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boxboxlewis · 3 months

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Daniel finds out about Max’s divorce from a Google alert.

“FORMER F1 CHAMPION NEWLY SINGLE, SEEN HITTING THE BARS IN MONACO.” Journalistic excellence from the Daily Mail, as always. But when actual newspapers start reporting on it, Daniel decides to reach out. He texts Max a cat meme. Subtext: sorry about your failed relationship, also I know you like cats. Max texts back Are you trying to cheer me up, and then 😂. It’s unclear if he’s 😂 at the cat or the notion of Daniel attempting to comfort. While Daniel is trying to figure this out a third text comes in. Stop reading stupid shit by dumb assholes who don’t know anything.

Nah it’s all good, I can’t read, Daniel replies. He hesitates, and then adds I am like. Sorry about stuff with kelly or whatever though.

Max thumbs-up reacts the message, and doesn’t reply.

Daniel figures Max’ll probably just start dating another exquisitely beautiful, exquisitely groomed woman with a disconcerting resemblance to his own mother. They’re ten a penny in Monaco, where Max still for some reason lives.

He’s not prepared for the next tranche of articles his Google Alert brings him. “MAX VERSTAPPEN SEEN LEAVING GAY BAR.” “VERSTAPPEN REFUSES TO ADDRESS RUMOURS.” “VETTEL COMES TO VERSTAPPEN’S DEFENCE: ‘HE HAS A RIGHT TO A PRIVATE LIFE.’” Like… people go to gay bars sometimes, even if they’re straight. But do straight people let Seb Vettel defend their honour in the media?

Daniel opens his text thread with Max and types Hey, are you. You know.

He deletes it, obviously. He’s got a lot going on in his own life. Brand ambassadorships out the ass, his film production company, his vineyard. He sends Max another dumb meme and calls it good. Max is just doing Max stuff. It’s some belated F1 champion rumspringa, probably, because when he was an actual teenager he was psychotically focussed on racing. He’ll settle down soon enough.

Daniel really isn’t expecting him to announce live on Dutch television that he has a boyfriend. The clip is in Dutch, obviously, but someone has added English captions, and Daniel watches over and over again. RIP his YouTube algorithm. It’s some daytime talk show, the kind of thing Max hates, the kind of thing he’d never do unless someone was twisting his arm about it. The host asks all sickly sweet if there’s a special someone in Max’s life. Max says, “Well yes of course there is my boyfriend.” The “of course” in Dutch sounds like naturally. Naturally, naturally. “And my family I am very close to, as well.” The camera dwells with voyeuristic glee on the talkshow host’s face as she tries and fails to pick her expression up from the floor. “Your boyfriend?” she manages. Max nods, impatient. Daniel rewinds the clip. Your boyfriend? Your boyfriend? Your boyfriend?

Daniel decides to visit Monaco. Not because of Max. It’s summer and the swing of the season is funnelling him that way, that’s all, towards the parties and the glittering people dancing on yachts, getting high, bright and beautiful, living that good life. He doesn’t have an apartment there anymore, but Max does, because Max never left: still has his custom penthouse with its views of the harbour. Unless—it’s a weird thought—unless Kelly kept it in the divorce. But when he texts Max to invite himself to stay, Max doesn’t mention anything about a new address.

Max also doesn’t sound, like, super enthused, but that’s just how he is. It’s his natural Dutchness, most likely. Fine you can come then. You are lucky I don’t have plans is probably just the Dutch way of saying “Yeah sounds great, looking forward to reconnecting.” You are very annoying is probably how people from the Netherlands express affection. Daniel texts back Love you too my brother 🤘🤘

He gets his hair touched up before he goes, a little bit of tattooing at the roots in the front. He does a spray tan, and gets his face dermaplaned (not in that order). You can’t go to Monaco and not look good, that's all.

It always feels kind of weird, flying into Nice in a non-F1 context, first class instead of private, but Daniel fits, still: gets asked for his autograph at the airport, and then on the concourse, and when he stops to put petrol in his rental car (a sweet little Porsche, nice). He tosses his keys to the valet at Max’s building and the valet goggles. That’s right, baby: twelve-time Grand Prix winner Daniel Ricciardo is in town. Daniel winks and the valet turns gratifyingly mauve.

Max, when Daniel pushes into his apartment, is less enthusiastic. “Daniel. I really do not know why you’ve come.”

Daniel ignores him in favour of crouching down, trying to pet Jimmy or Sassy. “Hey, little guy,” he croons. “Or girl. What’s up? Do you remember Uncle Danny? Am I in town to show your daddy a good time? Yeah I am! That’s right. That’s right.” Jimmy or Sassy scowls at him and swipes with one needle-tipped paw. All right, drama queen. Daniel stands back up and grins at Max. “I mean, mostly I wanted to meet your boyfriend,” he says, for some reason. What the fuck, Ricciardo. He keeps grinning, styles it out. “Gotta give him the old shovel speech, right?”

Max is doing the blank-eyed stare Daniel remembers so well from their racing days. It’s wildly disconcerting coming from this Max, who looks. Different, that’s all. He’s thick, still fit and well-muscled but heavy with it now, t-shirt stretched over the layer of hard fat covering his abdomen, face softer. He’s a bear of a man, he could—he could do lots of things, obviously. It’s fine. It’s just that part of Daniel still expects him to be the gawky teenager Daniel loomed over.

Max says, “What do you want to say to my boyfriend about shovels,” and for a bewildering moment Daniel has no idea what he’s talking about.

“Oh, no, it’s like—it’s a saying, or whatever, when someone starts dating someone. I mean, usually dads say it, I guess, but like—the idea is if he mistreats you I’ll…” Daniel trails off as he realises he’s not actually sure what “shovel speech” means. “Uh, hit him with a shovel? Or I guess potentially, like, use it to bury his corpse. Whiiiich is a joke! Not actually going to bury anyone.” No, weird comment, Daniel’s not actually going to bury anyone t-shirt is raising a lot of questions et cetera. Hastily, he adds “As long as he behaves!” and then stands there mentally kicking himself while Jimmy/Sassy yowls soulfully near his ankles. He's never like this, he never loses control of a conversation like this. It's agonising.

Max stares at him for a long moment, and then cracks up. “Daniel, you are still so weird,” he says. It sounds kind of affectionate.

“You know it, baby,” Daniel says. “So, where’s the boyf?

Max’s cheeks go a little red, it looks like. Maybe Daniel’s imagining it. “Ricardo is at the gym,” he says.

Daniel has to have misheard that. “Sorry, what’s this dude’s name?”

“Ricardo,” Max says grumpily. “My boyfriend.”

“Right, yeah, of course.” Once again Daniel decides, against his better judgement, to style it out. “Uh, is he Australian, by any chance? And devastatingly charismatic?”

Max sighs, as if Daniel is being really annoying. “He is from Melbourne. And yeah, he is okay I think. Maybe you won’t like him though, because you like always to be the funniest one. Come on, I will show you to your guest room.”

Daniel manages a casual-sounding, “Haha, you got me.” They’re walking through the apartment, now, Max leading the way. For a moment Daniel just watches the sunburned back of his neck.

#my fic #DO straight people allow seb vettel to defend their honour in the media?#maxiel #mv33 #dr3 #getting back on the posting horse please clap #divorce era one of the most interesting of the potential eras imo #future fic

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

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Part 2 to this post

When gay marriage became legal, everyone expected Steve and Eddie to run to the courthouse and get it done.

They’d waited long enough.

But they were watching the news on a hospital room television instead of their home, keeping Wayne company while he received his last chemo treatment.

It had been a really rough six months, Eddie taking the brunt of caring for Wayne so Steve could work and pay the bills for all of them. But they wanted to.

Wayne had done so much for both of them, he deserved to be taken care of now.

The doctors had said he was getting to an age where the chemo would most likely only extend his life by a few years at most, that the cancer growing in his body would only be stopped temporarily by this drug that made him weaker than any cancer could.

At first, he didn’t want it. He told them both it wasn’t worth putting his body through it at his age, but Eddie convinced him through tears that he wasn’t ready to let him go yet.

And Wayne always did have a soft spot for Eddie’s tears.

Every other Friday, Wayne was brought to the hospital by Eddie, sometimes accompanied by Steve if his day off lined up right, hooked up to an IV of fluids and a harsh chemo mix, and kept for observation for 8 hours to ensure it didn’t cause any major issues on his frailer than he’d like to admit body.

The last treatment hadn’t gone well. Wayne ended up having low oxygen levels and high blood pressure, so they kept him overnight. Overnight turned into 3 nights, four days, which is sort of like a cruise to the Bahamas if you take out the fact they were in a hospital in Indiana.

Steve was holding Eddie’s hand as they all watched the tv, their silver wedding bands from a decade ago resting on their ring fingers.

It didn’t have to be legal to mean something to them.

Wayne had been much livelier over the last 24 hours, his blood pressure back at a normal for him level, though his oxygen level still fluctuated between too low and normal.

“Would ya look at that? They did it.”

Steve looked over at where he was sitting up in bed, smiling at the tv.

“They did.”

Eddie was wiping a tear from his cheek.

“Took them long enough.”

Everyone in the room huffed out an unamused laugh.

It did take way too long.

“Steve.”

Steve looked back over to Wayne and noticed he was looking tired again, like the news was the only reason he’d been forcing himself to be awake.

“You remember that bet?”

They’d made a lot of bets over the years, usually during March Madness. Wayne purposely bet against Steve because it was an easy win, even though they liked the same teams and often had similar brackets.

So no, he didn’t really remember whatever bet he was talking about now.

“Oh come on. I’m the old one here. You’re supposed to have great memory.”

“I’ve had like, eight concussions. My memory is like a goldfish.”

Eddie snorted next to him and nodded in agreement. Just this morning Eddie had to remind him that it was trash day despite it being the same day every week for the last 17 years they’d lived in their house.

“You owe me $5.”

“I’d remember that.”

“Eddie asked for you.”

Steve and Eddie looked at each other with concern. Was Wayne having a stroke? Was he slowly losing lucidity? He’d never shown any signs of memory problems, but sometimes being in the hospital had a lot of negative effects.

“When Eddie woke up in ‘86. I told you he’d ask for ya first and he did. Never collected on the bet because you two were too much.”

Steve suddenly remembered everything from that day, tears pooling in his eyes at how all of this started.

If he hadn’t stayed to hold Eddie’s hand then, would he be holding it now? Would they be husbands in every way but legally?

Steve looked at Eddie with a smile.

Then he turned to Wayne and smirked.

“Bet you $5 I propose right now.”

Wayne smirked back at him.

“Bet you won’t.”

Steve gave him the look that said ‘just watch me’ and stood up, dropping to one knee slowly.

“Eddie Munson. We already wear rings. We’ve lived together as husbands for so long, I can’t even believe we aren’t actually married. But I want to be. I want to fill out the stupid paperwork at the courthouse and maybe plan a little wedding with our kids and family. I want to have a honeymoon and be young and in love even though we aren’t young anymore. I want to be yours in every way starting right now. How does that sound?”

Eddie was crying. He was always more emotional than Steve, he just hid it better. Usually.

“You wanna be mine?”

“I’m already yours. I just want us to have everything.”

“Then I wanna be yours.”

“Good.”

Eddie leaned forward and kissed him, more passionately than they usually ever did in public or around Wayne. It was a special occasion, though, what choice did they really have?

After a minute, Steve pulled away and looked over to Wayne.

“Sorry about your $5.”

“I’m not.”

Wayne had never been more pleased to not be able to collect on a bet.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ao3fic #tumblr drabbles #headcanon #part 2 #stranger things #my fic #wayne munson #future fic #wayne is old and sick here but he does not die

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thisapplepielife · 3 months

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Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up Spring challenge.

Sprung

Prompt: Spring | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Struggling to Make Ends Meet, Light Angst, Sacrifice, Love, Making a Life Together

"Steve, please," Eddie says, and Steve stills.

"I thought you were asleep?" Steve whispers in the dark, and Eddie's not sure why Steve's trying to be quiet at this point. They're both awake now. Steve's made sure of that.

"I was," Eddie huffs out, annoyed, because he had been. But Steve's constant flopping around has ruined that. Steve's become the world's shittest sleeper lately, and that's not exactly ideal in a bed partner.

"Sorry," Steve says, stilling, "I'll try to stop moving around."

Eddie just mutters something that he hopes passes as a thanks, and rolls back over. He has to get up at six, and he fucking needs his four hours. That's not too much to ask for, goddamnit.

Steve's still for a few minutes, but then rolls over in his sleep, again, and the whole bed shifts and shakes. Again. Eddie's had enough, and snags his pillow off the bed, padding down the hallway to crash on the couch. He's exhausted. He can't do this tonight. He can't.

He still wakes up tired, because it was too cold in the living room. Their shitty radiators either don't work, or boil you. No middle ground. Fucking shithole. But it's the best they can do for now, since they're barely keeping their heads above water, as is. Working just to live. It's been hard. Harder than Eddie expected, and he grew up with fucking hard.

He'd hoped they'd be past that now, hoped he'd finally catch a goddamn break.

Of course not.

It's the Munson curse.

And now Eddie's in a bad mood, even as Steve's pouring coffee into Wayne's old thermos for him, packing Eddie's metal lunchbox, to keep him going on the jobsite all day.

"Thanks," Eddie says, taking it, and Steve just nods silently, clearly aware Eddie's in a mood this morning.

Eddie worries they're circling the drain, from circumstances alone. It's not a love problem, it's a life problem, and that makes it worse.

And before long, Eddie realizes he broke the seal, having introduced a new wedge between them. Now that the couch is in play, they aren't even sleeping in the same bed most nights anymore. Steve will go, or he will, and now they're sleeping apart more nights a week than they sleep together. Maybe they're getting more rest, but they're also growing even further apart.

Today, Eddie's coffee and lunch are on the counter, but Steve's already in the shower, and their ten minutes together in the morning are gone.

Just like that.

Eddie grabs his work boots from the closet, flopping down on Steve's side of the bed to put them on, and he's suddenly assaulted, poked right in the ass by whatever Steve's left laying on the mattress.

Standing up, he's sliding his hand over the bed in the dark to see what the fuck he sat on. Nothing. He yanks the sheets back, and there's still nothing, so he strips it further.

It's a spring.

And it's threatening to fully poke through, probably right where Steve's back rests. Goddammit. No wonder Steve can't fucking hold still at night. He's being tortured, Eddie thinks, as he presses his hand against the spring, feeling it bite into his hand.

A rogue mattress spring.

That's what's divided them, broke them down.

Eddie sits back down, lets the spring dig into his ass, and holds his head in hands. He's not gonna cry. He doesn't have time. He has to go to work. But goddamn this.

He's still sitting there when Steve comes in and is rifling through the closet, "You okay?"

"No," Eddie says.

Steve walks over and puts the back of his hand on Eddie's forehead and Eddie laughs, wetly.

"You don't feel hot," Steve declares.

"No, I don't," Eddie mutters, because damn, he fucking doesn't feel hot at all. He feels broken down and worn out.

He reaches up and catches Steve's hand, bringing it to his mouth, kissing it.

"I'm sorry about the mattress. I didn't know," Eddie says, looking up at him.

"It's okay, I'm used to it," Steve says, and he rubs his fingers against the top of Eddie's head.

"You shouldn't have to be," Eddie says, dejected.

Steve Harrington chose him, loves him, and Eddie can't even give him a bed to sleep on that isn't trying to pierce his spleen every night.

They can't afford a new one, not right now, and Eddie hates that he can't fix this.

"We'll flip it," Eddie offers.

"Then it'll have the crater on your side again," Steve says with a laugh. And yeah, Eddie'd forgotten they flipped it last year, after his side started breaking down. Sucking him inward, like a gate into the Upside Down.

That doesn't matter.

"Well, that's gotta be better than this," Eddie admits, bouncing a little. Anything would be better than this torture device.

Steve kneels between Eddie's open thighs, "It's okay, Eddie."

It's not.

"I'm sorry I was being a jerk. I didn't know," Eddie says.

"I know you didn't," Steve answers, "I didn't want you to worry."

Eddie brushes Steve's hair off his forehead, "I'm still sorry. I love you. You know that, right?"

Steve grins, and it's blinding, "Always. Work now, worry about the mattress later."

Eddie nods, smiles, and when Steve moves from between his knees, Eddie leans over and laces up his boots. Ready to start another day.

That evening, when Eddie pulls into the driveway, Wayne's truck is parked behind Steve's car. Eddie hadn't realized Wayne was coming, and grins. This day just got way better.

Eddie plows into the house, and finds Steve in the bedroom, a pair of needle nose pliers dug into a small hole they've cut in the mattress, trying to bend the spring back into its original position. Wayne's standing there, talking Steve through the temporary fix, until they can afford something better.

It's gonna be okay, Eddie realizes. They're just a little bent out of shape right now. A little sprung.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #spring #steddie #steddie ficlet #wayne munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #future fic #good uncle wayne munson #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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wildlife4life · 2 months

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Fuck-It Friday Coda

Tagged by the amazing @hippolotamus @jesuisici33 @wikiangela and @tizniz (who dropped a whole new fic!) Thank you so much! Hope you all are just as hyped for bi-buck as I am!!!!!!! Not much to say than what's being said everywhere for 7x04. Here is my coda this historic episode and it can be read on ao3 as well. Enjoy!

It’s never really a surprise anymore whenever Buck runs into Tommy at the 118’s favorite hook and ladder bar. Hell, before they broke up, Tommy took him to this bar on a couple dates. Awkward dates but dates all the same.

Buck is waiting for the latest rounds of drinks at the bar when a familiar hand lands on his shoulder, “Hey Evan.”

He whirls around and comes face to face with the very man that opened Buck up to whole new world. “H-h-hey Tommy.” He greets nervously, gaze flickering over to where his team, Maddie, Athena, and some friends from dispatch sat.

Tommy catches it and smirks, “Here with the entire crew huh? What’s the cause for this meet up? Didn’t see or hear about any big Buckley heroics over the radio waves.”

Buck finally catches Eddie attention, and his partner stiffens slightly at the sight of Tommy. They were all still friends, mostly, but after the pilot ended things with Buck, sides were taken… in more ways than one.

“You lied back then. In your loft, before I kissed you.” Tommy stated, staring out the hanger doors, hands shoved deep into his flight suit’s pockets.

Wretchedness gripped Buck’s throat tightly. He knew where this was headed, and for just the briefest moment he wanted to fight it. Fight for what he and Tommy had. “I didn’t lie. I wanted to get to know you, I thought-I still think you are cool, and I just wanted you see that.” His voice was high and tight with the brittle lie.

Tommy shook his head and Buck caught his grimacing smile, “Buck you need to stop lying to yourself and open your damn eyes. I have and you want to know what I saw?” His voice cracked with anguish.

Buck’s lower lip trembled, and he could feel the prickle of tears. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to face it. Because if he opened his eyes to what Tommy is seeing, the despair would be 10 times worse than what he’s facing at the time.

Always the bravest of two of them, Tommy scoffed at Buck’s silence and pushed on, “You weren’t vying for my attention. You never have. Evan you never did any sort of chasing in this relationship, I did. I so was blinded by how endearing and open you were about your best friend, that I failed to see you misplacing you’re confused emotions onto the nearest person showing you affection. Me.”

The tears began to flow when Buck shook his head, “No Tommy. I liked you; I just didn’t know about that part of myself until you showed it to me.” He tried defending.

His boyfriend snorted, “Liked. Past. Not present.”

And Buck’s heart dropped into his gut.

Finally, Tommy looked at him and everything in his stomach becomes rancid at the utter heartbreak on the older man’s face, “I’m glad I could help you embrace your bisexuality. Truly I am. I know how freeing it can be. But Evan, those feelings you’ve have for men, for that one special man have always been there and instead of facing them, you took the easy way out with me. And fuck man, it hurts. It really does.”

“Tommy…” Buck started, but Tommy’s hand gripping his wrist silenced him.

“Evan-Buck. Its-well it’s not entirely okay, but you didn’t know or see and neither did I. At least not until you came back from Chim’s bachelor party. You two couldn’t even look each other in the eye and you’ve been off since.”

That’s because he and Eddie got into the biggest fight of their lives during Chimney’s bachelor weekend. Because Eddie had been acting off since Buck came out, even though he promised nothing would change. Because Buck once again became enviously green when Eddie kept his attention on the private bar tender. Because Eddie looked Buck in the eye and asked, ‘Why does he get that part of you?’ in the middle of their screaming match that Buck still has no idea how it started but ended there. Because they both walked away, too scared to confront any of those feelings. Because Buck knew deep down, he wanted to give everything he was giving to Tommy, to Eddie and so much more.

“You are such a wonderful man Buck and I know it was never your intention to hurt anyone. But us being together, it’s destroying me and you and...” Tommy sucked in a sharp breath, “And Eddie.”

And there it was. Everything that Buck has been denying since Tommy confronted him in his loft. The person who was really behind Buck’s complex and confused emotions those few months ago. It was time Buck accepted it. It was time to open his eyes. It was time to let Tommy go.

Buck let out a sob and tugged Tommy into a tight embrace, “I’m sorry, I really am.”

Tommy sniffled, “You have nothing to apologize for Evan.” He pulled back and put Buck at arm’s length, giving him a wet smile, “I was more than honored to be your queer awakening and guru.”

Buck barked out a soggy laugh, “You turned my entire world on its axis man, but in the best way possible.”

“You’re a special one Evan and Eddie… god what you two have and what it can be.” Tommy shook his head chuckling, “I can’t stand in the way of that anymore.”

The younger firefighter stuttered out a breath, “I think that’s more on me than you.” And gets a hum of agreement from his now ex-boyfriend. He stuck a hand out, “Friends?”

Tommy didn’t even hesitate and slapped his own hand into Buck’s, squeezing tight, “Absolutely. Just give me some time, and yourself as well.”

Buck took two days after the break-up to mourn what had been his best relationship to date, to wallow in his unknown carelessness, and to confront those mixed emotions that drew him to Tommy in the first place. Then he packed his duffle and went to work.

Chimney was the first to confront him since Tommy turned down a night out at the karaoke bar and explained that he and Buck broke up. Hen followed because those two paramedics tell each other everything. Bobby reminded Buck that he was willing to listen before giving his shoulder a squeeze. Ravi seemed, relieved, but sympathetic. And Eddie pulled him into the tightest embrace asking, “Why?”

Buck didn’t give him the entire answer. Simply stated, “It wasn’t working.”

Months later Buck gave him the entire truth by taking a page out Tommy’s book and kissing Eddie senseless with a firm grip on his chin. Eddie, who was babbling away in his kitchen about not seeing what was in front of him and desperate to know if Buck is willing to give Eddie every part of himself, kissed Buck back with ferocity. When they pulled apart Buck finally told him why Tommy ended things, “He saw what we were all too scared to look at.”

That was almost a month ago and Buck is deliriously happy with his life, with his boyfriend, with Eddie. He doesn’t need to be weird or nervous around the man that helped lead him here. So, he winks at Eddie, telling him it’s all good, and gives his attention to Tommy. “No big newsworthy rescues. Though Chimney did rescue his 100th cat.”

Tommy shakes his head laughing, “An almost impossible feat.”

“Very much so.” Buck comments, “We’re here to celebrate Maddie’s promotion at dispatch. Officially a supervisor.”

“Hey good for her!” Tommy exclaims, “Honestly surprised it took this long. Her voice seems to be on all the major calls lately.”

Buck nods, “Yea. Would have been a different ending for all of us after the bridge collapse last year if it weren’t for my sister.”

“Man, you Buckley’s and your heroism.”

Buck blushes, Tommy Kinnard always the charmer. The other man smirks, knowing the effect he has on him still. “You look good Buck. Happy. Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain firefighter that’s all over your Instagram lately? Hm?”

As if summoned by Tommy’s mere mention of him, a red Henley covered arm snakes its away around Buck’s waist and warmth lines up along his back. “Hey Tommy, good to see yuh man.” Eddie greets smoothly before nuzzling close to Buck’s ear, “Get that drink order in yet babe?” He asks just loud enough to be overheard by certain people close by.

The pilot’s smirk broadens, but gives a friendly slap to Eddie’s back, “Good to see yuh too Diaz. Been a minute.”

Eddie nods and his nose moves along Buck’s jaw at the movement, making him tremble, “It has. Maybe we can meet up to spar sometime.”

Before his bisexual awakening and the admittance of his true feelings, hearing his boyfriend make plans with another man would have sent him on a downward spiral. Now, thanks in part to Tommy, Eddie, his sister, and the entirety of the 118, but mostly himself, Buck is secure and at peace with his place in their lives, in Eddie’s life.

But that still doesn’t stop his big hearted, ever thoughtful boyfriend from asking, “I know I’ve only taught you the basics, but you could join Evan.”

Buck leans back into Eddie’s embrace and brushes his lips against his partner’s cheek, “Hmm. I’d rather go for the title on more equal grounds, and I really want to save myself the embarrassment of Tommy seeing my ass get kicked.”

His ex snorts out a laugh, while Eddie’s cheeks pinken at Buck’s innuendo of the actual kind of sweaty, half naked situation they want to be in. “Still shameless as ever huh Evan?” Tommy comments.

Buck shrugs, “Nothing to be ashamed of. My boyfriend is hot and I prefer to have my ass handed to me in more intimate ways. But you two can kick, spin, and punch your little hearts out. I’ll enjoy some time with Christopher, maybe even take him to a field and play the much superior sport, football.”

“God you really do not like basketball huh?” Tommy retorts with a shake of his head, probably remembering the first and last time they played, ending with Buck almost breaking Eddie’s ankle in a confused jealous rage.

“I won’t let him near anything orange and spherical.” Eddie jokes giving Buck a tight squeeze. “But if you are up to it, I would love to come over and go a few rounds. You do have a pretty sweet set up.”

The LAFD piolet grins, “Bring the Chevelle too, we can give it a once over.”

Buck makes a mental reminder to give the back seat of said car a good cleaning because the last time he and Eddie drove it out, Buck took Eddie apart in back seat and a t-shirt wipe down definitely did not suffice as ‘clean up’.

Eddie clears his throat, and his blush deepens. Yea, he’s thinking the same. “Sounds good. I’ll shoot you text and set up a time.”

Knowing the conversation is coming to an end, Buck flags down the bar tender before looking over at Tommy, “You should join us. Drinks are on,” He pauses trying to remember who lost the credit card roulette and laughs when it comes to him, “Drinks are on Josh.”

Tommy softens at the invitation, “Drinks with the 118, haven’t done that in a while. I’m in. Miller lite to start.”

Buck laughs, “Yea I know. Go join the others, Eddie and I got this.”

“Yea, I know you do. BuckandEddie, the dream team. Happy for you both, truly.” Tommy kindly states, then gives a shoulder pat to the two of them before strolling away to join the 118 and dispatchers. They faintly hear loud cheers and greetings when he gets close, their friends and family always happy to see the man who put his life and career on the line for them.

Buck places their drink order and when the bar tender slides away, Eddie pulls him back into his chest and growls into his ear, “You may not be green with envy anymore, but I sort of am.”

A shiver runs down Buck’s spine at his boyfriend’s possessive tone and knew all too well that their time at the bar was going to be short lived…unless.

“It’s no Chevelle, but the jeep is parked pretty close.” Buck breathlessly tells him.

Eddie gives him a wicked grin, “You want to take me in the jeep?”

“Wanna go for another title?”

I put in so many references from the episode and previous episodes too, as mini celebration to the 100th episode. Hope you all enjoyed! If you want to know when I drop coda fic go interact with my pinned post. Tagging (no pressure): @try-set-me-on-fire @devirnis @bi-buckrights @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @bidisasterbuckdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley @watchyourbuck @perfectlysunny02 @aroeddiediaz @loserdiaz @diazsdimples @fortheloveofbuddie @rogerzsteven @lemonzestywrites @evanbegins @bi-buck-coded @glorious-spoon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @sunshinediaz @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @goforkinard @bekkachaos @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @bibuckbuckley @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @prosperdemeter2 @transboybuckley @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @bigfootsmom @911onabc @911-on-abc @homerforsure

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ghostthewriter09 · 1 month

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Professions after DPS ends (non canon)

Todd: English teacher (canon), writer in his free time (my head canon) Neil: Broadway actor Charlie: Bartender (I cannot explain this) Meeks: Therapist Pitts: Either physics teacher or biomedical engineer Cameron: Writer Knox: Lawyer who ends up very unsatisfied with his job and ends up at his parents place

#dead poets society #future fic #knox overstreet #charlie dalton #neil perry #todd anderson #steven meeks #gerard pitts #the poets #dead poets headcanons

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wynnyfryd · 5 months

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🎵 Troll Toll 🎵

written for the @steddiemicrofic January prompt: ‘hole,’ 404 words | rated M | tags: future fic, crossover, crack treated ridiculously @griefabyss69 i hope you’re proud of yourself

Steve’s gonna kill Dustin.

Earlier this afternoon, on day five of visiting the kid in his new city (nevermind that Dustin’s pushing forty with two kids of his own; he’s always a kid to Steve), Eddie had started grumbling about how he wanted to see the real Philadelphia, not this “Liberty Bell Nic Cage pro America sanitized bullshit!” or whatever the fuck he liked to ramble about ever since his band got paid to do a commercial for Obama, and Dustin, who’d spent a month meticulously curating their tour of Philly’s finest cultural establishments, had rolled his eyes hard and pointed them toward a shady little Irish pub and hollered, “Fine! You want the real Philly? Go find her, you ungrateful dickheads, I’m going home!”

Which is how they found themselves here, at the worst goddamn musical Steve has ever seen.

“So, uh… just to be. So clear,” Eddie starts, dead-eyed stare into the middle distance as they filter out of the auditorium, the performers still screeching at each other loud enough to hear them from the sidewalk. He jams his thumb into the space between his furrowed brows. “Did I just take us to a play about child molestation? Is that- is that what just-?”

….Yeah.

Yeah, he definitely did — Steve’s pretty sure the little alcoholic guy who invited them to this thing spent most of act two singing about a boy’s hole — but Eddie looks as pale as the pair of goth weirdos standing behind them, so Steve aims for casual. Slurps the last of his Diet Coke and shrugs, “No, I think it was about, like, personal growth and shit.”

Eddie does not look reassured.

Behind him, the goth girl smacks a creepy balding guy upside the head and spits in a thick European accent, “Colin Robinson, why the hell did you bring us all the way to this terrible city just to watch this stee-upid bloody musical?”

“Oh, I don’t know, dahling,” the equally pale and dramatic man to her left chimes in, “I thought the Dayman reprise was, ah-rrRiveting-uh.”

Jesus Christ. Fucking theater people.

The balding guy doesn’t answer, but Steve swears he sees his eyes flash blue, and okay. Yeah, he’s had enough of the real city now, thank you very fucking much.

“Come on,” he says in a hush, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and trying his best to not freak out. “I’m calling us a cab.”

#steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficjanuary #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #future fic #crossover #crack fic #wwdits #iasip #my writing #my fic

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formosusiniquis · 23 days

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have your cake

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he looked around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don't know, don't wanna know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll tell Robin you were-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so does Munson.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They really can’t stay any longer.

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

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

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

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

#steddie #steddie fic #implied past stomarol #Baker Steve Harrington #my fic #tommy x carol #tomarol #genuinely don't know what their ship name is I'm sorry #future fic #the author is experiencing some complicated emotions about their 10 year reunion and this is now the second fic I've posted this year-#-that's mentioned one so clearly forcing fictional characters to emote about it for me is not working #the terrible trio do own every business in the little storefront Tommy mentions and they employ the kids who they have a stable income-#-while they work on their passion projects

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blushweddinggowns · 2 years

Text

Eddie was sulking. He had a bad day at work and his boyfriend was miles away without access to a phone.

He took a sip of his beer, lazily watching the news while bored out of his mind. Maybe subjecting himself to the horrors of the great outdoors would have been worth it after all, even with Robin’s no-sex rule.

He groaned when the phone rang, completely not in the mood to speak to anyone. But their voicemail box was broken, and on the very off chance it was Steve calling to say they were rained out, Eddie didn’t want to miss it.

He picked it up, uncaring for politeness,“Yeah?”

“Eddie? What kind of greeting is that?”

He perked up a little at the sound of Max’s voice. He could make an exception for her, “Sorry Red, crap day.”

“Sucks for you. Hey, um, is Steve there?"

“Nope, he swindled Robin into going camping with him. But he’ll be back Monday.”

"Of course he did," She sighed, voice shaky, “Just, uh, have him call me when he gets home, okay?”

Eddie frowned, alarms already ringing. She sounded weird, not just her usual trademarked annoyance, “Is everything okay down there?”

“Y-yeah. Totally fine.”

“Max, if this is some Upside Down shit-”

“It’s not! It’s…just me shit. And everyone else is gone.”

“What is me shit?” Eddie was getting a bad feeling in his stomach, “I hope you realize if something happened to you and I could have stopped it, I’ll be liable, and then Steve will be forced to kill me-”

“He would never kill you.” She laughed, weak and a little forced, “Seriously, you don’t have to worry, I’m basically fine. ”

“Well I’m not willing to test it. What’s going on?”

She took a deep breath, rallying before admitting the truth, “Ok, ok, um, my mom kinda got arrested?”

Eddie wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that, “When the hell did that happen?”

“About a week ago? And we, uh, kinda got evicted?”

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before deciding that Susan Hargrove was going on his list of least favorite people.

Max was stilling talking, rushing in a way that Eddie wasn’t used to, “A-and I know you guys are far away, and I wouldn’t ask normally, really, and if you can’t come I get it, b-but Steve said if I ever needed anything to call and Johnathan took them all to that stupid computer summer camp and Jocye and Hopper are still on their honeymoon and…I-I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Where the hell have you been staying?”

She hesitated again, “In my mom’s car?”

Eddie was already on his feet, looking for his keys as he reassured her, “You did the right thing by calling, okay? I’m on my way, but you’re going to my uncle’s house, understand? You’re not going to spend another night in a car.”

“But-”

"But nothing. You’re going to go there, eat, sleep in a real bed, and we’ll leave in the morning. I’ll see you soon."

She agreed without much of a fight, hanging up with a quiet thank you. Behind all of his playfulness and eccentricities, Eddie could be pretty intimidating when needed to be.

He blared music the whole way there, realizing half way through that he was pushing twenty four hours without sleeping. But there were worse things than an impromptu fifteen hour drive to Hawkins in the middle of the night, even if he could barely keep his eyes open or feel his legs by the time he got there.

It was mid-day when he pulled into Wayne’s driveway, and he was not looking forward to doing it all over again. He used his spare key, forgoing a greeting at the sight of his uncle at the kitchen table, opting to profusely thank him instead.

“Where is she?” He asked, after about the fifth round of thanks.

“Asleep,” Wayne offered, “Kid tried to stay up all night waiting for you, but she went down around nine this morning.”

Good, that was good, it would give him some much needed time to sleep. He crashed on their couch, conking out almost instantly. All too soon he was being woken back up, something tickling his face. He wrinkled his nose, swatting at whatever was touching him, but it was persistent. He groaned as light filled his vision, blinking up at the ceiling. He turned, just in time to catch Max going to poke at his cheek again.

The kid looked like shit, like she hadn’t showered or slept in a week.

“Hi,” she said quietly, giving an awkward little wave, like they weren’t inches apart.

“Hi,” Eddie tried, for once feeling completely out of his element as they stared at each other.

The boys he could deal with, they were his own personal band of nerds. Even El was easier, with her straightforward curiosity and Eddie’s penance to talk anyone’s ear off was usually a match made in Heaven, but Max…Max was Steve’s territory.

His self-proclaimed adopted sister, a step ahead of everyone in conversation, quiet but witty, careful but brave, she’d always been a bit of a mystery to Eddie. She was so selective when it came to who she trusted, with him never fully being in or out of her circle of favorites, always on the periphery by his proximity to Steve, her favorite adult.

She was picking at the couch, avoiding Eddie’s eyes when she piped up, “Your uncle’s cool.”

“I know, right?” Eddie sat up, rubbing a hand over his face to wake up faster, “What time is it?”

“Five.”

Shit. They had to leave soon if they were going to get there before Steve, “You ready?”

She nodded, “As I ever will be.”

It was short work packing, she had her skateboard, her walkman, and a single duffle bag, stuffed full. Wayne and Eddie shared a look as they stuffed it all into the back, the scene way too familiar to Eddie’s own meager belongings when he came along.

They thanked Wayne again on the way out, Max even going as far as accepting a hug, bashful but too grateful to refuse. He pulled out of the driveway, sad to say goodbye to his uncle but more than happy to see Hawkins start to disappear in his rearview. No matter how many good memories he had there, how many wonderful people he’d met, something inside of him would always hate that shit hole.

Maybe it was because all the good parts could be taken out.

He glanced over at Max, not quite sure what to say. It was never just them before. Eddie was the one to break the silence first, per usual, “How the fuck did Mike convince El to go to a three month computer camp?"

It was probably the wrong question to ask considering the circumstances, but at least it made her laugh, a real one this time, "That's what I said! God, they’re worse now than when they were dating. They take the best friend thing way too seriously. Almost as bad as Robin and Steve.”

“Hey, rude!” Eddie whined, mock offended on Steve’s behalf, “True but still rude!”

Max laughed. She was picking at a loose thread on her jacket, still smiling a little,“I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here but…thank you for doing it.”

He shrugged, “There are worse things than a nice night drive.”

“I still appreciate it.”

“So…” he trailed off, hesitating before asking what needed to be asked, “Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Max sighed as she stared out the window, like she’d just been waiting for him to say it, “She…got caught for check fraud and identity theft, apparently for a lot of money. She doesn’t even know when her trial date is yet. I thought…” she hesitated, shaking her head, “I don’t know what I thought. I wasn’t thinking. I should have known something was up when things got better out of nowhere.”

“You’re not supposed to be thinking about shit like that. You’re seventeen.”

“Almost eighteen.”

Eddie rolled his eyes,“Oh, you got me. You’re right, everyone knows you get a copy of your parent’s tax records and W-2s and take over the family finances when you come of age ”

She snorted, eyes still staring out the window, but with the smallest hint of a smile on her face.

Eddie cleared his throat, still peeking at her through the corner of his eye, “I’m sorry that uh, Steve isn’t here.”

She shook her head, “No, I’m glad it was you. Since…y’know.”

Eddie nodded, oh too aware of what she meant. Things in Hawkins had gotten pretty fucked up for Steve near the end of their time there. After Steve's parent's found out about them, things had spread pretty fast, rumors finally being confirmed as fact, courtesy of Steve’s piece of shit sperm donor. He’d let the whole world know that he didn’t have a son, paired with a big old speech about parenteral-approved gay bashing. The backlash was even worse than Eddie had expected. Apparently the only thing that town hated then queer freaks was ex-straights.

It had been pretty fucking awful, worse yet that Will had to see it all. The only queer kid in a thirty mile radius had to bear witness to his gay role model being socially crucififed. The experience didn’t scream hopeful future in Indiana. Eddie was glad that he was going back to California for college, especially since he’d have El and Mike with him. Even if it was depressing the rugrats were splitting in two, Eddie was just happy none of them were staying in that hell hole.

Max was biting at her nails, a nervous habit he knew Steve used to bug her about.

“Do you think he’ll let me stay?”

Eddie laughed, “You should be more worried about if he’ll ever let you leave.”

“You think?”

“I’d bet money on it.”

The little smile was getting bigger, “How much?”

“Twenty says he’ll tear up and say something like, ‘Of course you can stay, for as long as you want,’” Eddie did his best emotional Steve voice, the adorable wobbly kind that melted everyone’s heart, loving how it made Max laugh, “Something sappy like that.”

“You’re on!” They shook on it, with Eddie only feeling slightly bad for setting her up on a nearly fixed bet.

It was a long fifteen hours, though Eddie was grateful that Max stayed awake with him the whole time, the drive was so much better with someone to talk to.

“I’m not going to let you be alone for this twice,” she insisted when Eddie asked if she was tired after her fifth yawn. They argued over radio stations and traded blackmailable stories about their friends the whole way home. Eddie’s eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion by the time they got there, Max looking just as bad, but it was worth it.

She was worth it.

She went straight to the couch when Eddie pushed the door open, already familiar with the layout of the place. She plopped down, face face first, almost immediately passing out, obviously still exhausted from her week of homeless hell.

Eddie was just covering her with a blanket when he heard the click of the lock being undone, Steve’s voice not far behind, “Baby, I’m home-”

He rounded the corner, all teasing smiles until his eyes landed on Max, his big eyes widening in shock.

He dragged his gaping boyfriend back into their room and told Steve the whole story, genuinely impressed with himself for not passing out during his speech. Steve forced him into bed at the end of it, kissing him soundly for taking such good care of her, sleep taking him easily.

Eddie woke up slowly, alone in their dark room. He didn’t know how long he slept for, but lord knows he had needed it. He wandered into the living, finding Steve and Max hugging on the couch, catching the tail end of their conversation.

“Of course you can stay, for as long as you want,” Steve was saying, all teary eyed.

Eddie didn’t miss the relieved smile on her face, like there was ever a chance he would have said no. She spotted him over Steve’s shoulder, flipping him off when he mouthed at her, ‘I win.’

“You realize I have no money right?” She whispered to him later that night, freshly showered and finally relaxed, “And I’m starting to think you cheated.”

Eddie laughed, “Manual labor until your debt is paid then. And…define cheating?”

“Whatever weird psychic thing you guys have going on, definitely cheating.”

“It’s called love, thank you very much,” Eddie smiled over at Steve, who was busying himself in the kitchen. He was making dinner, insisting that they both eat something before passing out again. He shooed away all attempts at helping, and for good reason, both of them still looked like sleep deprived nightmares.

It was a good night, all things considered, even if Max and Eddie were still only half awake for most of it. He didn’t really feel back to himself until the next morning, but that’s what driving for more than thirty hours in less than two days did to someone.

He kissed Steve’s hair before leaving him in bed, wandering to the balcony to light up a joint.

It wasn’t long before he could hear Max shuffling around behind him, dialing a number into the kitchen's phone, eavesdropping by way of proximity. Probably Lucas if he had to guess. He tried to zone out a bit, but couldn’t help listening in to the latter half of her conversation.

“Of course everything’s fine,” she lied easily into the receiver, “Nancy offered me an exclusive tour of the campus since I was abandoned by my boyfriend, and Steve and Eddie said I could stay at their place to quell the boredom. My mom’s fine with it.”

Pretty good lie, all things considered.

“Just send the letters here, tell El the same thing. They’ll just get lost at my house. You can call here too, I’ll probably stay through summer, but definitely home before you get back.”

Eddie looked over his shoulder, just able to make out the side of her face at the odd angle. She was smiling, a soft thing that Eddie recognized, the kind of smile that was meant for a singular person, “Then I guess you’ll just have to rewrite it won’t you?”

Eddie forced himself to zone out again, unwilling to listen in on the more intimate bits. It wasn’t long before he heard the click of the receiver and light footsteps strolling his way.

She came up behind him, plopping down next to him with a sigh, “Can I try that?”

Eddie glanced behind him, a little paranoid that Steve was about to catch him in the act of giving drugs to his favorite child, but relented when he couldn’t hear any sounds from their bedroom.

He passed it over, “Just don’t tell your mother.”

Max laughed as she took a hit, a bit too experienced with it in Eddie’s opinion, “What does that make you, the cool dad?”

“Obviously.”

They stared out into the horizon, the sun not quite up yet, but on the way.

“You’re not going to tell him?” Eddie finally asked when she passed it back.

She shook her head, “And rain on the nerd parade? I don’t think so. He's having the time of his life over there.”

“He’s gonna be pissed. They’re all going to be pissed.”

She shrugged, “It won’t be that bad. As long as I omit the car thing, it will be mild.”

They sat in silence, the comfortable kind for once, before she spoke up again, “Are you okay with me staying here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She shrugged, “Like…I know you don’t have much space. And I don’t even know for how long I’ll be here. Steve’s fine with it, because he’s Steve, but are you?”

Eddie ruffled her hair, a bit touched that she would even ask, “Of course I don’t mind you being here. We’ll make it work.”

And they did. They ran a curtain through half of their living room, making a makeshift space around Max’s favorite couch, so she could have some semblance of privacy.

It didn’t take long for Robin and Nancy to get involved either, especially since they had the actual two-bedroom apartment. Robin glommed onto Max particularly fast, and two made a chaotic duo of epic proportions.

They converted Nancy’s office, completely ignoring Max’s protests, and got her a real bed. She bounced between their apartments, always sure to be clear on where she was going to end up staying that night. It was stupid, but it still made Eddie preen that she choose their place more often than not. The summer went by fast, faster than Eddie would have ever thought while living with a teenager, but by the time August was coming to a close, there was no good news for Susan Hasgrove.

They still talked over the phone, usually just for Susan to guiltily admit terrible news while apologizing profusely. Susan ended up settling on a plea deal to avoid trial. Two years in prison, maybe less for good behavior, but there was no way she was getting out in time for Max to go back to Hawkins.

Eddie had to give her this, Susan was an absolute fuck up, but she loved her kid, loved her enough to basically beg Steve and Eddie to take her in until college. Like they would ever say no.

School was another matter, but thank Christ for Nancy Wheeler, the walking academic genius. She knew exactly what to do and what to say to the Emerson officials regarding Max’s senior year. She even garnered a deal to get her into an alternative program through the college rather than having to re-enroll in a new highschool. She had explained it all to Eddie once, early admission this, preferred treatment and financial aid that, but it kinda went in one ear and out the other, he was more than happy to just let he handle it.

With the official news, Max couldn’t hide it from the others for much longer, and eventually, they found out on their own. Apparently, they had all planned the opposite of a Welcome Home Party for Max, a Sorry We Left You All Summer For Dork Camp Party. They had a banner and everything, and even came back early to set up, right in the window of Max’s lie of being home, only to find her trailer occupied by a completely different family.

One angry phone call with El and a fifteen hour drive later, Eddie found his living room invaded by a wild pack of seventeen-year olds, all pissed as hell. Max was sandwiched between Lucas and El on the couch, the two more upset that she went through something so terrible without them than mad, while the rest stared up at her from the floor. Steve was settled in Eddie’s lap on their recliner, the two watching the whole exchange warily.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dustin managed to ask over the incomprehensible noise of them all trying to talk at once, his insanely loud voice finally coming in handy.

Max rubbed a hand over her face, “Would you have left if I told you?”

“Of course!” El and Lucas said in unison, sharing a look like they couldn't believe she would even need to ask.

“Exactly! That was the problem!”

“But you could have stayed with my family!” Mike tried, “Nancy’s room is empty and-”

“And your dad literally hates all of us.”

“But what about us?” Will asked, “We don’t have that much space sure, but we could figure something out.”

“I know you would but I didn’t want- I don’t want…” Max trailed off, struggling to find the words.

"Pity," Eddie finished for her, "She doesn't want to be treated like a stray. And Joyce is a sweetheart, sure, but that’s definitely up her alley."

"And I won’t be here forever,” Max insisted, earnestly looking at Lucas, “Just until college starts, and then I’ll be in the dorms, like we planned."

“But…this is our last year together,” El was tearing up, which was enough to get the whole room to follow suit.

Max hugged her, apologetic but still firm, “I know, and I’m sorry El, really. I just…I don’t want to be in that town anymore. Not after everything. But I’ll call everyday! And write letters too, whatever you want.”

She sniffled, “Everyday?”

“Everyday.”

“And you can all come here to visit her, whenever you want,” Steve added, “Spring break, weekends, whenever.”

The offer was enough to calm them all down, even if there was a sad little air around them their whole visit. They all held Steve on his word though, and Eddie spent the next nine months eventually getting used to finding a gaggle of kids hanging around his apartment every other weekend, but they made it work.

Max missed them all the time, anyone could see that, but she still found a way to enjoy her new life. The adjustment from one absentee parent, to four obsessive ones was oddly smooth. Max was an intensely good kid underneath all that snark, smart as hell too. Eddie had been worried about her getting bored, separated from all the other rugrats, but she was adjustable. It helped when they bought her a guitar for her birthday, a new hobby with a built-in teacher to fill the time between studying, skateboarding, and hogging the phone.

Both he and Steve cried like the emotional idiots they were when they helped her move into her dorm later that year, but they couldn’t help it, the joke of them being parents had just solidified into a reality.

They probably embarrassed her to hell and back during the move, but she never let it show, shedding a few tears herself when the last box was brought up.

She hugged them both on the way out, asking “The good couch is still mine when I spend the night right?”

Steve wiped at his eyes while Eddie ruffled her hair, saying in unison, “Always.”

#future fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #Eddie would be a good dad okay #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve is already a good dad this can work #does this work #im getting creative with my scene stealing here #living the unknown dream #max mayfeild #the party #steddie #drabble #the fruity four live in boston and half the kids obvs followed them #tw homophobia #stranger things

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wangxianficrecs · 14 days

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Confusion by Vrishchika

🔒 Confusion

by Vrishchika (@vrishchikawrites)

Not rated, 4k, Wangxian

Summary: Wei Wuxian wakes up in a strange place. Eight hundred years didn't teach Lan Wangji patience. Kay's comments: A short story of what would have happened if Wei Wuxian hadn't returned after thirteen years but instead thrown eight hundred years into the future. In that time, Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng amongst others have gained immortality and the world has long since changed its opinions about Wei Wuxian's cultivation and his role as the Yiling Patriach. I really loved that and I also really loved the lore the story wrote for golden cores and how immortality works. Excerpt: "Looks?" She glances at him, "Tall, decidedly underweight, pale, grey eyes, unreasonably long hair like in those period dramas. He asked me if my phone was a. talisman." Wei Wuxian mouths the new word, intrigued by it. "Er, yeah, actually," She says, "Pretty serious." She goes on to list his injuries again, "He was unconscious for a while. Healing will take months. He's on a significant dose of painkillers right now but seems pretty active and coherent- uh, sure I'll ask." She turns to him, "Tell me something only Lan Wangji would know?" Wei Wuxian arches a brow at the strange question and thinks back before his lips twitch into a wide grin, "He bit me out of frustration while we were trapped in Xuanwu's Cave." Lan-guniang looks very skeptical as she conveys that information. The faint voice coming from the phone changes and the maiden's expression changes as well. She glances at him with wide eyes and then nods quickly, "Yes, of course. Yes, he's in no danger. The most concerning thing is a surgical scar and the absence of his Golden Core, we wondered if trafficking-" She frowns and his eyes widen, "Yes… yes, I'm sure." Wei Wuxian waves his hand frantically only to wince when his sore body protests, "Guniang, wait! Don't tell-"

pov wei wuxian, canon divergence, time travel, fix-it, future fic, immortal lan wangji, immortal jiang cheng, post-canon, golden core reveal, golden core fix-it, love confessions, friends to lovers, wei wuxian has a new golden core, immortal wei wuxian, first time, first kiss, no jiang cheng & wei wuxian reconcilation, happy ending

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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babygirl-diaz · 12 days

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In which, Buck recreates the Christmas scene from years ago to propose to Eddie...

This is supposed to take after this incorrect quote. Just go along with me... I know it's not perfect but meh.

Eddie: So are you gonna ask me? Buck: Ask you what? Eddie: You know what. What you tried asking me the other day but failed miserably... Buck: No clue what you talking about Eddie: Did you hit your head on that fall or something? Or is there a reason you brought me here after exactly 10 years to the date? Buck: Okay, fine. I’m just scared to ask after you said no the last time… Eddie: I said no because you pulled a stupid stunt that almost got you killed. This? This is sweet. But where’s my ring? Buck: In Singapore. It hasn’t arrived yet. Eddie: You are getting me a ring from Singapore? You’re gonna make us broke before Christopher goes to college next year Buck: Don’t worry about it. I got us covered. Eddie: I will never live down the gold digger accusations. Buck: Nah, more like you’re my sugar baby Eddie: You wanna be my sugar daddy? Buck: Already am, babygirl Eddie: I should say no based on that alone. Also, I’m surprised you managed to bring Chris to meet Santa like he did 10 years ago. Buck: Oh, I had to bribe him but he said if he has to sit on Santa’s lap then he will make it his personal mission to get us divorced

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 abc #incorrect quotes #incorrect 911 quotes #911edit #my gifset #future fic

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navybrat817 · 2 months

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#navybrat polls #future fic #bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #hehe 😇#your stalker #your date #choose your own adventure #thanks in advance

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minnimayhem · 20 days

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Procrastinating actually writing Tetrabiblos chapter 2 so I stayed up too late drawing Ten Years Later Lucy instead

With my redesign of her in the corner as a ref

Link to Fic below!

#Lucy Heartfilia #Fairy Tail #Character Redesign #Future Fic #TYL AU #Fanart #ft fanart #Lucy ft

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

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Nother idea: 8 years later, Tommy & Carol apologizing to Steve for their behavior. & for immediately abandoning him when they knew he needed them most.

But Steve has people now who have shown him love, family, true friendship. And while he forgives them its not the same. He doesn't trust them. He is thriving without them.

But Carol realizes that the reason it isn't the same is bc Steve genuinely believes that they don't mean their apology. So she & Tommy actually discuss it and find a way to clear up any misunderstanding & ensure he knows they mean their apology. It works, it takes time & effort but they are once again his friends.

MY LOVE!!! STEVE REALIZING HE'S LOVED AND DOESN'T NEED HIS SHITTY EX FRIENDS CREW STAND UP!!!! I had the opportunity to really give Steve his shining moment and yell at them, but I decided that Steve would just be kind of over it, like they aren't really worth yelling at. Steve didn't do all this personal growth just to let them back in so easily, but luckily he isn't the only one who changed. You know I had to involve Eddie, of course! - Mickala ❤️

-----------------------------------------------

It was too fucking early on a Saturday morning to be woken up by the buzzer of his apartment.

Whoever it was was lucky that Eddie had to go into work today or he would be committing murder at their door.

He glanced at the clock on the microwave, 10:47, okay, so not that early.

They’d had a late night, okay?

If he had a limp to show what they were up to, that was his business.

“You can leave the package in the box, I’ll grab it soon!” Steve said into the mic, hoping it was just a delivery.

“Steve? Is that you?”

He recognized the voice, though he wished he didn’t.

Eight years was a long time to go without talking to someone who used to be your best friend, but when you’d been best friends for so long, certain things couldn’t be forgotten.

“Tommy?”

“Uh yeah, man. I’m here with Carol. We actually were hoping to talk to you?”

He looked down at his almost naked body, only Eddie’s boxers covering him.

“Sure.”

He buzzed them in, not giving them any clue where he was so they would take their time getting to his door. He had to throw on clothes, brush his hair, and try to look like he hadn’t just been asleep.

He rushed to the bedroom, throwing on the first pair of jeans he saw and a t-shirt from the floor. He heard voices down the hall as he was heading to the bathroom, his hands shaking with nerves as he tried to rush to brush through his hair.

“It can’t be that Munson, though, right? Even Steve wasn’t a fan of him in school.”

Steve grimaced at Carol’s voice.

Technically, Eddie worked a half shift when he had to work Saturdays, which meant unless they were only stopping by for a few minutes, he would probably be home while they were still here.

Tommy had always hated Eddie. No one could really figure out why. Sure, a lot of people said nasty things about and to Eddie in high school, but no one else really put their hands on him the way Tommy did.

Eddie joked it must have been because he liked him, but Steve thought maybe he just had a lot of displaced anger.

At least that’s what he thought when he became a counselor and understood a lot of psychology behind why people did things.

Eddie laughed and said, “don’t overthink it, some people are just bullies.”

But Steve liked to think maybe Tommy was more complicated than that, liked to explain away his worst qualities so it made it easier to accept that he was once best friends with him.

Eddie laughed about that too, and said, “kids are stupid, and sometimes we find friends in people who make us feel better about ourselves, but you grew up.”

Steve shook his head, not wanting to think more about it.

He opened the front door, the ghosts of his past standing there, hardly aged, hardly any different at all.

“Come in, guys. Um. Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting anyone.”

They all awkwardly laughed as Tommy and Carol made their way inside.

The apartment was small, cheap rent kept them there so they could save up to buy a house outside of town in the next few years, maybe work on starting a family if they could.

They’d talked about it over the last couple of years, once Steve was settled in his job at the school, once Eddie got promoted to general manager at the shop, they’d save for a few years, have a decent down payment, start looking for a house with three or four bedrooms. Start looking into adopting. Maybe get a cat.

But to do that, their apartment was cozy, as Eddie liked to say. One bedroom, one bathroom, kitchen and living room area all one room, a tiny storage closet. They didn’t even have their own washer and dryer, which reminded Steve that he had to take their laundry downstairs and get it started soon.

Tommy and Carol looked around, but hid any emotion on their faces.

He gestured for them to have a seat on the couch, which was a hand-me-down from Wayne when they moved in. It was “too much” for his space when Eddie moved out.

They sat, though they didn’t look very comfortable.

Steve sat in the rocking chair Eddie bought, the first thing he bought for their “eventual home”, but didn’t rock as he took them in.

He originally didn’t see any proof of them aging, but now that he was looking closer, he could see Tommy’s already-receding hairline, Carol’s wrinkled by her eyes, both of them just a little softer in the face and stomach.

They looked incredibly human like this, like they weren’t some high school king and queen who only cared about how they look and what parties they could go to every weekend.

It helped Steve relax a bit.

“Not to be rude, but uh, how did you guys find me?” Steve asked, not sure he even really cared.

“We moved here to Chicago about six months ago, Tommy’s gonna run his dad’s office here starting next year, so he wanted to ease into it. I started job searching a few weeks ago for a teaching position and I noticed you worked at the school I interviewed at. We looked you up and decided we wanted to come talk,” Carol always was a bit of a rambler, always annoyed Steve when she started in on something that really didn’t matter much.

Carol nudged Tommy, who had been staring wide-eyed at Steve since he sat down.

He cleared his throat and nodded.

“We actually came here to make things right. We were best friends for years, and then one bad thing happened and we weren’t anymore. I know I fucked up with everything. We shouldn’t have treated Nancy like that, or you like that, and we’re hoping you could maybe accept our apology.”

Steve stared at them.

“We were kids. We did stupid shit. We’ve all grown. I mean, look at you! Your own apartment in the big city!”

As if he had been waiting for a cue, Eddie walked in the front door, his oil-covered coveralls already coming off. Steve made the rule after he came home one day to see oil stains on the bed sheets where Eddie had fallen asleep after working from open to close: coveralls come off as soon as he’s in the door and they go straight to the laundry room.

“Jesus, sweetheart, this is the last Saturday I cover in the shop. At least until I hire some competent mechanics. I think I did most of the work all morning. And after doing most of the work last night, I-”

“Eds! We have company!” Steve rushed out, his face bright red at what Eddie was implying.

It’s not that he really cared about what Tommy and Carol thought; Once they realized Eddie lived here, it wouldn’t be difficult to come to the conclusion that they shared a one bedroom apartment because they were together. He didn’t even care if Tommy and Carol were disgusted by him for it.

But he’d be damned if Eddie felt uncomfortable in his own home, especially if they started saying shit to him reminiscent of their high school days.

He watched Eddie turn around, recognize the people on the couch, and turn to Steve with a questioning look.

“Tommy, Carol, you remember Eddie,” Steve said, not breaking eye contact with Eddie.

They were having an entire conversation with their eyes, Steve begging Eddie to just go get cleaned up, Eddie begging Steve to explain what was going on.

Tommy’s eyes narrowed as he looked between them, Carol’s eyes stayed pointed at Eddie.

“Munson?”

“The one and only!” Eddie said, his voice pitching just a bit higher, naturally going to his over the top self to protect himself from whatever they would say.

Steve loved every version of Eddie: the performer on stage, the performer with friends, the soft version of himself that only Steve got to see, the protective version that would fight the world to make sure his loved ones were safe.

He was lucky to have every part of Eddie, even the parts that may not always be the best.

But his least favorite thing was seeing Eddie go into this mode, the one that kept him safe during school, when kids were mean, adults were mean, life was hard.

He didn’t want that for Eddie anymore.

“You guys…live together?” Tommy asked, looking back to Steve for confirmation.

Steve rolled his eyes. Tommy apparently didn’t gain any intelligence over the years.

“Yes. We’re together.”

From the look on Eddie’s face, he hadn’t expected Steve to say that.

That was fair; it took Steve nearly a year just to come out to anyone who wasn’t Robin, scared that somehow everyone would hate him, hate Eddie, hate them together.

But it went perfectly, and Steve rode the high a bit too much. He came out to his parents a few months after, and that went quite a lot less than perfectly.

He was lucky he didn’t have more head trauma from it, actually.

So he kept it quiet, didn’t come out to any new friends he met in college, even after one of them came out to him. Didn’t come out to coworkers while he worked at a cafe throughout college to pay the bills. Didn’t even come out to the bartender at their favorite bar despite the rainbow flag that was hidden behind the bar in silent support.

It was only recently that he started to feel comfortable being more open, and only in the city, only select areas where he knew they wouldn’t end up hurt.

Eddie was patient, maybe more than he deserved.

So saying it outright to the two people who suspected and bullied Eddie for being gay in high school, despite it not even being confirmed then, clearly threw Eddie for a loop.

“Oh, like…”

“Yes, exactly like that.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for any response that would give him permission to kick them out of his apartment, their apartment.

But he saw Carol nudge Tommy again, pasting a smile on her face. It wasn’t completely natural, but it also didn’t seem fake.

“That’s nice, Steve. Have you been together a while?”

“Since ‘86.”

“Wow! Since the quakes!”

Steve nodded.

“Steve, can you help me with something in the kitchen for a second?” Eddie asked, his voice unreadable.

Steve hated it, hated that all of a sudden he couldn’t get a grasp of what Eddie was feeling.

It had been so long since he’d experienced this.

And a small part of him blamed Tommy and Carol.

He got up, wordlessly following Eddie into the kitchen area that wasn’t even separated from the living room.

“Not that I don’t love that you’re comfortable telling them, but um. What’s. What’s happening currently?” Eddie whispered as he tried to appear busy, grabbing a glass from the cabinet to fill with water.

“They came to apologize to me. For high school.”

When he said it out loud, it sounded a bit ridiculous.

“And are you accepting it?”

“I don’t think so. I think they’re only doing it to help themselves feel better. I’m not interested in whatever game they’re playing.”

Eddie looked over Steve’s shoulder at the pair sitting on the couch.

“Need me to get rid of them? Just say so, sweetheart. I’ll kick them both to the curb.”

Steve leaned in and kissed him quickly on the lips, smiling as he pulled away.

“I got it, baby. Get cleaned up so I can hug you.”

“Just hug?”

Steve laughed as he walked back towards his spot.

“Or more!”

He focused back on Tommy and Carol, who were graciously pretending that they didn’t hear the conversation that happened less than 20 feet from them.

“So, we were wondering if you wanted to meet up for dinner, catch up? You could bring Eddie, of course!”

Of course, she said. Like they didn’t outwardly despise Eddie eight years ago. Like they were perfectly fine with him now, and fine with Steve, and fine with them.

“I think we’ll pass. Good luck to you guys in Chicago, though.”

He ignored the pang of guilt when he saw Carol’s face fall and Tommy’s eyes darted to where Eddie was closing the bedroom door and back to Steve.

“Oh. Um. Well, it would be our treat, if you’re worried about money.”

“I wasn’t.”

Tommy and Carol hadn’t expected to be shut down like this, but Steve knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t accept their apologies, and he wouldn’t expect Eddie to suddenly be friendly to people who tormented him for years.

“Okay. Well. I guess we’ll go, then.”

“Thanks for stopping by.”

He stood as they stood, walked them out the door, then closed and locked it behind them.

Steve made it to the bedroom before he felt the tears spring to his eyes.

Eddie was in the bathroom showering, so he hoped he could get it out quickly. He didn’t want Eddie to worry.

But unfortunately, once a few tears fell, it seemed like they wouldn’t stop.

He got back in bed, burying his face in the pillow so he could hopefully pretend to be asleep, but didn’t quite manage it before Eddie was walking back into the room.

He got in bed and silently pulled Steve against his chest, running his hands up and down his back to soothe him, not trying to use any comforting words.

“I don’t know why I’m upset about a stupid fake apology from people I don’t care about.”

“Stevie, it’s okay to be upset. They were your friends for a long time, and you still have a lot of hurt leftover from them.”

“I just wish things had been different then.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head, and as they lay there together, Steve realized this hurt would never quite go away.

—------------------

“T, I don’t think he believed us,” Carol said from the passenger seat.

“I can’t believe Steve’s with Eddie. Of all the people,” Tommy replied, not even acknowledging Carol’s words.

“They seem good together.”

“I guess.”

Carol knew Tommy had a crush on Steve in high school, they’d talked about it years ago when she found an old picture of Steve with a heart drawn on the back while they were moving the first time around.

She’d been caught off guard, but understood, and was fine with it when he explained it was definitely in the past.

And it was.

But a part of him was wondering how long Steve had realized he liked guys, and what might have happened if he’d just been brave enough to do something about his feelings before things went to shit.

He loved Carol, was happy to be married to her, and wouldn’t want Steve now, but still. The what-ifs plagued his mind on the drive back to their home.

“Are you jealous of Eddie?”

Carol sounded hesitant to ask, like she wasn’t sure which answer she would prefer because she knew either way, Tommy would be upset she asked at all.

“No. I’m not jealous. Steve and I would never have worked out.”

Which may not have been a great answer for his wife, but it was the truth, and they were always honest with each other if nothing else.

“Since I got the job at the school, maybe I’ll have more chances to convince him we meant it.”

Carol was good. Deep down she had always been good. But Tommy always managed to drag her down when they were young, convinced her she needed to be a mean girl to fit in with their group, kept it up through most of college before they finally realized life was better if you just weren’t awful to people.

“Yeah, maybe.”

—---------------------

So, a month later, when school started up, Carol began the task of showing Steve that they were truly sorry.

She would often leave notes in his mailbox in the office, usually just a “have a great day!” with a smiley face, or “let me know if you want to catch up over lunch!”

He never responded, but she knew he got them.

Tommy had issues with his car and took it to the shop Eddie worked at, nodding along to what he said and admitted he didn’t really know much about cars so he trusted Eddie to fix it.

It was entirely professional, but a small part of Tommy was satisfied when Eddie gave him a genuine smile.

—--------------------------

“Is it weird that they keep trying?” Steve asked one night while they were lying in bed.

“I don’t think it’s weird. I think maybe they just mean it.”

Steve pondered it.

Yeah, they must mean it. The old Tommy and Carol would have given up after he sent them out of their apartment the first time.

“Would you wanna go to dinner with them? Just give them a chance? It’s okay if you don’t want to. You don’t have to forgive them.”

Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve’s slowly, softly.

“If you want to, then I want to support you. We’re all different now. Maybe we can look at who they are now instead of who they were, as long as they can look at who we are and respect us.”

“Yeah.” Steve kissed Eddie’s cheek. “Yeah.”

—-------------------

Steve left a note for Carol the following Monday: “Dinner at ours? Friday at 7. Bring a red wine and beer.”

She wrote back that same day with a bunch of smiley faces and a response that they would be there.

When Friday came, Steve was nervous.

He’d planned to leave work right when school got out instead of leaving at five so he could make sure everything was clean and the food would be ready on time.

Eddie promised to be home by six in case he needed help.

And when six arrived, Eddie walked through the door with flowers and a smile, and Steve relaxed.

Nothing would go wrong.

Even if something did, they would be in it together, and they would support each other.

They didn’t have to do this alone like they did all those years ago.

—-------------------

It became a thing: dinner every Friday evening, sometimes at Steve and Eddie’s, sometimes at Tommy and Carol’s, sometimes at a new restaurant in the city.

The first few dinners were stilted, full of apologies and awkward catch-ups.

Then it got easier.

They got closer.

Eddie and Tommy actually became closer than Steve and Tommy ever were. Eddie showed him how to change his own oil so he could “stop bothering him at work just so he could look at his sexy coveralls.” Tommy rolled his eyes, but was grateful to learn.

Carol and Steve would often bake dessert together, catching up on school gossip, the latest who was dating who always entertaining them just as it did when they were in high school.

There were still the occasional moments where Steve thought about how much they hurt him, and Eddie thought about how they might be teasing him behind his back.

But it was rare, and they usually talked themselves out of it.

They were the first people to find out when Carol was pregnant, and the first people to learn it was twins. Carol and Tommy were the first (okay, first after Robin) people to find out when their offer on a house was accepted.

Tommy ended up cutting ties with his father when he found out that Steve and Eddie were together and threatened to cut him off. Tommy had a degree, and now had years of experience under his belt, and wasn’t worried about finding another job, one where he knew he earned his position because of his work and not being the boss’ son.

And when Steve and Eddie were able to finally adopt a little girl in 2002, Tommy and Carol were at the courthouse taking pictures of the new family, their own kids already best friends with her.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tommy hagan #carol perkins #friendship rekindled #apologies #some fluff #future fic #ficlet #request

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