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unclejezzzy · 2 days
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Dazzling Starlet, Bardot Reincarnate
It’s 1990. Eddie Munson did Steve Harrington the favour of being his first male sexual encounter and is filled with deep regret when Steve Harrington shows up at his apartment needing his help months later.
OR: Steve’s parents find magazines under his bed and Eddie begrudgingly lets him stay at his apartment and hates every second even though hes secretly a sweetie with a soft spot
"I cannot fucking believe it." Eddie grumbled, arm leaning against the surface of the bar as he glared over the rim of his glass.
"What?" Robin asked, immediately averting her gaze to Eddie's line of sight.
"Oh, you're talking about Steve again. Shocking." Robin sang, tone tainted in sarcasm.
It had been three months since Eddie had kicked Steve out of his apartment the morning after their surprising, yet oddly exhilarating sexual excursion.
He'd done Steve a favour, Eddie got laid. Quid pro quo. All's fair in sex and war.
Eddie was of the assumption that he was free of him, that life would go back to normal after Steve Harrington. Like plucking a blood sucking leech from your skin knee deep in a shallow river or finally digging out that splinter in your finger with a pair of tweezers.
But no.
Because Steve Harrington was everywhere.
All of the time.
Dancing, flirting, kissing.
He'd become a regular at Eddie's most sacred place. His Nirvana, his church. Valhalla, Abraham's bosom, whatever you wanted to call it.
Thursday to Saturday, as soon as those club doors opened at 9pm, there he was. He'd even made friends with the bouncers so he could skip the queue each time. The guy had a fucking membership card and every single person in there knew who he was.
Eddie shrugged it off at first. He's young, he's finding himself. He deserves to blow off some steam and have a little fun. The sex was pretty much the only joy of being gay so he couldn't blame him too much.
Eddie would watch him saunter up to past, present - and what he was hoping were future - flings without a care in the world. He cut his T-shirts up into crop tops to show off his abs, he started wearing eyeliner, he would tease and flirt with anyone who so much as looked in his direction.
He had a posse of men around him at all times with their hands all over him.
And Eddie was forced to bear witness to all of it.
Eddie whips around to face Robin behind the bar, slamming his glass down on the surface.
"I used to be the best fucking ride in here. Then he comes along acting like he owns the place and everyone flocks to him like Jesus' disciples after he waltzed out of his cave." Eddie seethed through gritted teeth.
"They're just a bunch of cock starved hedonists. Y'know I thought we had a little humility about us. Evidently fucking not."
Robin rolled her eyes, drying a glass with a dish towel.
"He's just the hot new thing, you know how this place goes. Some other poor unsuspecting twink will come along in a week and everyone will forget about him."
"I literally taught him everything he knows."
"Well - at least you don't have to deal with him anymore. You did him a solid and now he's - giving everyone else a solid." Robin snickered.
Eddie downed his drink, sliding the empty glass across the bar.
"Makes me sick." He spat.
"You're not jealous are you?" Robin smiled slyly as she poured a single measurement full of Eddie's favourite whiskey.
Jim Beam. Old reliable, Jim. That was the one man who couldn't piss Eddie off even if he tried.
"No, no - I'm not fucking jealous."
"Sounds like you're jealous." Robin thinned her lips and widened her eyes cautiously as she handed Eddie his drink.
"Screw you, man. I just think it's a bit rich coming from the guy who didn't even know how to finger himself three months ago." Robin grimaced as Eddie took a hefty sip.
"Like, how good can he be really? He's a bottom, all he does is lay there. I was the one doing all the work! Me!" He exclaimed as Robin continued to stare at him.
"What?"
"It just sounds like you're a bit upset that after your steamy night of passion, he seems to have forgotten all about you."
"That doesn't upset me." Eddie sneered.
"Its preferable he forgets all about me. I like it that way."
"Sure." Robin said, lowering her gaze to bite back a smile she was desperately trying hard to hide from Eddie.
"Are you forgetting that I could have had him again? I'm the one who sent him packing the next morning. I didn't get down on my knees and beg him to stay. I wanted him gone."
"Well, there you go then. I don't know what you're so uptight about!" Robin declared, slapping her hands against her thighs in defeat.
Eddie turned around, realising he wasn't going to be getting the validation from Robin anytime soon. Ever the pacifist.
Eddie watched as Steve raked a hand through his hair - his already cropped shirt lifting even higher as Eddie's eyes unwillingly glazed over the scope of his body.
God.
Steve gleamed at Eddie, making his way over to the bar.
"Oh my fucking God there's no escape is there." Eddie muttered.
"Hey." Steve called out breathlessly, smiling at Eddie.
"Hi." Eddie grumbled, leaning back against the bar and crossing his arms tightly against his chest.
"You look like you're having fun."
"I would say the same for you, but - looks a bit dry over here." He retaliated, directing his attention to Robin and offering her a sickeningly sweet smile.
"Could I get a vodka lime and soda please, Robin?"
"Sure thing!" Robin responded.
A little too politely for Eddie's liking.
"Vodka lime and soda? What are you a forty year old woman watching her figure?" Eddie mocked, peering at Steve in his peripheral.
"Well - I was gonna offer to buy you a drink"-
"No thanks. I don't take handouts." He interjected, hurriedly.
"So testy." Steve acknowledged - folding his arms against the bar, elbow knocking against Eddie's as he situated himself mere inches against his face.
"And for your information - It's the opposite of dry, thank you very much. We're having a blast."
"Yeah, it's a real hoot and a half over here." Robin deadpanned, topping Steve's drink off with soda water.
"Coulda fooled me." Steve shrugged.
"Not going out there?" He asked, cocking his head over to the main floor filled with bustling bodies.
"Nah, just observing tonight. I'm not interested in chasing around a bunch of fucked out crystal queens with blown out pupils right now."
"Y'know - I've seen you a couple times - you haven't left with anybody in a while." Steve acknowledged.
"So?"
"So - could the great Eddie Munson be past his prime?"
Oh, this kid had a death wish.
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unclejezzzy · 4 days
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For those of you who may have missed - she's back after a year of doing nothing! Part 2 to this series will be arriving in due course
The Sweetest Torture One Could Bear
It’s 1990. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are forced to confront their shared past and shifting dynamics under the ever changing hues of a gay club in Indianapolis. Eddie, exuding confidence and embracing his sexuality offers a helping hand to Steve who is buckling under the weight of societal pressures.
OR: Steve wants to sleep with a guy for the first time and Eddie reluctantly helps against his better judgement.
Indianapolis, 1990
It was a Saturday night which meant that it was nothing short of a a visual feast for the senses.
The music pulsated through his body, situating itself in his spine as he squinted out at the vast expanse of potential conquests through the smoky haze.
The multi-colored lights above bathed the adumbrate dancers in an ever-changing rainbow of hues. The walls were adorned with mirrors, reflecting the dancers and amplifying the feeling of being part of something larger than oneself. Giant video screens played music videos and club scene footage, immersing them all in a world of pure hedonism.
Of course, Eddie couldn't deny that a majority of the time the clientele were just as visually stunning as their surroundings. Dancing bodies adorned in leather, lace, and sequins were all in abundance, as per usual.
But something was different. He didn't have the usual feeling that anything was possible in there tonight.
Something was missing.
"What about that guy?" Robin asked; voice elevated so it could carry over the bass of the music as she leaned across from behind the bar on her tiptoes to point out across the room to a guy with spiky blonde hair in a tank top.
"Nah - had him already. He's boring." Eddie said cavalierly.
"Boring?" She reiterated, busying herself with wiping the rims of highball glasses with a dish towel.
"He sucked dick like he was working a nine to five." He scoffed a laugh, taking a sip of his drink.
"Okay, fine." She shrugged, neck craned as she scoured their surroundings.
"Him?"
"Nah - too - muscly." Eddie grimaced, immediately glancing away without wasting a second.
"I thought you liked that?" She asked, looking up at him beneath furrowed brows.
"I like 'em toned, like a subtle 'yeah I work out but it's not my entire personality.' I don't want someone who looks like they're the face for sports steroids advertisements." Eddie said firmly.
"God you're so picky, you're looking for a hook up not a husband." Robin clarified, rolling her eyes.
"There's just nobody new and exciting. It's the same faces, same music, same routine. It's exhausting." He said, staring out ahead of him as he kissed his lips between his teeth.
"Yeah, I forgot that getting your dick sucked could be so tedious." She said in jest as Eddie chose not to respond.
"You know, maybe you're just not as into it as you used to be. That's fine, you know. To grow up and get a life outside of hooking up with people. Maybe settle down, get a boyfriend or something."
Eddie narrowed his eyes, pretending to be in deep pensive thought.
"Nah, that doesn't sound like something I'd do." He eventually said, lips breaking out into a devilish grin as Robin glared across at him.
He allowed his eyes to glaze back over the crowds of people.
His vision fixated on a lone guy with lightly tousled brown hair leaning against the metal bars of the balcony, facing away from him. It was long, layered. Purposely messy? Eddie couldn't decide. But he loved how it curled around his neck from the length.
He was wearing camel coloured chinos and a navy blue T-shirt. Fingers tapping against his crossed arms as he continued to look out at the vastness ahead of him.
Two go-go boys dressed in nothing but tight fitting, metallic shorts and pairs of cheap angel wings that were most likely bought from a Spirit Halloween store were either side of him.
They were elevated from the floor, encased in metal caging with dollar bills hanging limp from their waistbands.
It was an ethereal sight given the circumstances. If he believed in that kind of la-di-da butterfly effect bullshit he would have assumed that the universe had placed him in his line of sight for a reason.
Eddie's eyes scanned the length of his body.
He couldn't help but admire the curvature of his ass; how it was packed so tightly into the material it almost made them look as though they were painted on with the way they hugged his hips and thighs.
"Him." He said firmly, not breaking his gaze.
"What?" Robin asked.
"Him, over there." Eddie said, clicking his fingers with an outstretched arm to draw her in to his line of sight.
"The guy in the chinos?"
"Yeah. I want him."
"You haven't even seen his face yet." She warranted.
"Don't need to. He's got an ass that goes for miles. He could be the ugliest fucker in the world for all I care. I'll just go behind, don't have to look at him." He clarified, biting down against the flesh of his lower lip.
"Here I was thinking you were shallow." She shot back, voice tainted with sarcasm as she slung the dish towel over her shoulder.
"I'm going over." He affirmed - voice low as he downed the remainder of his drink, reaching around to place the empty glass behind himself on the bar.
"Okay, have fun. Be good." Robin called out after him as he brushed down the front of his black tee.
"Never. Don't miss me too much." He shot back, teasingly as he ran his fingers through his bangs to ensure they were placed in the perfect divide between careless and purposeful.
The thing with Eddie is that he didn't get rejected. In fact, he couldn't even recall the last time he got rejected.
He read an article that stated that statistically speaking, men think about sex on average around 19 times a day. This was one of those times that Eddie was happy to be branded as above average.
Of course, these statistics were based solely on straight men. Go figure.
When Eddie wasn't having sex, he was thinking about having sex. And the second he was finished having sex with the most beautiful man who ever lived, he was thinking about the next beautiful man who ever lived that he'd meet the next night.
And luckily for this guy, he was right on his radar.
He sauntered through the throngs of people, skin prickling in anticipation as he approached him. It was almost exhilarating, reaching the apex of a desired conquest.
"Hey, had a busy night?" Eddie asked, slinking an arm around the guys waist as he whipped round to face him.
He had hoped his gaze would be met with the same inquisitive eagerness. Instead, he was met with brown forlorn eyes and furrowed brows with a sinister familiarity to them.
The chiselled jawline, the mole on the side of his neck beneath the stubble, the irate demeanour.
"Jesus fucking Christ." Eddie announced, retracting his hand with the same speed you would if you caught it on the side of a hot teakettle.
"Oh God." The other breathed out, eyes darting maniacally across his face as Eddie watched the muscles of his neck contract with a deep swallow.
"Steve?" Eddie asked, biting back a laugh as his jaw slacked in awe.
"No." He said hastily, shaking his head as he darted around at his surroundings for a quick escape.
"Oh my God, it is you. Steve Harrington. From Hawkins High." Eddie pressed as he watched him back away, hand gripping the metal of the balcony for stability.
Continue reading on Ao3
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Oh noooo she's back writing mindless, depraved smut again whatever will we doooooo
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unclejezzzy · 7 days
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kinda want to be held for 5 hours straight
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unclejezzzy · 7 days
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Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Really just wanted to draw a Camp Counsellor, Steddie. But being a bit of a horror fan I turned toward the awesome 80s videos of the day for inspiration. Where both of them think a warm summer and babysitting kids is going to be a breeze. Little do they know that they become the Final boys as something stalks the camp 😢 Is it really killing the kids? Or are the boys just stuck in their own nightmare the Camp created for them? DunDunDun!!!! 😨😈
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unclejezzzy · 9 days
Text
The Sweetest Torture One Could Bear
It’s 1990. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are forced to confront their shared past and shifting dynamics under the ever changing hues of a gay club in Indianapolis. Eddie, exuding confidence and embracing his sexuality offers a helping hand to Steve who is buckling under the weight of societal pressures.
OR: Steve wants to sleep with a guy for the first time and Eddie reluctantly helps against his better judgement.
Indianapolis, 1990
It was a Saturday night which meant that it was nothing short of a a visual feast for the senses.
The music pulsated through his body, situating itself in his spine as he squinted out at the vast expanse of potential conquests through the smoky haze.
The multi-colored lights above bathed the adumbrate dancers in an ever-changing rainbow of hues. The walls were adorned with mirrors, reflecting the dancers and amplifying the feeling of being part of something larger than oneself. Giant video screens played music videos and club scene footage, immersing them all in a world of pure hedonism.
Of course, Eddie couldn't deny that a majority of the time the clientele were just as visually stunning as their surroundings. Dancing bodies adorned in leather, lace, and sequins were all in abundance, as per usual.
But something was different. He didn't have the usual feeling that anything was possible in there tonight.
Something was missing.
"What about that guy?" Robin asked; voice elevated so it could carry over the bass of the music as she leaned across from behind the bar on her tiptoes to point out across the room to a guy with spiky blonde hair in a tank top.
"Nah - had him already. He's boring." Eddie said cavalierly.
"Boring?" She reiterated, busying herself with wiping the rims of highball glasses with a dish towel.
"He sucked dick like he was working a nine to five." He scoffed a laugh, taking a sip of his drink.
"Okay, fine." She shrugged, neck craned as she scoured their surroundings.
"Him?"
"Nah - too - muscly." Eddie grimaced, immediately glancing away without wasting a second.
"I thought you liked that?" She asked, looking up at him beneath furrowed brows.
"I like 'em toned, like a subtle 'yeah I work out but it's not my entire personality.' I don't want someone who looks like they're the face for sports steroids advertisements." Eddie said firmly.
"God you're so picky, you're looking for a hook up not a husband." Robin clarified, rolling her eyes.
"There's just nobody new and exciting. It's the same faces, same music, same routine. It's exhausting." He said, staring out ahead of him as he kissed his lips between his teeth.
"Yeah, I forgot that getting your dick sucked could be so tedious." She said in jest as Eddie chose not to respond.
"You know, maybe you're just not as into it as you used to be. That's fine, you know. To grow up and get a life outside of hooking up with people. Maybe settle down, get a boyfriend or something."
Eddie narrowed his eyes, pretending to be in deep pensive thought.
"Nah, that doesn't sound like something I'd do." He eventually said, lips breaking out into a devilish grin as Robin glared across at him.
He allowed his eyes to glaze back over the crowds of people.
His vision fixated on a lone guy with lightly tousled brown hair leaning against the metal bars of the balcony, facing away from him. It was long, layered. Purposely messy? Eddie couldn't decide. But he loved how it curled around his neck from the length.
He was wearing camel coloured chinos and a navy blue T-shirt. Fingers tapping against his crossed arms as he continued to look out at the vastness ahead of him.
Two go-go boys dressed in nothing but tight fitting, metallic shorts and pairs of cheap angel wings that were most likely bought from a Spirit Halloween store were either side of him.
They were elevated from the floor, encased in metal caging with dollar bills hanging limp from their waistbands.
It was an ethereal sight given the circumstances. If he believed in that kind of la-di-da butterfly effect bullshit he would have assumed that the universe had placed him in his line of sight for a reason.
Eddie's eyes scanned the length of his body.
He couldn't help but admire the curvature of his ass; how it was packed so tightly into the material it almost made them look as though they were painted on with the way they hugged his hips and thighs.
"Him." He said firmly, not breaking his gaze.
"What?" Robin asked.
"Him, over there." Eddie said, clicking his fingers with an outstretched arm to draw her in to his line of sight.
"The guy in the chinos?"
"Yeah. I want him."
"You haven't even seen his face yet." She warranted.
"Don't need to. He's got an ass that goes for miles. He could be the ugliest fucker in the world for all I care. I'll just go behind, don't have to look at him." He clarified, biting down against the flesh of his lower lip.
"Here I was thinking you were shallow." She shot back, voice tainted with sarcasm as she slung the dish towel over her shoulder.
"I'm going over." He affirmed - voice low as he downed the remainder of his drink, reaching around to place the empty glass behind himself on the bar.
"Okay, have fun. Be good." Robin called out after him as he brushed down the front of his black tee.
"Never. Don't miss me too much." He shot back, teasingly as he ran his fingers through his bangs to ensure they were placed in the perfect divide between careless and purposeful.
The thing with Eddie is that he didn't get rejected. In fact, he couldn't even recall the last time he got rejected.
He read an article that stated that statistically speaking, men think about sex on average around 19 times a day. This was one of those times that Eddie was happy to be branded as above average.
Of course, these statistics were based solely on straight men. Go figure.
When Eddie wasn't having sex, he was thinking about having sex. And the second he was finished having sex with the most beautiful man who ever lived, he was thinking about the next beautiful man who ever lived that he'd meet the next night.
And luckily for this guy, he was right on his radar.
He sauntered through the throngs of people, skin prickling in anticipation as he approached him. It was almost exhilarating, reaching the apex of a desired conquest.
"Hey, had a busy night?" Eddie asked, slinking an arm around the guys waist as he whipped round to face him.
He had hoped his gaze would be met with the same inquisitive eagerness. Instead, he was met with brown forlorn eyes and furrowed brows with a sinister familiarity to them.
The chiselled jawline, the mole on the side of his neck beneath the stubble, the irate demeanour.
"Jesus fucking Christ." Eddie announced, retracting his hand with the same speed you would if you caught it on the side of a hot teakettle.
"Oh God." The other breathed out, eyes darting maniacally across his face as Eddie watched the muscles of his neck contract with a deep swallow.
"Steve?" Eddie asked, biting back a laugh as his jaw slacked in awe.
"No." He said hastily, shaking his head as he darted around at his surroundings for a quick escape.
"Oh my God, it is you. Steve Harrington. From Hawkins High." Eddie pressed as he watched him back away, hand gripping the metal of the balcony for stability.
Continue reading on Ao3
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Oh noooo she's back writing mindless, depraved smut again whatever will we doooooo
13 notes · View notes
unclejezzzy · 8 months
Text
My Hands At Risk I Fold | Chapter 1 | What The Fuck Is Negging?
𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚊, 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚊 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟿
𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚊 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚢 𝙿𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝
𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎
Steve stared out at the building in front of him through his windscreen. He was early.
Not early enough for it to be seen as an outlandish feat. But early enough that he was conscious about it.
He hadn't slept much, so instead he used the opportunity to iron his sky-blue shirt over and over.
He removed it from the ironing board, placed it on a coat hanger and hung it from the top of the door frame. He would stare at it for a few seconds, unimpressed with his efforts before ripping it down from the hanger. And repeat.
He looked down at himself. Fiddling with the silver embellished shield badge to ensure it was as straight as it could possibly be. It already was. He knew this because he'd already done this Ten times already since parking up.
Elbow propped up against the window, he picked at the skin of his lips. Eyelids lulling as he attempted to surmount any and all energy he could to get out the car.
He unbuckled his seat belt - heaving the door to his 1979 Ford Pinto open with a creak before traipsing across the tarmac parking lot. Pausing as he reached the glass doors.
He could already see everybody inside engaging in exuberant conversation, sitting on desks and recounting stories of the past week.
With a sigh, Steve entered - head hung low as he tried not to draw too much unnecessary attention to himself.
"Hey, Harrington's back!" A voice bellowed from his desk as Steve was immediately met by a sea of blue shirts and inquisitive eyes.
"What's up, man! Good to see you." A guy called Kurt clamoured. Soon enough the room was filled with the vivacious sounds of repetitive greetings.
Steve couldn't help but feel as though it was partly in-genuine.
"Hey." Steve said monotonously as he stood idly, desperately waiting for it all to cease.
"Harrington." A firm, raspy voice appeared beside him.
"Chief." Steve said, turning to face him.
"A word, please?" He asked, moustache twitching as he spoke with a hesitant demeanour about him.
"Sure." Steve agreed, voice tainted with surprise.
He followed him through to his office as the Chief waited for Steve to enter before closing the door behind them both.
It was drab and white-walled, adorned in shelves and photo frames of the force across the years.
The Chief took a seat behind his mahogany desk, clearing his throat as he shuffled his chair forward. Steve took a seat on one of the uncomfortable plastic seats opposite him. Leg bouncing in uncertainty.
Chief Hopper was nice. Steve felt as though they had a good rapport, he was the type of person to lower himself to your level as a means of understanding. He wasn't intimidating, but Steve couldn't help but feel as though there was an air of animosity.
"So - it's good to have you back, Harrington." He started, clasping his hands together as he rested them atop the desk.
"Good to be back sir." Steve said, offering him a small smile.
"And - how are things - at home?" The Chief asked with the same hesitancy, like a conversation with Steve was like entering a minefield.
"Oh, y'know. Bearable. Is what it is, I'm just ready to get back out there now and do my job as best I can." Steve shrugged, determined to not let him see through his mask.
"Yeah, son - about that." Hopper sighed, leaning back in his seat.
Steve's shoulders tensed.
"While I appreciate your willingness to get straight to it - the guys and I have been talking. We figured that - well, we wanted to make sure that you were in the right frame of mind before we sent you straight back out there willy-nilly." He said cautiously as Steve furrowed his brows.
"But I'm fine."
"Now hear me out." Hopper said, holding his palms up in a de-escalating manner.
"Steve, you've just lost somebody close to you. You didn't even take all your allocated leave - you gotta give yourself a break, kid. You're a hard worker, you are - we all see it. But - we've made our decision, we think finding you a smaller role while things settle down for you at home would be better suited to you right now."
"Like what?" Steve asked.
"Maybe - down in records?" Hopper suggested as Steve felt a level of insurmountable rage flush through his body.
"Records? Are you fucking kidding me?" Steve asked, aghast as he leaned forward in his seat.
"Now it won't be forever!" Hopper desperately tried to reassure.
"No, no fucking way am I doing records - it's a graveyard down there!" Steve scoffed.
Steve knew that being sent down to records was a prison sentence in and of itself. Useless cops worked down in records, cops that couldn't be trusted to do something as simple as their job properly.
Steve wasn't lazy, nor was he a jobsworth. He had a role to play out in the community, he was an integral part of the force. This was a kick in the teeth. Pleading with a bloodied mouth.
"Steve"-
"Chief!" Steve interrupted him, as Hopper retreated.
"With all due respect, I refuse. If you stick me down in records you're making it perfectly clear what role I play in this force and I won't stand for it. I'll walk my ass out that door and you won't see me again."
"You know I don't do ultimatums, Harrington." Hopper warned, eyes squinting.
"Sir please, anything but records. I'm not some kind of donkey!" Steve begged.
He was met with a short beat of silence as Hopper averted his gaze in thought.
"Okay fine." He sighed as Steve's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
"I'll make you a deal alright? You do records for this shift today"- he began as Steve opened his mouth to criticise. Cut short by an aggressive raised finger.
"Ah! Just for today, while I do some thinking about what else we can do for you here, alright?"
Steve bit down on the inside of his lip, nostrils flared as he allowed the anger to subside.
"Fine." He said agitatedly.
***
Steve stood leaning against a wall, head hung low as he stood far out enough that the light hardly reached him. He hoped that if he blended in enough nobody would be able to see him.
He was surrounded by a vast length of shelves filled with boxes of Alphabetically labelled files.
Steve found it overwhelming - it was impossible to navigate and was more of a Labyrinth than a storage facility.
Steve heard the door ahead of him open and slam, but he didn't give it any attention as he kicked the toe of his boot against the carpeted floor.
"Need a file on a guy named John Trapp." A voice grumbled as Steve could hear a piece of paper hit the desk under a firm palm.
Steve waited for a moment, turning his head. They hadn't even bothered to look up to see where Steve was.
Steve squinted his eyes in annoyance as he hauled himself off of the wall and walked slowly up the aisle.
"You deaf? I need a file for John Trapp." They repeated, agitatedly.
"Not deaf no, just wondering if you're allergic to manners or some shit." Steve snapped.
Steve didn't recognise this person. He knew for certain he hadn't seen him before as he recalled.
He didn't have the appearance of someone who had a key role in a professional environment.
He had unruly, shoulder length hair. Curly to the point it appeared matted in some places.
The colour of Hickory, but more Tawny as the lights behind him shon through it. Ivory skin, enveloped in miscellaneous tattoos across his arms.
A flagrant stare that irritated Steve as he tapped his silver rings against the desk impatiently.
"Haven't seen you down here before." He acknowledged as Steve walked closer to him so they were mere inches away from each other across the desk.
"You talk to people you know like that too?" Steve asked indignantly.
The guy leaned forward, analysing Steve's badge as Steve stared down at him in confusion.
"Harrington. Yeah, I've heard of you." He nodded, a grin etching across his face.
"I thought you were hot shit, isn't this is a fall from grace."
"It's temporary." Steve deadpanned, garnering a laugh from him.
"That's what they all say." He snickered as Steve's lip curled in annoyance.
"Legend has it they had to bury the first records guy in the walls because he never left."
"Well, it is." Steve lamented, wondering who the Hell this guy thought he was. Can't be that important that he's allowed to parade around in nothing but black jeans and a T-shirt.
"Sure, sweetheart." He said in a patronising tone that made Steve's skin crawl.
"You got that file or what?"
Steve's lips were set firmly in a thin line as he snatched the piece of paper from the desk and turned on his heel. He allowed his fingers to linger along the wood of the shelves, before pulling a cardboard box out and rifling through.
Steve sensed that he was watching his every move so he played up to it. He moved at an excruciatingly slow pace, pulling the exact file he had requested from the box.
He looked at it momentarily before putting it back and then pulling it out again. All in the hopes that it would agitate him enough that he wouldn't be so rude and untoward to strangers in future.
Eventually - Steve relented and pulled the file from the box, waltzing across the floor and slamming it down on the desk in front of him.
"Here."
"Wow, testy." He mocked, smirking.
"Someone's not taken too kindly to their new job. Don't worry Harrington, there aren't any small roles. Only small people." He edged closer across the desk with a vexing grin, as though he were trying to intimidate Steve before snatching the file from the desk.
He turned on his heel to walk off as Steve stared him down.
"Fuck you." Steve called out after him with the same temperament as a child who was cursing for the first time.
He turned around, one hand on the door in front of him as they glanced at each other.
"Yeah if you want - I can meet you in the bathroom in say, Five minutes?" He asked cavalierly.
Steve felt his breath catch in his throat at how forward he was as he said nothing in response. Nothing he could think of to say could contend with that.
He stared back at him, clearly impressed with himself. A glint of deviltry in his dark eyes that Steve for some reason found mildly thrilling.
He watched as he let out a laugh, pushing the door open with the palm of his hand and disappearing out of sight.
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unclejezzzy · 9 months
Text
My Hands At Risk I Fold | Chapter 14 | Look Me In The Eyes
Steve hated therapy.
He hated how clinical it all felt; the pretentious decor dressed up in plush couches, exotic plants  and the water dispenser that bubbled incessantly in the corner every so often which only served to annoy him.
The box of Kleenex that sat atop the rounded coffee table in the centre, staring at him. A silent witness. Urging him to show an ounce of emotion.
He didn't cry. He never cried - not in front of another person, anyway.
He hated how he had to try to whittle down decades worth of feelings to a glorified listener for fifty bucks an hour. He'd wince at the empty platitudes; 'learn to let go', 'the only way out is through', 'you cannot pour from an empty cup.' It felt trite and rehearsed. Steve was certain that nobody in the history of the world had felt as bad as he did. It was impossible to even attempt to relate or empathise.
Despite his disdains, he showed up every week. More for Robin than for himself.
Robin, with her worried eyes and pleading hands grasping Steve's arms on his couch. Begging him to speak to somebody.
So he did, and he'd cringe as he wrote out his cheques week after week.
He told her it was helping, just to see her smile.
He'd make up elaborate conversations he had, had with his therapist and his tangled journey of self discovery. How they had delved into the depths of his past and Steve could see a kernel of truth to all of the cliche's.
When really, he sat hunched over on the couch and would mumble half hearted responses whilst sipping his water and watching the hands on the clock. Praying for the hour to be over. Wishing time away like it was liquid through his fingers.
He started running again.
Between his Walkman and his heartbeat pounding in his head he had no time to let the elusive thoughts win. The world around him faded into a blur. The steady cadence of his feet hitting the sidewalk, a monologue with his body and mind. He felt everything and nothing.
He ran until it hurt. Until he was buckled over on the side of the road, spitting up bile. Until his thighs ached and his stomach cramped. And that's when he would cry. Because there was a physical pain, therefore it was acceptable.
The pain had moved from his chest deep into the muscles of his limbs, and he would feel it for days. A constant ache that made it all real.
He possessed a peculiar blend of his Mother's apathy and his Father's rage, which made for an excruciatingly lonely combination.
'You're going to be okay, by the way.' Robin would say to Steve as they sat on opposite ends of his couch. 'I know it doesn't feel like it. But you will. They're just feelings, they don't make up who you are. They're going to pass.'
And Steve already knew this. He knew he wouldn't be able to recall this exact feeling that sat on top of his chest like an anvil in twenty years. But he hoped that he would, because if he couldn't - it would mean that he had forgotten about Eddie. And Steve didn't want to do that.
Steve's birthday came and went. Nancy and Robin brought a homemade cake to the apartment and they watched movies wrapped in blankets on the floor. He blew out the candles, but he didn't make a wish. Wishing was a futile feat and nothing that he truly wanted came to fruition anyhow.
He was 24 and he cursed the world for spinning so carelessly.
Then he remembered he'd never asked when Eddie's birthday was. If perhaps he had kept it from him on purpose because he didn't like to make a show of it. That seemed like something he would do.
He wondered if it had been in the months he hadn't seen him. He wondered if his friends did something for him to make him feel important. He hoped he knew that he was.
Then he would think about how stupid it was to be in love with someone so deeply it felt like it was cutting into his skin, and not know when their birthday was.
He ached for something else. Something less physical but more mentally demanding. He joined painting classes on Saturday evenings at the local civic centre.
He'd never painted a day in his life before and it showed.
The canvases were vast territories that Steve struggled to fill in their entirety. He could never summon anything big enough to take up the entire space. The brushes and the pencils were a conduit, a bridge between his mind and his hands.
He went out to the lakes and he would paint the ripples of the water, the reflecting sun. The trees, the foliage. He liked it because time became fluid. He wouldn't know it was passing if not for the setting Sun.
The Summer passed and T-shirts became sweaters that became coats. Cold soda's in Robin's apartment became warm mugs of cocoa. Tingling drunken evenings coming home from the bar turned into 'let's just stay home's.
Halloween decorations were in every store window and the trees were draped in a tapestry of golden decay. The days grew shorter and became less and less like trying to breathe underwater and more like being the first person to reach the finish line in a marathon and breaking the ribbon when his head hit the pillow.
It was a Monday when Steve felt the world stop.
When the mundane hum of everyday life turned into an electric tension with palpable uncertainty. When he was certain his heart had stopped beating for a fleeting moment and that familiar static feeling returned in the tips of his fingers. When he had to remember to breathe and blink and walk.
It was a Monday when he saw Eddie reaching into the tall refrigerator of his local grocery store to pull out a six pack of beer and he had to refrain from crashing his shopping cart into an elderly woman.
He was a solid twenty feet away from him and he hadn't seen him.
He was safe.
Safe enough that he could swiftly wheel his cart around to the end of the aisle and pretend he didn't actually need anything down there after all, feigning disinterest.
He was rushing, cart turning every which way aside from forward. Steve internally cursed himself now more than he had been for choosing the cart with the dodgy wheel.
"Steve Harrington." It was loud, abrasive. Teasing.
Steve turned around slowly, a light pained look on his face as he tried to summon a polite smile. He wheeled his shopping cart around slowly as suddenly he became all too interested in its contents.
"Pretending not to notice me? Ouch." Eddie acknowledged with that all too familiar calculating smile.
"No, I - I just"- Steve stammered, not able to think of a cohesive answer under Eddie's brazen glare. "I guess I didn't really know what I would say - I didn't know if you'd want me to."
"Thought for a moment you wouldn't recognise me." Eddie shrugged, the creases by his eyes disappeared as a semblance of disappointment seeped into his tone.
"Well - you haven't exactly changed much." Steve said simply, an accusatory confusion in his tone.
He felt his surroundings melt away, certain that his feet would slip right through the flooring if he wasn't careful.
"False, I had a trim." Eddie said, taking his pointer finger and thumb and using it to dangle the ends of his hair in front of his shoulder.
"Oh yeah, I see now." Steve said restlessly. "Sorry - I just - I wanted to say hi I just didn't know how."
"Did the basic grasp of the English language escape you?" Eddie asked. "You could try Bonjour, hola"-
"You're back. Is what I was going to say. Or rather - point out. Which you know, obviously. Because you're here."
"Yep. Present and accounted for." Eddie said frankly, dispirited by Steve's lack of excitement.
"That's - good." Steve acknowledged, nodding slowly and averting his gaze.
"Yeah. I'm starting to think so, too." Eddie smirked. "Forgot little old Missoula had it's charms."
"Easy to forget about when you're living the dream." Steve said, the words escaping his lips a little harsher than he intended.
"I didn't forget." Eddie bartered, looking on at Steve sternly as the silence grew exceptionally loud. "And if the dream is getting changed in locker rooms and sleeping on a moving bus that smells like a thousand unwashed ballsacks after an orgy then yeah. That's the dream." Eddie joked, laughing to himself.
Steve was all too caught up on the realisation that he was here and standing in front of him to possibly entertain anything that he was actually saying. He couldn't even pretend to find it funny. He just wanted to take every line and wrinkle and preserve it lest there be another time he has to create him in his mind from memory. To ensure that no freckle or eyelash went amiss.
"And you?" Eddie pressed as Steve snapped back into the moment.
"Oh, it's - Monday." He said meekly, fingers flexing irritably against the handle of the cart.
"Grocery day." Eddie nodded.
"Yeah."
"Watcha got?" He asked, but Steve knew he was only pretending to be interested. Eddie wasn't the kind of guy to stand in a grocery store and want you to recall every item you'd meticulously taken from the shelf.
"Oh - just some granola, meats, veg. Gonna cook up a bunch of stuff to have for the week."
"Nice. Good - variety. Gotta get your five a day." Eddie spoke, lips thinned and white as he mustered a smile.
"Is that your five for the day?" Steve quipped, pointing to the pack of beer that hung delicately between his ringed fingers.
"Yeah, guess so." Eddie let out a soft laugh, raising the beers up in acknowledgement.
His gaze returned to Steve for a moment, adopting a more solemn tone. "How you been?"
Steve could tell the truth. He could recall every terrible day that surpassed into just a bad day. He could tell Eddie that the second he left he felt the invisible string between them snap and take his sense of self with it.
"Good. Good, yeah - I'm good." Steve said exuberantly, nodding to really sell it.
"Take it you've been good?" Eddie said teasingly as Steve reverted back into his self conscious state.
"You?" He managed to choke out.
"Yeah, good." Eddie said softly.
"Well - that's - good." Steve cleared his throat, battling an invisible itch crawling beneath his skin. "It's good that you're - back."
Eddie's gaze darted anxiously between Steve's eyes, like he desperately sought an of authenticity within his words. "You think so?"
"Yeah, I guess." Steve shrugged, nonchalantly desperately trying to downplay the weight of his response.
"Got home last week, think I've been pretty much asleep for most of it. Wayne kept coming into my room to make sure I wasn't dead." He chuckled, a touch of discomfort lingering in the air as he idly scuffed the toe of his shoe against the linoleum floor.
"Can't say I blame you. Must have been hard work." Steve acknowledged, voice devoid of any emotion. "Well - I uh - should probably pay for this." He added, words trailing off.
"Right, yeah." Eddie nodded. "Go - do that."
Steve stood there, heart heavy with unspoken words. But it was simply a facade he could not afford to drop with Eddie Munson.
Eddie Munson who toyed with fragile things like he couldn't quite help himself. Poking and prodding to see if it will break.
He was not about to get his heart torn from his chest again in the chilled aisle of all places.
"It was really good to see you, Eddie. You look - great. I'm glad everything's working out for you." Steve smiled, amused with his own superficial pleasantries.
"Thanks. Appreciate it." Eddie gave him a singular nod, holding his gaze to the floor.
"Take care of yourself." Steve finalised as he wheeled his cart away in the opposite direction.
It was Steve who had walked away this time.
Not to one up him in an unspoken contest, but to protect the little moments they could have. They could bump into each other in a grocery store and make idle chit chat, they could talk about the weather and ask how the other is. Each time it would become a little less gut wrenching.
They would pay for their respective groceries at different check outs, drive them home in different directions. Food would go untouched or rot or be eaten in different homes. They'll say things like 'it's been a while' and 'you look well'. Agree to catch up sometime and then never do. Until the lines that ran parallel will filter off until they're no longer touching.
Steve could be content with that being their future. Eddie, the stranger with the demeanour that could bring Steve to his knees. Never crossing lines in conversation to use their words as ammunition.
Steve could be okay with that.
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unclejezzzy · 9 months
Text
In case you aren’t all caught up yet, here’s chapter 13. Or if you feel so inclined you can read from the beginning! Chapter 14 will be by far the longest chapter I’ve ever written so do forgive me if it takes a little longer ❤️
My Hands At Risk I Fold | Chapter 13 | A Good Person
I am so sorry this chapter took me so long, time escaped me and writers block had me in a chokehold. This is live on ao3 now @ahoysteve but here’s a snippet to entice you!
Steve stood before the door, a veil of uncertainty draped over his frame. His fingers flexed irritably as he waited for the acknowledgement of his rhythmic knocking.
He wasn't certain why he had come. He was even less certain if he should. He stood there, purpose shrouded in a haze of uncertainty. The gnawing doubt gnarling at his core.
Amidst the tumult of his thoughts and flashing recollections he found himself grappling with the weight of want. Need.
Wanting Eddie, needing Eddie. Craving Eddie to make him feel safe again the way he used to, buried against his chest like they were the only two people left in the midst of the end of the world.
And Steve knew the world wasn't ending, not by a long shot. But it really did feel like it. He was kind of disappointed that it wasn't.
He could say safely that he was very uninterested in living a life without Eddie Munson in it.
The thought of him made Steve a prisoner of his own introspection.
So there he was, standing out in the hall of Eddie's apartment. Stripped back, no secrets. The damage to his face was a damn sight close to the damage the two of them had inflicted on each other.
As the door creaked open, the metal chain trembling against the unforgiving wood, Wayne's desolate gaze met Steve's with an exhausted sigh.
In that moment, Steve felt his own body constrict, a desperate longing to shrink into insignificance, invisible to the world's gaze. Nothing but a speck that couldn't dare be seen by the naked eye.
With bated breath - Steve observed Wayne's weariness. His eyes cast downward in defeat - thin lipped and morose as he momentarily closed the door.
In those fleeting seconds of respite - when the door shielded him from what could happen next, Steve found solace in the sounds of clinking metal and Wayne's fumbling of the lock, accompanied by the relentless pounding of his own heartbeat within his head.
Wayne loomed in the doorway, a figure of judgment if Steve had ever seen one. His arms tightly locked against his chest, his lips parting to emit a disapproving tsk.
"Sweet baby Jesus and the grown one too. Look at the state of you." He said, hushed as his lips twitched into a frown.
"Is - he here?" Steve asked, voice tinged with unease, his gaze momentarily flickering past Wayne's shoulder, seeking solace in the living-room's depths. The low amber lighting illuminated behind him, the caustic tones of a sports game on the TV filling the silence.
"He's here. Shut himself away in his room, think he's turned in early for the night." Wayne acknowledged with a huff.
"Right, yeah." Steve nodded quickly, averting his gaze to the floor.
"I messed up." He swallowed against the dry of his mouth.
"You did somethin' alright." Wayne let out a belligerent laugh, leaning back to glance at Steve in his full state.
"Can I - see him?" Steve asked meekly, although he feared he already knew the answer.
"I think we'd both do well to leave him alone for tonight. Trust me, I got an earful the second he walked through the door." He affirmed, cocking his head in the direction of Eddie's bedroom.
"Did he tell you?" Steve asked hesitantly.
"In so many words, yeah." Wayne said, lips pursing.
"That was a real stupid thing to do, boy."
"I know." Steve nodded solemnly.
"Thank you." Wayne said without taking a beat.
Steve glanced up beneath his brows, confused. Wayne's standoffish demeanour dissipated and his shoulders relaxed.
"For - what?"
"For standin' up for him. Lord knows he's never been all that good at doin' that for himself. Unless it's me of course then I won't hear the end of it." Wayne said, letting out a soft chuckle as he leaned against the doorframe.
"You lose your job?"
"I won't know for a while yet. I'm leaning more towards probably yes." Steve acknowledged, wincing lightly.
"Christ." Wayne grumbled, shaking his head.
"It's okay, wasn't really a fan of the uniform. Blue's never really been my colour."
"Well - red and purple has certainly taken a likin' to you." Wayne said in jest, lifting an arm to point limply to Steve's face.
Steve let out a pitiful, breathy laugh as the silence engulfed them again.
"I really love him." Steve said quietly, not daring to look Wayne in the eye.
"I know I - probably don't look like the type of person you'd want him to be with right now. And I don't know why I'm telling you this. But - I do."
He watched as Wayne exhaled deeply from the chest, fearing his response.
"I can tell - I only ever seen this kinda ridiculousness on a soap opera." Wayne said frankly.
"I have it on good authority that he feels the same."
Steve faltered, voice croaking as he tried to articulate a response.
"He does?"
"He tol' me he was gonna speak to you. I take it he didn't."
Steve screwed his eyes shut, lips whitening in frustration as it hit him.
"Shit." He hissed, fingers grappling at the bridge of his nose.
"Shit - I - totally shut him down. I didn't - I told him I didn't want to speak to him."
"It's okay. You were mad. People get mad, Steve. Doesn't make you the Devil incarnate." Wayne reprimanded softly.
"An' if you ask me, you had every right to be mad. That boy doesn't know his ass from his elbow when it comes to this shit. He will make every wrong decision he possibly can in one foul swoop."
Steve desperately longed for even the tiniest sliver of solace from Wayne's words. But the relentless ache nestled deep within his chest persisted. A constant reminder that if he had only listened and not allowed his anger to guide his actions, perhaps this evening would have unfolded differently. Maybe, just maybe, they would now find themselves nestled in Steve's bed in a shared haven, engrossed in the flickering glow of the television screen, caring about nothing.
"I didn't know that he did. Felt that way - I mean." Steve muttered, hands hanging limp beside him.
"Course he does. He's Eddie. He always wanted the best most shiny thing in the store as a kid. He could just never have it." Wayne chortled.
"Yeah well, I'm not so shiny anymore. Gonna need a full body MOT." Steve said with a huff, gesturing to himself pitifully.
"You'll fix up real nice. Don't you worry." Wayne said, taking several steps forward to pat Steve on the shoulder.
"Life has not been kind to him. Not like you. And he's not kind to himself. He's scared of it goin' away, that's all."
"Yeah, well - I can't blame him for that part. Given y'know"- Steve didn't finish his sentence, he figured the unsaid words hanging in the air like a foul smell would help Wayne to catch on.
"Mm." Wayne hummed, nodding slowly.
"People are shit." Steve said scathingly.
Wayne looked at him, bewildered. Like it was an outlandish statement he had taken offence to.
"Aw nah, come on now - people can be shit. They can be real bastards and kick you into the mud. But people like you and him - they make this sorry state of a world go round. People can be good. They just don't like to make a show of it." He said as Steve bit down against the flesh of his lower lip.
"They can be hard to find sometimes."
Steve let out a heavy sigh, raking his hand through his hair.
"Look - will you tell him I came by? And that - I'm sorry - for everything. And - he can come by whenever he wants and I'll be there."
"Course, I'll tell him." Wayne nodded simply, a small smile etching across his lips.
"Thank you." Steve said, trying his hardest to return the physical gesture.
Wayne cleared his throat, throwing his shoulders back suddenly.
"Now - you make sure you get some ice on that. You sleep with your head propped up good as well. Incase you got concussion or somethin'." He ordered, pointing to Steve firmly.
"I will." Steve said.
"Hang on"- Wayne quipped, disappearing back into the apartment momentarily.
He returned seconds later with a glass bottle of beer, dripping with condensation.
"For the eye. And your travels." He said, handing it to Steve.
"I appreciate it." Steve said, smiling thinly as he raised it up in a gesture of thanks.
"Goodnight."
"Night, Steve." Wayne said solemnly before stepping away and closing the door with a click.
Steve lingered, his gaze fixated on the intricacies of the wooden door before him. A flicker of hope danced within his chest. Hoping against all hope that Eddie would have a change of heart.
***
"Morning." Eddie trudged out of his room, feet dragging as he squinted at his surroundings. His voice was tired and strained. Sore from the pack of smokes he had raced through throughout the evening.
Wayne sat at the small table beside the kitchen island, peering out at him from behind his newspaper. He shook it out with an air of authority, glaring at him lightly.
Eddie hadn't slept, not really. He had a migraine that was pervading his temples and behind his eyes that made everything feel heavy and slow.
He had cried. A lot. He was hoping that it wasn't obvious and cursed how bloodshot the whites of his eyes were in his mirror before stepping out of his room.
"You mean afternoon." Wayne quipped, voice tainted with sarcasm as Eddie mechanically reached for a box of cereal out of the kitchen cabinet.
"Something like that, yeah." He mumbled, absentmindedly setting the cereal down on the counter before trudging over to the sink for a bowl that sat on the rack.
"Had bets on what would rise first. You or the moon." Wayne snarked, setting down his newspaper. But Eddie had very little patience for his attempt at a playful jab today.
"Hilarious." He deadpanned, opening the refrigerator and searching for a semblance of an appetite. He reached for the carton of milk, crouching down and unscrewing it to take a whiff to ensure it wasn't out of date. That would be just his luck.
He wasn't hungry. He had a horrible nauseous feeling that had gripped the back of his throat that wouldn't budge.
He was making a conscious effort to not think about Steve. Which was proving fairly futile because his subconscious would send a shockwave reminder through his nervous system every five minutes that made it impossible to shrug off. It made his fingers feel like they were pressed up against the static of a TV set and a hot flush would take hold of his body.
"How you feelin'?" Wayne asked as Eddie shuffled back to the counter, setting everything out in front of him.
"Good. Great actually. Got a real pep in my step. Might work on finding the cure for Cancer today." He snapped bitterly as Wayne rolled his eyes.
"Alright, alright." He resided. Eddie felt his eyes burn into him as he tore open the box.
"He came by last night."
Eddie tried his hardest to not look affected by this as his face remained stoic, but his hands faltered and his heart palpitated.
The truth was that he knew Steve had come by, he kept his ear pressed up against the wood of his bedroom door throughout the entire conversation. He could have gone out there and made himself known, but his body refused to move. His feet felt like they had been planted in concrete.
He couldn't face him. Not with the knowledge that he had of how Steve felt towards him in that moment.
You wouldn't know what love was if it hit you in the fucking face.
It made his stomach tangle and his throat constrict. Because a small portion of Eddie felt that maybe this was true.
"Hm." Eddie hummed as he resumed his actions, shuffling the cereal around in the box to loosen it.
"What did he say?"
"He told me to tell you he'd like for you to come by. Wants to talk to you. Look pretty cut up about it." Wayne relayed, maintaining a stern gaze.
"I see." Eddie nodded, taking a sharp intake of breath with his head hung low.
"I'll think about it."
Wayne huffed, resting his hands against the table.
"Eddie - don't be like that."
"Don't be like what? I'm not doing anything. I'm making cereal." He said cavalierly, pouring it out into the bowl before setting it down on the counter.
"Now I'm pouring the milk into the cereal. Next I'm going to eat the cereal." He narrated. His hands were shaking and he had definitely used too much milk which he hated because now it would definitely go soggy at a faster pace.
He watched as Wayne's patience waned, standing up from his seat as the chair jolted back behind him.
"Don't shut him out. The kid loves you, you love him. Stop - whatever it is you're doin' and tell him you feel the same so you can both just - fuckin' - get on with it. Put all this shitty stuff behind ya."
"Wayne, whatever I decide to do or not do. Know that I thought about it and that it was the best thing I could do for me and for him. And whatever it is or might be - it wouldn't have been something I did on a whim." He tried his hardest to not allow his voice to tremble as he traipsed over to the drawer, grabbing a spoon.
"I'm trying really hard not to - only think about myself. It'll be what's good for him as well."
"That kid would kick the Devil himself in the teeth for you. He practically did already. Now I'm saying no more on the matter because frankly - all I wanna do is kick you up your tiny white behind. But I wash my hands of it. You do whatever you want." Wayne stood before him, hands raised up in a de-escalating manner as Eddie threw the spoon into the cereal bowl, milk splattering across the counter top.
"Why are you so uptight about this? You don't even know him! You don't know if he's good for me or not, you're just cut up because you won't have anyone to watch your dumb sport ball game with." He grumbled as Wayne barked out a laugh.
"If you think that's all this is then you're dumb as all Hell. I jus' want you to have a little hope for once in your God damn life!" Wayne pleaded as Eddie picked up the bowl, leaning against the counter and shoving a spoonful of actually quite stale cereal into his mouth.
"Hope is dangerous. Hope is what gets people killed. See it all the time." He said casually through chews.
"So is being a stubborn asshole. That's what started the wars. That's what killed Hitler." Wayne said, pointing to him.
"Oh so I'm Hitler now?" Eddie laughed, milk dripping down his chin as he wiped it away with the back of his hand.
"Stop bein' a smart ass." Wayne scolded.
"Never." Eddie smirked, watching as Wayne rushed across the kitchen to grab his keys from the bowl of miscellaneous items from the countertop.
"Now - I'm goin' to work. You can - sit here and think about your actions or somethin'." He said, flailing his hand around listlessly as the keys jangled between his fingers.
"Gonna put me on the naughty step too?" Eddie snarked as Wayne refused to entertain his childish whims.
"I'm gonna do more than that - I'll beat your ass if you don't quit yappin'." He threatened, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch.
"Oh - we're resorting to child abuse now."
"You're a grown man! And when I tell them about why I did it - well - they'd understand." Wayne said as he walked back over to Eddie, shoulders relaxing as he glanced down at him solemnly.
"There are no words in any Dictionary to describe how much I love ya, you little asshole. But if you die alone - I'll never let you hear the end of it when we get to wherever we end up." He said, placing a firm kiss between Eddie's brows as he winced lightly.
"Love you too, you bald bastard." He grumbled as Wayne let out a singular laugh.
He watched as he left, door closing behind him as he glanced down at the chunks of cereal drowning in the milk before setting it down on the counter.
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unclejezzzy · 9 months
Text
My Hands At Risk I Fold | Chapter 13 | A Good Person
I am so sorry this chapter took me so long, time escaped me and writers block had me in a chokehold. This is live on ao3 now @ahoysteve but here’s a snippet to entice you!
Steve stood before the door, a veil of uncertainty draped over his frame. His fingers flexed irritably as he waited for the acknowledgement of his rhythmic knocking.
He wasn't certain why he had come. He was even less certain if he should. He stood there, purpose shrouded in a haze of uncertainty. The gnawing doubt gnarling at his core.
Amidst the tumult of his thoughts and flashing recollections he found himself grappling with the weight of want. Need.
Wanting Eddie, needing Eddie. Craving Eddie to make him feel safe again the way he used to, buried against his chest like they were the only two people left in the midst of the end of the world.
And Steve knew the world wasn't ending, not by a long shot. But it really did feel like it. He was kind of disappointed that it wasn't.
He could say safely that he was very uninterested in living a life without Eddie Munson in it.
The thought of him made Steve a prisoner of his own introspection.
So there he was, standing out in the hall of Eddie's apartment. Stripped back, no secrets. The damage to his face was a damn sight close to the damage the two of them had inflicted on each other.
As the door creaked open, the metal chain trembling against the unforgiving wood, Wayne's desolate gaze met Steve's with an exhausted sigh.
In that moment, Steve felt his own body constrict, a desperate longing to shrink into insignificance, invisible to the world's gaze. Nothing but a speck that couldn't dare be seen by the naked eye.
With bated breath - Steve observed Wayne's weariness. His eyes cast downward in defeat - thin lipped and morose as he momentarily closed the door.
In those fleeting seconds of respite - when the door shielded him from what could happen next, Steve found solace in the sounds of clinking metal and Wayne's fumbling of the lock, accompanied by the relentless pounding of his own heartbeat within his head.
Wayne loomed in the doorway, a figure of judgment if Steve had ever seen one. His arms tightly locked against his chest, his lips parting to emit a disapproving tsk.
"Sweet baby Jesus and the grown one too. Look at the state of you." He said, hushed as his lips twitched into a frown.
"Is - he here?" Steve asked, voice tinged with unease, his gaze momentarily flickering past Wayne's shoulder, seeking solace in the living-room's depths. The low amber lighting illuminated behind him, the caustic tones of a sports game on the TV filling the silence.
"He's here. Shut himself away in his room, think he's turned in early for the night." Wayne acknowledged with a huff.
"Right, yeah." Steve nodded quickly, averting his gaze to the floor.
"I messed up." He swallowed against the dry of his mouth.
"You did somethin' alright." Wayne let out a belligerent laugh, leaning back to glance at Steve in his full state.
"Can I - see him?" Steve asked meekly, although he feared he already knew the answer.
"I think we'd both do well to leave him alone for tonight. Trust me, I got an earful the second he walked through the door." He affirmed, cocking his head in the direction of Eddie's bedroom.
"Did he tell you?" Steve asked hesitantly.
"In so many words, yeah." Wayne said, lips pursing.
"That was a real stupid thing to do, boy."
"I know." Steve nodded solemnly.
"Thank you." Wayne said without taking a beat.
Steve glanced up beneath his brows, confused. Wayne's standoffish demeanour dissipated and his shoulders relaxed.
"For - what?"
"For standin' up for him. Lord knows he's never been all that good at doin' that for himself. Unless it's me of course then I won't hear the end of it." Wayne said, letting out a soft chuckle as he leaned against the doorframe.
"You lose your job?"
"I won't know for a while yet. I'm leaning more towards probably yes." Steve acknowledged, wincing lightly.
"Christ." Wayne grumbled, shaking his head.
"It's okay, wasn't really a fan of the uniform. Blue's never really been my colour."
"Well - red and purple has certainly taken a likin' to you." Wayne said in jest, lifting an arm to point limply to Steve's face.
Steve let out a pitiful, breathy laugh as the silence engulfed them again.
"I really love him." Steve said quietly, not daring to look Wayne in the eye.
"I know I - probably don't look like the type of person you'd want him to be with right now. And I don't know why I'm telling you this. But - I do."
He watched as Wayne exhaled deeply from the chest, fearing his response.
"I can tell - I only ever seen this kinda ridiculousness on a soap opera." Wayne said frankly.
"I have it on good authority that he feels the same."
Steve faltered, voice croaking as he tried to articulate a response.
"He does?"
"He tol' me he was gonna speak to you. I take it he didn't."
Steve screwed his eyes shut, lips whitening in frustration as it hit him.
"Shit." He hissed, fingers grappling at the bridge of his nose.
"Shit - I - totally shut him down. I didn't - I told him I didn't want to speak to him."
"It's okay. You were mad. People get mad, Steve. Doesn't make you the Devil incarnate." Wayne reprimanded softly.
"An' if you ask me, you had every right to be mad. That boy doesn't know his ass from his elbow when it comes to this shit. He will make every wrong decision he possibly can in one foul swoop."
Steve desperately longed for even the tiniest sliver of solace from Wayne's words. But the relentless ache nestled deep within his chest persisted. A constant reminder that if he had only listened and not allowed his anger to guide his actions, perhaps this evening would have unfolded differently. Maybe, just maybe, they would now find themselves nestled in Steve's bed in a shared haven, engrossed in the flickering glow of the television screen, caring about nothing.
"I didn't know that he did. Felt that way - I mean." Steve muttered, hands hanging limp beside him.
"Course he does. He's Eddie. He always wanted the best most shiny thing in the store as a kid. He could just never have it." Wayne chortled.
"Yeah well, I'm not so shiny anymore. Gonna need a full body MOT." Steve said with a huff, gesturing to himself pitifully.
"You'll fix up real nice. Don't you worry." Wayne said, taking several steps forward to pat Steve on the shoulder.
"Life has not been kind to him. Not like you. And he's not kind to himself. He's scared of it goin' away, that's all."
"Yeah, well - I can't blame him for that part. Given y'know"- Steve didn't finish his sentence, he figured the unsaid words hanging in the air like a foul smell would help Wayne to catch on.
"Mm." Wayne hummed, nodding slowly.
"People are shit." Steve said scathingly.
Wayne looked at him, bewildered. Like it was an outlandish statement he had taken offence to.
"Aw nah, come on now - people can be shit. They can be real bastards and kick you into the mud. But people like you and him - they make this sorry state of a world go round. People can be good. They just don't like to make a show of it." He said as Steve bit down against the flesh of his lower lip.
"They can be hard to find sometimes."
Steve let out a heavy sigh, raking his hand through his hair.
"Look - will you tell him I came by? And that - I'm sorry - for everything. And - he can come by whenever he wants and I'll be there."
"Course, I'll tell him." Wayne nodded simply, a small smile etching across his lips.
"Thank you." Steve said, trying his hardest to return the physical gesture.
Wayne cleared his throat, throwing his shoulders back suddenly.
"Now - you make sure you get some ice on that. You sleep with your head propped up good as well. Incase you got concussion or somethin'." He ordered, pointing to Steve firmly.
"I will." Steve said.
"Hang on"- Wayne quipped, disappearing back into the apartment momentarily.
He returned seconds later with a glass bottle of beer, dripping with condensation.
"For the eye. And your travels." He said, handing it to Steve.
"I appreciate it." Steve said, smiling thinly as he raised it up in a gesture of thanks.
"Goodnight."
"Night, Steve." Wayne said solemnly before stepping away and closing the door with a click.
Steve lingered, his gaze fixated on the intricacies of the wooden door before him. A flicker of hope danced within his chest. Hoping against all hope that Eddie would have a change of heart.
***
"Morning." Eddie trudged out of his room, feet dragging as he squinted at his surroundings. His voice was tired and strained. Sore from the pack of smokes he had raced through throughout the evening.
Wayne sat at the small table beside the kitchen island, peering out at him from behind his newspaper. He shook it out with an air of authority, glaring at him lightly.
Eddie hadn't slept, not really. He had a migraine that was pervading his temples and behind his eyes that made everything feel heavy and slow.
He had cried. A lot. He was hoping that it wasn't obvious and cursed how bloodshot the whites of his eyes were in his mirror before stepping out of his room.
"You mean afternoon." Wayne quipped, voice tainted with sarcasm as Eddie mechanically reached for a box of cereal out of the kitchen cabinet.
"Something like that, yeah." He mumbled, absentmindedly setting the cereal down on the counter before trudging over to the sink for a bowl that sat on the rack.
"Had bets on what would rise first. You or the moon." Wayne snarked, setting down his newspaper. But Eddie had very little patience for his attempt at a playful jab today.
"Hilarious." He deadpanned, opening the refrigerator and searching for a semblance of an appetite. He reached for the carton of milk, crouching down and unscrewing it to take a whiff to ensure it wasn't out of date. That would be just his luck.
He wasn't hungry. He had a horrible nauseous feeling that had gripped the back of his throat that wouldn't budge.
He was making a conscious effort to not think about Steve. Which was proving fairly futile because his subconscious would send a shockwave reminder through his nervous system every five minutes that made it impossible to shrug off. It made his fingers feel like they were pressed up against the static of a TV set and a hot flush would take hold of his body.
"How you feelin'?" Wayne asked as Eddie shuffled back to the counter, setting everything out in front of him.
"Good. Great actually. Got a real pep in my step. Might work on finding the cure for Cancer today." He snapped bitterly as Wayne rolled his eyes.
"Alright, alright." He resided. Eddie felt his eyes burn into him as he tore open the box.
"He came by last night."
Eddie tried his hardest to not look affected by this as his face remained stoic, but his hands faltered and his heart palpitated.
The truth was that he knew Steve had come by, he kept his ear pressed up against the wood of his bedroom door throughout the entire conversation. He could have gone out there and made himself known, but his body refused to move. His feet felt like they had been planted in concrete.
He couldn't face him. Not with the knowledge that he had of how Steve felt towards him in that moment.
You wouldn't know what love was if it hit you in the fucking face.
It made his stomach tangle and his throat constrict. Because a small portion of Eddie felt that maybe this was true.
"Hm." Eddie hummed as he resumed his actions, shuffling the cereal around in the box to loosen it.
"What did he say?"
"He told me to tell you he'd like for you to come by. Wants to talk to you. Look pretty cut up about it." Wayne relayed, maintaining a stern gaze.
"I see." Eddie nodded, taking a sharp intake of breath with his head hung low.
"I'll think about it."
Wayne huffed, resting his hands against the table.
"Eddie - don't be like that."
"Don't be like what? I'm not doing anything. I'm making cereal." He said cavalierly, pouring it out into the bowl before setting it down on the counter.
"Now I'm pouring the milk into the cereal. Next I'm going to eat the cereal." He narrated. His hands were shaking and he had definitely used too much milk which he hated because now it would definitely go soggy at a faster pace.
He watched as Wayne's patience waned, standing up from his seat as the chair jolted back behind him.
"Don't shut him out. The kid loves you, you love him. Stop - whatever it is you're doin' and tell him you feel the same so you can both just - fuckin' - get on with it. Put all this shitty stuff behind ya."
"Wayne, whatever I decide to do or not do. Know that I thought about it and that it was the best thing I could do for me and for him. And whatever it is or might be - it wouldn't have been something I did on a whim." He tried his hardest to not allow his voice to tremble as he traipsed over to the drawer, grabbing a spoon.
"I'm trying really hard not to - only think about myself. It'll be what's good for him as well."
"That kid would kick the Devil himself in the teeth for you. He practically did already. Now I'm saying no more on the matter because frankly - all I wanna do is kick you up your tiny white behind. But I wash my hands of it. You do whatever you want." Wayne stood before him, hands raised up in a de-escalating manner as Eddie threw the spoon into the cereal bowl, milk splattering across the counter top.
"Why are you so uptight about this? You don't even know him! You don't know if he's good for me or not, you're just cut up because you won't have anyone to watch your dumb sport ball game with." He grumbled as Wayne barked out a laugh.
"If you think that's all this is then you're dumb as all Hell. I jus' want you to have a little hope for once in your God damn life!" Wayne pleaded as Eddie picked up the bowl, leaning against the counter and shoving a spoonful of actually quite stale cereal into his mouth.
"Hope is dangerous. Hope is what gets people killed. See it all the time." He said casually through chews.
"So is being a stubborn asshole. That's what started the wars. That's what killed Hitler." Wayne said, pointing to him.
"Oh so I'm Hitler now?" Eddie laughed, milk dripping down his chin as he wiped it away with the back of his hand.
"Stop bein' a smart ass." Wayne scolded.
"Never." Eddie smirked, watching as Wayne rushed across the kitchen to grab his keys from the bowl of miscellaneous items from the countertop.
"Now - I'm goin' to work. You can - sit here and think about your actions or somethin'." He said, flailing his hand around listlessly as the keys jangled between his fingers.
"Gonna put me on the naughty step too?" Eddie snarked as Wayne refused to entertain his childish whims.
"I'm gonna do more than that - I'll beat your ass if you don't quit yappin'." He threatened, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch.
"Oh - we're resorting to child abuse now."
"You're a grown man! And when I tell them about why I did it - well - they'd understand." Wayne said as he walked back over to Eddie, shoulders relaxing as he glanced down at him solemnly.
"There are no words in any Dictionary to describe how much I love ya, you little asshole. But if you die alone - I'll never let you hear the end of it when we get to wherever we end up." He said, placing a firm kiss between Eddie's brows as he winced lightly.
"Love you too, you bald bastard." He grumbled as Wayne let out a singular laugh.
He watched as he left, door closing behind him as he glanced down at the chunks of cereal drowning in the milk before setting it down on the counter.
Continue reading on ao3
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unclejezzzy · 9 months
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For everyone who’s waiting for the next chapter of MHARIF I am so sorry. Time escaped me and I literally had so much writers block it was impossible but I have finished all the dialogue it just needs fine tuning and it’ll be with you next week ❤️
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the new pornbots’ url game is INSANE. complicit-rotting and warmmourning you would have done numbers if you were real
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