Sometimes, when the abbey is quiet after a long day of routine work, Aether and Sunshine curl up together on the sofa. No one else around, all on tour halfway across the world.
Aether runs a hand through her curls idly. Just thinking. About nothing and everything. He tells her as much when she asks, bright amber eyes peering up at him from his lap.
"I miss them too," she says, saying out loud what he doesn't want to.
Aether sighs. Nods.
"You've got me though, big guy," Sunny chirps. She presses a soft kiss to his stomach, reaching her hand up to barely brush the tip of his nose.
His face softens then, enamored by her endless cheerfulness. That innate ability to see the bright side of things. He supposes it suits her namesake.
Aether takes her hand in his, warm and small against his calloused ones. "I do, sunbug," he smiles. "I'm glad that I do."
It's not often that they fall into bed together, but it seems right tonight. Slow and aimless. Loving. Tender.
Something to make Aether's heart feel a bit lighter.
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Morning in bed, then by Donald Hall
Think about lazy mornings in the captains’ quarters, waking up together. Stede is a heavy sleeper, Ed wakes with the dawn. An old habit, born of years spent waking for watch shifts. He spent most of his life sleeping with one proverbial eye open, but now, here, he can finally rest. Next to Stede in his frilly nightgowns and sleeping caps and velvet eye masks. Wrapped in luxury. He stays in bed as long as he can, watching the sunlight on Stede’s face until the demands of his body and the demands of life on a ship intrude.
He goes to get some hardtack and an orange but is inevitably waylaid by some person or another needing the captain to look at a map or mediate an argument, and before he knows it, hours have passed. It’s not that he *needs* Stede, he doesn’t need anyone, but he’s always on Ed’s mind now. Why would he want to be anywhere lese when everyone and everything that matters in the world is in their cabin, in their bed? But life goes on regardless.
Ed notices his shoulders have started to creep up around his ears by the time he’s interrupted the third argument between Frenchie and the Swede over whose turn it is to swab the deck. Then he sees it, a flash of gold from the corner of his eye, a flutter of lace. He turns. Stede.
“There you are, treasure. I brought you a cup of tea. Dollop of milk--”
“And seven sugars. Thanks, love.”
And he can breathe again.
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Y’all I’m literally never going to be okay about Simon and Betty.
Simon realising that their whole relationship he hadn’t been examining why Betty always followed him because he was too focused on his love for her and not what she really needed. Not what they both really needed.
The devastating parallel of Betty being so blindly in love with Simon that she willingly and unthinkingly always put him first. And Simon being so blindingly in love with Betty that he saw her being happy and so never thought to fucking question whether those were the right decisions to make. Enabling them every time because they were in love and that was what she wanted, right? She wanted to be with him. She loved him. She was happy. So why would he think it should be any different?
And Betty reassuring Simon that she made her own choices. That he didn’t hold her anywhere. That he never forced her to be with him, or put him first. That she made those decisions and that she didn’t have any regrets. But that they both had to let this go because as long as they were focused on each other neither of them were ever going to be able to have the life they needed.
That they had both been trapped for so long carving pieces of themselves out for other people. Betty in her blind devotion when it came to Simon. Simon in his belief that his crimes as the Ice King, and that all the ways he had let down Betty, meant the only purpose and worth he could have was in sacrificing himself for others.
That they both deserved self-possession and the ability to find autonomy and actualisation as individuals. That they deserved to make their own choices, the good and the bad, and just live without the blind devotion, and guilt, and sacrifice that was going to trap them in this loop forever.
That they meant everything to each other, but that now they needed to mean everything to themselves. That the only way forward was on different paths, but that they both deserved that. That they were able to show each other that they deserved that.
That Simon gets to live now.
I will never be okay about this show. Or these two.
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When Mike Wheeler, red faced and still faintly tear stained, asks him how he knew he liked both Steve doesn’t know how to tell him it was his sister.
Before Nancy Wheeler it had only been boys. Before Nancy Wheeler Steve had been sure he was gay and knew well enough to keep it to himself; dating around enough to earn himself a protective reputation. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Marcus Summers, from the baseball team, during freshman year. Steve had gone to every game, and had been forced to make up excuses about schoolwork and his other commitments when asked why he hadn’t tried out for himself. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Tommy Hagan. The summer between seventh and eighth grade had been very kind to Tommy, he was sunkissed and boy next door sweet, Steve had wanted to hold his hand and count the freckles across the bridge of his nose.
Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been his first love, a boy who only visited one summer, the year Steve turned ten. His name had changed every time they hung out but he’d favored E’s. Eli, Emmett, Elliott, Eric, Excalibur, Excelsior, and once for about an hour Wayne. His hair brushed his chin in pretty brown curls and his big brown eyes were always bright with excitement. He always got storm off mad when any of the other boys they’d played with that summer said he was acting like a girl, E would run off to the woods and Steve would always follow. E always came up with the best games anyway, he didn’t like playing soccer or HORSE or anything else with rules that couldn’t be bent; he preferred imagination games where they were knights or wizards. He didn’t laugh when Steve said he always liked playing house, but never wanted to be the dad because why would he want to be someone who never wanted to spend any time with his kids. E who, while insisting on being called Samwise all day, was his first kiss.
Cause he knows what Mike wants to hear. He’s seen the way Mike and Will have danced around each other since the last portal closed. He’s heard the things Mike has said to and about Will. He’s heard all about the week that Will was in the Upside Down. He’s heard all about the summer of ‘85. He’s heard all about the final off again that seems to officially mark the end of Mike and El romantically. He knows that Mike wants him to say that he’d never even thought about boys before he met Eddie. That there’s just something special about Eddie that makes him want to give up his lady killing ways. That Eddie was different. That it was okay that he was having these scary new thoughts, maybe Will was just an exception.
And Steve doesn’t know how to have that conversation. When he realized he liked both it was a relief, that maybe he could have something normal and wouldn't have to spend his life lying or hiding.
But Eddie was different. Eddie was special. Eddie was probably it for Steve which is scary in a different way that he’s not ready to touch yet -- not when it’s only been three months.
There’s never been another girl since Nancy Wheeler, not really
There will never be another boy after Eddie Munson.
So he tries to help, as best he can. It’s easier with Eddie there, not quite dozing against his shoulder -- the kid’s emergencies always seem to come so late at night these days. “When I was ten, there was a boy whose name kept changing who decided prince charming should get to kiss his faithful knight. And when I was sixteen, your sister-”
Mike’s goodwill diminishes quickly as his sister gets introduced to the conversation.
“Stevie,” Eddie says. It’s not an admonishment for bringing up Nancy. It’s awestruck and watery. “You remember that?”
“Of course I remember the first boy I ever loved," that word catches up with him a second later. Remember.
Cause there's Eddie with his riot of brown curls and his Bambi eyes. Eddie, who has explained why soft feminine words chafe against his skin leaving him itchy and anxious. Eddie, who has an Uncle in Hawkins. Eddie who moved to town the summer before he entered high school with a buzzed head and his mother's last name. Eddie who finally settled into an E he liked best.
"Wheeler, here's a tip from me to you," Eddie says, his advice is always better received than Steve's anyway, "if you have to ask you probably already know."
"Straight people don't really spend much time wondering if they aren't really straight," Steve agrees.
They don't rush Mike out the door, a crisis is a crisis and even in the wake of new discoveries Mike deserves to be heard out. Deserves a chance to cry and rage and feel those emotions someplace safe from his Reaganite father -- just as much as Will deserves to have someone who knows what they want come to him, deserves better than experimentation.
They cross the bridge from late into early by the time Mike sets off. The sun is creeping up over the horizon and Mike looks solid, certain; the dawn hints at the man he is growing up to be. Though every instinct of Steve's begs him to drive the kid home, Eddie's soft hand lingering at his hip holds him fast. They wave instead, encouraging Mike to go home and to bed before he does anything; knowing his front bike tire is already pointed toward the Byers-Hopper place.
"The first boy you ever loved, huh, Stevie?" Eddie teases before the door has even managed to click shut.
"And the last, I'm hoping, if I play my cards right."
"You were always pretty good at that. You were the only person that summer who called me by my name, except Wayne."
"It was your name." He knows that's too simple. Knows how hard Eddie has had it, continues to have it. But that summer it had been that simple, Eddie trying on names like shirts each one fitting until they didn't. "For what it's worth, I like Eddie a lot more than Excalibur."
"Oh fuck off, I was going through a fantasy knight phase. Which I know you remember."
"Right a phase, and how much longer is this fantasy 'phase' going to last?"
They're the kind of tired that makes you feel drunk, when Eddie tackles Steve and sends them both to the floor and to giggles. Eddie might not have been his bi awakening, but Steve is pretty fine with him being his everything else.
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