People debate if Eddie or Steve would sayĀ āI love youā first, but I propose an alternative perspective where they both say it long before they start dating and confuse the hell out of everyone, including themselves.Ā
Almost dying could put your life into perspective.Ā
When Eddie awoke in his hospital bed with his uncle at his side and the late afternoon light shining through the window blinds, he was struck with the kind of death-bed revelation reserved for men sentenced to dangle from gallows or grit worn teeth down the muzzle of guns. He was alive, despite the assumed certainty of his death hours or days before.Ā
Eddie let Wayne hold him, despite how much it hurt because the pain reminded him he was alive, that heād made it out on the other side. Without thought, Eddie told Wayne he loved him. It wasnāt the first time heād said it, but he couldnāt remember the last time itād happened.Ā
They were long past the first fewĀ tumultuous years when Eddie had moved in with Wayne. Where theyād tiptoed around each other and waited with bated breath for their shared peace to go wrong. Eddie hadnāt been used to living in a household where he didnāt have to walk on eggshells to get by and Wayne wasnāt used to looking after himself, let alone a kid.Ā
Theyād since found their rhythm, but it wasnāt often either man voiced their affections. Wayne showed his love. He didnāt speak it. That was just the way he was. Eddie didnāt share the manās reservations, not anymore. His adolescents was a wave that had long since crested, and all care for othersā opinions had been thrown out the window. He wasnāt shy with his love, but his proximity to death made him reckless with it.Ā
When Dustin appeared at his bedside not long after, looking as though he were staring down a spectre, Eddie knew he had to do something. He leaned over, ruffled Dustinās hair and told the kid everything was going to be okay, that he loved him.Ā
When the whole mess had died down and Eddie was able to come out of hiding, he showed up in Garethās garage at the usual time for band rehearsal. He was bombarded by a mess of limbs and an earful of questions. He told them his well-practised lie then muttered how glad he was to be back, how much he loved those stupid sons of bitches, because he did and they should know it. Heād never told them that before.Ā
What Eddie hadnāt expected was to fall fast and hard for Steve Harrington. Eddie wasnāt one for fast affection or grand romantic ideals. He had his head firmly attached to his shoulders, thank you very much. He knew fast love was just infatuation. You were falling for the idea of a person, not the real deal.
He knew it was stupid and yet at seeing Steve sprawled out on the floor of his trailer, in front of their shittyĀ Philips Color TV, his usually styled hair mussed, Eddie thought he loved him, which was a terrible thought because it meant Eddie had to tell him.Ā
I found a Christmas Prompt list, and Christmas fics are a particular weakness of mine, so hereās one for fellow Christmas lovers.
December 1. āStop trying to get me under the Mistletoeā
Ministry Galas were so dull. Draco always found himself longing for the drama of the Galas and Balls that belonged in Harlequin Romance novels but the reality couldnāt be further from the conception heād had as a dewy-eyed teen.
Instead of being swept off his feet by a dashing rogue, Draco was more likely to be stuck talking to a stuffy, old man who either smelled like mulled wine or moth balls. Or in the case of Mr. Elseworth, both.
He was just trying to make his excuses to go and get a refill on the punch, when he heard quite a clatter from the hallway just off the ballroom.
His head wasnāt the only head turning as a voice, one that Draco would be able to pick out anywhere, started to shout. āFor fuckās sake, Millicent!ā Harry Potter spluttered. āStop trying to get me under the mistletoe.ā
Harry emerged from the hallway, fists balled at his sides; tall, dark, and brooding and Dracoās heart turned over in his chest.
Millicent Bulstrode followed Harry out of the hallway, jogging a few steps to catch up.
Most people tried to make it appear that they werenāt listening to the drama unfolding but Draco gave no such pretense. āExcuse me, would you, Mr. Elseworth?ā
He made his way toward the punch table, also conveniently toward Harry and Millicent, and made a show of filling up his punch while he listened.
āIām not interested,ā Harry growled, as he stacked too many cookies, crackers, and cheeses onto his tiny plate at the other end of the table.
āBut maybe if you just gave it a try-ā
āIām gay!ā Harry all but shouted and no one in the room was pretending not to listen anymore. āAlright? Itās not you, Millicent, youāre lovely,ā he spat with more contempt than a compliment ought to have, āI am just very not interested in women.ā
He gestured wildly toward the press corner with his plate, āDid you get that? Iām bent. Completely and irrevocably into men. Gayer than the most cheerful Christmas decoration.ā His eyes landed on Draco, went soft around the edges, and Draco couldnāt help but smile back.
āYou know what else?ā Harry continued, tossing his plate onto the table before taking the half dozen steps to Dracoās side. āIām completely head over arse for this man,ā he said, taking Dracoās face in both hands and kissing him in front of the press and everyone else.
Dracoās glass slipped from his hands as his fingers fisted in Harryās auror robes and he kissed him back.
He pulled back and whispered, āIām gone on you, Draco Malfoy, and I donāt care who knows it.ā
āMe too,ā Draco managed to respond before the press seemed to find their tongues and there was a flurry of movement and pictures being taken.
Harry pulled himself away from their embrace, but kept Dracoās hand firmly in his own as he started answering questions. Draco stood at his side, certain that heād find the pictures of his smug smile unbearable in the morning papers, but he just couldnāt help himself.
He glanced over and saw Millie standing at the end of the table, grinning. She raised a glass to him and he mouthed thank you.
He really was going to have to get her the best Christmas present this year for helping him pull this off. Sometimes fate just needed a little push.
Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Day 03: Present | WC: 926 | Rated: T | Warnings: Swearing. | Tags: Pre-relationship; First meeting; Modern setting; No Upside Down; Sad Steve Harrington, but just for a while.
Steve knows he should have bought Robinās present earlier, but he forgot, okay?
His father has been acting like a complete ass for the past months āmore than usual, that isā, breathing down Steveās neck and criticizing every single deal Steve closes at work, every single decision he makes, just for the sake of being an asshole.
And as if that isnāt stressful enough, Nancy thought now, one fucking week before Christmas, would be a great time to let Steve know that she couldnāt see a future with him anymore and that she wanted to break things off.
So, excuse him if Steve has been a little too preoccupied with other things to remember sooner that he still needs to buy a fucking Christmas present for his friend.
Jesus Christ, heās not gonna cry in the middle of a store. He refuses.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Steve pushes his way through the crowded store, eyes roaming over shelves in search of something Robin might find funny.
Itās their little tradition; they never give each other anything useful. A funny mug, a weird painting they saw at the flea market, those are the kind of Christmas presents they give to each other. And, usually, Steve gives the matter a lot of thought before buying anything. He loves spending hours looking for things that are completely useless, but that he just knows Robin will adore because she is a dork and adores every odd trinket Steve gives her every year.
But this year heās in a hurry. Thanks to his father, and Nancy, and the shitstorm that Steveās life has become, he canāt even take his time and enjoy the process of buying a silly present for his freaking best friend because his life is a mess, and Steve is a mess, and he needs to buy this fucking present today because Robinās leaving town the following morning to spend the Holidays with her family so Steve needs to give her the present tonight, and heās crying.
Fucking hell, heās crying in the store like a fucking idiot. What is wrong with him?
āHey, are you okay?ā A quiet voice comes from right beside him, cutting off his spiraling thoughts and followed by a soft touch to his shoulder that makes Steve startle a little.
He turns, hand coming up to grab the front of his jacket as Steveās eyes land on the kind stranger. And suddenly Steve is spiraling all over again because the stranger is hot, and heās looking at Steve with concern all over his handsome face, and Steve can only imagine the pitiful image he must make right now, with his puffy eyes and runny nose.
āIām fine,ā Steve mutters. He wipes his eyes quickly with the back of his hand. āIām okay.ā
The man doesnāt look convinced. āYou sure?ā
āYes, Iām just feeling a little overwhelmed right now.ā
āHm, last minute shopping can be stressful, Iāll give you that.ā
Steve chuckles. Itās stronger than him. This situation is so absurd, how did he even end up here in the first place?
āYeah,ā Steve concedes. āIt really can.ā
And thatās when he sees it; the man is holding a horrible Peppa Pig lamp. The pink monstrosity is so badly crafted that they managed to make the pig cross-eyed, and what should be a friendly smile looks more like a grimace than anything else.
Itās horrendous.
Itās exactly what Steve is looking for.
āWhere did you find that?ā he asks, pointing to the horrible lamp in the guyās hands.
The man is taken aback by the question. āWhat, this thing? It was hidden behind a stack of coloring books in the other aisle. Why?ā
āDid you see if thereās another one?ā
āDude, it was hidden behind other stuff. Iām pretty sure itās the only one.ā
Steve canāt help the pang of disappointment that crushes his heart. At the same time, he canāt say heās surprised. Nothingās been working out in his life lately. Of course heād find the perfect gift for Robin just for someone else to get to it first. Itās fitting, honestly.
āDo you want this one?ā the man asks.
Steveās eyes widen. āWhat?ā
āThe lamp. You can have it if you want. I donāt mind.ā
āI donāI mean, I want it. But what about you?ā
The guy shrugs. āI was gonna give it to my uncle as a joke. I can find something else.ā
Steve hesitates. He bites his lip, his hands fiddling nervously with the hem of his jacket.
The man is having none of it.
āCome on, take it,ā he says just as he deposits the ugly lap in Steveās arms. āItās okay.ā
āUhn, thank you. You just saved my life.ā
āBy giving you an ugly lamp?ā
The grin that takes over his face is the first genuine smile Steve has given someone in the past three weeks. āYes, by giving me an ugly lamp.ā
The man smiles back. āWhatever you say, sweetheart.ā
They share a glance for a moment longer before the man gives Steve a small salute and turns to leave.
āWait!ā Steve calls, and the guy turns again to face him. āI didnāt get your name.ā
Brown eyes dance with mirth as the man says, āItās Eddie.ā
āMerry Christmas, Steve. I hope you enjoy your Peppa Pig lamp.ā
āIām Steve,ā he says, hugging the weird lamp against his chest. āMerry Christmas, Eddie. And thanks again.ā
Steve watches Eddie disappear around the corner. His face is warm, and his heart feels much lighter than it did before.
The drive back to Beacon Hills feels shorter than it should. Maybe itās because Stiles has spent half of it with his knee bouncing, his brain a hurricane of what ifs and rehearsed confessions. Or maybe itās just that heās finally coming home, to the one person whoās been stuck in his chest like a virus he canāt shake.
When he parks the Jeep outside the loft, he sits there for a long moment, hands gripping the steering wheel until the faint tremor in his fingers calms. The sun is setting behind the building, the sky a smudged watercolor of gold and violet, and Stiles laughs quietly to himself because of course the universe would try to make this look cinematic.
Inside, the loft looks the same - industrial, quiet, lived in. It smells faintly of coffee, cedar, and something familiar and grounding. Derekās scent.
āHey,ā Derek says from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, looking up with that small, cautious smile that still hits Stiles like a punch to the ribs. His hairās longer now, a little curlier. Thereās stubble on his jaw that Stiles wants to trace with his thumb.
āHey,ā Stiles echoes, his voice somehow both too quiet and too loud.
They talk about nothing at first. the drive, how schoolās going, how the packās been. Itās easy, the way it always is once Stiles stops thinking too hard. Derek leans against the counter, arms crossed, eyes soft in that way that used to scare Stiles because he didnāt know what it meant. Now he does.
Finally, Stiles takes a step closer. His heart is hammering so hard it almost drowns out his voice. āI, umā¦ thereās something I shouldāve said before I left for school. Something I shouldāve said a long time ago.ā
Derekās brow furrows, but he doesnāt move away.
āI missed you,ā Stiles says. āLike, stupidly. Like, wake-up-thinking-about-you, dream-about-you, wish-you-were-there-for-everything kind of missed you. And I think itās because - no, I know itās because I love you. Iāve loved you for a while.ā
The air seems to still. Derek blinks once, twice, his breath catching. Then, slowly, the tension melts off his shoulders. āYouāre not the only one,ā he murmurs, voice low and rough.
Stilesā heart does an actual somersault. He grins, a little dazed. āYeah?ā
āYeah,ā Derek says, stepping closer. āYou really think Iād spend all those nights making sure you didnāt get yourself killed if I didnāt?ā
Stiles laughs, the sound shaking, relieved, and then Derek kisses him.
Itās soft at first, hesitant, almost testing, but it deepens quickly. It feels like something theyāve both been building toward for years, slow and certain. Derekās hand comes up to cradle the back of Stilesā neck, thumb brushing his jaw. Stiles presses closer, fingers sliding down Derekās chest, tracing the unfamiliar planes that have always felt untouchable, until they arenāt.
When his hands settle on Derekās stomach, Derek flinches. Just barely, but enough.
Derek looks away, his jaw tightening. āItās nothing. Justā¦ Iāve stopped working out as much. Havenāt had the inclination . Iām not exactly in fighting shape anymore.ā He gives a humorless little huff. āGuess Iām softer now.ā
Stiles blinks at him, stunned for a second, then exhales through a disbelieving laugh. āThatās what youāre worried about?ā
Derek shrugs, eyes on the floor, and it hits Stiles right in the chest. this man whoās fought monsters and carried grief like a second skin, looking suddenly unsure of himself because of something so human.
āJesus, Derek.ā Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath like heās trying to steady himself. āYou have no idea how unfair it is that you just got hotter.ā
Derekās head snaps up, eyes narrowing. āHotter?ā
āYes! Hotter,ā Stiles insists, hands gesturing wildly before they land back on Derekās middle, palms warm against the soft give of his stomach. āYouāreā¦God, youāre solid and warm and real and-ā He cuts himself off with a laugh that borders on helpless. āDo you have any idea how much I wanted you before? And now youāre standing here all soft and cozy and looking like home and, yeah, itās ridiculously hot.ā
A slow smile tugs at the corner of Derekās mouth. āYouāre serious.ā
āDead serious,ā Stiles says, leaning in until their foreheads touch. āYou being soft doesnāt make you any less of the guy I fell for. If anything, it makes me wanna hold you more.ā
Something in Derekās chest loosens, visibly. His hands come up to Stilesā waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles against his hips. āYou really mean that?ā
Stilesā smile is gentle now. āYeah, big guy. I do.ā
Derek exhales, the sound soft, almost like a laugh. He leans in again, and this kiss feels different; deeper, unguarded. Stiles melts into it, fingers curling into the hem of Derekās shirt, not to lift it, but just to feel. To anchor himself in the warmth and weight of him.
When they finally part, Stiles rests his head against Derekās shoulder and murmurs, āYou really thought Iād care that youāre softer?ā
Derek hums, low in his chest. āDidnāt think youād call it hot.ā
āThen you donāt know me at all,ā Stiles grins against his skin.
ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢
They end up on the couch after dinner, a half empty bowl of popcorn between them and a movie playing quietly in the background. Neither of themās really watching. Itās mostly there for the light, for the sound of something familiar while they learn how to breathe in sync again.
Derekās got his arm draped along the back of the couch, fingers brushing through Stilesā hair every so often in slow, absent-minded strokes that make Stiles melt a little more each time.
At some point, Stiles shifts closer, practically curling against Derekās side. The movie flickers across Derekās face and Stiles just looks at him for a while, like heās trying to memorize every version of this man heās loved in silence for too long.
He eventually slides a hand beneath Derekās shirt, fingers tracing lazy patterns across the skin of his stomach. Derek tenses for half a second, a quiet intake of breath, but Stiles just keeps his touch steady, gentle.
āYou keep doing that,ā Derek murmurs, voice low and rough around the edges, āand Iām never going to be able to focus on the movie.ā
āGood,ā Stiles says simply, his voice warm with a smile. āItās a terrible movie anyway."
Derek huffs out a laugh that rumbles under Stilesā palm. He shifts until Stiles is lying half across him, their legs tangled, Stilesā head tucked against his shoulder.
Stiles hums contentedly and runs his hand over Derekās stomach again, slower this time, tracing the soft give of muscle and skin. āYou know,ā he says quietly, almost to himself, āI used to think you were untouchable. All hard lines and sharp edges. I mean, you were, you are this whole brick wall of a man. But thisā¦ā He presses his hand a little more firmly, feeling Derek breathe under his touch. āThis makes you human. You feel real.ā
Derekās breath catches. āReal?ā
āYeah.ā Stiles lifts his head just enough to meet Derekās eyes. āYou feel like someone I could come home to. Not just the guy who keeps everyone safe. The guy who lets himself be safe, too.ā
For a moment, Derek canāt speak. His eyes shine faintly in the dim light, not from tears exactly, but from something close to them, something full. He reaches up and cups the back of Stilesā neck, thumb brushing along the pulse there. āYou always say things that make me forget how to breathe.ā
āGood,ā Stiles whispers, smiling against his skin. āThen weāre even.ā
Derek leans down and kisses him again slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that feels like a promise. Stiles sighs into it, his hand still resting over Derekās stomach, feeling it rise and fall beneath his palm. The steady rhythm of Derekās breathing grounds him.
Eventually, they settle back into the couch, the movie long forgotten. Derekās hand drifts lazily over Stilesā back, tracing shapes into his skin. Stiles stays like that for a long time, half asleep, murmuring something soft against Derekās chest.
āWhat was that?ā Derek asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Stilesā lips quirk, eyes still closed. āSaid you feel like home.ā
Derekās arm tightens around him, and he presses a kiss to the top of Stilesā head. āYou are home,ā he says quietly.
The movie hums quietly in the background, the last bit of popcorn forgotten. Stilesā fingers move one last time, a slow, soothing pass across Derekās stomach before going still. Derekās breathing evens out, and the loft fills with nothing but the sound of them - steady, together, finally.
Still processing and realizing at random times again that the main plotline of season 5 is that a gay man accepting himself gives him the power defeat evil.
That's the main plot.
We've never had this. We've just- we've just never had this.
I was looking for the answers in somebody else, butā¦ I had all the answers. I just needed to stop being so goddamn scared. Scared of who I really was. And once I did that, I was so free. It's like I could fly.
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