrap Mav into doing math workbooks with them, or ask him to drive them to their friends' house, and the kids that have moved out ask Mav to go to lunch together or call him to ask him things about car and house repairs that don't exist.

Mav gets brighter every day. Never as bright as before, but no longer so numb.

Their daughter ends up never moving out and so do they.

They all get older but Mav holds up pretty well. He does break his hip when trying to wash the windows, had a limp and terrible back ache ever since, had to stop driving because he can't see shit, had to stop piloting even sooner, and his memory is also shit, but Jake is pretty sure his cholesterol is lower than his own and he has better blood pressure than Bradley. Bradley and Mav are the ones cooking after all, Jake is the one eating all the tasty but not healthiest food, and Mav's life revolves around spoiling his cute great-grandkids and Bradley's is filled with the constant stress of managing Navy's top flying school.

For his ninetieth birthday, Mav flies a fighter jet as a passenger, the oldest person to ever do that — his youngest granddaughter is the one to take him up in the air, a junior grade lieutenant herself. They have a birthday party held at their house, Mav falls asleep in the armchair, Bradley makes fun of him and promptly falls asleep on the couch, too. Jake loves them both so much and still kind of can't believe he has this — house full of grown-up kids and grandkids of his own, his graying husband of over thirty years, his father-in-law coming to an age he wanted to see his mother at.

They're cleaning up, their two daughters who still don't have kids and didn't need to go home helping, and Mav tells them he's going to get some fresh air on their veranda. "I've got a terrible headache," is all he says.

Half an hour passes, they've packed all the clean and dirty dishes, and Bradley huffs to himself. "He fell asleep on the bench again, didn't he," and goes outside.

Bradley shouts for him in less than a minute. The ambulance is there in eight. Within the half-hour and a CT scan in the hospital, the neurologist tells them Mav is too far gone to survive the day. Within six hours, every single person from their family has come to say goodbye. When they pass the seven hours mark, Jake stands up from the plastic chair behind Bradley — he's not about to tell Bradley he should rest, but he's been holding Mav's hand since the minute they admitted Mav to the ward and hasn't eaten or drunk anything all day. He tells him he'll go grab them a coffee and bagels and gets a little nod and a smile.

Jake comes back twenty minutes later and Bradley doesn't even look up from where he's gripping Mav's hand.

"Can you get the nurse for me?"

#this isn't really about Ice's death or Mav's death #but more about getting old in a family #sorry in advance #dunno if this made sense #idk felt some way when i wrote it #my nan had a stroke around that time and as a person who works mainly with critical stroke patients it hit hard #i didn't get into detail here but stroke patient at the end of their lives are very emotional sight for relatives #icemav #hangster #angst #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #tgm #charlie writes #op

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thousand-lights-temple · 2 months

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holding it the right way makes his hand hurt…

#hua cheng #heaven official's blessing #tgcf #xie lian #hualian #tgcf fanart #mxtx #mxtx tgcf #hes so whiny #my natural art style is more realistic so i tried to make this more stylized and i cant tell if it worked #im going to draw him more seriously and full color at Some Point #i love when xie lian is giving him writing lessons in fics #i eat that shit up #side note i learned how to properly hold a chinese calligraphy brush and i’ve practiced myself to imitate the different stroke styles #and it is Very Hard #and it makes your arms sore #i dont blame hua cheng my handwriting is worse than his

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ghost-bxrd · 1 month

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Been mulling over Titans Tower and it's really interesting to me how it's treated in Fanon as compared to how the events transpired in canon. it's a really fun topic! Honestly, the original writing in canon is DOGSHITE but not for the usual reasons people cite.

Here's what does make sense in canon but is largely ignored (this is using canon characterisations at the time): First, it's all about the whole Titans team, not just Tim. They really downplay his death a lot, did not put up his statue or honour him whatsoever. Plus the hero community tends to victim-blame him a fuckton. Jason is showing that his death could've happened to anyone. Second, Tim and Jason are just two yearish apart—Jay died at 15, Tim becomes Robin at 13—so those Titans are more like his colleagues than anything else; he's not some older guy beating the shit outta them. Third, Tim’s indifference to Jason's comments and his cockiness about being a better Robin are pretty on-brand for his early portrayal as Robin. (I think fanon Tim derives a lot of his characteristics from his Red Robin run, which is valid as well! But here in particular we have Robin Tim... who... was... uh... a bit of an asshole when he was written back then and the HUBRIS on that man? Immaculate.)

What still makes this absolutely dog shit is the dialogue and how Jason is pouring his heart out to someone who he doesn't really care about. Jason... just doesn't operate this way... Why's he trauma dumping on... tim... ???? It makes no sense whatsoever because Jason really is someone who'd keep those vulnerabilities to himself. Why would he open up to... CANON TIM??? He makes scathing remarks when faced with Bruce and Dick because he knows the knife twists then and at he cares about their reaction. But not tim ????? Canon UTRH doesn't even mention Tim ????? ???? So in the end it's still shit imo.

I also find the use of Pit Madness in fanon super interesting, despite it not being canon. It's used to propel the Titan's Tower incident, which fascinates me because it shows how people are willing to work around its flaws to maintain consistent characterization in their works (which is !!! cool !!)

It's so interesting how many other incidents that do occur in canon aren't as well known as this one aren't given much thought. But this one is and it's interesting how people try to work with it regardless of it's flaws originally!

I'd really love to hear your opinions about it and how flexible you are with the Titans tower incident! :) How do you work with your Jason and your Tim? because it's cool to hear your analysis etc etc

Hooo boi okay i was planning on replying to this earlier but this deserves a proper, thought out response (which I’m shite at but I’m trying here. Words are hard.)

For one, I wholeheartedly agree with the whole trauma dumping thing.

Obviously we all have different tastes in media and I know there are quite a few people who enjoyed the confrontation with Tim, which is totally fine, but personally… yeah, not my thing.

I got into the Batman/batfam fandom via fanfic, so my first introduction was some version of Titans Tower I believe. I was super intrigued by the characters and the tidbits of lore sprinkled throughout that I immediately began reading up on them and digging through the internet for more info and background story on them. Which then quickly evolved into the part where my adoration for Jason’s character began and a short phase where I absolutely despised early canon Tim.

Like— all the victim blaming. He seriously couldn’t mention Jason without adding something derogatory about getting himself killed, which sat so, so wrong with me. Not to mention the Titans just accepting a new Robin right off the bat and joining in blaming Jason for his own death. I’m pretty sure that was the point where I swore off comics for a long while and decided to live off fanon 🤣

And then Jason’s part in the Titans Tower incident. I think part of how weird the canon event was is due in part to how the writers fumbled to depict trauma? Or maybe they just outright hated him because I know a lot of people back then despised Jason and his run as Robin.

Whatever the reason, I think I genuinely cringed when he revealed the Walmart Robin costume he was wearing. And then the trauma dumping.

Jason is smart enough to know Tim wouldn’t care about his grievances. I mean- dude just broke into his hideout to attack him, I think Tim’s about as done with Jason as with any other criminals, regardless of his past. And all that is proven by Tim fighting back tooth and nail without pause. He doesn’t even react to the accusation of the missing statue in Jason’s honor. Like, he genuinely doesn’t seem to care. And why would he? They don’t know each other.

And yeah maybe he was trying to beat some sense into Tim (which is still wrong but— vigilantes I guess? Idk) and make him quit Robin, but Jason’s also smart enough to know that Robins don’t quit easily. And then, as soon as Tim is down for the count and can’t keep fighting, Jason leaves. Just like that. No actual murder attempt, no kicking-while-he’s-down (at least as far as I remember).

It makes no sense. What would Jason be gaining from that encounter? Why would he blame the kid that replaced him and not the guy that did the replacing? Hell, it would make more sense for him to go after the Titans than Tim. Not the mention him casually doubting Tim’s talents when he must have done some background checks on him.

It’s why I like the idea of Pit Madness I guess, and that Jason actually went to the tower with the intent to kill. Because that way the entire thing wouldn’t seem so… pointless.

As for how flexible I am with the Titans Tower storyline, it really depends on the route people choose to explore. But I’m a huge sucker for the “Jason was Tim’s Robin” trope where there’s at least a mild amount of hero worship going on. 👁️ Oh, and happy endings. I can’t deal with tragedies.

But yeah these are my thoughts on it. Obviously no hate to whoever enjoyed the comic mentioned above 💚 we’ve all got different things we resonate with after all~

#I wish I was more articulate in English but as much as I write fic my brain just BLANKS when I try to respond professionally in English #it’s like ‘you get to use metaphors but your vocab is void for argumentative convos’#I’m so sorry anon I swear I was trying very hard #I hope some of this is understandable on a deeper level #because I have FEELINGS on this topic #but mostly it boils down to me not being a fan of the canon titans tower incident #ghost talks #jason todd #titans tower incident #Tim drake #red hood #robin

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popfizzles · 3 months

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Can we see how the cup Brothers act with Goldie and Smith?

I have spend the past 5 hours throwing together the world's quickest thumbnails regarding the relationships between the main four and the apples :)

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johnslittlespoon · 4 months

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omg it was so hard to pick butttt could i request 1 and 2 from the smut dialogue list (list 3) with buck and bucky!

prompts | "i want to hear you beg" + "arch your back for me" + playing around with smth a little different for their dynamic <33 ~800 words of filth below the cut >:-) this was so much fun ahh thx sm for the request!!

“Oh, baby,” John rumbles appreciatively, sitting back to get a good look at Gale while he rolls his hips languidly into him. “Look at you.”

Golden hair frames Gale’s head on the pillow like a halo, blue eyes half hidden by heavy eyelids, doll–like lashes fluttering each time John sinks his cock in deeper. Messy love bites mark a trail south, scattered across his chest and stomach and increasing in numbers where angular hip bones and soft thighs had just begged for John’s teeth to make themselves at home.

Gale rocks his hips down, dragging his kiss–bitten bottom lip between his teeth to muffle a needy little noise as John’s eyes rake over him. That just won’t do.

John stills, wrapping firm hands around Gale’s thighs where they drape over his own, squeezing gently.

“Keep going,” Gale breathes out, eyebrows knit together in frustration, still trying to fuck himself on John’s cock.

John purrs out a laugh, heart twisting in his chest at the glare Gale shoots him; it’s hard to look intimidating when he’s laid out pliant and pretty and cock–drunk beneath him, but John doesn’t tell him so. He just snaps his hips forward once, watching with satisfaction when the scowl leaps off of Gale’s face as flushed lips fall open to let out a gasp.

“John,” Gale almost, almost whines when he makes no move to continue, lithe hands coming up to wrap around John’s wrists imploringly, and John hums thoughtfully, stroking his thumbs over Gale’s thighs.

“You need something?” He tilts his head, feeling a little thrill at the huff he gets in return.

Gale levels him with an unimpressed look, but the light flush that creeps over his cheeks betrays him.

“I want you to ask for it,” John murmurs. He grants Gale with the smallest roll of his hips to egg him on when he stays silent, and he feels his hands tighten around his wrists.

“Want you to fuck me, John.”

And oh, that’s something– his cock twitches at the rare vulgarity, and judging by Gale’s sharp inhale, he feels it. But it’s not quite what John’s looking for.

“That’s good, baby,” he praises him, delighting in the way his flush deepens. He leans down, sliding his hands up Gale’s hips as he goes, settling them on his waist. He brushes his lips against Gale’s in a ghost of a kiss, trailing them along his jaw until he reaches his ear.

“But I wanna hear you beg for me, Gale,” he whispers.

The immediate pressure around his cock as Gale reflexively clenches down has his head dropping into the crook of Gale’s neck momentarily, cursing under his breath. He can’t help but press his hips forward, needing just a bit of relief, sitting back up once he collects himself, determined to keep the upper hand.

“C’mon,” he rasps out, running his hands up and down Gale’s sides, fingers splaying over his ribcage. “I know you can do it, angel.”

Gale does whine this time, high and desperate in his throat, eyes slipping closed to hide from his own embarrassment. But–

“Please, John,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Need you.”

“Jesus, Gale,” John breathes, head spinning. “Good, so good, baby.”

John’s not going to push– that’s already a lot more than he’s usually able to goad out of Gale, and he’s going to unravel a lot quicker than he intends to if he keeps talking like that.

“Arch your back for me, pretty thing,” John prompts instead, beginning to shallowly fuck into him, and Gale does, tilting his head back on the pillow to bare his neck as his spine curves beneath John’s hands.

The sight nearly knocks the breath out of John, and he groans, sliding one hand under Gale to flatten his palm against the small of his back, feeling the way it flexes as he jerks his hips forward.

Gale cries out so sweetly when he really starts driving his cock into him, grasping desperately at John’s arms, face going slack as he finally gives him what he needs, and it gets to John like nothing else, forever dizzy with the knowledge that he gets to make Gale feel so good.

Dragging those pretty noises out of Gale and feeling him tremble because of him is what really does it for John every time, and it’s what inevitably has him tipping over the edge seconds after Gale spills over his stomach with a broken whimper.

John sinks his teeth into Gale’s collarbone just to feel him squirm beneath him as he fills him up, hands digging into his hips, rutting into him like he can bury his cock impossibly deeper, feeling nails scrabble at his back as the softest mewls escape Gale’s mouth.

He laves his tongue over the fresh indents in apology before lifting his head to capture Gale’s lips in a messy kiss, swallowing his gasps and sighs as he gives him a few more lazy thrusts, chest warm and fuzzy and lovestruck.

John smiles into the kiss, and Gale laughs softly, and god, he’s going to be the death of him.

#johnslittlespoon prompt fills #buckbucky #a bit of cheeky service!top john standing his ground for once because he wants to make his pretty thing beg? yeah <3 #little headcanon that some nights when john's in control he still knows not to push too hard or he'll end up pinned beneath gale lol <3 #sometimes it's a real effort to stay composed and in control because if gale wants to he knows exactly what to say to unravel john #but they both love the push and pull and the fight for control is half the fun some days mwah #clegan #johnslittlespoon asks #johnslittlespoon spicy #still taking request asks from the prompt list btw! just very slow at getting to asks atm bc i'm busy writing yad(iym) <3

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claitea · 17 days

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i've had these scenarios written down since volo's debut in pokemon masters and i just really wanted to scribble them down and finally release them

#pokemon #volo #pokemon volo #pokemon jacq #n harmonia #pokemon rei #trainer rei #clai's art #trying to write n's specific brand of being mean is hard to me for some reason #in the initial idea i had him outright call volo stupid but i didnt know if that was too far so i just took it out BJFBFJF #but anyway volo being a historian who had to have studied many walks of life but has still come to the conclusion that the world is hopeless #jacq being someone who's very positive and sees the best in people even if they are very much not great to him (see: raifort)#finally realizing someone he knows is like. inexcusably horrible #n's situation wasn't even that different from volo's. both saw injustice in society and sought to change it #but even n. who hated humanity for what he thought they were all responsible for. didnt want humans to Die for what they did!!#and rei. rei was a scared kid who saw the very worst of volo firsthand. rei needed friends and one of them despised him in the end #isnt it soooo funny how volo thinks he's alone yet keeps pushing away all the people who want to connect with him :) i hate pla so much :)))#as another note too. perhaps the rei thing could end in two ways #satisfying good ending where it kicks off volo's realization that hey maybe people do trust me unconditionally #or no good bad ending where volo takes this as another betrayal. rei only liked him for his facade like everyone else so why does it matter #volo almost makes me feel as ill as n does. hate this stupid guy i shouldnt have bought pla for my birthday i should have gotten. p/kmin idk

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hotluncheddie · 8 months

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Memories of somethin' even smoking weed does not replace.

wc: 2.9k | cw: alcohol | rated: M | part: 1/2 | tags: pre s4 au, steve harrington centric, stobin soulmates, raised catholic steve harrington

part 2 | ao3

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8:32pm January 3rd: Steve’s car

‘God stop complaining! It’s one party!’ Robin says, her exasperation at Steve finally boiling over.

Steve rolls his eyes, hard, wants to make sure she sees it. He’s stressed and uncomfortable and wants to be petty and petulant and complain because this night is going to end in him embarrassing himself somehow, he just knows it.

Robin makes just as much of a face back at him but then her eyes are full of concern. ‘You’ve just, been so mopey lately.’ she fiddles with her fingers, bites a nail even though that was her resolution. ‘and I know you say you haven’t been, but you know that I know, that you barely got out of bed on your days off over the holidays and that makes me sad.’ Robin laments, ripping his bitchiness off like a bandaid, seeing whats underneath.

Steve signs, defeated by her big beautiful brain. She is right, but. ‘Robbie. it was between Christmas and new year, there was nothing going on. What do you expect me to do? it’s literally time made for relaxing.’ Steves own exasperation falling away into something that just sounds tired. He’s so tired. And he hates it when she worries, he’s not, he’s still not used to it. Someone who cares, notices when he spends three days in bed because the thought of getting up when his parents are downstairs makes him want to puke. And, he loves her for it, but, sometimes it makes his skin crawl, makes him feel like he’s not good enough, not hiding well enough. Pitied.

‘But you don’t relax. You mope. You, like, wallow.’ She pokes his arm a couple times for emphasis, but her voice is softer, still a little sad. ‘And.’ she takes a deep breath. ‘I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I also know this time of year makes you miss Nancy.’

‘Oh God, Rob, please.’ Steve whines, desperate now. ‘Don’t start bringing up Nancy.’ He drags a hand down his face, that is the last thing he wants to talk about. Think about. Admit anything to anyone about.

She’s not, entirely wrong but Steve still hates hearing it. He does miss Nancy, or, well, misses her in theory. He doesn’t really miss her anymore. But, he misses being her boyfriend, a boyfriend. Being needed, and being held, as pathetic as that sounds.

‘I know. Just.’ Robin says, twisting in her seat to look at him looking at the road. ‘I just. I want you to have some fun dingus.’

Steve squeezes the steering wheel. He nods. Glancing at her and giving her enough of a smile that she knows not to feel bad. It’s really not her fault that this time of year makes him want to sink into a hole, makes him think about purgatory and black vines, what he wants for his future if both can exist.

‘It’ll just be some band kids there, a few stragglers, no one’s going to care that you’re there too.’ Robin explains. ‘Plus, if they say anything I’ll be there to defend you.’ And Steve can hear that care again, but its lighter, said through the joke. He lets his shoulders drop and Steve smiles for real. He can’t help it.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ he says, like she isn’t his everything. Glancing away from the road a second, Steve catches her smile. Happy she’s won but happier that he’s going to at least try and have fun.

‘And, don’t forget you promised to help me with seeing if any of the girls there are even remotely available to me.’ Robin sits back normally in her seat. Talking normally again, worry about her soulmate time over. ‘Plus, who knows, your new favourite customer might just be there too.’ She says into the window, head leaning on her palm.

‘Robin!’ Steve near shouts, scandalised that she’d bring that up.

Robin just cackles.

‘Man, you say a guys jeans fit him nice one time and then it’s all you hear about.’ He grumbles, pretending his cheeks aren’t flaming red. He really hopes any discomfort tonight has nothing to do with that. He almost prays on it. But monsters come out of walls so he stops himself.

Robin wriggles around in her seat, delighted by his suffering. ‘Hey! Hey! No, okay you ragged on me over Tammy! I can make fun of you for making goo goo eyes at Eddie Munson!’

9:00 January 3rd: Kitchen

Steve shivers as the heat from the house mixes with the cold evening air he just walked through. Robin at his side but she’s quickly swept up in a little crowd to say hellos. She looks for him but Steve just waves her on with a scrunch of his eyebrows and a gesture to the beer he wants to find a sport for.

The kitchen in strewn with bottles and cups and snacks, not a total disaster but people have definitely been helping themselves. Steve is a little laser focused on getting the cans set down so he can start on one, relax his nerves a bit, so he doesn’t even notice Eddie sitting on the counter until he nearly gets kneed in the crotch.

He takes a hasty step back and gives himself a mental shake, get out of his own head. Eddies smile looks amused, his eyes able to look so sharp. Steve swallows, grateful for Eddies silence.

‘Hey man. You want one?’ Steve offers Eddie a beer and makes a spot for them on the side.

Eddie takes it, nodding in thanks, their fingers don’t brush, Steve would know. ‘You looking for anything stronger tonight? like King Steve back in the day?’ Eddie asks, taking a drink, hair framing the long line of his neck.

The old name makes bile raise in his throat. Eddie didn’t mean it like that, probably, wouldn’t have said it if he’d known how much that name feels like a brand on Steves skin. Itchy and scarred. Like ‘Harrington’, like ‘Bullshit’, like something that makes people think they know him, like his body and self isn’t his own.

Steve looks away. ’Uh, nah, I’ll stick to the classics.’ Popping the lid and taking a long gulp, going for casual, slouching against the counter.

Eddie nods like it’s no big deal. ‘I won’t make this awkward by asking you about college. I know you know I’ve seen you at family video.’

‘Your late back on ‘Poltergeist’.’ Steve says without thinking. Winces, why is he acting like such a loser? ‘But uh, yeah. Thanks.’ He finishes lamely. No way any colleges wanted him on his concussion grades and zero extra curricular credits.

‘Shit, so you do actually do your job.’ Eddie shakes his head, like Steve had deeply wounded him, sarcastic and mocking, pretty little glint in his eye. But it still makes some ugly, desperate little part of Steve rear up and want to take it back, beg for forgiveness.

Steve drowns that thought and chugs the rest of his beer.

Someone must motion something to Eddie from one of the other rooms because he nods his head up in understanding. But before he goes he leans in closer to Steve, smirking. ‘Oh, and, don’t thank me yet. I also saw you in that sailor get up at the mall.’

Steve chokes on his spit, coughing and spluttering like an idiot.

‘Thanks for the beer.’ Eddie says, patting him once on the shoulder before hopping off the counter and into the throws of the party.

Steve watches him go, skin of his shoulder tingling through his sweater. He feels an itch, like he’s being watched and turns his head to find robin staring at him from where she’s still by the door, talking to friends. Her smile wicked.

Robins parting words from the car float back through his mind and make his stomach twist. ‘Lucky for you, Eddie makes goo good eyes right back.’ She’d said, quiet and teasing, and Steve hates her. her hates her.

It’s going to be a long night.

10:54 January 3rd: Staircase

It’s a little quieter at the front of the house.

It had been going pretty well and then someone mentioned Starcourt. A couple pairs of eyes flashed to him in recognition. Someone murmuring to another, mentioning Hop. And then Steves eyes were prickling and his wrists were tingling and he had to excuse himself. Squeezing Robins shoulder for her not to follow. Just a minute alone to breath. Sip his drink to get the copper to wash from his lips. Get his teeth back where they’re supposed to be.

Orange streetlights filter through the window of the front door. It catches the dust, makes it sparkle.

He thinks about midnight mass with his parents, their one Christmas plan that he’s not allowed to get out of. Thinks about how the light filtered through the stained glass, made patches of the floor look red. Thought about the ceiling of Starcourt, the taste of red metal on his tongue as the world spun.

Went up for communion and crossed himself. Looked up at the crucifix. Thought about how the gash that opened in Joyce’s living room was red. How somethings grow in darkness, in cracks and out of sinew. A nail bat ripping through skin.

He looks at the drink Robin made him as a joke, its almost wine coloured, a murky, deep red. It makes Steves insides twist, she didn’t mean it, she didn’t. But blood of the lamb is making the back of his eyelids flash red and brown, flash lightning and ash floating through the air. His nose filled with mould.

‘Yeesh what is that Harrington?’ Steve looks up, Eddie’s blocking some of the orange light, head haloed and face in shadow.

Steve looks back into the cup, seeing it for what it is again. Remembering how her face lit up with laughter as she dumped in whatever she could find, knowing it would be awful but knowing Steve would still drink it. She made it for him, how could he not?

He looks back up at Eddie, Steve can smell his cologne. It smells good. ‘Don’t ask, Robin made it.’ He waves his hand and tries to clear his head of red and black. The spirits mix with the beer and now his hands and feet tingle, he focuses on that, it’s nice.

Eddie eyes it warily. ’You wanna trade?’ and he holds up a beer, a different brand that the ones Steve brought, he has two, for some reason.

Steve looks into his cup, ‘Its honestly not that bad.’ He swirls the contents around a little, there’s something floating in it.

‘Seriously?’ Eddie asks. Steve looks up at him and his eyebrows have disappeared behind his bangs

Steve smiles, his lips tingling. ‘No.’ and his smile grows at Eddie laugh, he has dimples.

He looks at Eddie and decides, then, to take. See what he gets given. He can confess later.

The alcohol made a couple of the awkward conversations he had tonight bearable and the couple less awkward conversations he had enjoyable. Maybe it’ll do the same for him now. Steve takes the beer and places his other drink carefully on the stair behind where he’s sitting, makes a mental note to dump it out when he moves.

He shifts, sitting in a way he hopes looks casual, like he wasn’t just thinking about divine sacrifice. The staircase it wide and the carpet is soft, a nice place to take a break. A nice place to talk to a boy. A boy who makes his heart beat in his throat. Steve can confess later.

‘You run Hellfire right?’ He asks, sipping his beer and cataloguing again how the orange light shines on eddies hair, over his shoulder.

Eddie faces him fully, bobbing his head slightly to the music, Steve doesn’t recognise the song, he doesn’t think its one they play on the radio. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. like X-men’ Steve says.

Eddie blinks at him, but then the corners of his mouth curl and his eyelids droop and Steve feels too hot suddenly. ’Okay, I’m gonna need his majesty to explain how he knows about either of those.’

Swallowing, Steve goes for honest. ’Well first off you used to put new posters up every, like, two weeks man, kinda hard to ignore.’ Steve says, lifting up a finger. he paid attention, eddies doesn't need to know yet how much. But Steve paid attention.

Eddie stays silent, looks at him, eyes roaming over his face, lip still curled. Steve feels his adams apple bob.

‘Second, I babysit some of the dweebs who are current members.’ Steve lifts a second finger, takes another sip of beer. ‘And three, X-men is like super popular. And, like, super good.’ And Steve takes another drink, just because, just to help him be.

Eddies lips curl into a full smile, all teeth and a little tongue. He sips his own beer, looking away from Steve then back at him a couple times, like he thinks he’ll vanish, change before his very eyes. He shakes his head. ‘What changed with you man? I never expected any of that to ever come out of your mouth, like, ever.’ And eddies sounds kind of delighted, voice musical and tinkling.

Steve just shrugs, feels hot, Eddies voice too close to happy, words too close to praise. ‘Grew up a little, I guess.’ He crosses his arms, looks down at his shoes.

‘Yeah? That why no more parties?’ and Eddies voice is soft, Steve can feel his body heat, his knee by eddies hip.

‘I’m just not so big on, that much attention any more. That much noise.’ Steve says, looking back into Eddies face. Finds him staring, lips quirked in a little smile, softer, then before. Leaning his chin in his hands on the banister, leaning into Steves space.

‘So, you and Buckley, what’s that about?’ Eddies whispering now, like he knows it’s precious. The orange light kisses his cheek.

Steve clears his throat, whispers back. ’Summer job. We scooped ice cream and she, uh, scooped up my heart.’ he smiles, just from talking about her, thinking about them.

‘Oh.’ Eddie says, drawing away just slightly, eyes hardening in a way Steve hates.

He almost reaches out, something drastic, desperate. But he pulls back, fiddles with the tab on his can. ‘No, um. Not that kind of oh. I mean in, like, a friend way. Totally platonic oh.’

‘Right’ Eddie comes back, but it’s not quite the same, the moment lost. Steve feels a rosary between his knuckles.

‘Seriously, platonic soulmates. It’s a thing.’ He tries to lighten, tries to make Eddie read his mind the way robin does. It takes a moment, but then Eddie lets his eyes drink in Steves face again. His smile unfurling, sweet and pretty and different than before. He nods once, taking a drink. Looking away, cheekbones flushed pink.

Steve can confess later.

Robin comes barrelling down the hall calling out for Steve. But she skids to a halt when she sees Eddie. Then her eyes find Steve and she looks at him with raised eyebrows and barely contained glee bubbling under its surface. ‘Munson.’ She greets, eyes staying on Steve. ‘You’re late back on ‘Poltergeist.’

Eddie laughs, big and delighted. ‘Hey Buckley.’ He says. ‘Looking for your boy?’ but as he said that he’s gone back to the same position, still leaning on his hands, still looking right at Steve.

Steve feels his cheeks heat.

‘Ugh, not my boy. You are definitely not getting out your late fee for that.’ And she shoves him out of the way to get to Steve and grab his hand. ‘They want me to play beer pong, you’re on my team.’ And she’s pulling him up and away.

Steve cranes his neck back to give Eddie a little wave goodbye but he’s pushing off the banister, he’s following.

He walks slow, lazy, almost sauntering. Looking right at Steve still, with that little smirk. He knows. He knows. Steve feels the eucharist on his tongue. ‘What?’ Eddie asks, innocent but his smile isn’t. ‘I wanna watch.’ And Steve just squeezes Robins hand tighter, lets her pull him into the kitchen.

11:45 January 3rd: Kitchen

People cheer as Steve neatly sinks the ping pong ball into the final cup, Robin nearly jumping onto his back she’s so exited. The first couple games with Robin and some of her random band friends really weren't great, he drank a few times, helped Robin get through her shares, they barely won. But by the third game he basically played alone and won pretty easily. The crowd seem entertained, cheering for him and random people kept patting him on the shoulder. it’s weird, a little stale on his skin to be congratulated like that, over something like this again. But he’ll be that guy again for one night, if just to make Robin smile.

He downs a cup someone offers him in celebration. Accepting a couple high fives from Robins band friends. Tries to not be weird, to not show how the praise makes him itch.

Steve lifts his wrist up to wipe at his mouth. His eyes drawn to the far side of the room. Eddie is leaning against the wall, black jacket against stark white. He claps slowly once, twice, his eyes shining with something. Like Steve is something funny, something interesting.

Steve’s hands and feet tingle, his lips a little numb. Feels warm. Doesn't think about churches or blood or monsters. Just lifts his eyebrows, sucks some of the sticky beer from the pad of his thumb, and winks.

Eddie rolls his eyes and rolls off the wall, disappearing into another room.

But Steve saw his smile.

˚♱₊✩‧₊⋆｡‧˚♱⋆₊✩‧₊

part 2 | ao3

written for Lex’s Spicy Six Winter Challenge! run by @thefreakandthehair and using the prompt: 'spiked eggnog'. ty for putting this on always!! sorry im posting on the last day again lol xoxo

title from 'stick season' by noah kahan (edited slightly to fit better)

@pearynice and @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx ty for the kind words and guidance getting me unstuck with this fic <3 its alive now

lmk if you would like a tag for part two :)

#hes a boy with a lot of thoughts #some of those are about another boy #some are about the meaning of grace in a world with monsters #and that's okay #this was very hard and then very fun to write #hotlunch #my fic #steddie #steve x eddie #catholic steve harrington #pre s4 au #platonic soulmates stobin #spicysixwinterfanworkschallenge

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