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separatist-apologist · 2 years

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End Game

I wanna be your first string

Summary: Lucien Vanserra has been in love with Elain Archeron for as long as he's known her. With time ticking down before her inevitable engagement to Graysen, Lucien only has one goal: convince her to be his

Note: You asked for We Never Go Out Of Style Elucien, so here you go. Thanks to @lucienvxnserra for the idea about the movie theater.

Read on AO3

It was slow motion, waiting to see if the ball was going to sneak past the goalie. Lucien couldn’t hear the roar of the crowd or even the beat of his own heart. Sweat dripped down his face, lungs aching. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—

The goalie went left, tricked by the way he’d positioned his body. The ball went right. The world returned with the sound of a buzzer and the screaming of his teammates. Five bodies slammed into his own, nearly dragging him to the ground. Lucien was grinning, trapped among sweaty red jersey that reeked of exertion. He’d won on the penalty shoot-out, all but assuring their position in the playoffs, and more importantly, made him look really fucking good in front of those Premire and MLS scouts.

He turned, scanning the crowd for the only face he wanted to see. There, halfway up and wrapped in a red and gold scarf, was Elain Archeron. She was grinning, waving a little flag beside blonde Arina. He exhaled a breath, relieved she’d seen it, too. Elain was hardly a soccer fan but she was his friend, and on occasion, she’d come and watch him play.

Lucien jogged over to them, still wearing his cleats, when the game was officially over and his team was done slapping his ass. Elain had a jacket wrapped around her body, a smile on her face…and Graysen’s promise ring on her middle finger. Any day now, Graysen Nolan was going to replace it with an actual diamond and it was going to be all over for Lucien.

“Nice game,” Arina praised, wearing a whole ass blanket to ward off the autumn chill.

“You did so well,” Elain added, eyes sparkling. Lucien wanted to be like Jurian just off to the side, making out with his girlfriend enthusiastically. Instead he was standing in front of Elain Archeron, well aware he had no claim to her.

“Thanks girls,” he replied smoothly, hand on his taut stomach in an attempt to control his breathing. Elain was looking at it, likely with distaste given how disgusting he was. He needed to shower if he was going to stand before her, hopeful and foolish as he was.

“Want to get dinner?” Elain asked, eyes finding his face again. She’d glanced down at his shins, cut up and bruised from being kicked all night. Lucien really wanted an ice bath and to swallow an entire bottle of ibuprofen. If Elain was offering to spend more time with him, though…

“You two go,” Arina, the goddess, said breezily as she looked down at her phone. “I’ve got an exam at seven am so it’s way past my bedtime.”

“You sure?” Lucien asked her, just so he didn’t seem too obvious and desperate. “Dinners on me.”

She hesitated. “Tempting, but I shouldn’t. Seriously, go without me this time.”

Elain didn’t back out, looking up at him with expectant eyes. “Want to go now?” she asked.

“I ah…I should probably shower—”

“Oh—”

“But we can go now,” he amended hastily. “Just let me change my shoes.”

Lucien almost tripped over his own feet, embarrassing for an athlete hoping to play professionally and yet Elain still had the same effect on him she did when she’d walked into algebra back in high school. He’d never gotten a chance—Graysen Nolan scooped her up on day two while Lucien was trying to figure out what to say to her and hadn’t relinquished his hold.

Lucien couldn’t blame him for that. He wouldn’t have, either. They’d broken up briefly twice, and both times Lucien thought it made him a bastard to try and slide in and immediately take advantage of her. What kind of friend was he?

And that was half the problem. Lucien would take whatever she was offering, and if all Elain ever wanted was friendship, Lucien wanted to be her friend. Friends cared about each other and he loved her. Loved her so stupidly that when Graysen was making her happy, it made him happy. And miserable. And then happy again.

Elain was still waiting in her thin jacket. Lucien draped his own much warmer, much thicker one over her shoulders before falling into step with her. She slid her arms through the sleeves immediately, turning her face to breathe into his collar.

“Does it smell like sweat?” he asked, catching how she flushed.

“Nope. You do, though.”

“I tried to shower,” he reminded her, walking beneath the harsh stadium lights for the exit. There was diner just off campus, an easy walk despite Lucien’s aching legs.

“I like you better this way,” Elain told him, unaware of how tight he suddenly felt.

“Oh? You prefer when I’m disgusting?” he replied, careful to keep his voice light. Still, he couldn’t help the fantasy that popped into his mind—sweaty for an entirely different reason.

“It reminds me you’re still a real person,” she teased, poking him in the side. Lucien was tempted to shake out his long hair, well aware Elain liked when he wore it down. Not that she’d ever said so, of course, but Lucien paid attention.

He knew everything about her.

Everything but why she stayed with Graysen. He didn’t touch that topic and she very rarely brought Graysen up when he was around. It was both a blessing and a curse. Every morning Lucien woke up and checked his socials, terrified he was going to see Elain engaged.

He pulled open the glass door of the greasy diner, swallowing his guilt a little. Elain picked a booth at the very end of the joint and he slid across from her though he desperately wanted to sit beside her.

“Is dinner really on you?” she asked, picking up a sticky menu with interest. As if he’d ever made her pay for anything since they’d met. What good was being a Vanserra if he couldn’t pick up her tab?

“Always,” he agreed nonchalantly, wincing at the way his ass was aching. He’d fallen hard on the turf, likely bruising his tailbone.

“Are you allowed to eat any of this?” she questioned, looking over the menu. She was so pretty—her long, golden brown hair was half pulled off her face with a pretty red ribbon. She had a soft, baby blue sweater dress and even softer looking leggings with black booties that made her seem just a little taller. He wanted to touch her.

Lucien kept his hands to himself.

“What coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Lucien replied with a wink. “And if I don’t eat something besides chicken and rice I might go insane.”

“I’ll bet your abs look great, though.”

“Want to see?” he couldn’t help but ask. They did look great, though fuck, at what cost? Elain’s eyes lit up, head nodding. Lucien glanced around—the waitress was too busy flirting with a table of firefighters to notice them. He lifted up his jersey and flexed as hard as he could, making him seem like pure, carved muscle. In a way, that was what he was—Lucien lived and died in the gym. If he wasn’t practicing or in class there was an expectation that he would be working out in the gym. Tack that on to this brutal diet and Lucien had never looked better, even if he felt like shit. He was counting the days until the season was done so he could dive face first into a whole loaf of bread and butter without anyone breathing over his shoulders.

Elain bit her bottom lip. “Yeah, you look uh…you look…great, I mean. You look great.”

She shook her head as though to clear it and Lucien’s heart pounded in his throat. He broke his only rule when it came to her as he lowered his shirt.

“How is Graysen?”

Her expression tightened. He shouldn’t have asked.

“Fine.”

Fuck. He went back to his menu, feeling like an asshole. He was going to get a mountain of hashbrowns, he decided. Slather it up in syrup and pancakes and maybe bacon—

“He’s sleeping with someone else,” she told Lucien, interrupting his thoughts about food. Lucien looked up, mouth open to respond.

The waitress, dress in a faux sixties poodle skirt, took that moment to come up and take a drink order. Elain went ahead and ordered an omelet, and Lucien was forced to order half the menu without breaking eye contact. He wanted a plate of bacon and didn’t think she’d understood him when he said it. He was imagining it to be a tower, but suspected he’d get four pathetic slices which would have to hold him over for another two months.

Elain tucked a loose curl behind her ear when the waitress retreated. Lucien tried again, only to be interrupted yet again by milkshakes and orange juice. Truly a heinous combination but he didn’t care. He wanted it all tonight.

Finally, they were given a moment of space. Elain wrapped her pink lips around her milkshake straw, one brow arched as he chugged deliciously cold, utterly sugary juice. He’d been dreaming about it.

“Why do you think that?” he panted, setting his glass back to the table a little too firmly.

Elain twisted the ring around her finger, face hardening. “Because I saw the video they made.”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Lucien voiced his thoughts, unsure what else he could say to that. “What did he say when you told him?”

“I haven’t said anything yet,” Elain replied primly, dragging another thick suck through her straw. “I haven’t figured out how to do it.”

Ah.

“I’m sorry, Elain,” he said. And he was. He didn’t want to see her hurt like this. Elain shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, I’m not. This is the third time. I have to be stupid at this point, thinking he’d changed.”

Third…?

“The other break ups…?

“I never had so much proof,” she told him, placing her hands flat down on the table. “And I guess I was afraid of throwing away so many years. It felt like wasted time. I’m tired though, Lucien.

You have all this time for me and I know you’re so busy but he never does. And I think about that all the time.”

His heart was pounding in his chest. “Of course I have time for you. You’re my best friend.”

Her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I just want someone who can make time for me. I don’t think its asking for a lot.”

A heavy pause settled between them as Lucien struggled to figure out what he could say that wasn’t too heavy handed.

“You’ll find it,” he finally told her lamely, just in time for twelve plates of food to be set in front of him. “You’re great, Elain.”

She watched him, eyes wide.

And it wasn’t until he went to bed that night, all by himself after dropping her off at her sorority, that Lucien wondered if she hadn’t been waiting on him to say something else.

ELAIN:

“Well?” Arina asked the next morning, bursting into their shared bedroom in the sorority house with expectant eyes.

“He’s so stupid!” Elain cried, tossing her curling iron to the vanity. She turned in her chair to look at Arina, her stomach still twisted up in knots. “It was practically a date! I asked to see his abs and he told me I was great. He said I was his best friend.”

“Oh, wow,” Arina breathed. “I was so sure he liked you.”

“Me too,” Elain bemoaned. “I was practically throwing myself at him. I couldn’t have been more obvious. I told him I wanted someone to treat me like he did.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to break up with Gray,” Arina said reasonably, flopping onto the twin at the far end of the room. Elain sighed. Fucking Graysen. What a waste of time he was. It didn’t help that Elain had woken up last summer after a particularly sexy dream about Lucien and realized she had a stupid crush on him.

Now she was dragging things out unbearably. “I’ll end it today,” Elain decided. As if that would fix her problem.

“Maybe you need to get Lucien some incentive,” Arina suggested, eyebrows raised. “Invite him to the party tonight.”

Elain sighed. “How many slutty outfits can I possibly wear? I need a different tactic.”

“So true. Climb into his lap and start kissing him. He’ll figure it out then.”

“Maybe if he comes to see me at work,” Elain mumbled. She worked down at the old movie theater, affectionately called the Omni. It showed classic black and white films and was kept alive only because it was a heritage landmark and not because anyone came with any regularity. Halloween was one of their more popular nights. They’d swap out the pretentious art nouveau for Rocky Horror and pack the place to the gills.

Elain looked down at her phone. Ignoring the messages from Graysen, she opened her chat with Lucien and sent Coming to visit today?

His response was immediate.

Can’t. Have to atone for last night's pancakes. Worth it.

Elain sighed. In the gym again? I’ll bet you look great.

And Lucien, stupid as always, replied. I look disgusting.

Elain glanced at herself in the mirror, dressed in tight shorts and just a bra. She couldn’t figure out if Lucien only considered her a friend or if he was exceedingly polite. There was, of course, only one way to really figure it out. She went to her closet while Arina fired up her laptop, no longer interested in Elain’s personal drama. Elain flung her hangers to the side until she found the green sweater dress she planned to wear for the day.

Elain peeled out of her clothes, staring at the white lacy bra on her body for a minute. Lucien was always working out and Elain was constantly telling him she ought to join him. An idea was forming in her mind. She stripped out of her bra and panties, replacing them with an obscene black pair she’d once bought thinking Graysen might like and then turned her camera on. She took a full body shot, admiring the way her ass popped from the angle she was posed. Even her breasts—fairly small, by all standards—looked really good pressed against the lace.

Elain didn’t let herself think about her actions.

What about me? Should I come join you?

She hit send before she could talk herself out of it and then tossed her phone to the bed so she wouldn’t have to see his response. She got her dress and her leggings on before she heard his buzzing response.

Not dressed like that. You look amazing. I’ll see you at work today.

She bit back the urge to scream, a smile spreading over her face. That had to be a good sign, right? If he was willing to end things early and visit when he’d said he wouldn’t, all over one really good picture? Elain practically floated across Greek Row to Graysen’s fraternity and when Graysen met her on the lawn, she said nothing at all.

She merely held up the video on her phone and hit play.

“Elain,” he began as she shook her head.

“Dumb as fuck, Gray,” she replied. “This is over.” She pulled the promise ring off her finger and tossed it to the grass.

Good riddance.

“Elain!” he called, practically tripping after her. He was barefooted on the sidewalk, wearing only a pair of loose black basketball pants. She was sure he’d thought she’d come over to crawl in his bed. Why dress up for that? Why put any effort into this relationship at all?

She hated him.

Elain waved Graysen off without another word, turning her back and stalking down the drive. Let him argue with a fucking wall. She wasn’t interested in how he tripped and fell into another woman’s pussy and somehow accidentally positioned his phone exactly right to get that video, too.

Even if she had cared to hear him out, Elain knew it didn’t matter. She’d wanted Lucien for the last five months and trying to work things out with Graysen merely got in her way. Elain all but skipped to work, to the kitschy downtown area of her college town that was so obviously a tourist trap. She passed t-shirt shops and placing claiming to make old fashioned fudge, along with haunted museums and one really good western themed restaurant before she reached the Omni.

Peeling white paint and a faded green sign told of better days. Elain pulled out her massive golden key, an absurd relic, and unlocked the Omni. A few tourists might filter into the musty lobby, but no one bought a ticket. Not when they cost $15 each to see a movie no one was interested in.

Elain flipped on the lights and turned on the popcorn machine, though she didn’t start any. She’d have to clean it if she did. Instead, she vacuumed the maroon and blue carpet and sprayed febreeze over everything, trying so hard to get the smell of smoke out of the walls. People had been allowed to smoke in the theater up until the eighties and she swore it lingered like a ghost.

After that, Elain picked a black and white film—a french feature with subtitles—and made her way into the singular theater. The only, fold down chairs had been replaced with squashy chairs and leather loveseats. Someone had donated them, hoping it would bring more people in. All it did was convince teenagers to waste $30 to finger each other, a fact that endlessly annoyed Elain.

She dragged a ivory knit blanket into the dark theater, draped it over her body, and stared at her phone until she was half asleep. She might have fallen all the way asleep had a body not jumped the back of the two person love-seat she was reclined on, sitting their heavy body on her legs.

She yelped and Lucien apologized, scrambling up as she pulled her legs back. Lucien grabbed them, draping them over his lap before pulling her blanket over him, too.

“Sorry it took me so long,” he said, eyes watching the screen with confusion. He looked incredible—his auburn hair was loose around his chiseled face, his body clad in a baby blue sweater and a pair of jeans. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, the corded muscle flexing when he moved and the sweater clung to his muscular torso. Lucien looked over, russet eyes reflecting in the screen light. She wanted to trace the trio of long scars screaming down his eye with her tongue, though she’d never admit that. Full lips quirked upwards into a smile.

“Lucien, it’s eleven thirty,” she replied. “I’m here until eight.”

He shrugged, unaware his casual indifference only made her think he wanted her, too. He ran his hand over her shin, clad in leggings and hidden under the blanket.

“Do you really want to work out with me?” he asked her, dashing all her hopes in a moment. Elain’s lips parted. Surely Lucien couldn’t be that stupid? He spent hours in the gym and Elain was breathless after a thirty minute jog. He looked so hopeful that Elain was forced to respond.

“Yeah,” she lied. “You look great—”

“You do too,” he said, shifting in his seat just a little. Elain swallowed hard. What had Arina said? To just climb in his lap and kiss him? Elain wanted Lucien to make the first move so badly, was terrified he would reject her if she did that.

And then what? They wouldn’t even be friends. Lucien had been her best friend for almost six years. What would she do if she couldn’t text him every little thing that crossed her mind? It was what kept her in her seat even though every other part of her ached to get closer.

They watched the movie in relative silence and when it finished, Lucien let Elain get up to change it. They had a favorite, if only because of how long it was. Four hours. It was a western movie about a train—at least, she thought, anyway. Her and Lucien usually ended up in an animated conversation thirty minutes in. It passed the time, all the same, and she wasn’t ready to give him up just yet. She knew he had an afternoon class at one which would send him away and leave her alone and annoyed she couldn’t just make a move.

Lucien winced when she plopped on the couch.

“Sore?” she asked. He always was after a game.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I soaked in ice this morning and I had ibuprofen for breakfast. It’s helping a little.”

“Want me to rub?” she offered. That was hardly unusual and yet the way his eyes widened made her feel like she’d crossed some sort of line.

“You don’t ah…” he trailed off as she scooted closer. “What are you doing, Elain?”

She was running her hands up his chest. “Rubbing?” she asked, too afraid to look at his face. “Your shoulders, unless you’d rather me do your legs?”

She knew if she knelt before him, she’d unbutton his pants whether he asked her to or not. Swallowing hard, she wondered if maybe that wasn’t just what they needed to do? What could be more obvious than blowing him in the middle of an empty theater. Surely he’d understand then that she wanted more than friendship?

She ran her hands down his body again, moving to slip towards the floor but Lucien caught her quickly. Fingers curled around her biceps, Lucien looked wild and nervous. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, nostrils flared. “I’m alright, I’m fine. Actually, I should probably uh…I need to get to class. I have a project…it’s…half finished, I think? I’ll see you later?”

Was he leaving her again? Elain’s mouth hung open. “A project?” she asked, well aware she sounded indignant. She’d been about to suck him and he was leaving? Her stomach churned. Maybe it wasn’t Luycien who was stupid, but her. He was trying to be her friend and she was trying to touch him inappropriately

“Yeah,” he breathed, chest rising and falling rapidly, “I just remembered. I uh…later? We’ll see each other later?”

Did it even matter? She scooted away from him, swallowing her disappointment.

“Yeah. There’s the party at the house tonight, if you want to still come?” she hoped he didn’t. It would be endless girls throwing themselves at his feet, all with a better shot at him than her.

Lucien nodded, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I’ll be there.”

And then he was gone, jumping over the back of the couch and practically running out of the theater. Elain checked her phone.

Twelve.

He hadn’t even been there an hour.

Maybe she ought to give up.

LUCIEN:

Lucien was losing his mind. The sight of Elain about to drop to her knees between his parted thighs was too much. His cock filled with blood, pushing against his pants thinking she was going to unzip him and take him in her mouth. He didn’t want her to realize he had an erection, so Lucien fled even after he saw the bewildered hurt on her face. Elain was trying to be nice, to be his friend. He felt like a bastard.

He jerked himself off in the bathroom of his apartment before miserably plodding to class. He sent her a meme, hoping it was a sufficient apology without making things awkward or weird between them and Elain sent one back. All was forgiven. He doubted she understood why he had to go. It was the second time that day he'd had to take himself in his hand. The first was after she'd sent the half naked photo, asking if he thought she should work out. He'd nearly dropped a weight on his foot, had practically run out of the gym to pump himself in his hand before he did something reckless.

As long as he wasn’t fucking up their friendship. Fuck, she was technically still dating Graysen. She’d need time and space to grieve before he could even think about letting her get her hands and face that close to his cock. Lucien was jumpy and overly worked up and by the time he got to her sorority house for the party, it was like he hadn’t masterbated at all. He was eight seconds from turning around and leaving when the door swung open and Arina ushered him in.

“There you are,” she said with a smile, all but shoving him into the foyer. “I need your help.”

“Oh?”

“Elain is single—”

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod—Lucien tried to turn around and walk right back out the door but Arina was gripping his arm and walking him through the beautifully decorated living room which was packed with people. She was still talking but Lucien wasn’t listening. Not when he’d caught sight of Elain, dressed in a tight pink dress, her back up against the wall while some fratboy hovered over her with hungry eyes.

“If you could just keep her occupied—” Oh God was Arina still talking? He looked down at hte blonde.

“What?”

Arina rolled her eyes. “Babysit Elain, please? She’s like blood in the water for these fucking sharks. Why don’t you take her upstairs?” Arina added, wrinkling her nose when the guy said something indistinguishable over the loud music and Elain threw her head back and laughed. Surely he wasn’t that funny. Lucien all but stomped across the room, weaving in and out of people until he reached her. The guy looked over, clearly irked but Lucien wasn’t some fratboy loser. He was a fucking athlete, and a good one at that.

Elain turned her head, eyes assessing him cooly. “Oh. Hey.”

Fuck. That wasn’t the reaction he’d been going for.

“Come have a drink with me,” he said, ignoring the other guy entirely. She looked back to the guy, offering an apology and a promise to be right back. Both Lucien and the loser knew he’d never see her again. Elain pushed off the wall with her back letting him grab her hand.

“Broke up with Graysen, huh?” he asked, walking her towards the massive, polished steps that would take her up to the bedroom she shared with Arina. It was true, though. The ugly little ring that had once been on her finger was now gone.

“And?”

He looked down at her, surprised by how angry she sounded. Squeezing her hand, Lucien took the first step upwards. She was suffering and all he could think about were her tits spilling over the top of her dress and how it just barely covered her cute little ass.

“I’m sorry, Elain,” he murmured as she followed up behind him, heels clicking loudly.

“I’m not,” she insisted, her tone still bratty and sullen. Lucien scowled, pushing open the door that had her name written on it in glittery purple script.

“Then why are you taking it out on me?” he demanded, snapping the door shut behind her. “If you’re so fine? I’m trying to be your friend–”

She crossed her arms over her chest, dragging the hem of the strapless dress down far enough that he could see she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath. His already sore legs shook, nearly giving out. “Maybe I don’t want you to be my friend.”

The air punched out of his lungs. “What?” Anxiety rose in his stomach at her words. She didn’t want to be friends? What did he have, if not her friendship? Lucien blinked, swallowing the urge to beg her to know why.

She didn’t budge. “I don’t want to be your friend, Lucien.”

Her eyes blazed as she said it. Lucien couldn’t handle it, couldn’t stand to see her anger, to hear her declare she no longer wanted to be his friend. He turned, flinging open the door before she uttered another word, and all but ran out of that house.

“Lucien—” she called from behind him, but he didn’t need to hear it. Not when his heart was cracking, when he thought he might throw up on the floor if she uttered another word. Thundering down the stairs, he nearly bowled into Arina.

“Lucien?” she asked, looking up to where Elain was following, much slower in her heels.

“Lucien!” Elain called but he’d reached the front door, yanked it open, and slammed it behind him. Only then did he let himself suck down a cool breath of autumn air. He didn’t want to be caught on her lawn, didn’t want to have this confrontation out in the open for the whole school to see. Lucien ached, and not from soccer. In his wildest dreams, he’d never once considered that Elain might break up with him, too.

Was it because he’d left her in the theater? He’d hurt her feelings and she was tired of it? He almost wanted to ask, almost turned around and demanded she explain herself. Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Lucien did the only thing that would silence his thoughts.

He took off running.

His body responded instantly, switching from the pain that was flooding his brain to something duller and single-minded. It didn’t wholly remove the hurt in his chest but for the two miles he raced, it kept him thinking about anything but his pumping legs and keeping his lungs filled with air.

I don’t want to be your friend, Lucien.

Tears stung against his eyes, banished by sheer will alone. He shoved himself into his apartment, pacing like a caged animal. She didn’t want to be his friend. Didn’t want to be his friend. Lucien pulled off his shirt, throwing it across the room before walking to his bedroom.

“Fuck this,” he shouted, dragging off his jeans, too. He was going to the gym. He’d spend the night there, burn off his feelings, and figure out what to do in the morning.

Lucien had just gotten his shorts over his body, shoes back in hand when a loud pounding on the door dragged him out. He knew who would be waiting on the other end without having to ask. Keyed up and hurt, he flung that door open, not caring he still wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“I don’t take house calls so late from people who aren’t my friend,” he snapped at Elain. Her eyes were glassy, her face streaked with mascara.

“Oh fuck you, Lucien,” she snapped, shoving him in the chest as she walked into his apartment. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“I’m stupid?” he demanded as she slammed his door shut. “Me?”

“Yeah!” she said, squaring off with him. It was almost laughable given Elain was five feet tall without her heels, over a foot shorter than him and still, with her hateful gaze, he felt like dirt beneath her feet. “You’re fucking stupid!”

“Great. Glad you came all this way to tell me that. Anything else you need to get off your chest?” he asked, swallowing his hurt back into his gut. She was here and for whatever reason, her mere presence was half soothing. He was vibrating with anxiety, wanting to get on his knees and beg her not to leave him. To tell him what he’d done wrong.

He didn’t want to open himself up to any more pain. Lucien turned his back to her, striding into the living room so he could put on his socks and shoes.

“Do you really not know?” she asked from behind him, stopping him in his tracks. Her anger had slid into fear, her voice wavering. When he turned, he found Elain standing in the hall, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Know what, Elain?” he asked her desperately. Dropping his shoes, Lucien closed the distance between them and pulled her against his body, wishing so badly he’d put on a shirt. She immediately hugged him, hands rubbing up and down his spine. “Tell me what I’m missing. Let me fix this.”

“You can’t,” she said, her breath hot against his skin. “This is my fault.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” he was quick to reply, letting himself tangle his hand in her long, carefully curled hair. “Please, Elain, you know I love you. I’d do anything for you. Tell me why you’re upset.”

She was quiet for a long minute, eyes closed while he stroked her hair. His anxiety was ebbing, his heart steadying. He could fix this. She’d tell him, and Lucien would apologize and they’d sit on the couch and watch a move.

“Is it Graysen?” Lucien dared to ask.

She laughed, breath fanning against him. His heart picked up again, anxious for an entirely different reason when she pressed a soft kiss just beneath his pec.

“It’s you,” she said, so quiet he barely heard her.

“Elain,” Lucien said slowly, piecing together what she’d said earlier.

I don’t want to be your friend.

“You do know I love you, right?” he asked her softly, waiting for her to look up at him. She shook her head back and forth and fuck him he was so stupid. Reaching for her face and cupping it in his hand, Lucien added, “I am in love with you.”

Her breath caught. ��But today—”

“I will take whatever you give me,” he admitted. “And if that’s just friendship, I want it. You just ended thing—”

“Because I love you,” she whispered, so softly he thought he was hallucinating. “It took me too long to realize and I just figured…”

He might have laughed, had he not suddenly been so ravenous. Lucien didn’t care what she’d figured or when she’d discovered. As long as they were on the same page right then, it didn’t matter.

Lucien tilted her head towards him, kissing her like he’d always wanted to. His whole body, still achey and confused, lit up like a firework at the soft touch. Her hands slid back up his chest like she’d done at the movie theater, tangling around his neck and Lucien was gone. He wanted way more than one polite kiss.

Lucien reached beneath her, hands gripping her ass to haul her upwards so there was no height difference between them. Elain half jumped, legs wrapped around his waist, and deepened the kiss before he ever got the chance. Her tongue swept into his mouth, licking against his own. Lucien groaned, nearly stumbling and taking them both to the ground.

Bedroom, get to the bedroom you dumb fuck—

How he ever managed it with his hard cock and his stupid legs, Lucien would never know. One minute he had her in the hall, hands kneading her ass and the next he was dropping her to the bed just long enough to climb up her body and kiss her senseless.

“Lucien,” Elain breathed, arching into his body just like he’d always imagined. This was happening—she was kissing him, was dragging her nails up and down his back. Lucien could not keep his thoughts straight, was practically floating. The only thing grounding him was Elain beneath him, needy and pretty and pliant.

“I hate this dress,” he told her, pulling at the top.

“I put it on for you,” she admitted. “I wanted you to take it off.”

“All you have to do is ask,” he groaned, fumbling for the zipper at her back. Elain arched, the sight so erotic that his whole body stopped working for a moment.

“Focus, Lucien,” she whispered when she realized why he’d stopped trying to get her out of her clothes. He shook his head, trying to rattle his brain around long enough to please his girl.

He shimmied her out of the dress, tossing it to the floor without a second glance. All at once, Elain was naked, save for the same black, lacy underwear she’d been in when she’d sent that picture.

“You ruined my whole fucking life this morning,” he told her, nipping her collarbone with his teeth. “I was trying to lift weights when you sent that little picture.”

“Yeah?” she breathed, moaning when one of his hands cupped her entire breast. “I was trying to turn you on.”

“It worked,” he growled, pinching her nipple softly between his fingers. Just enough to elicit a gasp of pleasure. “I’ve been jerking myself off all fucking day, Elain.”

She whined. “I tried to suck your dick in the theater but you took off—”

“You what?!” he demanded, raising his head from between her tits to look back up at her. “You were doing what?”

“Yeah,” she panted, eyes fluttering back open. “What did you think I was trying to do on my knees?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Lucien breathed, pressing his forehead against her chest. “I didn’t want you to see how erect I was.”

“I wanted to see it,” she informed him.

“Next time,” he promised, licking the hardened peak of her pretty nipple. That silenced her and gave Lucien a moment to let himself indulge in a fantasy in which he found out the girl of his dreams was into him by unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock.

He’d had a million daydreams just like that.

This was way better, he decided. She was in his bed and we was between her legs. All Lucien had to do was make this the best night of her life and he’d be calling her Elain Vanserra before they ever graduated.

“Have you been thinking about me?” he asked, licking down her stomach towards her pussy. Lucien desperately wanted to taste her.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Fantasizing?” he pressed, needing to boost his own fragile ego.

“Yes.”

“Do I get to eat you out in those little daydreams?” he asked, pushing her legs wider, until the lips of her cunt were visible through the thin fabric of her underwear. “Because I think about that all the time.”

Lucien hooked his finger over the thin strip hugging her hips and pulled them off her body. They joined her dress on the floor, useless to him in the moment. He was losing his mind at the sight of her bare pussy, spread open and glistening. Awed, Lucien dragged a finger through the wet, letting him use the slickness of her body to lubricate his touch as he swirled over her clit.

Elain’s hips jerked.

“No one is taking good care of my girl, are they?” he murmured. “Let me fix that, baby.”

“Please,” she whispered, threading her finger through his hair.

In his own daydreams, he’d always imagined taking his time with her. That he’d be soft and sweet and loving. Certainly, as he licked the length of her, Lucien was passionate. The problem was his passion was edged with wild need he just barely had control of. Lucien was practically fucking the sheets as he began devouring her, licking at her like his life depended on it.

In a way it did. He wanted her to be his wife, and women didn’t marry the guy who was bad or lazy when it came to eating pussy. Elain rolled her hips against his face, thighs shaking against his cheeks. He didn’t have to ask if Graysen had done this or done it well–the very fact that she was so close to coming after he’d barely been down longer than five minutes was answer enough. He could build her out, could tease and torture her another night.

Elain came loud enough his neighbors almost certainly heard. Good. He wanted them to hear, wanted the whole goddamn world to know that Elain was his. He’d fuck her on the balcony, too, so everyone could watch jealously.

He was back on her the moment he body went limp, yanking off his shorts and trying to kiss her all at once. For someone who boasted being both athletic and coordinated, Lucien was a fumbling disaster trying to free himself. The problem was gorgeous Elain raking her nails down his back and wrapping her legs back around his waist, trying to push him into her before he’d freed himself of his shorts prison.

“Lucien,” she whined. “Lucien—”

“Greedy,” he panted, kicking them onto the floor. “And needy. How bad do you need to be fucked, Elain?”

She looked up at him with lust fogged eyes. “So bad.”

God he was going to die. Lucien dragged the head of his cock through her sopping wet pussy. “Look at my cock,” he ordered, wanting her to see what he was about to put in her. Elain was already staring at the appendage pressed between her legs.

“Do you want an award, Lucien?” she whispered.

“Are you the prize?” he couldn’t help but ask. Elain dug her heels into his ass and pushed, slamming half his cock into her body before he could catch his breath. He groaned loudly, fisting the sheets and pressing his face into the crook of her neck. She was so wet, so tight and hot. He was certain he’d died in that moment and this was some form of heaven because nothing had ever felt so good in his life.

He dragged himself out and pushed all of his cock back in, slower this time to keep himself from hurting her. Elain rolled into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. He could still feel her heart pounding through the walls of her cunt, her orgasm still pulsating against him. She was a slick second skin and Lucien was gone, utterly wrecked.

“Fuck, Elain,” he whispered, sucking at her neck. “Your fucking pussy…” he didn’t know where he was going with that.

She merely nodded, dragging his face for a kiss. “I’m so close,” she said into his mouth.

He could help her with that. Angling his hips so he could reach between them, Lucien stroked her clit like he’d done with his tongue until she came apart again, teeth biting his shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise.

Lucien was just behind, pumping his release into her with an absurdly loud groan of pleasure. His hips were jerky, moving of their own accord until he’d come down, too. Even still, Lucien didn’t withdraw, his skin buzzing with arousal.

“Elain,” he breathed.

“Tell me you love me,” she asked, stroking his face with her fingers.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing each cheek gently.

Elain sighed, holding him closely. “I love you, Lucien. So damn much.”

ELAIN:

Two years later

Elain was learning to love soccer. She had to, given her brand new husband played professionally for the MLS, dragging the two of them all over the country and if she wanted to see him, some nights she had to drag herself down to the stadium and watch him play. Elain had made friends with the other players wives, sitting in a group and admiring their husbands while pretending what they cared about was the ethics of the game. It was with no small amount of pride that Elain thought her husband was the most handsome of the group.

He was easily the most talented. Elain knew that for a fact, given Lucien was about to move out of MLS entirely over to an english Premier League. He hadn’t told her which one yet, well aware she’d immediately tell Arina, who would tell someone, who would tell someone and ruin the whole thing.

Still, Elain was excited for them both. It was a new beginning and something fun. Lucien wanted to get out of American soccer pretty bad and had played the hell out of his season. He’d earned this. He’d leave at the top of his game and she’d just leave.

They were in their home city tonight, which meant when Lucien finished, they’d get to go home together instead of to a nice hotel. Time was ticking towards the end and Elain was antsy, trailing Lucien over the field. He had the ball, was dragging it towards the net for an egregious and undeniable win. Elain jumped out of her chair when he succeeded, so absurdly proud of him she might have exploded.

“That’s my husband!” she told the couple beside her for the fourth time that night. She was certain they were tired of her. Elain didn’t care, not when time was up and Lucien was free. He grinned, ear to ear, as she made her way towards him. It was just like every game since they’d started dating—he surged towards the rails, lifting himself up so he could kiss her.

“You were amazing,” she told him.

High off his win, Lucien looked dumbstruck. “You taste like nachos. Give me thirty and we’ll get out of here?”

She laughed. “Go on, then.”

They met up exactly thirty minutes later. He was half limping, his skin bruised and black and grinning as she met up with him. “I am going to do everything to you tonight,” he warned, grabbing her around the waist and yanking her close. He had his wedding ring on—Lucien only took it off to play, sliding it back on the moment he finished so the whole world knew he was undeniably married. Elain never complained, was always delighted to see the gold band wrapped around his finger.

Lucien had waited a total of nine months before he’d all but begged her to marry him, and had made good on his promise the week after they accepted their diplomas. Elain was his stay at home wife, a pretty good set up in her estimation. She got to travel with him, got to manage their life, and just personally, Elain didn’t want a job. She wanted to be his pretty, cherished wife.

Elain drove them home while Lucien stretched out his legs, wincing as the adrenaline began to wear off. Every game, Lucien swore he was going to make love to her until the sun came up and every game, Lucien sat in frigid water while eating ibuprofen like it was his job. Tonight would be no different. He stepped inside their little two story with a groan, kicking off his shoes. Elain made her way to the bedroom for his knee brace. She helped him get into the tub in the bathroom attached to the bedroom, taking the moment to ogle his truly lovely body. Lucien was bruised and battered and yet his golden brown skin was still so lovely, his form so chiseled, that she couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers down his broad shoulders.

“If you want, you can sit on my face tonight,” he offered, stretching out his sore legs.

“Is that what you want, Lucien?” she teased. Eyes closed, a sultry smile spread over his face. “Yes. And maybe afterwards you’ll touch my cock?”

“I could probably do more than touch, if you ask really nicely,” she teased.

“Cruel wife,” Lucien replied, reaching for her hand to kiss the back of her skin. “You swore in your vows that you’d take care of me in sickness and health.”

“I didn’t swear to suck your dick, Lucien.”

“Are you sure? Because I seem to recall you swore that very thing in the bathroom thirty minutes before you walked down that aisle.”

“Oh, shut up,” Elain replied, thinking very fondly of how she’d snuck out of her dressing room, met him in the one stall bathroom at their wedding venue, gotten on her knees, and sucked his cock until it was stained red with her lipstick. They’d had a giggly time at the altar afterwards, pretending it was the first time they were seeing each other in their wedding garb.

“I will never shut up about it,” Lucien replied, turning his head to look at her. “Best day of my goddamn life.”

“The blow job?”

“And fucking you in the back of that limo…and when I put my hand under your dress at—”

“Are all your best memories of us having sex on our wedding day?” she demanded. Lucien shifted in the water, his body on full display. She was so fucking hot it made her whole body tight.

“No. The best day of my life was when you said I do. No take backs, Elain.”

As if she wanted to. The best day of Elain’s life had been when Lucien had told her he loved her and put her out of her misery. Not that he needed to know that. He was so incandescently happy that it was easy to forget how things began between them. All the waiting and pining and misunderstandings merely felt funny.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, now that I know you’re going to let me eat your pussy. I haven't had a good meal in weeks.”

“You ate it this morning, Lucien.”

He was such a rogue. Grinning, he agreed, “So I did. Silly me.”

He was always going down on her. Sometimes she wondered if he was worried that she might change her mind or think she’d made some terrible mistake. She’d catch him watching her from across the room, eyes intent, his expression awed. Like he couldn’t believe his good luck. Elain felt the exact same way.

“Come on,” she murmured when his lips took on a bluish tinge. She pulled him out and all but dragged him to the bed where Lucien did, indeed, yank her onto his face while she gripped the headboard for dear life. And afterwards, Elain did exactly as she promised, sucking his cock while he writhed and panted and begged. It was always so thrilling to have him in her thrall, to watch him come apart with nothing more than her mouth and tongue and hand.

He was exhausted by the time they finished, hand on his flat stomach as he gulped down air. “You’re too good at that. It’s why I can never leave you,” he said, letting her nestle against him.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s why you’re sticking around.”

Lucien’s sleepy smile warmed her. “I stick around because I love you. The way you suck dick is merely a very welcome bonus.”

She peppered his shoulder with kisses. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying. You’re so pretty and I can’t stop staring.”

“Do your best,” Elain murmured, snuggling deeper beneath the blankets.

“You’re my best,” he whispered.

“Best what?” she asked.

“Everything,” he replied. “If I’m doing my best, it’s only because I have you. You’re my best.”

Elain smiled.

“You’re my best, too, Lucien.”

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #you asked i answered #this is how they got together #peak idiots to lovers #also #TYPOS??? you did not see

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bleedingoptimism · 6 months

Text

It’s a little after eleven when Eddie finally manages to get Tarja to bed. It’s hard for her without her plushie. And really, Eddie is very thankful having a hyper-fixation with her toy seems to be the only ‘consequence’ of having divorced parents Tarja seems to have right now. He always worries if having two homes and constantly moving between them is good for her or not. Especially with Tommy being Tarja’s other dad, but against all odds, he’s good to her. So their kid is doing just fine. She’s happy. And if she’s happy, Eddie is happy.

He’s getting ready to open a beer and relax when there’s a knock on the door. He smiles, assuming is Steve bringing Toothless over and almost knocks his beer to the floor when he opens the door.

Steve looks… well he looks amazing, dressed to the nines. Must’ve been date night. But his eyes are red and puffy, his face covered in dark blotches, and his lips are swollen like he’s been biting them too much.

He’s hugging Toothless to his chest and he smiles at Eddie when he sees him, but he looks so sad it breaks his heart.

Eddie throws the beer behind him, sure it will land on the couch and cradles Steve’s face between his hands, “What did that asshole do?

Steve leans into his touch and shuts his eyes for a moment before sighing and stepping away from him, walking inside and sitting on the couch still holding Toothless like a lifeline.

“Nothing, he was just-” Steve shakes his head and chuckles darkly, “He’s just so mean,”

Eddie drops to his knees in front of him and dips his head to look Steve in the eye just like he did that day in the park.

“Break up with him,” he says.

“I can’t.”

“Tommy doesn't deserve you, Steve. You are worth so much more than what that asshole makes you feel. You deserve better. More. Everything,” Eddie pleads, placing his hands on Steve’s knees and squeezing, “If it’s because of Tarja, we’ll figure something out, ok? Lots of people keep in contact with their parent’s significant other after they break up” He rushes, the speech he didn't have quite prepared last week coming out of him in a single breath, “We are friends, right? So you can still visit and see her. Visit me. You don’t have to stop being a part of our lives.”

Steve is staring at him right now like Eddie just gifted him the moon and he’s so beautiful it’s kind of hard for Eddie to keep eye contact, but he squeezes Steve’s knees again to ground himself and does. Steve needs to know he’s very serious about this. About him.

Eyes shining, Steve takes a deep breath and nods slowly, a tear falling down his cheek that Eddie follows with his eyes and watches until it hides under Steve’s v-neck shirt.

“Hey, even I didn’t put up with Tommy's shit for Tarja’s sake and I birthed her,” he jokes awkwardly, trying to make him laugh and feels like doing a little victory dance when Steve snorts cutely,

“Okay,” he hiccups.

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles back at him, relieved.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “Fuck Tommy.” And drops back on the couch, looking exhausted, “Can I stay here tonight?” he asks in a whisper, like he’s afraid Eddie will say no. As if.

“Yeah, of course,” Is what he answers, and has half a mind to invite him into his bed but knows it’s a terrible idea. So he lends Steve his favorite flannel pajamas and sets blankets and a pillow on the couch and they say their goodnights.

And if he does a little dance when he closes the door to his room, no one is there to see.

In the morning, Steve stays for breakfast. And attempts to kill Eddie by making his heart explode, cooking it himself from scratch with Tarja’s help, who is so happy she won’t stop running around the kitchen making Toothless fly and sing about ‘happy family breakfast time’.

It’s actually hard to tell if she’s happier to have her plushie back or that Steve is there. Eddie, on the other hand, knows exactly what he’s happiest about. Death by tenderness. Is that a thing? He amuses himself thinking about a couple csi’s with sunglasses saying it,

“He died because he witnessed something too cute,”

“Ah yes, death by fondness. I’ve seen it before.”

After, Eddie walks him to the door and Steve smiles sweetly at him, and holds his hand, squeezing it once before letting go, “Well, see you. I guess,” he says bashfully and there’s a moment there, a second where time stops and Eddie thinks he should kiss him. Wants to kiss him, needs to kiss him.

But he doesn’t. Because Steve is still dating Tommy, and just because he said he was going to break up with him doesn’t mean he wants to start something new with Eddie.

Eddie himself called him his friend for the first time last night for christ sake. ‘Fucking chill’ he thinks to himself.

🧸

And then a week goes by without hearing a word from Steve. But Eddie doesn't hold it against him.

At first, he figures he needs time to think but then he starts to wonder if he really is going to break up with Tommy. Four days in, he gets paranoid about it. Maybe Steve got brainwashed into thinking Eddie is bad for him. Maybe Tommy told him Eddie was putting ideas in his head, that he shouldn’t talk to him anymore… With him telling Steve to break up with his boyfriend and all...

He’s well aware of how manipulative Tommy can be and has seen the way he belittles Steve to keep him around, so he knows it’ll be hard for Steve to actually go through with it.

And he can’t exactly show up at Tommy’s and steal Steve away, no matter how appealing the idea might be. The only thing he can do is just think of Steve, wish him well, and send him strength to do what he needs to do. At the end of the day, it needs to be his decision. His choice.

As Tommy’s week with Tarja approaches he starts getting more and more anxious, wondering if it’ll be Steve or Tommy who picks her up.

When the day finally arrives, and the doorbell rings, Tarja runs to open the door and Eddie peeks his head through the hallway.

“Daddy!” Tarja screams.

“Hey, Tata! You ready?” Tommy says and Eddie steps into the hall to greet him too.

“Not yet!” Tarja chuckles and Tommy smiles at her,

“Okay, go get ready. I’ll wait here,”

Eddie walks to the door and leans on the doorframe, “Hey,”

“Hi. Long time no see,” Tommy says and then adds, “You look great,”

“You don’t,” Eddie answers, because it’s true. He looks like shit. Greasy hair, bags under his eyes, chapped lips, wrinkles on his clothes, “What happened?”

“Steve broke up with me.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide and he smiles, he doesn’t even try to hide it, “He did?”

“Don’t smile, fucker,” Tommy says but there’s no heat behind it. He knows he deserves it.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, not sorry at all.

“Stop,” Tommy whines because Eddie’s smile is actually getting bigger,

“Sorry,” he repeats and then clears his throat, “Did he tell you why?”

“Because I’m a horrible person,” Tommy groans.

“Hey, the first step is to ad-”

“To admit it, yeah, yeah. I know” Tommy interrupts him, groaning again.

Eddie sighs, and punches Tommy’s shoulder lightly, “Look, Tommy, I’m just going to say this because, well… you are pathetic. You need to do better.” And then he points to his back, to where Tarja’s disappeared to get her stuff, “She’s going to grow up and realize you are an awful person and she’s not going to want you in her life. And I’m not going to dissuade her from it, because I already don’t want you to be in mine, you know that, right?”

Tommy looks at him seriously and then nods once, fast and hard. Like he gets it. Like he agrees and is determined to change. And Eddie hopes for Tarja’s sake he is. But knows, deep in his heart, that either way, she’s going to be fine.

“Also, just a heads up. I’m in love with Steve and I’m going to ask him out,” he adds in a rush when he hears Tarja running up behind him.

“You are shitting me,” Tommy whispers, shocked and clenching his teeth.

Eddie laughs, “Nope,” he says, closing his lips loudly around the P.

“Eddie,” Tommy warns him like he’s waiting for Eddie to say he's joking.

“What? I hear he’s single,” Eddie smirks.

“You motherfuc- Hey Tata!” Gathering Tarja in his arms, Tommy drops the subject but he glares at Eddie as he kisses Tarja’s cheek goodbye and murmurs ‘unbelievable’ as he’s leaving. Eddie closes the door and starts laughing at the look on Tommy’s face.

He needs to call Steve.

He tries a couple of times but he doesn’t pick up and he starts worrying Steve might not actually want to talk to him, and then there’s a knock on the door but Eddie, too preoccupied with his anxiety, opens without looking, thinking Tarja forgot something.

When he doesn't hear her, Eddie looks up from his ‘ignored calls’ screen to see nonother than Steve standing there, looking nervous and like a fucking dream with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. A fucking bouquet of flowers. For him. For Eddie. All different shades of red, because he knows is his favorite color.

Eddie just blinks at him a couple of times and Steve flushes even more and drops the hand holding up the flowers, scratches the back of his neck nervously, “This was stupid, the flowers were fucking stupid. They are stupid. I’m stupid, right?”

A laugh bubbles out of Eddie and he grabs him by the scruff of his shirt and pulls him inside. He closes the door once they are both in and slams Steve against it, crushing their lips together. Steve circles his arms around Eddie and holds him close, instantly returning the kiss with fervor.

They kiss as if it were fate. They kiss until it's hard to breathe and Eddie pulls away only to kiss him again, and again, and again.

“Not stupid,” he murmurs between kisses and feels Steve’s smile against his lips.

Eventually, Eddie takes a step back and lets Steve into his home properly, “Hi,” he says cheesily.

“Hi,” Steve says back grinning, then he lifts up the bouquet again, which is now completely ruined by him still holding it strongly while they made out like crazy, and his smile drops,

“Shit,” he pouts cutely, god Eddie wants to eat him. He laughs and takes the flowers anyway, putting them in an empty glass bottle, because he doesn’t own a flower vase, because he’s a normal human being. ‘Who the fuck owns a flower vase?’

“Come here,” he says, holding out both hands for Steve to take and follow him.

Steve takes his hands but doesn't move, instead swings them from side to side, “Wait, let's talk,”

Fuck, yeah. They should. That’s a good idea. Fuck. Damn, Steven Whatever-The-Fuck-Is-His-Middle-Name Harrington and his sensible and very logical choice…

Eddie huffs exaggeratedly making Steve chuckle and redirects them to the couch, where they sit still holding hands, “Alas,” he says dramatically, “You are right, we should talk. I actually wanted to ask you out properly, not debauch you the second you walked through the door. Sorry about that” he lies, not sorry at all, again.

Steve blushes and smiles, drawing little circles with his thumbs on Eddie’s hands, “Yeah me too. I wanna do this right. Ask you out. Go on dates. I think we should take this slow,”

Eddie makes a face and groans at that. He doesn't want to take it slow. He wants Steve to move in right now or something. Steve rolls his eyes amused at his interruption and keeps going,

“I came here to ask you out the right way because I want you to know I’m committed. But we should think about how this will affect Tarja… and Tommy too. We should go out a few times, spend some time alone, and I want you to meet my friends and my parents and I want to meet your friends and your uncle too and just do this properly and-”

Eddie interrupts him with a kiss, he can’t take it anymore, he’s been dying to kiss Steve for months now and he’s so sweet and thoughtful it makes Eddie insane, makes him feel like he needs to ruin him, but in a nice way, like with devotion and love.

Steve lets go of his hands to wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist and hoists him until he’s straddling Steve. Eddie leans his elbows on Steve’s shoulders, and buries his hands in his hair, pulling and messing with it.

“Okay but have you considered having hard, hot, wet sex, and then maybe we do what you said?” He asks panting against Steve’s lips and actually feeling how that punches the air out of him.

He hugs Eddie closer to his chest and whines, “Yeah okay, we can do it your way,” and gets up, lifting Eddie with him as if he were weightless. Eddie squawks and laughs all the way to his room.

🧸

They spend the week together, talking, eating, drinking, laughing and fucking. Except it’s more than that because when Eddie is inside Steve, with his tongue, his fingers, or his strap, it feels like more. It feels like love. Like fate.

Steve, still determined to take things slow, doesn’t stay there all the time, going back to Robin’s where he moved back to after breaking up with Tommy. He actually brings her over one day and the three of them spend the afternoon together. Eddie decides they are going to be best friends immediately because Robin is hilarious and merciless. When Steve gets back the next day he kisses Eddie so good and hard his knees almost give out on him and tells him he has Robin’s seal of approval. Something he knows Tommy never got.

When the week passes Eddie says goodbye theatrically as if they were cross-star lovers in a bad soap opera and Steve chuckles and calls him ridiculous but kisses him so passionately that Eddie drags him right back inside and they say goodbye again a few hours later.

They had decided to wait until Eddie talked to Tarja about her feelings over Tommy’s and Steve’s breakup and whether she still wanted Steve around or not before having him over again.

But when Tarja gets back home she’s gloomy and silent. She hugs Eddie in greeting when she arrives and then spends the rest of the day lying face down on the floor and occasionally sighing loudly, obviously trying to make Eddie ask her what’s wrong.

And really, Eddie shouldn't find it as funny as he does, but he thinks about calling Wayne and telling him he gets it now when Wayne used to tell him he had too much personality.

Eventually, he lies on the floor next to her and asks. Tarja looks at him with big sad eyes and says, “I haven't seen Steve in a million years! And Daddy said he is not his boyfriend anymore! So I’ll never see him again and I miss him”

Eddie coos at her, “I’m sorry you miss him little dragon, but you can totally see him again! Would you like me to call him? Since he’s my friend too?” Already trying to strategize on how to tell her they are more than friends.

Tarja lights up and jumps off the floor and onto Eddie, punching the breath out of him, “Yes! Yes! Call Steve! Steve smiles more when he’s with you than he did with daddy anyway. Why don’t you boyfriend him instead?”

Well… that was easy.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “That’s a great idea sweety, go grab my phone,”

Tarja runs and grabs Eddie’s phone off the table and hands it to him, he doesn’t bother getting off the floor so she kneels beside him listening attentively as he dials Steve’s number.

“Hi, handsome, you talked with Tarja already?” Steve greets him after it rings twice.

“Yeah about that, turns out Tarja talked to me, actually,” he chuckles, “Hi, by the way”

“Hi,” Steve repeats lovingly and laughs, “What do you mean?”

“She had this awesome idea!” he says winking at her and she covers her mouth with her tiny hands to hide her giggles, “That, since you are not with Tommy anymore, you should be my boyfriend instead,” he continues, voice going soft and chuckles when he hears Steve's breathless ‘oh’ on the other side of the line, “Come over?”

“Of course, gimme an hour? I'm with a client” Steve hums and Eddie whispers he’ll give him anything he asks for and hangs up.

An hour later Tarja is still lying on the floor, only now it’s with papers and crayons spread all around her when the doorbell rings. She looks up at Eddie excitedly and he nods at her, “Go on then”

Tarja runs to the door and opens it wide to reveal Steve standing there as beautiful as ever, giving Eddie a deja vu of the first time he saw him.

“Papa Steve!” Tarja yells and jumps up to hug him.

Steve gasps and falls to his knees with her in his arms and looks up at Eddie with shocked wet eyes.

‘So much for taking it slow,’ Eddie thinks with a smirk.

Fin.

☝️first part

☕🥐💕?

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #trans eddie munson #kid fic #i wrote something #i keep thinking about #you know how kid memories are weird and warped in your minds #i keep thinking about tarja being very much convinced that she is the one who got them to date just cause she suggested it to eddie #when she's older i mean #like they cannon convince her other wise she soooooo sure cause she perfectly remembers telling eddie to 'boyfriend' steve and that they #were not together before that #steve and robin think its hilarious #eddie hates giving her the credit #dunno if tommy gets a redemption ark but i imagine tarja and him have coffee from time to time and they catch up on their lives.#and tarja rolls her eyes a lot at him but he's not as bad as he used to be #its mostly like 'yeah yeah dad im sure tthings were different in your time sure'

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