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requests are currently open for drabbles, fics, headcanons
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hello, welcome to my fic blog! my name is hope, i’m 30, and i write for a few different fandoms ( i currently only have fics up for mcu & stranger things, but if i’m familiar with the fandom i’ll probably give a request a try ) and you can read a bit about the writer here, my guidelines are here.
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requests are currently open. tentatively, as i get back into writing given my work schedule.
this blog is on a semi sporadic, trying to be regular, post schedule due to work !
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i'm so sorry work has been really draining on me emotionally & mentally these past couple of days and i have just not had it in me to write when my head is not in the right space. i apologize because i know there's people waiting for my next chapter, and i'm finally feeling good and back to writing. but i wanted to explain too so i wasn't leaving you in the dark any longer. but, i'm writing as i type this, so i'm hoping i can get it out in the next couple of days.
i've been on an 80s movie kick this weekend while i'm writing and i'm just saying imagine when starcourt was open or just the little local theater and dragging ( insert chosen stranger things character(s) here ) to see whatever movie(s) were opening / popular that weekend.
pairing: robin buckley x f!reader.
word count: 3.2k
a request from anonymous: 🎵+ robin buckley plsss + open to something and that something is you by aly & aj
notes: set outside of canon timeline, so semi au. i'm choosing to ignore s5 for right now, for all intents and purposes -- the only thing that's important from that is WSQK is where robin works now ( along with steve because they're a matching set in job requirements, i don't make the rules ) and the whole "state of emergency" on the town of hawkins.
Robin had always thought she would be out of Hawkins once the diploma was in her hands. She wanted to get out of the town and start in some big city where, despite her several anxieties, she would be able to be who she wanted to be. Small town Hawkins wasn’t exactly the most progressive, forward thinking town. Robin had been counting down the days til graduation from the time she started high school.
However, that thought changed when she got wrapped up in everything supernatural going on in the town. She couldn’t just up and leave everything behind when things didn’t seem to be sorted out.
Especially after last year with the whole Vecna thing, with the town having a whole state of emergency, Robin hadn’t been able to see herself leaving Hawkins. The diploma was handed to her and immediately she didn’t know how to get the hell out of dodge even if she wanted to.
Everything felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Now she had a full time job, working at the WSQK radio station with Steve.
Now, she had a secret full time job which entailed protecting the town of Hawkins that always made her feel like she was looking over her shoulder.
You on the other hand, had managed to get out of Hawkins. After graduation, you had gone to a new city and tried to start over.
Hawkins had always been too small, too nosy, too much for you.
You expected that half the town felt the same way you did, but the other half was too stuck in their ways to actually even attempt to do anything serious about it.
Except, it hadn’t been long before you heard news about your home that had made you come back. Not even a year, and the town was thrown by some state of emergency that had you running back just as the doors were closing in on themselves.
Maybe it was some sort of sick luck to come back just before the whole town of Hawkins was going to be as insulated and insufferable as you had always felt it was.
You had spent the last year after your graduation from high school living in a new city, taking classes, working, and reinventing yourself from who you had been in high school. Coming home wasn’t supposed to be in the cards until the first Hawkins Class of 1985 reunion appeared in your new mailbox, and even then you doubted you might show up.
Hawkins didn’t get you.
Now, a year later than before, your family finally understood—tentatively, obviously, and you hadn’t been holding your breath on that one.
Hawkins was a small town and the concept of being anything but normal didn’t quite fit in the status quo.
It started as easy as any friendship might. Robin had been volunteering with the aide in the town and that was the first place you had gone with your own family. You had felt the need to help out given the fact that you were able to, but you didn’t know really what was going on.
You were left to your own devices as quickly as you had gone into the building. Which is how you had spotted Robin, walking over with the box of things you had and dropping them down unceremoniously down on the table looking for how to begin helping unload them properly.
“Hey Y/N, when did you get back to town?” Robin asked, in lieu of a real greeting.
“Uh, a day or two. It was supposed to be for Spring Break,” That felt utterly ridiculous to say out loud now given everything that was going on, “I guess I’m not heading back to campus. I hope they can figure out some sort of…refund or something.” You shrug your shoulders as you shake your head. “Can I help sort these things out?”
Realistically, you just needed to do something. Sitting around wasn’t going to help, and you were there to help out. For one, you needed to keep busy, given everything that was going on. For another, you had no idea where your family had wandered off to. You wanted to ask questions about everything that had happened, but didn’t even know where to begin.
Robin nodded her head and moved out of your way, gesturing for you to join her behind the table.
“There’s not much to learn for sorting. Just between what there is. It’s pretty basic.” Robin explained, gesturing to the different piles and looking at the ones to be sorted. She had been working hard since the earthquake that wasn’t really, and keeping her head on straight was just part of her every day life ever since the summer she had spent working with Steve Harrington thinking it was going to be one of the worst things she would ever do—now she had him as a best friend.
“Okay, so not some complicated light colors, dark colors, whites, and then patterns and everything within that too. Got it.” You nodded your head following along while Robin pointed the piles out to you. You just wished there was more that you could do. Or maybe you wished that you hadn’t even been home to be here, but that was the back of your mind and the more selfish section of it too.
You moved around the table organizing everything with Robin, chatting a bit and everything had felt easy.
It was almost like the world hadn’t just crashed down around you.
After that day, you had seen Robin around town a few times. Nothing began right away, but you were fast friends at least because of circumstance if nothing more.
The day you realized you had more than just friendly feelings for Robin was one of those days where everything seemed to be going wrong from the beginning of the day.
You had taken a job at Enzo’s after you realized that you would really be in town for a while. You had hoped that after some time the town would be open back up to the world around it, but that wound up not being the case. So Enzo’s seemed like the one of the steadiest jobs you could take that still allowed you free time.
That day, you had gone to work and there seemed to be nothing you could do to make anything right for anything. Table after table just complained, and just when everything had been going slightly well you had collided with a bus boy who had spilled not only the empty trays he’d been carrying but all the new food you had on your tray.
In the back room, you were covered in several slimy substances and still had hours left on your shift. You knew Robin had to be at the radio station for her own shift and had chanced calling her house.
“Hello?” Robin’s voice was gravelly, like she hadn’t gotten much sleep.
“Robin? Did I wake you up?” You asked, doing your best to keep your voice calm while you used a free hand to attempt to clear off some of the stuff from your uniform.
“Y/N?” Robin was more alert, and you heard movement on the phone. “What’s wrong?”
“Crappy day at work.” You’d muttered back on the line, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you struggled with drying out the pesky stain. “I’ve still got hours to go on this shift and they’re understaffed so they can’t spare me to run off and get new clothes and I—”
Robin cut you off, “Why do you need new clothes?”
“Believe me, the sight will be enough when you get here. Can you just stop by and grab my spare uniform on your way to the station? I’ll grab you something from the kitchen for your shift.” You had to sound as if you were practically begging, which if you were honest you were but you didn’t want to admit that you were desperate.
“I’ll be there soon. And not because of the free food.” Robin’s words eased your worries, and her promise made you calm down.
But still, despite everything, you had to wait in the back until she had was able to get to Enzo’s. You ordered her favorite, and managed to get a little extra since you figured Steve would probably be working too and while he wasn’t helping you figured he would be there.
When Robin showed up, your coworker had called out your name and you raced to the kitchen’s doorway to greet her, pulling her into the ladies room so you could change. Once you were locked in a stall and Robin was on the other side of the door, you spoke, “You can laugh if you want to.”
“Why would I laugh?” Robin asked.
“I mean, half the kitchen did. I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a polaroid of me on the wall back there looking like this tomorrow.” You sighed, shaking your clothes out as you changed into the fresh uniform.
“Oh that’s just cruel.” Robin commented. “It sounds like something the Jason Carver’s of the world would do.”
Your laugh probably sounded a bit bitter as you said, “Well, this is Hawkins.”
It was times like these you wished you were in the city again. You wished you were back in the place you had been before. Back at school, at work, doing anything but this. Feeling anything but a bit claustrophobic in this town.
But before Robin can comment on that, you’re already moving. You’ve pulled your hair down from the ponytail it was in in order to fix it and then walked out of the stall, looking in the mirror but looking at Robin,“Thanks for this, Robs. Your food is probably done. We can grab it on our way out of here.”
You watched Robin’s eyes as they watched you, but neither of you had said anything else.
You had thought that was the end of it all, until it was nearing the end of your shift and the hostess said there was a call for you up front.
“Hello?” You had picked the phone up, unsure, your bag in hand as you were ready to head out the door.
“Y/N!” Robin’s voice was cheery on the other end of the line. The total opposite of how she had answered earlier in the day. “I was hoping to catch you before you left.”
“What’s up, Robs?” You were leaning on the hostess stand, watching as the late evening diners, you’d almost call them stragglers if you didn’t know a lot of them had standing reservations, began to file in. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just thinking maybe you’d want to come keep us company up at the station. It might be good after the day you had.”
There was something about the way she said it. So simple and natural, that made your stomach do a little flip. Unintentional. Unwarranted. Unexpected.
Were you falling for your friend? Fuck.
It was maybe a few more months before anything actually came out of your mouth in regards to the fact that maybe you might like Robin.
This was partially due to the fact that you had convinced yourself that nothing was going to happen from the moment that you realized you had feelings for Robin. Also due to the fact that you had continued to spend time with her in a group setting for the most part.
If any time was spent one on one, it was mostly you driving Robin places since she still didn’t drive, or it was on the rare occasion that Steve wasn’t working so she offered for you to come spend time at WSQK.
It was one of those rare nights, at the radio station with Robin alone, when everything happened.
“Steve’s out on a date?” You asked, looking over from the wall of records to where Robin sat in the booth.
She nodded her head, “Yeah, Harrington’s got a date. He’ll give us the run down tomorrow morning over breakfast if you want to come with.”
You were a bit surprised by the comment but pulled out one of the records you’d been looking at and walked over to her, holding it out for her to switch over to when the song was done, “You sure I’m not intruding?”
She shook her head, looking at you, “Why would you be intruding? It’s just Steve, I’m sure he’d be happy for the input.” Robin took the record in your hands and looked it over before doing an intro for the next song as she switched the records over and then turning back to look at you.
“It’s not like I’ve been on a date since I was away before,” you paused, gesturing around at everything without saying it out loud, “so I don’t think I’d be that much help with telling Steve what the girls are interested in. I don’t even know what they’re interested in.”
It was out before you could even stop yourself, before you could even catch that you had said it out loud. You had said it so casually as if you had already told Robin that you were into girls.
Your entire face was flushed with realization of what you said and despite the fact you turned away, you could see Robin’s ears were getting pink too.
Oh, how you wanted to disappear into the wall and be invisible.
Being left at the diner was weird for her, Robin had expected to go inside with you. Even after the unexpected revelation from the night before.
Instead, she had stood outside, watching as your car backed out of the parking lot and didn’t know what to do with herself except feel like there was some sort of hole forming in her chest.
Steve came up from behind her, surprising Robin with a hand on her arm and immediately knew something was going on. “I thought we were going to spend the morning talking about my night, but maybe we should talk about yours instead.”
It was nearly a week after that when you and Robin spoke again. The night was repeating itself over and over again in your head. You hadn’t been able to get over what you had accidentally revealed, and the rest of the night had felt awkward. Instead of joining Steve and Robin for breakfast the following morning you had dropped her off and gone home.
You had left Enzo’s and were heading toward your car in the parking lot when you realized that someone was standing in front of it.
It took you another moment to realize that the figure was Robin, and she was looking around nervously until she spotted you when she let a small wave, “Hi.”
“Hey.” You managed, opening your car door when you got to it but not managing to look at her.
“I had Steve drop me off.” Robin said in way of explaining her sudden appearance at your job, shuffling her feet as she looked at you.
“Isn’t the show still going on?” You asked, leaning on your open car door and looked at Robin.
She half nodded her head her head, “I just wanted to see you. I..you..we’ve been avoiding each other.”
Your heart might have been hammering in your chest at that, but you wouldn’t betray anything with your features. You just nodded your head. “I’ll drive you back up to the station. We can talk on the way.”
When both of you were in the car you started driving, but you didn’t know what to say. You waited for Robin to break the silence, but as you glanced at her out of the corner of your eyes you didn’t know if she was going to say anything.
“I’m sorry—”
Both of you started at the same time.
“Why are you sorry?” Robin looked at you, shifting in the seat to look at you while you drove.
“I just—”
Robin cut you off speaking before you could finish your thought, “No, I need to say this. I was just, I think it was a bad night. I had just…it was unexpected. I was trying to focus on work and I’m not the best at…it took me by surprise.” Robin explained, fiddling with her hands as she spoke, but she was trying to get everything out in one long explanation so she didn’t have to explain it all over again. She hoped she wasn’t speaking too rushed so she would be able to avoid doing this all over again.
“I’ve always been worried about a lot of things and I think I just kind of did exactly what I expected to happen to me and that was bad. And then I didn’t know what to do, so I kind of avoided everything for a few days because I’ve only ever liked two people before and one of them was Tammy Thompson who well, she’s a muppet in human form...I don’t know if you’ve ever heard her sing, but yeah. And the last one didn’t work out either. So I was just, I don’t know, scared.”
Robin’s words were softer than they had been, your car radio needed to be lowered in order to hear her and you’d pulled up the the station by the time she finished speaking. But even then you turned to look at her.
You dared to hope.
You dared to reach a hand out and put it on top of Robin’s hands which were still moving around but stilled when you touched them.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Robin turned her head and looked at you, nodding her head slowly, maybe worried you might take back anything that’s already happened.
You smiled at her and Robin smiled back at you. Still, neither of you moved to get out of the car yet.
It was like everything was keeping you pulled to this spot, some force was keeping a hold on both of you. The same force was moving in slow motion, or maybe it just felt like it was slow motion, as you moved closer to each other and met in the middle.
The kiss was nothing like you expected, you had been worried about everything that could have been possible. Too many what ifs swirled around your head to even come close to the reality that was happening now.
“Do you want to come keep us company for the rest of the shift?” Robin asked, resting her forehead against yours and looking at you.
“After last time?” You managed to laugh softly, shaking your head slightly at the thought.
“I promise it will be better than last time. Girlfriend’s honor.” Robin held a hand up and looked at you with a smile.
“Girlfriend, huh?” A surprised gasp at the comment.
Robin corrected herself, “Well, that is if you’re okay with that.”
You nodded, giving Robin another quick kiss and then pulling back, “Well, let’s get my girlfriend back to work then.”
good morning! I’m sorry I haven’t been active since my last chapter posting. I’m currently working on a request ( song based and it’s definitely more than a drabble… oops? ) and the next chapter of dancing in the kitchen.
pairing : steve harrington x henderson!reader
word count : 5.1k
notes : happy first day of school for the reader ! i hope everyone's been staying safe and warm if you've been affected by the snow. i'm just working on some more for this fic, but i had this in my drafts nearly finished so i wanted to be able to get it out tonight. thanks for all the love on the fic !
triggers : none for now.
taglist : @wsqkthesquawkfm, @the-onlyy-angie
masterlist : here
The next night came barreling down quicker than you expected it to. The first day before a new school was always the same kind of preparation—figuring out what to wear, trying to see what you might have to do for classes, get the lay of the town or city you were in.
On the bright side, you had two of those things down for tomorrow despite never living in Hawkins yourself. So there was at least, minimal trepidation, and you know a lot of what to expect when you show up to the doors of Hawkins High in the morning.
Still, starting at any new school is difficult. It’s not like all of your boxes have arrived yet, either, so you’re working with what you brought on the plane balancing on your toes with the open closet door, the chorded phone from the hallway in your hands as you sigh deeply.
“Y/N, you’re gonna be fine. Why are you freaking out about this…you’ve gone to new schools before, right?” Nancy’s voice did a lot for your nerves. But again, she didn’t know all of the reasons behind why your parents had pushed for you to come to live with your Aunt Claudia.
“Well, obviously, Nance. I’m just…I don’t know. This is Hawkins.” You say the town’s name with some sort of reverence, maybe even a bit of wistfulness and envy too if you were honest.
“Exactly. This is Hawkins,” Nancy says the town’s name in a tone totally opposite to yours. But before you can question it, she’s speaking again, “and high school. You’re overthinking everything. Believe me, there’s people who would care what you wear, or look like, or whatever, but you don’t want to impress them.”
Still looking at your closet, but from a different angle as you take a couple of steps back (as far as the chord will let you get comfortable) to sit on your bed and listen to Nancy. “Let me guess, that step-brother of Max’s from last night?”
“He came to town and just proclaimed himself the King of Hawkins High.” Nancy’s voice is filled with disgust. “His crowd has always been…listen, those people are horrible and don’t care who they step on, or call out, or who goes…”
Nancy cut herself off. You’re practically thinking the line is dead with the silence on her end for so long.
“Nance?”
“They’re bad people, Y/N. You don’t need to…dress to impress them, or whatever. You’ve got me and Jon.” Nancy’s voice is still filled with emotion from before, but you can tell she’s trying to push it all back.
“And Steve.” You add.
“Yeah, and Steve.” Nancy says with a slight laugh in her voice. “Are we going to include the kids too? ‘Cause they’re still in middle school. I don’t think they count.” Your mouth twists at her words and you almost want to argue with her, but you bite your tongue instead. “I’m just saying, Y/N, you don’t have to impress anyone at Hawkins High.”
“I know, Nance. I’m lucky to have you and Jonathan, and Steve.” Your eyes are still focused on your closet, putting together multiple outfits in your mind to see what might work with what you have there. It’s now that you wish you had packed more clothes, that you had access to your whole closet. “It’s just weird starting right before a break. I’ve got what…two weeks? Then we’re on break.”
“Yeah, but it might feel longer. Dustin and Mike and those kids might talk your ear off about the middle school Snowball if you let them. I’ve even promised to volunteer this year. But, between you and me, I’ve heard enough about it. I’ll be happy to tell Mike to ask all his big sister advice to you for the next two weeks.” Nancy jokes. She’s heard a lot about the Snowball, the chatter between her brother and his friends getting more and more given that it’s actually something good to look forward to. Which is something they all need.
“I mean, obviously Mikey can talk to me about anything. But dance advice isn’t…wait, Snowball? That sounds familiar… did I go to that one year with you?”
Nancy stutters, not knowing how to respond, and then lets out a laugh on the other end instead of answering your question. Then there’s another gasp, but still she hasn’t spoken out loud. And finally you hear what you think is the phone drop and some rustling of papers and moving of drawers. Nancy’s muttering on the other end of the phone, but you can barely hear her as she’s moved away from the receiver.
“Nancy? Hello?” You’re practically shouting, pulling the phone away from your ear. “Did I lose you?”
There’s an excited gasp when you hear her again, “You’re right. And I have photographic evidence to prove it. And you’re never going to believe these pictures, Y/N.”
“I swear if you tell me you let me out of the house in my patchwork overalls to some school dance of yours, Nancy Wheeler, I am going to find a new best friend starting tomorrow.” You’re doing your best to sound intimidating, but you know it comes off as anything but, when you can’t even keep a straight face and wind up laughing.
“No, Y/N —”
There’s some static on the other end and then another voice cuts in, “Nancy, sweetheart, it’s time for dinner. Do you mind hanging up the phone and getting Holly down here for me?”
“Sure mom. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”
“See you tomorrow, Nance. Night Mrs. Wheeler,” with that, you hang up the phone.
And, unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, depending on who you asked), whatever was going to be said is now left up to your imagination.
When you wake up the next morning it’s to Dustin’s frantic opening of your door shouting at you to get up before he runs off to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. You can hear him laughing behind the door after you’ve chased him.
“That was cruel, Dusty.” You slam a hand on the bathroom door, leaning against it and sighing. “I will have revenge for that. Hell, I can just wait til you’re done in there, y’know.”
“Aren’t you worried about what you’re gonna wear to impress the people of Hawkins High?” Dustin’s tone is teasing, mimicking what you said to Nancy on the phone last night, behind the door of the bathroom.
“You’re so dead Baby Henderson.” You scowl at where you can only imagine your cousin is standing on the opposite side of the bathroom door, shaking your head.
“Have to get to me first, Old Lady Henderson.”
You let out an exasperated sigh, smacking a closed fist against the locked bathroom door, deciding to instead move on from the conversation before draw it on forever—because you’re far too tired to continue the argument—before leaving the hallway and going back to your room in order to get ready for school.
With your limited wardrobe, and the fact that you don’t have to wear a uniform to school, you’d been worried for a lot of the previous night. However, you’d finally settled on something both comfortable enough and warm enough for the growing cold weather. It also happened to be something that was of comfort to you, as it was your favorite colored top, a pair of comfortable jeans, and a well worn, faded in places, denim jacket that you’d had for years. The jacket had definitely seen you through some of your hardest days.
“I made you kids breakfast!” Claudia calls out from downstairs, pulling you from your worrying thoughts.
You’d finally been able to get into the bathroom, just looking in the mirror at yourself for a final once over when you’d heard your aunt’s call.
“I got this.” You find yourself muttering as you leave the bathroom and head downstairs.
You had never been more nervous for a first day of school than you were for this one. Maybe it was because the first day at Hawkins felt like the first first day that actually mattered in the whole scheme of things that had happened before. Then you thought back to Nancy’s words last night, and knew she was right that you had nothing to worry about because you were going into this school with built in friends.
And yet, you still could feel a bundle of nerves as you took a seat at the kitchen table with your aunt and cousin.
“I put a plate together for you, Y/N.” Claudia says, placing a plate down in front of you with a smile on her face.
You nod your head, glancing down at the plate of food in front of you. Pancakes. It reminds you of Saturday, and you feel ease start to spread through you calming your nerves.
“Yours are better, Y/N.” Dustin’s voice is muffled, filled with a mouthful of pancakes as he looks up at you.
“Dustin!” Claudia gapes at him, and you barely have time to cover your mouth before you let out a laugh.
Dustin’s face blanches as he swallows his food and looks between the two of you, “Did I say that out loud?”
“Maybe I’m not the one you have to worry about Baby Henderson.” You shake your head, teasing your cousin, as you take a bite of the food on your plate.
“Sorry mom.” Dustin makes a face, turning his attention back to his plate.
“At least Tews likes my cooking.” Claudia sighs, glancing down at the kitten at her feet while she pours herself a cup of coffee.
“Yeah, well, she’s a cat and can’t tell you she hates it.” You point out with a laugh, leaning down to pet the top of Tews head when she comes closer to you.
“She could knock the bowl over.” Dustin points out quietly, hoping that no one will pick up his commentary but knowing that it’s not possible.
“You’re not helping yourself by continuing to stick that foot of yours into your mouth, Dusty.” You tap his leg with your foot under the table, doing your best to be gentle but still see him wince at the contact. You mouth a silent sorry. “I happen to like your cooking, Aunt Claudia. If it helps, you definitely cook better than my dad, who swears he learned how to cook.”
“You’re just being nice,” Claudia comments, taking a seat at the table and looking at you, “and I love you for it, Y/N. But he’s a liar, your father could never cook bless him.”
There’s the sound of the door opening and then a greeting, “Morning Hendersons!”
“Steve, if I knew you were coming I would have made up a plate for you!” Claudia stands back up from the table to greet him with a smile.
“It’s fine Mrs. H, Dustin called out on the walkie a while ago and asked for a ride to school, so I figured I’d swing by. You ready to go?” Steve asks, glancing over at Dustin who’s already gathering his backpack and putting his cap on his head as he looks over at you expectantly.
“Come on, Y/N, let’s go. Don’t want to be late on your first day.” Dustin brushes past Steve, calling out a goodbye for his mom that you barely hear him shouting, “Shotgun!”, as he runs out the door.
Steve’s head has spun towards where Dustin has left before he turns back to look at you, stunned, and then waiting for you to be ready.
It takes you a half beat to get up from the table and gather your own things for the school day. You’re halfway to the door as you turn back to look at your aunt, “Thanks for breakfast Aunt Claudia. Have a good day. Bye Tews!”
Then Steve closes the door after the two of you, and you turn to look at the car where Dustin has made himself comfortable in the front seat. He makes eye contact with you, sticking his tongue out at you. It’s just like how you did on the other night before.
“Oh he’s just adding to the list today.” You shake your head as you walk to the car with Steve at your side.
“Bad morning?” Steve asks, turning to look at you, though his eyes dart to glance at Dustin. Being an only child, he doesn’t know much about sibling dynamics, but he can tell that the two of you are probably more like that than cousins. “I can kick him to the backseat, if it makes you feel better.” Steve offers with a small smile in your direction.
You shrug your shoulders at the comment, “I’ll let him keep it,” you make your voice louder so Dustin can hear you, “this time.”
“There’s still time to worry about your hair and look in the car, Y/N. Steve will even tilt the rearview so you can do another once over.” Dustin calls to you, opening his door so that you can hear him.
“Do I need to remind you just how dead you are this morning, Dustin?” Your walk toward the car hasn’t accelerated at all, in fact if anything you slow down just to prove a point while you speak raising an eyebrow at your younger cousin. It causes him to close the car door once more as he watches the two of you make your way down the driveway. “He is on thin fucking ice.”
“You see why I call him dipshit now?”
The laugh bubbles in your chest as you reply, “I mean, I’ve always known he can be a pest.” You just hadn’t seen him in a few years. Phone calls could only do so much in so little time, letters could do even less. Still, he was still the same old Dustin. Just with a bit more of a punch in attitude and about the same amount of energy as always.
“Are you really worried, though?” Steve asks, pausing in his steps and looking at you. He may not know you well, but after all the shit he’s gone through in the past year he’s pretty sure that he’s going to have Dustin Henderson—and probably the entire party, which (reluctantly) includes his ex Nancy Wheeler and her new boyfriend Jonathan Byers—in his life for the rest of his. Which means you’re in his life too.
“No.”
You don’t sound convincing though. Steve’s eyebrows shoot up into his swooping hair as he looks at you with a tilt of his head and what he hopes is a reassuring smile, “What’s there to worry about? It’s just school. Half of that battle is having friends and you’ve already got me and Nance and Jonathan.”
He says it like it’s easy. Like it’s no big deal. Just like Nancy had the night before. And still, you look at him, unsure of what to say. Your last school had been so…there wasn’t a right word to describe it. Fun wasn’t enough. Other words came to mind. Intoxicating, thrilling, lively. All until it was crumbling down in front of you and you couldn’t even catch the pieces to attempt to keep it all together.
Steve puts his hand on your arm and gives it a gentle squeeze, comforting you. He doesn’t even really know you but it feels like you’ve known him longer than just this weekend, “Let’s go before Dustin’s head breaks the glass of the car. But it’s going to be fine, Y/N. Two weeks and then it’s winter break. That’s easy.”
He walks ahead of you and moves to open the door, leaving it open for you to get in before heading to the drivers side and getting in himself.
Easy and school don’t seem to go hand in hand. But still, you don’t say anything back, and you get in the car quietly resolved to the first day of school looming over your head and listen to Steve and Dustin bicker over the radio.
Maybe you would be wrong about the school. Maybe Steve and Nancy would be right.
Oh, no…you were most definitely right about how the school day was going. You made several notes in your head throughout everything to bring that fact up to both Nancy and Steve the next time you saw them.
Steve, being a year ahead of you, was in none of your classes. Though you saw him briefly in the hallway as you moved from class to class. At least it Hawkins High wasn’t as big as some of the other schools you had been to. You had had your first class of the day with Nancy but hadn’t seen her since then. Another blow, you hadn’t even spotted Jonathan since you’d first stepped foot into the school.
Sure thing though, you had spotted Max’s step-brother and his posse of friends wandering the hallways and could tell why Nancy said what she had the night before on the phone. They were always in some sort of group poking fun at people or holding court in some way that made it seem like they were the it kids. You had at least been successful in avoiding them thus far.
It felt, entirely, like you were the new kid in school with nobody by their side and you had to navigate some place on your own.
To top it off, most of your classes had been filled with teachers making awkward introductions before moving along with the lesson. Then at the end, holding you back to hand you pamphlet after pamphlet of things you needed to catch up on for exams.
You thought you would have time to work up to that, but there were exams coming up before break, and you were clearly expected to figure everything out by then.
By lunch, your bag is weighing you down as you take a seat next to Nancy. “I hate it here.” You sigh, dropping your head down into your hands as you cast a glance up.
“I think we have a record. This is the fastest I’ve heard Y/N say she hates a school.” Nancy teases you, glancing around like she’s looking for a clock. She rubs your arm softly, comforting, as she continues, “Don’t worry, I can help you study.”
“Oh please, you’ll be too busy with your new boyfriend to help me study, and by that point I’ll have drowned in all these papers.” You retort, pulling yourself back up and stealing a chip from the bag in front of Nancy.
“Hey, you’re one of my best friends.” Nancy replies, pulling the bag of chips closer to her as she speaks. “I won’t let you drown.”
“Oh, so you’ll ditch your boyfriend to help me plan a good study routine?”
Nancy falters.
You point your finger at her with a giggle, “Ah ha, I told you.”
“Just not today, cause we have plans. But tomorrow, I am yours. Swear it. I’ll even drive you home after school if you stick around ’til after newspaper gets out. Plus, you owe me New York City stories.”
“I’ll trade you New York City stories for study help.”
“Sounds like a deal. Mom would probably even let you sleep over if you wanted to, like old times.” Nancy nudges your shoulder with hers, a peace offering as she holds out the bag of chips in your direction.
“Is this before or after you tell me about this snowball thing you found last night on the phone?” Your hand is in the chips bag when you spy Jonathan and Steve walking into the cafeteria from opposite directions, both looking for either you or Nancy, and heading your way when they see the two of you.
“Oh my God, I was gonna bring those pictures today.” She sighs, having let go of the bag of chips to your hands fully but she turns and just smiles as she continues her thought. “It’s fine, we’ll have to do it in person! That’s even better.” Nancy’s laughter stops when she realizes that Jonathan and Steve have taken the seats on the opposite end of the table and she looks at you and then back to them. “When can you come over?”
“I mean, considering I don’t have anything going on other than catching up on everything in all of these,” sarcasm drips from your tone as you dramatically lift and then drop papers onto the table between all of you, “I’m pretty much either really free or super busy.”
“Okay,” Steve drawls out the word as he looks between you, Nancy, and the paperwork on the table. “Do we ask what the giant pile of papers is for?”
“I think we’re just supposed to let them go about this.” Jonathan gestures between you and Nancy, who reaches over and takes the bag of chips on his lunch tray. “Hey?”
“She took mine.” Nancy answers as she opens the bag with a shrug.
“These,” you wave the bag in Nancy’s direction, before turning to look at the other two sitting at the table as it emphasizing it to them, “were a gift.” Then you let your shoulders slump, attempting to relax. “But, whatever, we’ll figure it out. Let’s just get through today right?”
“Right.” Nancy nods her head at your comment. “Hey, the kids are going to the arcade tonight. Do you need a ride home after school?”
“No, I think maybe I’ll head to the school’s library for a bit, and then make my way to the arcade from there to meet whoever’s picking Dustin up. I should probably start working on these, since my best friend can’t help me.” You tease Nancy, nudging her arm with yours. But really, you’re a bit undecided right then what your plans were going to be. In truth, you know that you shouldn’t put off at least glancing through all the papers from each teacher until you get together with Nancy. “I think I remember how to get around town enough to figure it out on my own. You guys can go about your days on your own. I’ll be fine.”
The three of them look at you, all with different degrees of worry on their face. You study their faces briefly, shaking your head at them.
“What? Guys, I’m not a child, and I’ve basically lived here for my whole life. At different times, on multiple occasions I have in fact wandered through Hawkins. I mean it when I said I’ll be fine.” You assure them, rolling your eyes.
Sure, they’re your friends, but you couldn’t possibly understand what they would be worried about. You walked the streets of several cities bigger than Hawkins, Indiana alone before. What was their problem?
You find the school library with ease at the end of the day, it’s relatively other than a few stragglers and some staff, and you find an open table all to yourself in the corner dropping into the chair and putting your bag onto the table with all your energy as you let out a sigh and look around.
“If you’re looking for detention I think Higgins decided he wanted to do something new and now he’s holding it in the auditorium before school.” A voice comments from your left, causing you to turn your head. “So I think you’re a little late for that.” His hair is a mess of curls, but he’s not even really looking up at you. Instead, he’s entirely focused on a notebook in front of him writing something out—it’s a scratch of words, scrawled out that you can’t really make out from how far away you are, with something doodled in the margins too, but you try not to focus on it too much.
“Are you saying that because school’s out for the day?” You ask him, turning to your own table and focusing on pulling the papers out of your bag to begin working on them and spreading them out in front of you to organize them into some sort of order. The problem is you don’t know where to begin, so you just start by just ordering the papers by the class period they were given to you in.
He pauses, the pencil on the paper dropping as he glances up at you, “Shit,” a low whistle as if he’s realizing what time it is for the first time, “it’s the end of the day? Really?” He pauses, shaking his head, glancing around the library as he speaks again, “Well, Carver decided to not show up to meet me then.” He shrugs his shoulders, relaxing, and then tapping the lunch tin in front of him before shoving it into his bag.
You’re a bit too focused on everything in front of you, reading the papers about the English Lit readings that you’ve missed, so you don’t see that the other person has gotten up from where he’d been sitting and taken the seat opposite you.
When you glance up and see him there, you tilt your head and look at him to ask, “shouldn’t you be finding this kid that blew you off?”
“Nah,” He leans back in the chair, hands sprawled out in front of him and looking at you, “it’s cool.”
You raise your eyebrows, looking up at him and rolling your eyes. “So then it wasn’t that important.”
“I’m sure he’ll find me before whatever party he and the team are planning on throwing.”
You nod your head in understanding, turning your gaze back to the papers and circling somethings that you might need to focus on before the upcoming exams. “So what are you still doing here?”
The curly haired boy looks around the library, making a show of it, before leaning forward and whispering, “Avoiding the principal. He’ll never find me in here, and I’m trying to avoid that whole morning detention thing. ’85’s gonna be my year, y’know.”
“Held back, huh?” You question, not expecting a response as you continue flipping through the papers without looking up at him. “Well, maybe ’86 will be my year, but that depends on Hawkins here.”
“Transfer, huh?” He mimics your tone, as if it weren’t already blatantly obvious. Most people who grew up in Hawkins wouldn’t go near Eddie Munson. The whole band thing didn’t add any kind of credit from the Hellfire Club’s reputation, and unfortunately neither did his stunt last year. Now, he was really just known for staying behind a year, Hellfire, and dealing.
“What gives it away? Is it the mountain of paperwork these teachers are giving out or is it just something in my eyes?” You can’t help but laugh, holding out a free hand and gesturing between the papers on the table and your aforementioned eyes.
“Funny,” Eddie taps his hands on the table as he looks at the paperwork you’ve been looking at. He got something like that last year, but he hadn’t really given it much of a second glance. Or a first one, in fact if he were being honest he’s pretty sure he wrote half of a song on one of the papers and it’s somewhere back at the trailer. “It’s actually the fact you’re talking to me.”
Your eyes widen as you stop toying with the papers in your hands to give him your full attention, “There’s definitely a story there.”
Eddie’s smile seems to falter briefly before he nods his head, but his hands draw your attention to his shirt while he speaks, “A lot of it comes down to this shirt right here. My pride and joy, Hellfire Club.”
You look back at his face as you say, “Sounds like a metal band.”
“My band’s name is Corroded Coffin.”
“So then what’s Hellfire Club?”
“Have you ever heard of Dungeons and Dragons?” Eddie tilts his head, waiting for a response and readying himself to launch into the history and magic of everything that is his pride and joy.
“Actually, yeah. My cousin talks about it. All the time,” You could feel yourself getting more animated, thinking of Dustin and his friends. The whole night you witnessed flashing through your eyes. “He and his friends have this group thing. He’s tried to get me into it, but I only saw them…play, if that’s the right word…just recently. He gave me a blank character sheet, but I still have no idea what any of it means if I’m being honest. But I would never admit that kind of defeat to Dustin.”
Eddie’s whole face lights up during your response. He’s so used to being ostracized for the Hellfire Club, everyone thinking it’s some sort of Satanic bullshit, and putting him down for it that he half expected you to do the same right away. “Well if you’ve got time I can explain it. Save you embarrassment of asking your cousin all the questions.”
“Does it look like I have time?” You ask, your hands flattening out all the papers in front of you so they spread out even further, as you look at Eddie. But still, there’s a smile on your face as you say it. You glance around, looking at the clock on the wall. “I just need to kill some more time before I can head over to the arcade to meet up with my cousin and his friends.”
Eddie’s eyebrows raise, “Are you babysitting them or something?”
“Or something.” Admittedly, you actually liked spending time with Dustin and his friends. Besides, you hadn’t been around to do that in a while, so getting to do it now was something you were going to take full advantage of while you could.
“Well, the arcade is close by the record shop. I can give you a ride over if you want, I was heading that way when school was done for the day.”
You look up at him, and see that he’s waiting expectantly, instead of responding you tilt your head and see that he mimics your pose. He’s studying you while he waits for your response. You glance back down at the papers, “I really should try and study for the exams that are coming up.”
“Why? You said ’86 is gonna be your year, right? That’s so far away. You’ve got time.” Eddie brushes the thought with a shrug of his shoulders, shaking his head.
“Well then here’s another reason, I don’t know you.”
“Eddie Munson.” Eddie holds out his hand, your eyes drop down to it and you look at the rings before looking back up at him as he speaks again, “and now you have no more excuses, right?”
A small laugh falls from your lips as you find yourself nodding your head, “I guess I can’t argue with that logic.” You put your hand in Eddie’s and introduce yourself.
good morning, all. the snow has started, i hope everyone is staying safe. i'm going to try and get my new chapter up today, but in the meantime i'm feeling a bit like possibly writing some song inspired drabbles. if you send a 🎵 + a chosen character i will shuffle my songs, and work on some drabbles.
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pairing: eddie munson x f!reader.
word count: 4.5k
a request from anonymous: ❛ if you don’t kiss me right now, i might explode. ❜ from this list
notes: yes hi i might have immediately gotten an angsty idea for this, but i promise that it's not all angst. and while it is canon to s4, it's not canon ending ( i'm not that cruel i promise ). also, no use of y/n for reader, i just avoided using it in this fic.
You didn’t know how you had gotten yourself into this mess, that’s what you would say to yourself years from now. That’s what you would tell your friends, your kids, and anyone who would listen.
At least you hoped you got that chance, because right now, things weren’t looking so bright in the whole light at the end of the tunnel, getting to see daylight, getting to the other side of things, future sort of way.
The problem was you knew exactly how you’d gotten into this mess.
Being the girlfriend of Eddie Munson meant a lot of things. There were band practices in the garage that lasted long hours with bad snacks. There were late nights in either of your bedrooms talking about the future in hushed whispers, worried anyone might overhear you. There was helping the band run back and forth between gigs at The Hideout, or helping Hellfire Club set up for some elaborate scheme for their latest campaign. But being on the run from murder charges was usually not one of the usual things to expect with Eddie.
And now adding into them actual inter-dimensional creatures chasing you?
Yeah…you didn’t know how you had gotten into this particular mess.
FRIDAY, MARCH 21st
You had been so excited that morning, knowing that it was the last day before Eddie was off for Spring Break. You, however, were going to work at the Family Video that day and then meet with him later after the Hellfire Club meeting.
Having graduated the previous year, you were working in town and doing your best to help Eddie with his studies this year in order to ensure that ’86 truly would be his year. You wanted ’86 to be Eddie’s year just as badly as he did.
You didn’t know what the future had in store for either of you, but if you knew one thing it was that Eddie was at your side for it. Which is why you had planned something for the break he had. There wasn’t any band rehearsals or gigs or Hellfire to worry about the next week. It was going to just be you and him, out on the road.
At least that’s what you’d thought, til Eddie had shown up at Family Video while you were alone. Steve was on his break in the back and you were rewinding tapes, organizing them to restock.
“Hey Eddie, aren’t you supposed to be in…” you paused, looking at the time, “history?” You hazarded a guess.
Eddie shrugged his shoulders as he walked toward you, leaning on the counter and watching as you worked for a moment.
“What’s wrong?” You questioned, taking the tape out of the rewinder and putting it back in its case. You put a hand atop his with a smile. “Did Sinclair cancel on Hellfire for the game or something? Cause, babe, I’ll take his place, but… you know what happened last time I tried to follow along one of the campaigns.”
Eddie shook his head quickly, “You nearly killed everyone last time. I don’t think we need that kind of sacrifice, but I love the dedication. They swear they’re going to find a replacement for him, but I have my doubts.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you have someone who plays sports and likes D&D too, Eddie.” You had thought it might happen, but wouldn’t have suggested Eddie change the meeting, knowing that he wouldn’t change his ways. You’d briefly mentioned changing the meeting so you two could hit the road a bit earlier in the day and seen Eddie’s eyes widen when you had so you had acted like you were only joking.
“It’s not about Sinclair.” Eddie shrugs his shoulders, his hands moving on the counter, flipping their position in order to take yours in them, waving his fingers through yours easily. Like he’s done a hundred times before. “Can we leave tomorrow instead?”
You could feel your heart plummet into your stomach as you glance up at him from your intertwined hands. But still, you can’t find your words.
“I just…might have made a deal tonight.” Eddie’s voice is softer, quieter. Even if you’re the only two people in the store right then. It’s like he’s worried that someone might be listening in to the two of you. “You can still come to the trailer,” he paused, looking up at you, “I want you to be there tonight, but it might be too late by the time it’s over to leave.”
You nodded your head, “Okay.”
You should have been used to this sort of thing. But Eddie rarely blew off plans you made with him for this sort of thing—if anything, Eddie would blow off plans for the band, or for Hellfire Club. He’d sometimes even drag you along last minute for those kinds of plans, switching everything you’d had planned because his friends needed something. But for his side gig? He never really cared to blow off plans for that ever. Again, he’d sometimes randomly need to show face at some party the popular kids were throwing, but you’d show up there with him.
Eddie smiled at you, leaning across the counter to kiss your cheek and squeeze your hands. “I love you, you know.”
You smiled at his words, nodding his head, “I know. I’ll see you after Hellfire Club. I hope Sinclair’s replacement is better than me.”
Eddie took a half step back, walking toward the door but still facing you, “At D&D, I hope so too. But no one is better than you.”
You let yourself into the Munson family trailer and made yourself comfortable in Eddie’s bedroom—which his Uncle Wayne lovingly referred to as “the both of yours” since the second time he’d caught you sneaking out for a glass of water in the middle of the night—while you waited for Eddie to get back. Your shift ended long before the Hellfire Club would normally get out, but you knew that it was possible everything would go longer than normal given that he would have to have a replacement for Lucas and everything with the basketball game in general.
You thumbed through music on his shelf, picking something to put on and then leaning back in the bed.
You must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing you feel is a hand on your leg.
“Hey sleepyhead,” Eddie’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“What time is it?”
Eddie responded by shrugging his shoulders, looking around the bedroom for something.
“The deal is happening here?” You asked, sitting up in the bed and looking at Eddie, not even sure if you managed to keep your voice down to a whisper like you had been trying to do.
Eddie nodded his head, sheepishly, and looked at you while he continued looking through his room.
You rubbed at your eyes, shaking your head, still clouded with the sleep you were barely aware that you had gotten. Music thumping throughout the room still, you decided to reach over to turn it down and look at Eddie.
He must have found what he was looking for as he put his hands in his pocket and went to leave his room, but then turned back and kissed your cheek. You leaned forward, going to pull him back to you and kiss him but he’d already pulled back and was out the bedroom door.
You’re far more awake at this moment than you were when Eddie woke you up, and instead of leaning back on his bed you get up and lower the music even more just in time to hear Eddie’s panicked voice in the other room.
You weren’t one to interrupt Eddie’s business, but with how he sounded, you lean your head out of the already open door and spotted what made Eddie freak out the way he did.
Chrissy Cunningham was standing in the middle of the Munson living room, unmoving despite Eddie’s pleas.
You were about to make yourself known, maybe even try to help Eddie out, when Chrissy got lifted into the air.
A gasp fell from your lips and you watched Eddie fall to the ground. You moved without hesitation at that point, going to Eddie, unable to keep your focus on either him or Chrissy for more than a few moments given everything that was happening.
Eddie’s hands held onto you tightly, and everything happened so quickly.
You don’t even remember leaving the trailer with Eddie, but you’re in your car backing out of the Forest Hills Trailer Park with Eddie in the passengers seat, both of you breathing heavily and processing what happened.
“What the fuck?”
You’re not sure which one of you said it.
Hell, you’re just trying to make sure your hands aren’t shaking so that you can focus on driving the two of you. There wasn’t a particular direction you were heading in, but you just needed to start driving. You were practically clutching the steering wheel as you focused on the road in front of you.
“They’re gonna think I killed her.”
Eddie’s voice was small. If your own heartbeat was pounding any louder in your ears you may not have heard it. You couldn’t turn to look at him, you needed to focus. “No they’re not.” You tried to sound reassuring.
“I’m The Freak of Hawkins High. Chrissy Cunningham is practically the Princess of the halls,” Eddie’s voice is panicked as he’s running his hands through his hair, his legs bouncing. “The whole town is going to think I killed her. She’s in our trailer.”
You shook your head, “It’s not that simple, Eddie.”
“You know that and I know that, but what the fuck was that?” Eddie’s head turned to look behind you, like he’s worried something is following your car. “Where the hell are we going anyway?”
“I don’t know.” You respond. “That’s my answer to both questions.”
“Well, we could go to Rick’s. He’s…” Eddie trailed off, his head turning back to yours.
“In jail, I know.” You sighed, shaking your head at the thought. “Well this wasn’t the kind of Spring Break we had planned.”
Eddie’s gaze turned to meet yours briefly. He doesn’t have any words, and neither do you. Neither of you know what your Spring Break would turn into from there.
SATURDAY, MARCH 22nd
Eddie made you promise to go into work that morning, like normal. Sure, Eddie had been seen with Chrissy. But you were only connected to Eddie—as far as you knew no one had seen you and Eddie at the trailer together that night, or leaving it after everything.
Still, the idea of leaving Eddie by himself was eating you alive. You had put it off until the last minute possible, making sure Eddie was out of sight as you pulled out of Rick’s drive. You’d gone there with Eddie before, but this was different. This was causing a bubble of worry in the pit of your stomach that you didn’t quite know how to handle.
Family Video was always busy on weekends, but you didn’t mind the work. So when you walked in and saw Steve and Robin already in their rhythm you felt like you were ready to face the day.
You managed to slip by the two of them and head into the back to put your stuff away in the lockers before you head out front in your uniform that you’d left there. The vest draped over your regular clothes, which you thanked that you had kept a spare pair of clothes in your car, and you put everything else in the locker.
When you walked out you saw Dustin and a familiar redhead with Steve and Robin at the counter, it made you hesitate, waiting to see what they were talking about before walking up.
“Is Eddie’s girlfriend working today?” Dustin asked.
“She’s on the schedule, but I didn’t see her come in yet.” Steve replied.
“I mean, she could have come in when we were watching the news or talking about the video to put in or…” Robin trailed off. “Why?”
“Because maybe she knows where Eddie is.” Max said.
“Why would she tell you if she knew?” You made yourself known, looking between all of them with arms crossed ready to defend not only yourself but your boyfriend.
All four heads turned to look at you, and suddenly you felt like you were in school again with all eyes on you during a presentation. Unprepared for everything, and embarrassed about something that could possibly go wrong.
“Maybe we’re just trying to prove his innocence.” Dustin suggested, a slight puff in his chest as he looked at you. You liked Dustin. Hell, you liked the new kids in Hellfire, genuinely liked all of them. You didn’t want to worry about everything that you would have to say in front of them, but you still worried about whatever was going on with Eddie now.
“Well, we’re just trying to get his side of the story.” Steve answered as well, looking you over.
“His side of the story?” You questioned, looking between all of them as if you’re being interrogated. You suddenly feel like you were right, you should have just stayed with Eddie up at Reefer Rick’s.
The redhead’s eyes had been focused on you, quiet as she was, but she spoke up then. “You were there too, weren’t you?”
Everyone’s head turned toward her, including your own. Your jaw dropped slightly before you closed your mouth and you looked around uncomfortably.
“I saw Eddie run and get into someone’s car and they both drove off last night. It was you.”
You’re not sure if her tone is as accusatory as you take it to be, but you take a half step back anyway.
“Max.” Dustin put his hand on her shoulder, looking between the two of you. His gaze stopped on you, “So you can take us to him? We just want some answers. We won’t tell anyone where he is.”
It’s almost too easy. The way Dustin said it, you want to trust him. But with everything else that’s happened, you’re worried for Eddie. You knew how anxious he had been the night before, how it had affected both of you. You were worried about everything still.
“I promise, for everyone.” Dustin took a step forward and looked at you with a smile.
Finally, you nodded your head.
Which if how you wound up in your car with Steve, Robin, Max, and Dustin headed back to Rick’s place.
THURSDAY, MARCH 27th
The days had come and gone, and you had barely had time to grieve everything that could have been Spring Break ’86 with Eddie.
Now you were planning on how to take out some sort of inter-dimensional being after facing creatures in another dimension.
You could hear Eddie’s words from when you had first had a moment alone yesterday, “So I guess we did technically get away.”
It had been the first time either of you really laughed since everything happened. But in the heat of the moment, with everything going on, you didn’t know if you’d even have a chance to really be alone with him.
The plan was supposed to be simple, in the most complicatedly simple way of course. Everyone had an idea of what they were going to do. Max and Lucas and his sister were going to the Creel house in the real world.
You, along with Dustin, Eddie, Steve, Nancy, and Robin, were going back into what everyone called the Upside Down to work on everything from that angle.
It seemed like other than you and Eddie, the group was rather familiar with at least part of what you were dealing with, but you didn’t have time to ask too many questions about everything. God, you wanted to ask so many questions. You also wanted to run away and be as far away from all of this as possible.
Usually, watching Eddie play was something that was a comfort to you. Watching Eddie play was something that would be the highlight of your day.
But right then, in some in between place called the Upside Down watching him play the recently mastered Master of Puppets solo, you didn’t know what you could call it.
SUNDAY, MARCH 2nd
Eddie was bouncing on his feet while you waited at the record store with him. The long awaited Metallica record was in his hands.
“I can’t believe you made me wait until your shift was over.” Eddie grumbled, leaning his head on your shoulders as the two of you shuffle through the shop on line.
“Oh yeah, cause Main Street Vinyl was gonna open their doors early just for you since Metallica’s record was coming out today?” You laughed, rolling your eyes and looking at him. “Plus, do you really want to do this without me?”
“Jerry loves me. He practically admitted it himself last time we were here.” Eddie gestured toward the back where Jerry usually was with his free hand, while his other was around your waist, holding onto you.
“Way to avoid the question, Eddie.” You paid for the record when it was your turn.
“What question? I thought it would be obvious that I don’t want be here without you.” Eddie grinned, taking the record from you and then walking toward his van and opening the door for you, letting you in with a quick peck to your lips before he got in on the other side.
Eddie drove the van back to the trailer and the two of you headed into his bedroom. Wayne was at work already and the two of you made yourselves comfortable in Eddie’s room while Eddie got the record ready.
The first play through, when the second song came on you could see Eddie’s eyes light up. The album’s title track, and he was already leaning up to get his guitar, reaching over you in order to do so, and leaning his head against the neck of his guitar as if waiting for his moment.
The second play through, Eddie began working on the song and you smiled at him.
You liked whenever Eddie got into music, it was like watching a whole different side of him. It wasn’t like how he was whenever he tried to focus on the schoolwork you attempted to help him with. He truly loved studying music. Everything changed about him when he was working on music, be it writing his own music, or working on covers for his band.
You laid back and watched Eddie at work while the album played through.
THURSDAY, MARCH 27th
Eddie didn’t follow you and Dustin back into the trailer. He stayed in the Upside Down, and you didn’t know what to do. Your heart was pounding. It was like Chrissy Cunningham was dying in front of you all over again as you watched Eddie run off in front of you.
Stupid.
Heroic.
You were going to kill him.
Then, before you could do anything, Dustin was dropping onto the other side of the trailer again. He must have fallen poorly, though, because there’s an uncomfortable sound on the other side.
That noise got you back to reality.
You can’t help but calling out, “Eddie!” Even if he’s nowhere near either of you right then. “Dustin!”
Panic threatened to take over your entire being, but you looked down and saw Dustin moving out of the way.
“Wait, Dustin, I’m coming back.” You didn’t—couldn’t wait for any more hesitation. It was a lot to handle, but you had to go after Eddie. You couldn’t let Dustin go after him by himself, either. You jumped back down with the rope and look around the room. “Are you okay?”
“Let’s go find Eddie.” Dustin breathed out, and you could tell it was difficult and that he was in pain, but you knew he was trying to focus on finding his friend too.
You nodded in agreement, racing out of the trailer door with Dustin at your side. You keep your hand on Dustin’s arm, doing your best to help him along.
You could hear the bats moving around the place, holding onto Dustin as the two of you continue calling out for Eddie.
When you finally see Eddie, you and Dustin dropped to either side, looking at him.
Immediately, you took your own jacket off, wrapping it around the most severe wounds of Eddie’s midsection that you could in order to help while he spoke with Dustin.
You did your best to not intrude, while working on helping in whatever way you could. You needed to be useful.
You name falling from his lips drew your attention back to Eddie. You looked at him, your hands stilling from their motion and falling to his cheek as you tried to keep your composure.
“This is not the Spring Break we planned, huh?” He attempted to joke once more, a sputtering laugh coming from him as he looked at you.
“Don’t even start.” Your voice betrayed you with emotion, but you look at him softly as you add, “technically Spring Break isn’t over.”
“I think it’s about over.” Eddie’s voice is soft. You can’t even speak before Eddie speaks again. “I need you to do something for me, I need you to check in on Wayne, ‘cause I don’t think he’ll be alright with…”
“Don’t you dare.” You cut him off, shaking your head. “You’re going to be fine, Munson.”
“If you don’t kiss me right now, I might explode.” Eddie’s words are filled with unshed tears as he looks you over.
You leaned closer to him and look at him when your lips are near his, “Just because you’re pulling a near death stunt doesn’t mean you can say things like this, Eddie.”
But still, you kissed him. Your hands holding lightly to Eddie as you do, not wanting to hurt him any more than he’s already been hurt.
You kissed him as if you’d never kissed him before.
You kissed him like this could be the last time you might ever kiss him again. Even if you hope that weren’t the case.
“I didn’t run away this time.” Eddie said, eyes looking between you and Dustin as if looking for confirmation when he’s added, “right?”
You and Dustin didn’t hesitate to answer, but your eyes are on each other and not on Eddie.
You had no idea how you were going to manage to get the three of you out of this mess, but you were going to do it.
SATURDAY MARCH 29th
You woke up in a panic, taking a deep breath as you looked around the room you were in not recognizing anything around you briefly.
Then you remembered it all slowly.
Eddie on the ground, bloodied by the demobats. Dustin injured, helping you to get Eddie back to the trailer.
Getting Eddie to the cabin, where you laid in a bed with him. You were going to go to a hospital with his injuries, but the questions and the fact that he was going to be questioned by everyone and interrogated for Chrissy’s death, among everyone else’s deaths, had kept you all from taking him to an actual hospital.
You hadn’t left Eddie’s side, and no one could convince you to do that for longer than it took to do certain things.
He was, however, alive.
That was what mattered. You wished he was awake and alive, though.
You could tell that Hopper wished he was awake and alive, too, by how often the ex Chief of Police was at the bedroom door trying to be casual checking in on the two of you.
Everyone stopped by when they could make it seem casual, when they could get past the influx of police in town after the earthquake after everything happened a few days ago.
They didn’t want to risk drawing any attention to the Hopper cabin, given now that Hopper and Eleven were back, and Eddie was there too.
“Hey, I can sit with him for a while.” Dustin said from the doorway.
You leaned up and nodded your head, knowing that you needed to get up for a while. “‘Course, Dustin. Come get me if anything happens.” You smoothed out Eddie’s curls from his face and then get out of the bed, passing Dustin with a smile as you do.
Everything felt so unreal the past few days, and you still didn’t have answers to all of your questions.
You walked into the kitchen, seeing Hopper, Joyce, and Eleven sitting at the table.
“Sorry,” you said as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not.” Joyce is the first to speak. She’s the kindest, less rough, and she moved to make room for you at the small table.
“I feel like that’s all I’m doing.” You admitted. “I mean, you’re letting Eddie and I stay here.”
“We gotta look out for one another.” Came Hoppers gruff answer, while he was sipping a cup of coffee.
“I appreciate it. I don’t even know how to thank you, everyone has been great,” It hadn’t even been a few days since everything happened and you had managed to get to know everyone at least a little bit better than you had before everything. Maybe you didn’t know what was going on, that you still had a lot of questions, but there was a lot more clarity. “If we hadn’t gotten Eddie here when we did. If there hadn’t been the right supplies.”
If you hadn’t been able to still manage to get some supplies from the hospital storage without notice for Eddie—which was definitely helped in part from the earthquake and no one really taking much note of how much supplies was being used in the first few days.
You didn’t even want to think about it all.
Maybe this was just the start of some sort of new normal.
TUESDAY, APRIL 1st
“Hey sleepyhead.” The voice whispered in your ear and you practically jumped up when you heard it, rolling over on your side to make sure you were correct.
“Eddie?” You gasped, your arms wrapped around him. “If this is an April Fools joke, it’s just cruel.”
His laughter is weak, but still as contagious as ever, but even so you find yourself tearing up at the sound of it too.
“I thought I lost you.” You mumbled against his cheek, a kiss pressed against it, while he turns his head to capture your lips. “You can’t scare me like that, Munson.”
“I don’t plan on it,” Eddie whispered, “but I don’t know if we can make those kinds of promises.”
“If you don’t kiss me right now, I might explode.” You mimicked his words from all those days ago, looking up at him with a smile. You were happier than you had been. You would have never said it out loud, but your worst fear was that this day wouldn’t have come.
Eddie nodded his head, kissing you with everything he had in him.
And it’s like the first kiss you ever shared all over again.
good morning, all. i'm hunkering in for the possible snow-pocalypse ( thankfully it's not my weekend to work at the hospital ). and working on this eddie request in my inbox in an attempt to get it out today or tomorrow.
glad everyone's on their veronica mars bullshit in 2026. guess it's time to rewatch that while i work on the next ditc chapter & the request in my inbox.
good morning!! i have a request in my inbox and i'll definitely get started on that ASAP and hope to have it up by this weekend ( fingers crossed ). i've been in a steve x reader swing, so this being an eddie x reader is fun.
It's been a long ten months for Frank Langdon. Rehab, endless meetings to prove he's fit for his job, and losing you.
It's his own fault. He knows that. He couldn't handle the pressure of his entire life going to shit, and combusted, destroying your life in the process. If things had gone to plan, the two of you would've been married by now. Instead, you're near strangers, and Frank doesn't know how long he can watch you date a guy that absolutely doesn't deserve you.
Until you turn up on his doorstep, with nowhere else to go after being kicked out by your ex.
And so, Frank Langdon's second chance begins.
warnings: 18+, mdni! this fic will feature medical gore, a little bit of violence, and explicit sex. more detailed warnings on each chapter individually
pairing : steve harrington x henderson!reader
word count : 4.0k
notes : this is chapter three of my rewrite of my first ever fic. i definitely diverge from the original, but i'm going to leave that up on the blog for old time's sake. i've always felt the need to fix certain things in this fic after posting, and never really gotten around to doing it. but now i'm working on it, and adding some more details too. plus, i guess my headcanons were wrong way back when about claudia being a henderson by birth but i'm keeping it that way. italic paragraphs are a flashback
triggers : none at this time other than typical show triggers.
taglist : @wsqkthesquawkfm, @the-onlyy-angie
masterlist : here
You and Steve pull into the Wheeler driveway just before three pm, and are greeted by heads watching from the window as you step out of the car.
Obviously, you should have expected this, given how your own cousin greeted you.
“Y/N!” Four voices call out as the front door opens, all of them racing to greet you. Two of them get to you first, Mike and Will engulfing you in a sandwich between the two of them.
“I missed you guys too.” You reply to their unspoken words, hugging the two boys back as tightly as you could. You’re torn between wanting to greet Nancy and Jonathan and introduce yourself to the other face you haven’t met yet, but also not disappoint the kids you haven’t seen in years too. “I swear, guys, I’m not leaving until like summer. So you can let go.” You manage to laugh as you look at both of them. It’s practically a promise at this point.
Because, even if you’re not sure that’s what your parents had thought of when they sent you here, you want to stay through the end of the year. You’ll find a way to make that happen. Hawkins is the one place that has always felt like home.
Mike and Will pull back, letting you greet everyone else. And truly, that's how it feels. Like you’re finally home now that you’re seeing everyone. Your friends. The kids who aren't really kids anymore. Honestly, being around Dustin and your aunt is just one part of the equation. Being around the kids and Nancy and Jonathan? It was like coming home completely.
“Hey Nance. Jonathan.” You smile before turning your attention to the other girl, holding out your hand, “I’m Y/N, and you must be El.”
There’s some hesitation, but she puts her hand in yours and shakes it, “Jane.”
That’s a weird nickname for a name like Jane, but you’d have to ask Dustin more about that one later. Then again, you’ve heard weirder nicknames, right?
“Holy shit!” Comes the last familiar voice, making you turn your head toward the end of the driveway as three figures appear. You can't help as your smile grows even wider at the kids, two of which are on bikes and one on a skateboard. “I thought Dustin was playing some kind of cruel joke when he said you were back.” Lucas stops, putting his helmet down on his bike and racing to greet you like Mike and Will had.
“Dude, I told you she was really here.” Dustin replies, rolling his eyes as he takes his own helmet off. “You guys never believe me.” There’s some latent bitterness in Dustin’s tone, but no one mentions it.
Lucas ignores Dustin’s comment and instead pulls away from you in order to grab the hand of the girl who had a tight hold on her skateboard closer to the two of you, “Max, this is Y/N. She’s the cooler Henderson.”
“I can hear you, Lucas.” Dustin groans, however it’s more in jest than anything, and he’s playfully shoving at Lucas’s shoulder as he walks past to greet everyone else that’s standing in the driveway.
“That’s the point, dude.” Lucas’s tone is full of jest, teasing Dustin with a smirk as he looks away from his friend and turns to look at you.
“I’ve missed you too, Lucas. It’s nice to be appreciated for being the coolest Henderson around.” You joke, hearing Dustin scoff soon after the words have left your mouth. “And it’s nice to meet you Max.”
Dustin had brushed past everyone, heading toward the basement’s entrance to the Wheeler house. “Let’s get this campaign going, everybody!” However when he realizes that no one’s following him, he turns around with his hand on the doorknob and looks back at you all, rolling his eyes. “Hello, guys. D&D night? New campaign? Bringing El and Max into the fold? Let’s go.” He waves his hand into the basement with a flourish to attempt to get everyone’s attention, a slight whistle to his words as he does.
It feels like everyone’s waiting just a bit longer before heading down, as if not wanting to give Dustin the satisfaction, but then they all follow behind quickly. Especially the younger ones, all excitedly chatting about the campaign they have planned.
You’re having a hard time remembering the last time you felt this easy around a group of people. In New York City, around your friends, you always felt like you had to put on some sort of front as if you had to impress everyone and do everything just to make sure that you were in their good graces. You never felt like you could contribute in those conversations without thinking everything through a couple dozen times, at least not without everything going the opposite way than what you had expected. Which is one of the reasons you’d wound up in some deep shit with everything, but you were doing your best not to think about all of that.
So whether it was Lucas and Dustin’s squabbling, or Max making some snarky comment toward the rest of the boys, or the commentary from Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve, you felt like you were at ease to hop into the conversation whenever or wherever you saw fit.
Watching them go back and forth, you could still remember when it was the beginning of all of this.
You can recall when you had first heard of Dustin’s friend’s Lucas, Mike, and Will—it was over the phone one night when Dustin must have been going into kindergarten, and he had been so excited to tell you about the friends he made and how he couldn’t wait for you to meet them, asking quickly after that moment when you were back to town to visit.
Back in the days when the boys spent most of their time outside chasing each other, and you during your visits, and sometimes Nancy or Jonathan, on one of their elaborate made up adventures.
If you followed anything from what Dustin had told you over the years since you moved farther away, and from this night so far, D&D felt a lot like one of those old elaborate adventures.
The fact of it all is that when you had sat down earlier in the night, Dustin had placed what he called a character sheet in your hands and mumbled something about if you got any ideas to jot them down, but you’d been too enthralled in everything happening around you to even focus on the piece of paper that you still hold clutched in your hands.
“They don’t take a break?” You whisper, looking at Nancy, as to not distract the brood of kids around the all too crowded table—it doesn’t seem big enough for all of them and every elaborate thing they’ve got for the campaign ( dice, binders, spare papers and pens ) to fit and somehow it all works. “I’m getting tired watching this go on.”
“Yeah, I don’t get it.” Nancy shrugs her shoulders, looking back at you, but leaning against Jonathan whose focus was intently on his brother and the campaign in front of them. Nancy’s laughing when she speaks again, “I think the only time they stop is if mom calls them for food.”
“Sounds about right, I think the only time they used to stop racing around outside was if one of the parents used to call that it was time to eat.”
The sight before you might be different than what you’re used to, but you can steadfastly see the teens before you as the kids they once were.
There’s Will, with a cape on his shoulders, rolling a set of dice while Mike’s narration explains what’s going on in their campaign at the moment.
Mike, whose eyes are focusing on everything on the table before them, but are often turning towards the girl beside him. As if for reassurance that she’s still there.
Lucas, who’s arm is not too casually brushing against the redheaded girl’s to his side as as he makes jabs both at and with Dustin.
Dustin, who bounces excitedly in the seat captivated by every word and play happening on the table before them. However, if you would ask anyone else, they would say that Dustin’s gaze continued to glance back at you to make sure that you were still there.
But, once upon a time, there would be all of them in some similar arrangement. Each of them would be holding onto some sort of branch to use as a sword, or a shield. Their jackets to be used as capes, draped along their shoulders. And there would be a story coming together in their heads, dialogue shouted out loud, as they chase each other across the grass.
Back then it would be easy to drag you into the fray, following along with everything that would be happening. Now, you could only barely follow the campaign that was unfolding before your eyes.
You used to spend your days counting down the time until you would be visiting Hawkins on your calendar, crossing off the days, counting hours when it came closer, and even planning the perfect travel mix tape that would last however long from where you would be coming from that time — whether it be Chicago, Las Vegas, Indianapolis, or even Houston. Often, back then, you would pack your bag, or bags, with trinkets for Dustin and his friends, and your own friends Nancy and Jonathan, from wherever you had been at the time—you often packed so many trinkets that the bag would be overflowing.
This time it was different, you had packed enough for the beginning, knowing more bags would arrive after you did. You were here for a much longer stay than you would normally have been. This wasn’t going to be your normal long weekend or summer weeks long stay.
If you would ask your parents, they would consider this to be punishment.
To you, this was a breath of fresh air. You’d always wanted to be in Hawkins more than your parents did. As much as your father hated small town life, you loved every minute of it. So while your father might have thought sending you to Hawkins would be a punishment, a way to figure everything out, it was more like it would be a reset.
“She just needs a break from everything,” you had overheard your father speaking on the phone one day. “No…no, Claud, nothing serious happened. At least, nothing like that.”
There was a long pause, as if he had been listening to your aunt on the other end of the phone say something. You could see his head nodding, face serious, as he was tapping his pen to the paper while he mumbled softly.
You quietly raced to the other room where you knew a phone would be, quickly picking up the receiver and holding it in your hands making sure to keep quiet so neither of them knew there was anyone on the line listening in.
“Well if you’re sure it’s nothing like what happened with us back… Why do you make it sound like Y/N isn’t okay?” Claudia’s voice is full of concern.
It begs the question — what don’t you know about your father’s life.
“She’s…” his voice grew in volume before he cleared his throat, as if remembering you were home and could hear him if he raised his voice, “completely gone off the rails. These kids she’s spending her time with, Claud. They’re…you know how teenagers can be, but,” he stopped himself and then changed the subject. “She got suspended. They’re this close to pulling her from school.”
“What happened?”
“She won’t tell us anything. We just know what’s in the reports and the papers and what we had to sit through with her. And all the other kids are saying it’s her idea. I mean, hell, Betty’s even gone as far as to see if she keeps a diary. She doesn’t.”
“That you know of, Charlie.” Claudia almost laughed, but there was something stopping her. A hesitation as she then asked, “her idea to do what?”
“Claud, I just… Will you help us? Can she stay with you?” You’ve never before heard your father sound so desperate, so raw. You shake your head at the thought that you’ve caused all of this pain. “Maybe Hawkins will do some good for her. She can finish the year out there if that’s okay.”
“Charlie, that’s my niece you’re talking about, my god daughter. Of course she’s welcome any time for as long as she wants to stay.” Claudia paused on the other line before adding in. “It would be nice to see you too, you know.”
“Claud, I just…”
And after that, you hang up your end of the phone, not wanting to intrude on the conversation between the two siblings any longer.
It was always too many excuses with your father, especially lately. Work was giving him too much grief, the cases were hell to plan anything around, her school work should be her priority.
Everything came with an instead, instead, instead.
You didn’t need to hear those same excuses uttered back to her Aunt Claudia when you’d heard them time and time said to yourself..
At least you’d be packing up your things soon enough, and getting the hell out of town. Maybe your father was right about one thing, that would do you some good.
You shake the thoughts out of your head, trying to focus back in on everything in front of you when you’re startled by the doorbell sounding from upstairs.
“Eight already?”
“Is that the time?”
“Fuck.”
“Already?”
“Shit.”
“Language.”
The basement is a flurry around you as everyone is moving about, speaking all at once, in an attempt to try and clean up the table and their things. You’re not sure what’s going on, but you’re certain that you haven’t seen the kids move as fast as they have in front of you in a while. You want to ask questions, but there’s a bit too much commotion for you to focus on any one thing.
You figure if anything you’ll get the story afterwards.
The basement door opens, and as soon as it does it’s like Max jumps out of her chair and moves as far away from everyone as she can. The redhead is grabbing her things, but it’s obvious that she’s eyeing the doorway as if she’s nervous about what’s standing at the top of the stairs.
Which you’re certain is not the look she’s giving Karen or Ted Wheeler, whichever one would have opened the door without warning.
“Max, sweetheart, your brother’s here to pick you up.” Karen’s voice echoes down the stairs. “Go right on down Billy. Nice to see you.”
“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Wheeler.” a voice you don’t recognize says while the basement door closes again. Everyone’s busied themselves with something, but you’re looking in the direction of the footsteps, and when the new voice is downstairs you look between him and Max.
As if answering your question, Nancy leans over and comments, “They’re step-siblings.”
“Grab your shit and let’s get out of here, Max.” Billy says, puffing out his chest when he’s at the base of the stairs, barely looking around the room. He’s done this once before, but since everything happened he knows not to say anything and just let Max do whatever. As requested. He will, however, let her know it annoys her to no end having to pick her up and drop her off places. “I ain’t getting any younger, Max.”
Just to add to it all, Max goes around and says goodbye to everyone individually. You watch as her step-brother seems to get irritated just at the millisecond of spending more time in the Wheeler basement while Max goes around to everyone like she knows what it’s doing.
“It was really nice meeting you, Y/N.” Max says. “Hopefully you’re as cool as these guys say you are.”
“Well, if they lie to you I will personally offer my punishment services of cleaning and forcing them to watch the worst movies imaginable.” You laugh at the comment. At least you hoped she was joking, but you could see the way Lucas and Dustin were looking between each other.
The amount of questions you had.
“Okay, let’s go Billy. See you dorks at school on Monday.” Max picks her skateboard up from the floor and heads toward the basement door.
But Billy’s voice stops her in her steps as he addresses you, “Y/N, huh? You new to town?” He takes a step forward, looking you up and down. You take the opportunity to really study him now. He’s wearing a dangling earring from one ear, and his shirt is only buttoned with the bottom few buttons, which practically makes you roll your eyes. It seems like he’s trying a bit too hard to play up something. “When you get bored with these losers give me a call.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” You scoff, watching as the two leave the basement.
The rest of the kids pick up their things, moving them around the basement, knowing they can’t continue the campaign without Max even if they wanted to.
It’s much quieter while they’re packing up for the night, as if the slam of the basement door took all the air out of the room with it.
As soon as everyone’s getting their things, you spot Nancy and Jonathan sneaking out the basement door to get a few minutes to themselves. It’s nice to see, you can tell your friend is happy. The rest of you are saying your goodbyes in the house, heading up the stairs to say goodbye to the Wheeler’s as well.
“It’s really good to see you again, Y/N.” You’re practically crushed by a hug at your side from Will that catches you by surprise as you wrap your arms around him too with a smile.
“It’s good to see you too, Will.” You say softly, glancing at the rest of the kids still around. “I missed my little bunch of nerds.” Which was true, you couldn’t name the amount of times you had seen something and thought of one of them since the last time you had been in town. The amount of trinkets, things small and big, you had gotten for them. “I’m here for a while, though, I promise. So tell your mom I’ll see her at Melvald’s okay?”
Will nods his head, heading to the door to meet Jonathan who’s waiting outside. He passes Nancy who’s heading back in.
“Did you have fun out there?” You mumble to your friend, quirking your eyebrows up and giggling.
“Shut up.” Nancy practically gags, halfheartedly elbowing you in the side as she walks past to the kitchen.
When the door opens again, it’s a man in a cop uniform looking around. He doesn’t say much, and he looks like he’s studying everything which makes you feel nervous but no one else feels that way.
“Time to go home, El.” The grumpy looking man says, a cigarette behind his ear that he pulls down as he moves from the doorway and looks around the house awkwardly.
“Okay.” The short haired girl bounces toward him before turning back to everyone with a smile, directed specifically at Mike when she says, “Goodnight.”
“Lucas, do you need a ride home?” You find yourself asking, glancing at your cousin’s friend.
“I’ve got my bike.” He gestures toward the door, toward where it’s likely pushed up against the house with Dustin’s.
Of course you know that your cousin and his friends bike around everywhere, but it was dark outside. You looked out the window and then back at your cousin and Lucas, shaking your head. “It’s dark outside. What if you got lost or hurt?” Dustin, Lucas, and Mike share a look but don’t say anything. “Steve will drive you home.”
“He will?” Lucas sputters out, shocked.
At the same time Steve looks at you, realizing he’s in the conversation, “I will?”
You glance back at Steve, where he’s positioned himself in the corner and nod your head firmly, “I mean, I guess I should have asked if you were still planning on giving Dustin and I a ride home. But the Sinclair’s is practically on the way,” it’s not but you weren’t going to say that and Steve knew you were lying through your teeth but he wouldn’t say that either, “so if you’re giving Dustin and I a ride it only makes sense.”
Steve looks between you and the two teens and then back at you with a shrug of his shoulders, “Yeah, that makes sense.” You can’t hear what he mutters under his breath but it sounds like something about babysitting.
Dustin and Lucas are at the front door in a flash, gesturing for Steve to get outside and help them load up their bikes into his car, and shouting their goodbyes to the Wheelers.
“Shotgun!” You can hear Dustin call as they get farther down the driveway.
“I don’t care, dude.” Lucas replies, hoisting his bike up into Steve’s arms.
“Whoa, you good there buddy?” Dustin asks, and that’s the last part you’re in earshot for.
“Thanks for having us over today Mrs. Wheeler.” You say, turning to thank her with a smile. “It’s good seeing you again.”
“It’s good seeing you too, sweetheart. I’m sure Nancy’s glad to have you back here. Especially after last year, I’m not sure if she’s told you about…well, it’s been a long year, let’s just say that.” Karen smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes for the whole time she speaks. You know better than to ask about whatever it is she’s referring to, but your eyes to go to find Nancy’s briefly. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you a lot more, Y/N.”
“Night Y/N.” Nancy comes over, hugging you tightly as if you’re leaving town and not just heading back to your cousin’s house a few streets over. You’re not sure if she’s doing this to distract you from her mom’s comments either, but it won’t work. You’ll be asking her about that later.
“Nance, I’m just going to my aunt’s, I’m not leaving town.” You cough out a reply, hugging her back and then pulling away. “I swear if I’m leaving I will give you at least one full day warning.”
You mean it as a joke, but Nancy’s eyes are wide as she looks at you and you’re not sure how to take it. She seems to want to scold you, but you instead cut her off by saying your goodbyes, already backing up toward the door.
“Night Nance, Mikey. See you Monday.” You wave at the two of them, heading out the door to be greeted by the sight of Dustin, Lucas and Steve standing at the back of Steve’s car arguing about how to put the bikes in the trunk. You’d have hoped that you spent enough time in the house that this would have all been sorted by the time you got outside.
Instead of trying to help, you just head into the front seat and take a seat, trying to drown out the sounds of the commentary from the back.
Eventually it stops, and you hear the sounds of movement again, and you’re startled by a knock on the window, “Y/N, I called shotgun. That’s so not fair. Get in the back. C’mon!”
You turn to look out the window and stick out your tongue in response.
“You’re just gonna be in the backseat, Henderson. Live with it.” Steve comments, getting in the front seat and starting the car up.
Dustin groans, opening up the door behind you and kicking your seat, “Dude, you’ve known her for like a day, why are you on her side? You so cannot like her better.”
pairing: frank langdon x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)
summary: frank langdon’s been your sworn rival since med school. he’s a mean, arrogant prick who, for some reason, made it his lifelong mission to beat you at every single thing you did. but, when you’re forced to transfer out of your residency in boston, you’re placed at the pitt with the one person you swore you’d never share a floor with again. and, as you two are forced to work together, you both realize there might be a little more to each other than meets the eye.
word count & rating: 14.1k, R (lots of swearing, M-rated stuff coming next chapter)
warnings: slow-burn, rivals to friends to lovers trope in full force, they're 'enemies' who have a wild amount of respect for each other, afab!reader, reader enters the pitt as an R3, lots of swearing, banter, slight angst, mentions of child death (case gone wrong) mentions of addiction, mentions of a previous, inappropriate but consensual workplace relationship, reader was engaged in med school, likely inaccurate medical talk (i am a woman with google, reddit, and a dream), not beta read please do not roast me for typos i missed
author’s note: the pitt has grabbed the attention of my hyperfixation-rotted brain in such a severe way that it made me write something for the first time in months. i know some of y’all don’t like langdon but you don’t get him like i do. i can sniff out an asshole with a redemption arc from a mile away. i stand by my canceled wife. also: need that. i blacked out while writing this, so i can’t be held accountable for anything in it.
also, this was supposed to be one long 44k fic but tumblr has a paragraph limit now and wouldn't let me post it as one. if you want to read it as one whole fic instead of in two parts, you can access it on ao3! see you on the other side, love ya tons -mags
JULY 1ST, 2024. (7:00 AM)
When it came down to thinking about the worst-case scenario, you always tried to be an optimist.
It was a hard thing to do, particularly in your line of work, but you’d always enjoyed a challenge. And in an industry full of pessimists, you figured there should be at least one person whose brain didn’t immediately jump to the most awful thing in the book.
But this? This situation you were in? This was, without a doubt, the worst possible case scenario.
You hadn’t expected your transfer to be simple. Transferring in any shape or form was rarely ever easy, even for the best of doctors. But you were especially bad with change. You didn’t like new places, new people, or feeling like you were out of the loop in any sort of way. And unfortunately for you, that’s exactly what transferring residencies entailed.
Fuck, you hadn’t even wanted to leave. You liked Mass Gen. Loved it, actually. You’d loved the people, you’d loved the city, and you’d loved the majority of the patients you’d treated. Sure, you were looking back on it with some major rose-colored glasses now, but still… you missed it already.
You missed him already.
You hated yourself for it, but it was the truth. Despite how awful of a person he was, how unfair he was to you, how he’d practically forced you to uproot your life, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You weren’t going to see him when you clocked into work anymore. He wasn’t going to be on your shift, nudging your shoulder discreetly when you did something well, or brushing his fingers against yours when he passed you by. You weren’t going to spend all of your days off at his apartment in the city or sleep in his bed that smelled a little too much like him.
Everything was different now. Now, everything was terrible.
And it was only going to get worse.
As an already accomplished doctor in your third year of your residency, your transfer to Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital hadn’t exactly been your choice. It wasn’t that it was a bad hospital (though the reviews and patient satisfaction scores would speak differently)— you knew that there were incredibly competent, wonderful people who worked there and performed miracles every day. But, when this transfer had been presented to you, it was for one reason and one reason alone: Doctor Michael Robinivinch.
He told you that he’d been friends with the hospital’s Attending Doctor Robinivich for years. That there’d be an opening for an R3 this coming July, and you’d be an absolute shoo-in for his program. Not just because of your research or your performance or even because of the things you could do on the floor, but because he could put in a good word.
You could have transferred anywhere. You could have stayed in Boston to spite him. You had connections at Brigham and Women’s and at Beth Israel. You could have moved to New York and worked at Presbyterian or moved to Baltimore and worked at Hopkins. You were good enough to have gotten into to any goddamn program with an opening that you wanted, but, like a kicked fucking dog, you listened to him. Took what he gave you. Kept coming back. And you agreed to give it a shot.
Why did you? Who had you become? What had happened to you?
But none of that mattered. Not anymore. What mattered was that you were here in Pittsburgh and he was there in Boston, and there was nothing you could do about it. The only thing you could do was suck it up, live with the consequences, and do your job.
Taking a deep breath, you walk through the doors and are greeted with a scene that’s a little calmer than you were expecting. The floor was still alive, doctors and nurses moving from room to room, but comparatively, it’s light work. There’s something that tells you it’ll pick up within minutes.
From behind the desk in the center of the room, a blonde woman immediately clocks your confusion. “You the new resident?” she asks, squinting at you from above her glasses to get a better look at you.
You offer a polite smile and wave, taking another breath to calm yourself before you start walking over. “That’s me,” you say, giving her your name and holding out your hand.
“Dana,” she replies. “Charge Nurse. Doctor Robby will be in shortly. He’s excited for you to get started.”
Your brows raise. “Is he?”
“Oh, yeah,” she chuckles, shaking her head. “No one gets a letter of recommendation from Doctor Klein. Ever. Especially for a transfer, and especially not one that was as glowing as his was.”
It’s a struggle not to grimace at the sound of his name. Of course. Of course he couldn’t have been fucking normal about it. You hadn’t read the letter before you’d submitted your application. You knew it would hurt too much. But you could imagine exactly what he’d written. Praise for his prodigy. His ever-important stamp of approval and promise that you were something special. He had to talk about you in a way that raised a few brows. He couldn’t let you be normal, could you? He had to be attached to your success somehow.
“Oh, God,” you mutter, forcing the smile to stay on your face. “Let’s hope I live up to it.”
“I’m sure you will.” She nods at you reassuringly, then turns to start pointing out important people and places on the floor. “So, we’re in the process of switching over from—”
“No way,” a voice says from across the desk.
It’s one that rings a bit too familiar. Your stomach starts to churn as, uncharacteristically, the worst-case scenario starts to play out in your head. No. There was absolutely no way. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be here. Why would he be…
That voice interrupts your thoughts before you’re done spiralling. “No fucking way,” it repeats, now accented by a disbelieving laugh. “Flight Risk?”
Hearing the god-awful, horrible nickname that plagued you all throughout med school sends a genuine chill down your spine. Slowly, you turn your head, praying that it’s not who you think it is.
But your prayers go unanswered, and the worst-case scenario is now playing out in front of you.
Frank Langdon stands opposite you, a shit-eating grin stretched across his lips.
Not him. Anyone but him.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you say, unable to move in your state of shock.
You feel like shaking Dana’s hand and wishing her a good day, and walking out of the doors you just entered through, never to be seen again. It would go against everything that was in your application, everything that told programs that you were competent, professional, and reliable, but right now, you didn’t care. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t happen. You couldn’t work with him again.
Not again.
Frank Langdon had made your life an unadulterated living hell for the entirety of medical school. You associated him with a whole other lifetime of yours— one that felt far away and slightly hazy. One where you were younger, less world-weary, less weathered. You were engaged, you had a dog, you had, what you assumed at the time, was your forever life. It had been perfect. Everything back then was more manageable. Everything but Langdon.
(That, of course, wasn’t the truth. You’d figure that out within the first six months of medical school. You’d end your first year single, without a ring, without your dog, and on antidepressants. But, yeah. Langdon didn’t help.)
He had been hostile, ultra-competitive, and, for lack of a better word, an absolute fucking asshole for all four of the years you’d spent with him. Calling him your rival sounded rudimentary, but frankly, that’s what the two of you were. Rivals.
Any exams you took? He was actively comparing your scores and letting you know how you could have done better. Research papers? Any topic you showed relative interest in, he’d be there, ready to claim it. Labs? He was over your shoulder, watching each thing you did with a hawk-like intensity that never failed to get on your nerves. You run into him when studying in the library? He’d stay just as long as you did, if not longer, simply to prove a point.
You’d tried to ignore him, but he had made it so hard to do so. As someone who was also ultra-competitive, every little thing he did motivated you to beat him. Every comment, every time he scored higher than you, performed better than you had, anything. It had all messed with your head and made you focus on one thing and one thing alone— being better. Better than him. Better than everyone.
And you were. Of course, he was great too. You hated him with a vitriolic passion, but you knew just how good he was at what he did. It wouldn’t have been fun or fulfilling to beat him if he weren’t.
(Fun was a stretch. It was actually agonizing to compete with him. But it made you feel good every time you won.)
This rivalry only ended when you were matched to your residency programs. All of your friends and fellow students shot for the moon. Your school regularly produced some of the best talent the medical world had seen, who were often placed into the best hospitals in the country. You were no exception.
Massachusetts General Hospital was your top choice. You weren’t unique in that aspect. But you were the only one to get placed there in your class.
Match Day had been a whirlwind of emotions, and after finding out where you’d been assigned, you basically blacked out the rest of the day. You didn’t remember a whole lot from those next couple of hours. All of your hard work had paid off, and in your professional opinion, your brain had shut down from exhaustion.
The only thing you remember from that day was the conversation you had with Langdon outside of one of the bars your cohort frequented. The celebration was in full swing, complete with your classmates and loved ones drinking and dancing to the songs of whoever had taken over the TouchTunes. You only remembered talking to him because it was one of the only civil conversations the two of you had ever had. In your drunken stupors, you’d compared placements, bragged about each of your respective programs, and ended on…
Well, it was a note you couldn’t define then. You’re not sure if you could define it now.
While you remembered having that conversation, you’d forgotten after all this time that this was where he’d been placed. You hadn’t seen him in almost three years. You’d barely thought about him, least of all where he was. After those four years, there was nothing you wanted less than to dwell on your time with him. You weren’t checking in on him on social media, couldn’t have been bothered to ask your friends who still spoke to him— nothing.
Perhaps that was your own fault.
You could delay your residency a year, couldn’t you? You could take a year off, travel the world, add on to your student loans, and then apply to some other program where he wasn’t. Yeah. That seemed like a better alternative.
As you continue to stare at each other, Dana glances between the two of you in confusion. “I take it you two know each other?”
Langdon’s eyes never leave yours, but his smile grows. “Flight Risk and I went to med school together.”
There was that stupid fucking nickname again. You thought you’d been freed from it when you’d gone to Mass Gen. You’d hoped that it was some teasing name that had stuck for everyone after he’d said it, but would be gone when you graduated. You never, ever considered that it would come back to haunt you in a professional setting. Especially not from him.
Dana’s brow quirks. “Flight Risk?”
You sigh, long and heavy. “It’s not important.”
“Not important?” Langdon asks, like he’s offended. He rounds the desk to stand beside you and look at Dana. “It’s very important. It’s who she is.”
You suppress the urge to choke him out with the stethoscope around his neck. “It’s not who I am—”
“First day of class,” he interrupts you, “we were watching this video that covered an abscess draining—”
“Abscess drainage on the first day of class?” Dana asks, making a face.
“Don’t ask. The professor was a freak,” you say. You return to glaring at Langdon immediately after. “And this is so irrelevant, can we please—”
“The video freaked her out so bad that she ended up running out of the classroom to throw up,” he finishes. You shut your eyes in annoyance. “But she got right back in there and got her shit together, didn’t you, slugger?”
“I did,” you say, forcing a faux smile to match his condescending tone. “Same way you got back on the horse after sawing our cadaver’s spine in half during our first lab, right, champ?”
His grin falters. “That saw was faulty.”
“So was my stomach that morning,” you reply. Your voice is syrupy sweet. “I didn’t get everyone to start calling you Leatherface.”
Dana’s eyes bounce between you two like she’s watching tennis. There’s the beginnings of a smirk on her lips as she asks, “Is this gonna be a problem? You two working together?”
“No,” you say quickly, abandoning and resigning from your pissing contest with Langdon immediately. You see him glance at you in surprise out of the corner of your eye. “It won’t. We— I’m totally professional. Just wasn’t expecting this.” Trying your best at a real smile this time around, you nod at your new charge nurse. “No issues. And if it ever becomes one, please let us know.”
Your incredibly cordial and smooth response has Langdon dipping his head in laughter, and the second you notice it, you whack him hard on the arm. It seems to be enough to kick him into gear. “Yeah, Dana,” he chuckles. “We’ll be good. I swear.”
It’s clear that she one-hundred-percent does not believe you. Still, she says, “Good. This place doesn’t work unless we’re all on the same page.”
“I’m liking it here already,” you say, earning a slightly more genuine smile from her.
“Robby will be in for rounds in a minute,” she tells you. “Hang tight until then. And you,” she says, now looking at Langdon. “Don’t be an asshole, okay?”
He has the audacity to act offended. “I would never.”
With a roll of her eyes, Dana turns back around to take care of some other task that needs her attention, and she leaves you with Langdon standing at your side. You’re expecting him to leave, to go cherry-pick a case (he seemed like the type), or go chat with one of the other residents who were clocking in. But he doesn’t.
He just lingers. It’s as if he’s excited by this. Excited by you.
It instantly makes you anxious in a way that you haven’t felt since school.
“And if it ever becomes one, please let us know,” he parrots, changing octaves to imitate you. Fucking child. “I haven’t heard that voice since rotations.”
“Oh, will you just shut the fuck up already?” you hiss. Any sense of professionalism or niceties had been completely thrown out the window now that you were alone. There’s a piece of you that hates how he’s been able to get under your skin so quickly, but the other part is so angry and frustrated with him that you can’t seem to care. “I’m trying to make a good impression on my first day, and you’re opening with the Flight Risk bullshit less than five minutes in?”
Langdon clenches a fist in victory. “There she is,” he all but cheers, though he’s kind enough to keep his voice down. “Man, I thought Mass Gen had made you boring and polite. But it’s great to know you’re still in there.”
“Same to you,” you mutter. “It’s reassuring to know that three years in the ED gave you absolutely zero growth.”
“I have to know what you’re going here,” he says, bulldozing your last comment. “Going from where you were to The Pitt of all places? That’s—”
“That’s what you guys call this place?” you question, glancing around the room.
“You’ll catch on.” He turns to you with his arms crossed over his chest. “So, what happened? What did you do? Did you kill someone?”
“Not yet,” you reply with a glare. “Day just started, though.”
“Yeah, Klein wouldn’t have written you a letter if you had,” he reasons to himself, like you’re not even there. “How did you pull that off, by the way?”
You’re exhausted by him already, and your frustration seeps into your voice. “I’m really fucking good at what I do,” you say.
“No, that’s not it.” He shakes his head, and you restrain yourself from reaching over and hitting him again. “You’re good, sure. But plenty of his people are good.”
“You are such a jackass,” you scoff.
He’s already moving on to the next thing. “No, but seriously. What happened? Did you flunk out? Did they dismiss you? Or did it get to be a little too much and you couldn’t handle it?”
You wish you knew your way around this place so you didn’t have to stand here and take this. “I don’t have to disclose that to you.”
“That’s exactly what it was, wasn’t it? You ran out and bailed.” He grins to himself. “Oh, Flight Risk. That is so like you.”
Clenching your jaw, you steel your expression so as to not give anything away. No, you want to tell him. That’s not what happened. That’s not even close to what happened. You didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to run. Not this time.
But you did. You had.
So, you don’t correct him. You’re open to letting him think whatever it is he believes, so he’ll ask fewer questions. The last thing you want to do is talk about it. Not with him. At all.
Lucky for you, you’re saved by the bell. A taller, older guy in a zip-up sweatshirt walks over to the two of you, and while there’s a small smile on his face, there’s a hint of hesitancy in his expression as he watches you and Langdon interact.
You recognize Doctor Robinovitch immediately, having met him a handful of times (mostly over video chat and once in person) before you were accepted into the program. Despite that, you still find yourself straightening up and plastering a smile on your face.
“How we doing over here?” he asks, holding his hand out to shake yours.
Meeting his hand, you practically step in front of Langdon to cut him out of the conversation. “Great. It’s so good to see you again. I’m excited to get started.”
“I’m excited for you to get started,” he says. “Klein called me last night to sing your praises again and remind me to be nice to you. He says you’re special.”
You hope the rage that brews in your stomach doesn’t show on your face. “Did he? That was kind of him.”
“Yeah, well. When he likes someone, he likes them, y’know?” Right. Robby points between you and Langdon. “Dana told me you two went to school together?”
“We did,” you say, hoping to control the situation before Langdon can butt in.
He decides to be the exact dickhead you know him to be. “And she sure is special.”
Robby’s eyes narrow slightly at his response, but thankfully, he decides to ignore Langdon’s tone. “Two endorsements from people who don’t give ‘em out,” he says to you, nodding over at Langdon. “Not too bad, Doc. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
And as you set off on your first case at The Pitt, and as Langdon grins at you in that sardonic way that always seems to get under your skin, you wonder just how long you’ll actually make it around here.
JULY 1ST, 2025. (7:00 AM)
One year later, you’re still here.
It’s an absolute whirlwind of a year, and it goes by faster than you could have imagined. The day you’d joined had ended up being one of the craziest days you had ever worked, and between that, the fact that you were still reeling from leaving Boston, and working with Langdon for the first time in years? You didn’t know if this place was for you.
But you were never one to give up on things easily.
And every day since, you’ve been thankful you didn’t. You’d found friends in the majority of your coworkers, a sense of belonging in a city you didn’t know, and you’d learned more from Robby in three months than you’d ever learned from… him.
While Pittsburgh wasn’t your favorite city on earth, you’d grown to love it in its own way. You loved your little neighborhood. You loved your apartment and the coffee shop you’d found down the street that made an insane flat white. You actually liked the work you were doing.
You hadn’t felt like that in months.
You had made friends with some of your neighbors over the course of the year, and each time you talked about a bad day at work with them, one of them would ask what made you go back every shift. Each time, your answer was the same.
You loved the work and you loved the people. Rekindling that was like magic.
Of course, not everything was perfect. The floor was unforgiving. There was always something new every day— and some things you weren’t prepared for. You lost patients. You lost children. You had days when all you wanted to do was hide in the break room and cry.
But, as Robby would remind you whenever he saw that look on your face, you saved more than you lost. You won’t forget the ones you’ve lost, but you can try to be better the next time around. And that’s all you could do.
You supposed that was true enough.
The only outlier of the great Pitt equation, however, was Langdon.
You knew he would be the second you joined the team. He had been a constant pain in your ass for the entirety of med school, and now that you were back in each other’s lives, he saw no reason for that to change. He was just as competitive, just as snarky, and just as much of an asshole as he used to be.
But, thankfully, he was professional about it. That was the only thing that had changed between you. Now that you two were legit, full-fledged Doctors, title and all, he wasn’t as overt about his disdain for you. He’d heeded your warning from your first day and had actually listened to you.
You refused to commend him for doing the bare minimum, but it was nice to know he wasn’t an idiot.
While he may not have been an idiot, what he was was a fucking nuisance. Any case you wanted to take on? He was already running to the room. Any time there was an opportunity to show you up or call you out for something wrong? He took it. Any chance he had to trick you into taking a case he knew you’d hate? There he was, ready with some sort of story.
(“Doc, Robby wants you in South Five,” he had told you about a month in. He motioned you over, watching as your ears literally perked up. You were on your feet following him in seconds. “Major foot trauma with mycetoma, it’s not looking good.”
It took every bone in your body not to bolt out of the room when you saw the patient’s foot was infested with maggots, something he’d clearly, purposely left out. He’d whipped around to type something into the computer in an attempt to hide his laughter the second you’d turned to glare at him.
You’d whacked him upside the head with your chart after you’d successfully cleared the guy.
“I told you it didn’t look good!” he shouted after you as you practically ran to the bathroom to re-wash your hands.)
Or, there was the rare occasion where he’d come to you with his tail between his legs, actually asking for your help. It didn’t happen often, certainly not in your first couple of months, but when it did and he’d slump down beside you with that look in his eye, you’d take it on hesitantly.
And somehow, it always kicked you in the ass later on.
(Langdon had taken on a case with a younger, tween girl who refused to talk to him. Getting people to open up wasn’t exactly something he was proficient in. There were others in the ED who were good at the social aspect of this job, and most of the time, he was fine with being better at the action side.
But not right now. And unfortunately for him, you were one of those people who were good at getting through. And, even more unfortunately for him, you were the only person who was currently available.
When he came to ask for help, you almost laughed in his face. But this time around, he seemed resigned. Slightly resentful and begrudingly flustered. It was real.
So, with a sigh, you followed him to the room.
Within five minutes, you had the girl talking with you. You remember the look on Langdon’s face as she did. The way his head dipped in a quiet laugh, graced with disbelief and the slightest bit of annoyance. It felt like a win.
She keeps her eye on Langdon, who observes you two from the corner, cheeks going red each time she meets his eyes. As you check her vitals, she grabs your arm, weakly bringing you down to her eye level. She motions for you to come closer, then cups her hand to her mouth to whisper in your ear.
“He’s really cute,” she says, middle-school embarrassment clear as day in her voice. For her sake, you refrain from rolling your eyes and rattling off every single awful quality about him and why she should actually hate him. “I was so nervous to talk to him.”
You give her a small smile, shaking your head. “Well, if you’re more comfortable chatting with me, I’m happy to stay and hang out for a little. But you’re in good hands with Doctor Langdon,” you respond, the volume of your voice matching hers. Glancing over your shoulder, you find that he’s still watching you, his expression having morphed into something more gentle. He’s been trying to get this girl to open up for an hour, and here you are whispering with her five minutes in.
He’d never get you. He’d resigned himself to that idea.
But that look of his was wiped off his face the second you turn back to the girl, who immediately starts coughing up blood onto your face and scrubs. There was no time to laugh or be grossed out as the two of you immediately jumped into action, truly working together for the first time since you began to figure out what was going on.
After you had stabilized the girl, you demanded his card for ScrubEx credits, but returned to the floor with a pout, wearing new scrubs that were two sizes too big for you. The snickering from him, Dana, and Princess at the nurse's station makes you hang your head.
“This is the only size it had,” you grumbled, working to roll up the waistband of your pants.
“Oh, bless your heart,” Dana said. “You look adorable, kiddo.”
“Adorable and very professional,” Langdon agreed. “I need that sad Charlie Brown music to start playing every time you walk.”
You scowled at him. “This is your fault.”
McKay chose this time to check in and began laughing as soon as she saw you in your oversized set. “What, is it bring your kid to work day? I should have brought Harrison in.”)
However, as time went on, you learned how to work with him. You still did not get along in any way, shape, or form, but every so often, when you two worked on the same case, you’d be able to put aside whatever difference you two had and work like real, true colleagues.
The arguing was still there. My god, was it still there. But, when it came down to it and you two got serious, there was always some sort of energy between you. You were always working in tandem. Always on the same page.
Mohan had once told you that it was like a dance. That it was hard to look away from. Frankly, you didn’t know what that meant and were a little afraid to ask.
(Six months in, the EMTs bring in a guy in his mid-fifties who’s been slipping in and out of consciousness since they got him. As you run over to the gurney, they tell you he fell down the stairs, and one of his kids had found him and called it in. Langdon’s on your heels, rounding the gurney, assessing the scene immediately.
“Guy’s name is Anthony,” one of the EMTs says. “He’s got a major concussion, a couple of broken bones, and is bleeding rapidly from the back of his head.”
“He shouldn’t be bleeding this fast,” Langdon mutters. “Is he on thinners?”
“Anthony? Are you with us?” you ask, rubbing his chest in the hopes of drawing his attention back to you. His eyes open slowly, and he looks up, dazed. “You’re in the hospital, Anthony. You fell down the stairs, and you’re bleeding pretty bad. Do you take any medication? Any blood thinners?”
Anthony takes a moment to think, eyes casting to the ceiling. “Yeah,” he slurs. “I don’t… know what it’s called. My wife deals with my pills. It’s like… Wa… War-friend?”
Your eyes snap to Langdon’s, who rolls his and suddenly grabs the gurney a bit tighter. “Warfarin?” you ask lightly, and the second it leaves your lips, everyone around the bed picks up the pace a little.
“Yeah,” Anthony says again. “That’s… it.”
“Okay, Anthony,” you reply, directing everyone into Trauma Two. “You’re about to make a lot of friends really quickly.”
Langon moves by you to put on a gown, then passes you your own. “It’s always fucking Warfarin.”
“War-Enemy,” you correct, shaking your head. “That shit is not my friend.”
You hear him chuckle softly, and you pass him a pair of goggles over your shoulder. As he grabs them from you, he says, “I’m calling the FDA to get them to change the name.”)
But, sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, you’d get along.
Typically, it happened under more tragic circumstances than you’d hope for. When something went wrong on the floor. When you had lost someone. When you’d tried everything you could on a case and nothing worked. It was only then that the two of you would be anything more than civil.
It didn’t always feel as strange as you thought it would.
(You lose a five-year-old girl eight months in.
It’s a peanut allergy. She eats a cookie at a neighborhood party that the parents were unaware had peanuts in it. She’s rushed in by said parents, who can barely speak because of how torn up they are. Her EpiPen isn’t working.
She’s in full anaphylaxis by the time you get her on the table, and she’s barely breathing. Your head snaps to the door as Langdon runs into the trauma room, and you’re throwing a pair of goggles at him before he can even ask what you’ve got. You slip into that dance you do a bit too easily, and it instills enough confidence in you that you think you’ll actually be able to save her.
There’s a moment where you think that she’ll be okay. Every person in this room has done enough procedures like this before. This should be easy.
But it’s not. She’s too far gone. She dies four minutes in. You couldn’t save her. She is five years old. And you couldn’t save her.
And it hits you hard.
Seeing the look in your eye, Robby sends you into the break room, letting you know that he’ll handle the parents. You nod at him in thanks, not having the words to say it.
You find yourself sitting against the wall, headphones plugged into your ears and legs tucked to your chest. It’s a pathetic, desperate search for comfort. You shut your eyes in the hopes of pulling yourself together.
You don’t notice Langdon coming into the room. You’re so in your head and the music’s just a bit too loud that you don’t register his presence until he takes a seat next to you. That’s when you feel him. And you don’t even have to open your eyes to know it’s him.
When you finally do, you don’t say anything. You just look at him. His legs are splayed out on the floor, head inclined back against the wall.
As if he feels your gaze, he turns his head to meet it. For a moment, you just stare at each other. Then, wordlessly, you reach up and pull an earbud from your ear and offer it to him.
He huffs a humorless laugh through his nose, shaking his head. But he accepts it.
You don’t talk. Not a word. You just sit there together, trying to recoup, listening to a playlist you’d made when you’d first started your residency. If the circumstances were different, it might just be nice.
Two songs later, you two leave the break room. You never speak about it again.)
You weren’t friends. You barely tolerated each other. But on the rare occasion that the two of you were put on the same case, you did work together. Pretty well, at that.
The fact that you’d been at The Pitt for a year now was something that was still mind-blogging to you. While you were only slightly miserable for the first couple of months, once you’d gotten your bearings, time had flown by. Change was never kind to you. It wasn’t something you sought out. But looking back, this was probably one of the best things you could have done for yourself.
It’s something you think about as you clock in for your shift and see the new recruits surrounding the nurse's station. You don’t envy them. Being the new kid as an R3 was hard enough-- you couldn’t imagine the anxiety the med students and interns were feeling. Especially with the stuff you saw here on a daily basis.
You take an earbud out of your ear as you approach the station, Dana’s eyes lighting up when she sees you. “Happy one year, Doc,” she calls to you. “I feel like we should throw a party.”
“We can start popping champagne when we clock out,” you reply, leaning on the counter. “Something tells me we’re gonna need it anyway.”
“The Oracle of Pittsburgh has spoken,” Dana tells Collins, who’s just walked in behind you. “Bad day today.”
“I hate when you do that,” she all but whines. “At least let me start my day before you curse it.”
You shrug. “I’m not responsible for my predictions. I’m just burdened with knowledge.”
“Well, close that third eye or whatever,” Collins mutters. “I need a good day for once, Risky.”
“Compromise,” you pose, pointing at the two of them. “The second you guys stop calling me that, I’ll foresee a good day.”
(Yeah, unfortunately, Langdon’s god-awful nickname had stuck. It’d been amended slightly and changed it to be just a bit more palatable, but you still fucking hated it. Langdon couldn’t have been more pleased that it had caught on.)
Dana and Collins exchange a glance, then look back at you. “I think we’ll take our chances,” Dana says.
You scowl at them. “One of these days, I’m actually going to call HR on this entire floor. Name-calling is a serious offense. I’ll file with Lisa for bullying and harassment.”
“If my name’s in that report, Lisa will throw it out,” says a voice from behind you. You hold back your sigh as Langdon appears at your side. “She loves me.”
You look at him blankly for a moment, then turn to your friends. You motion to Langdon. “See? I told you. Bad day.”
“Is that the official Oracle report?” he asks. His eyes find the new students and residents gathered together and he sucks his teeth. “God help the newbies.”
Dana huffs a laugh. “You can say that again.” Then, realizing the group before her, she pats the counter. “Happy fourth year, you three.”
She steps away from you then, moving to take care of some new problem that had come up. The sentiment is left with you, and a tiny bit of pride bubbles in your stomach. You knew you were going to make it to your final residency year. Since you’d graduated, there had only been one instance that you’d ever questioned your career path. Since that moment, you hadn’t had a second thought.
But still. You had done it. It wasn’t a linear path, but you’d done it. You allowed yourself to be proud of that.
You glance over at Collins, who seems to be on the same wave as you. You bump her shoulder with yours, and she grins at you, then walks over to her desk area to get set up for the day.
“Did you ever think that we’d end up finishing our residencies together?” Langdon asks you when you turn back to him.
You refrain from laughing in his face. “Fuck, no. I was hoping to be as far away from you as possible. Still want to be.”
“And yet,” he says, “here we are.”
A sickly sweet smile takes over your lips. “Fellowships can’t come soon enough.”
His eyes narrow. “Don’t act like you won’t miss me.”
“Talk to me at the end of next year,” you mutter, taking a step back to follow Collins. “But I don’t foresee that happening.”
“Is that the official Oracle report?” he repeats.
“It’s the clearest thing I’ve seen all day,” you say from over your shoulder.
JULY 1ST, 2025. (11:00 AM)
As it turns out, the clearest thing you’ll see all day was your first prediction. The day turns out to be more than bad. It’s an apocalyptic, undeniable shitshow that’s unlike anything you’ve seen before.
It starts out slow. The new residents continue to work at their new positions and better understand the environment. The med students look at you with wide eyes as you correct them. They ask questions and get acclimated to the work. You find yourself getting paired with the med student Whitaker and the intern Santos the most-- two working experiences that couldn’t be more different.
Whitaker is careful. He’s warm. He’s good with the patients. He’s hesitant. Incredibly unlucky. Then again, you could have guessed those things about him the second you saw him.
(“I want that one,” you say to Collins at Rounds, nodding in his direction. “The one that looks like a mouse who made a wish to become human for a day. I want him with me.”)
But he surprises you with how hard he tries. He cares. He plays most things by the book. You can tell exactly when he’s freaking out, despite the way he tries to hide it.
You see a sliver of your younger self in him, and perhaps, that’s what endears you to the kid.
Santos, on the other hand, is on the farthest end of that spectrum. She’s a bit more abrasive. Cares a little less about bedside manner. She thinks she’s leagues above the newbies, and honestly, she might just be. She’s incredibly competent and is already surprising you with what she knows.
She’s also rather confrontational. Just a bit reckless. She doesn’t understand the well-established hierarchy, and while you don’t think this is a fundamentally bad thing, it’s not ideal for a first year. You told her as such fifteen minutes ago.
(You observe her working to treat a man who’s hooked up to a double lumen port and has been in the ED for a couple of hours. There’s a suspected port infection, and you ask exactly how you think this should be handled.
She’s correct when she tells you intermittent antibiotics. She’s correct when she suggests Vancomycin. She’s wrong when she orders half doses to be put into both sides of the double lumen.
It’s a mistake you almost don’t catch, but thankfully, you do. She tries to argue with you, saying that her math is right, it makes sense, and that he’ll be getting the full dose. She’s wrong.
You glance at Donnie, order the correct rate, and then pull her outside.
“Listen to me,” you tell her. Your voice is soft but assertive, and it makes her shut her mouth almost immediately. “I’m assuming you graduated top of your class, right? Or you were at least up there?”
She blinks at you, obviously not expecting you to pose whatever reprimand you’re about to lay on her like that. “Uh, yeah. I did.”
“I know. I can tell. You’re good.” You cross your arms over your chest. “You’re a resident now, and that’s a big deal. You’ve made it. But just because you’re good or that you’ve made it, it doesn’t mean that you get to make all the calls.”
She looks away from you. “I’m not making all the calls. It’s the right dose—”
“Theoretically, yes. But in practice, it’s not,” you say slowly. “Double lumens aren’t super common, I know. And yeah, two half-doses make a full one. But when you push two halves, you’re pushing them at the same time. That means you’re doubling the rate of the Vancomycin.” You see the realization hit her the second the words leave your mouth. “That’s when we get Direct Mast Cell Activation--”
“And I send that guy into Red Man,” she mutters, eyes shutting.
You nod with a soft sigh. “Right.”
She shifts uncomfortably in front of you. “That just slipped my mind. I’m a little overwhelmed. I didn’t—"
“Nobody means to miss things, Santos. But we miss less when we’re not diving in head first without goggles on,” you say. “Take a second to breathe when you’re in there. Think about everything. You’ve proven that your first instinct is right most of the time, but just… consider all options.” Patting her on the arm, you nod at her. “And take the advice the older residents give you. We’re not all incompetent idiots, alright?”)
She’s quick. She’s argumentative. She’s a nicknamer. She makes mostly effective, snap decisions that you couldn’t imagine making as a first-year. She—
Holy fuck, she’s Langdon. She’s so Langdon that it actually makes your head spin. Perhaps, that’s what makes you a bit uneasy about her.
(What you don’t see, however, is what happens when you walk away from Santos. She sighs and runs a hand down her face, narrowly avoiding Langdon as he walks toward the scene he was quite obviously watching.
“Did Risky just yell at you?” he asks, staring as you walk away.
“Kinda,” she huffs, frustrated and clearly not in the mood for whatever he’s got for her.
“Wow,” he chuckles. “The only person she yells at is me. You must have pissed her off.” Before Santos can respond and piss off another resident, he walks away saying, “Whatever she said, listen to her. She’s the smartest person on this floor.”)
You find him at the nurse’s station after you finish triage with a patient. He has his phone out, showing Dana a photo. Then, he mentions something that genuinely makes you laugh out loud.
“You got Abby a dog?” you ask, fully intruding on the conversation. Langdon jumps as the med chart you’re holding clatters on the counter.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “We need to get you a bell or something.”
You completely ignore him and instead choose to rephrase your question. “You’ve been bitching about never being home for the last three months and you bought your wife and two children a dog?”
“It’s so like you to hate puppies,” he says. “I take it you have a problem with World Peace and babies, too?”
You catch Dana rolling her eyes out of the corner of yours, clearly fed up with the two of you already. “The hell are you talking about? I love dogs. I used to co-parent one with my ex back in med school.” Langon looks at you in surprise, and you wave him off. “Jamie got custody of the ring and the dog when I left him. But I’m just saying. If you hate your wife, you should have just told her. You didn’t need to give her an animal.”
He narrows his gaze at you, a sneer already curling at his lips. “The fuck—? I don’t hate—”
“You’re never home. Your wife works. You have two kids under four—”
“Tanner says he’s going to take care of it.”
“Yeah, and when I was four, I told my parents the same exact thing when I wanted them to buy me a dog at the mall.” You nod in faux enthusiasm. “You know what they did when I asked? They bought me a Tamagotchi instead.” Dana shakes her head, but you can see her holding back a smile. “I killed it two days later.”
“Well, that’s because you’re you,” Langdon says. “And you’re the fucking Antichrist.”
“I’m just saying.” You shrug, moving over to look at the screen to see which patient to take next. “If you wanted to drop two thousand dollars, you should have taken your wife to a spa and gotten Tanner a tablet with Roblox. Not a living creature that shits on the floor.”
He scoffs as he follows you. “And raise an iPad baby? Pass. I see too many of those here a day.” His arm brushes yours as he parks himself beside you and crosses his arms over his chest. You physically cannot help the way your lip curls up in disgust, and you’re not in control of your body when you step away. “Do you want the dislocated shoulder in South Seven or the kidney stones in North Three?”
“I don’t cherry-pick,” you mutter, trying to sound as self-righteous as possible. You don’t have to look at him to know that he’s rolling his eyes. “Skull fracture in Six needs to be tended to. I’m going there.”
He frowns. “I wanted that one.”
You’re already moving in the direction of South Seven. “Great. Take it. I wanted the dislocated shoulder anyway,” you say.
He’s protesting as you practically run away. “So much for not cherry-picking!”
You throw up your hands in a shrug. “Give Mr. Skull Fracture a hug for me!”
JULY 1ST, 2025. (2:00 PM)
You crack into your second energy drink of the day, ignoring the look that Mohan gives you as you do so.
“Unless you’d like me to fall asleep with a scalpel in my hand, I don’t want to hear it,” you tell her.
“I’m just saying,” she replies, “there are better options. I’ve been really into--”
“If you tell me that matcha is a good replacement for the two hundred milligrams of caffeine that I get from this chemical weapon, I’m going to yell at you,” you warn, pointing a finger at her with the hand that’s holding your can. “It’s like offering me coke and then giving me a salad.”
You hear McKay chuckle from behind you. “It’s a lost cause, Samira.”
“She’s been trying for the last six months,” you say to her from over your shoulder. “I admire the tenacity.” You turn back to Mohan. “I’m forcing a vodka-Red Bull down your throat when we go for drinks next week, when I finally get you out of your cave of an apartment, you can finally experience the magic.”
“I’m just trying to help you,” Mohan grumbles, completely ignoring your last comment. “There’s a lavender matcha that I’ve been getting at the coffee shop on my way here that’s really good. I’ll bring you one tomorrow. We’ll start making the switch.”
“I love you. I do,” you tell her, voice gentle. “But I also refuse to let you waste your money. You can send matcha powder to my grave when you’re old and out of debt after these things kill me.”
Mohan shakes her head. “It’s not as fun to say ‘I told you so’ when you’re dead, though.”
“Take what you can get,” says Langdon, interrupting the conversation in that way he loves to do. “I’m still riding the high from when I was able to say it back in 2019.”
You give him the fakest of fake smiles. “Crazy how you haven’t been able to say it since.”
“It’ll happen again one of these days,” he says. “I know it.”
“Yeah, I’m not seeing that,” you reply. “And I’m the Oracle here.”
“That you are,” he mutters, glancing at Mohan and McKay. He then nods at you, motioning for you to follow him. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Confusion warps your face. “Me?”
“I’m looking directly at you,” Langdon says, like you’re the idiot.
“I’m sorry,” you mutter. With that confirmation, you do, in fact, round the nurse's station to let him lead you into the break room. You ask to his back, “But when have you ever pulled me to chat? Typically, you go the public humiliation route.”
He doesn’t say anything as you enter the room, but shuts the door the moment you’re inside. It’s only then that you notice the look in his eye. It’s slightly crazed and just a bit paranoid. What the hell?
“Are you good?” you ask hesitantly.
He nods again, but it’d be clear to anyone that he’s lying. “Have you…” He shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Have you heard anything about me today? Anyone ask you anything about me? Say anything?”
Your perplexed expression only grows. “Uh… no? Should I be? Hearing things, I mean? Did you do something?”
“Why do you assume I did something?” he asks.
You’re astounded by the nerve of him to be frustrated with you after he pulled you away from work to talk about petty shit like this. “Because you’re kidnapping me and taking me into the break room to ask if the popular girls are gossiping about you.”
His nostrils flare. “I’m serious.”
“I am, too,” you say. “This isn’t high school, Langdon. Nobody’s passing notes in the hall or starting rumors to get you kicked off the football team. I haven’t heard anything.”
(This was a lie, of course. Word traveled fast in this hospital, and there wasn’t a nurse on the payroll who didn’t love a gossip session. But, no, you hadn’t heard anything about him.)
The way he stares at you has you asking, “Are you okay? What’s got you so freaked out?”
“Nothing,” Langdon answers, perhaps a bit too quickly. Your eyes narrow. “I mean it, it’s--” He pushes both hands outward, like he’s expelling some sort of negative energy. “It’s nothing you want to be a part of. I just wanted to ask.”
You purse your lips, questions on your tongue, but you know they’re not worth asking. “O-kay,” you say instead, drawing the word out.
But he’s not done. Before you can make your exit from this delightfully awkward and strange conversation, he grabs your arm. You turn to him with wide eyes. “Just— if Santos comes to talk to you… let me know, okay?”
You’re three kinds of confused and are experiencing some major whiplash. You take his hand off of you, throwing it to the side. “Wha— Santos? What the hell is she—” You cut yourself off with another question. “Are you already fighting with the fucking intern?”
“No,” he says defiantly. “I’m not. Jesus. Just, please—”
“Then what is it? Did something happen?”
He shakes his head, blowing past you to get to the door. “It’s nothing. Don’t— don’t worry about it.” He meets your eyes briefly before turning back around. “Forget I said anything.”
He knows you won’t. Forgetting wasn’t something you did. He knows he just fucked himself over by simply bringing it up to you, but it’s too late to do anything about it now.
He walks out the door, his anxiety festering, and your suspicion rising.
JULY 1ST, 2025. (4:55 PM.)
Two hours left, you tell yourself. Two hours.
Despite the fact that there are only two hours left of your shift, you’ve been trying to ignore a migraine for the last thirty minutes. Literally and physically.
It had developed when Dana got hit. You were coming out of Trauma Two with Whitaker when you saw her stumble in, immediately springing into action alongside Robby. It took a look from him and a hand on your shoulder from Dana to keep you from running out into the parking lot to go find the guy and do God-knows-what, so you’d settled for keeping her company when she went to get a CT.
The migraine surfaced when she’d returned to the floor and had burned a hole in your head since then. You’d glance at her, letting her know that you were going to go run and grab some ibuprofen from your bag in your locker and that you’d be back in a minute.
(“I’m getting you some too,” you say as you walk away.
“I’m fine!” she calls after you, ice pack over her eye.
“I’m still getting you some!”)
You hadn’t meant to overhear it. You hadn’t meant to be there.
You don’t process it at first. You just hear what sounds like Robby and Langdon arguing. You hear the way Robby’s voice waivers as he tells Langdon to go home. What? He was being sent home?
And then it all comes crashing down.
Langdon’s pleading. He’s telling Robby it’s not what he thinks, that he’d hurt his back some time ago when moving. That he’s not an addict. An addict couldn’t do what he does.
It takes you a moment to put it all together, the shock of it all clouding your brain and your judgment. An addict? Who was…
Had Langdon been using? Is that what he was so worried about in the break room? Was he— Did he—?
You stumble backward, hand tracing the wall as you try to balance yourself and escape the area. There was no way this was happening. No fucking way.
But then you hear Robby chuck Langdon’s things at him and suddenly… It's all real.
You don’t want to be anywhere near this. This isn’t your business. This is something that’s between them-- something that Robby knows how to deal with. He always knows the right way to deal with everything. That’s kind of his thing.
You don’t want Robby to know you know. You don’t want Langdon to know you know.
So, you quietly walk back to the ED, migraine intensifying, and feeling more lightheaded than ever.
When you return to the floor empty-handed, Dana immediately notices. The sickly look on your face has her asking, “Where’s that ibuprofen?”
You blink twice, staring at her as you try to find the words. “I, uh—” You clear your throat. “I think I ran out. I-I’m gonna go see if I can find some.”
You take off before she can question anything else.
When Robby comes back and tells her that Langdon went home and he needs her to do a pharmacy audit, Dana puts two and two together.
(“I’m not gonna ask-- I’m not,” she says, eyeing him carefully. “But, just so you’re aware, Risky just came back from the lockers looking like she saw a ghost.”
Robby shuts his eyes, both hands rubbing against his neck to latch behind his head. “Nothing’s ever fucking easy, is it?”)
The next time you see your attending, you share a look. It’s a stone-faced plea on his end, an unspoken agreement on yours. He nods and then asks you to assist him in Trauma One.
Neither of you utter a word about it.
JULY 1ST, 2025. (6:55 PM)
You can’t breathe.
You’re caught in the height of the PittFest disaster, and there is just so much.
There’s been so much blood. So many people are hurt. So many people are dead. So much trying and not enough saving. There’s just so much… everything.
And you’re the only R4 left on the floor.
Collins left. You told her to. Robby told her to. After what she went through today, she should be gone. But Langdon…
Langdon’s gone. Potentially for good. And it’s his own fucking fault.
Of course, you know it’s more complicated than that. But right now, you can’t decipher up from down, let alone right from wrong.
The two people you’ve learned to rely on most (for better or for worse) are gone, and you’re in way over your head. You’re drowning, trying to stay above water. But as you continue to work, as you order your younger residents and med students around, knowing they’re floundering just as much as you are, you can’t help but freak out.
You’re supposed to hold down the fort. You’ve got Abbot and Robby and Mohan, you’ve got Walsh and Ellis and Shen, but you don’t have your people.
You don’t have Langdon.
He was so much better at situations like these than you were. He didn’t get flustered, he didn’t freeze up, he never had a problem with drowning. He was always cool and alert and ready for whatever was thrown at him.
And fuck— as much as you hated to admit it, you got used to him having your back out here. You got used to him.
As someone who hated change, that’s just about what tipped you over the edge.
You take what you think is a minute to yourself. You step back from the carnage in front of you to grab a new pair of gloves and take a second to breathe.
But you can’t find your breath. And it takes more than a second to realize that.
You only come to when you hear an inaudible voice from beside you. It sounds like whoever is speaking to you is underwater, drowning with you.
They grab you by the shoulders and turn you. You blink, dazed as you see Langdon’s face. His confused expression drops as he sees the look on your face and the speed at which your chest is moving up and down.
“Nope,” he says simply, shaking his head. “None of that. Get your fucking head on straight.”
A wheeze escapes your chest. “What are you— How are you—“
You can’t even get the words out. They’re overtaken by the breath you can’t catch. You try to contain it, not wanting to do this-- to be like this in front of him, but you’re too far gone. Too deep into it.
Langdon’s having none of it. “You’re not Flight Risk-ing it right now. Not now.” He grips your shoulders tighter. “We need you out there. We need you to be on it because no one out there can do what you do.”
“I can’t—” Your voice comes out unstable. “I just need— I was out—”
“Breathe,” he tells you. “Are you listening to me? Breathe. We need you.” He looks directly into your eyes. “I need you, okay? I fucking need you, so get the fuck out of your head and let’s go.”
As if those were the magic words, your brain flips a switch. You slowly regain your footing, any anxiety now replaced with anger toward him. You have no idea if that was his intention, or if he truly meant that, but the second your breath becomes something resembling regular, you use both hands to push him off of you. His lips part in surprise.
What a fucking joke. He needed you? You needed him and it was his own fucking fault that he wasn’t here.
“I was out there,” you barely manage to get out. You point toward the door with a shaking hand. “I was out there on my own. Without you. You’re always here when things go to shit and you weren’t fucking here, Frank.”
You watch as your words hit him. They’re said with such anger and resentment that he just barely registers that you’ve called him by his first name. You barely realize it. You’re not sure if you’ve ever done that before. That same anger also makes him think that you might know more about his situation than he thought.
But there’s no time to focus on that. No time to dwell on his feelings or yours. There are more important matters at hand.
“Well,” he says, throwing his hands up in a shrug. “I’m here now. And you can be pissed off at me out there. As long as you’re on the floor.”
You bite your tongue. There are so many things you want to say to that. So many. But he’s right. You need to get back out there. Your little panic attack can wait. You can bitch him out after you clock out; whenever this nightmare ends.
So, you resign and nod, finally breathing right. “Fine.”
He nods, giving you a once-over. You’re covered in blood. It’s smeared on your cheek, caught in your hair, and all over your scrubs. Your eyes are still wide, blown-out like you’re shell-shocked. But, you’re still you.
He doesn’t know what to do with the comfort that gives him.
He pushes all of that aside for now. “You good?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you breathe. “As good as I can be. You?”
“I’m good.” You don’t laugh in his face like you want to. “You ready?”
“No,” you answer honestly. “But that doesn’t matter, does it?”
You get a rare, genuine smile from him. It’s small, but it changes the entire composition of his face. “That’s the spirit.”
He waits for you to return to the floor before he follows. When the two of you take a moment to stop and observe the chaos before you rush right back into it, you exchange one last glance.
He nods at you, and then he’s off.
You break off in the opposite direction, refusing to focus on anything but the patients and doctors who need you.
JULY 1ST, 2025. (7:25 PM.)
Langdon’s had his eye on you since he returned to the ED.
You’ve been on the opposite side of the action, helping Robby and other red-banded patients. He’s worked with you once since he got back in, and while you seemed to be able to compartmentalize enough to collect yourself, he’s still worried about you.
He knows it’s rich coming from him, given everything that’s currently going on, but still. He’d never seen you like that, not even in med school when you were more neurotic than you were presently. He prays he won’t ever have to again.
But right now, he’s even more nervous about it because he can’t find you. And he needs you.
He can’t access a vein for the current patient he’s working on, and if he doesn’t, he’s going to lose the guy. As he racks his brain for solutions, he freezes.
You. Shit, he needs you.
He knows, in theory, what to do. But you know exactly what to do and how to do it.
But again, he can’t find you. You’ve disappeared from his line of sight, and it freaks him out more than it should. The guy he’s operating on just tried to pull a gun. He figured he had a right to be worried.
Fuck it. He didn’t have time to look for you. He’d do it himself. He’d read about it a couple of years ago anyway.
Langdon runs back to the guy like a bat out of hell, with necessary supplies in hand. Mohan’s eyes go wide when she sees him. “What are you doing?” she asks.
“Giving this guy a chance,” he replies, getting his bearings. “He needs a big central line for fast transfusion.”
Mohan’s brow furrows. “You can't do an IJ without an ultrasound, especially on a guy this big.”
Mateo looks up at him, continuing his chest compressions. “You'll kill him if you collapse a lung or hit the carotid.”
“I’m not doing an IJ,” Langdon says, glancing at Mohan. “Unhook that blood line. Bring it up here.” She does as she’s told, watching intently as Langdon sets up everything he needs. “This is a supraclavicular subclavian. If you have to go in blind, this is the only safe way to access a giant vein.” He goes to move Mateo out of the way. “And hold compressions.”
Readjusting himself, he continues, “A centimeter from the lateral head of the sternocleidomastoid, a centimeter off the clavicle, aiming at the contralateral nipple.” He successfully inserts the syringe he’s holding, and he begins to draw blood. “I'm in. Okay! Resume compressions.” As they do, and everything starts to work normally again, he feels the nerves wear off. “And squeeze blood!”
It works. Of course it fucking works. It takes everything in Langdon’s body to stop himself from laughing.
Mohan stares at him in awe. “Where’d you learn that?”
Subconsciously, he finds himself scanning the room for you once more. You’re back in the action as if you were never gone, drilling an IO for a patient and moving on to their injuries with the grace and ease that had become synonymous with your name.
His gaze dips as he takes off his gloves. He shrugs, glancing over at you briefly once more as you readjust your loupes to fix up the patient’s GSW. “Some research paper from 2021.”
Mohan tracks the exact place his eyes went, a small, disbelieving grin growing on her lips as she puts the pieces together. “Seriously?”
“Don’t tell her,” he mutters, passing her to move on to the next patient. “She’ll never let me live it down.”
JULY 1ST, 2025. (9:43 PM.)
It’s the first thing Mohan tells you after you clock out.
After you grab your things from your locker, you run into her on your way outside. You almost don’t realize that she’s beside you, somehow too dissociated from the world and too focused on what you’ve tasked yourself with to register anything.
You flinch when she starts speaking, her shoulder bumping into yours. “Random question,” she says. The way she speaks tells you it’s not random at all. “Did you write a paper about performing a supraclavicular subclavian?”
You blink at her in surprise. Your brain’s completely fried, and you’re slow to process her words, but when you finally do, your brow furrows. “Uh, yeah. Like, forever ago in school. How do you—”
“Langdon did one on one of the mass casualty patients today.” There’s a small smile on her face, as if she knows something you don’t. “He saved the man’s life. I didn’t even know that was a thing. It was pretty cool.”
That first piece of information catches you more off guard than anything else that was thrown at you today. You’re sure it shows on your face. He… what?
You’re so, completely overwhelmed by everything that you don’t hear the sound of the ER doors opening behind the two of you. Mohan glances past you, and luckily, she misses the dazed look on your face. She sends a small smile to Abbot and Robby, and she’s already moving on before you even have a chance to answer her previous question. “Can you send that to me?” she asks. “Or any other research you’ve done on weird, niche procedures? I’d love to learn how to do it.”
“That’s Risky’s specialty,” Abbot chimes in from behind the two of you. The sound of his voice makes you jump out of your skin. “Never met a research freak like her.”
Ignoring the way that your mind’s spinning, you lean over and narrow your eyes at him, a small smile twisting your lips. “The next time you want to see my case notes, I’m burning them in front of you.”
“A fire hazard in a hospital should be good for everyone,” he replies.
You shrug. “After today, I think we can handle a little fire.”
Abbot huffs a laugh in agreement. “Fair enough,” he says, then nods toward the park. “You coming for a drink?”
“Not tonight,” you reply. “I’m here at seven tomorrow. Samira’s got me trying to cut back on my Red Bull intake, so unfortunately, I’ve got to get at least six hours or I’ll lose it.”
Mohan scowls at you, but before she can say anything, Robby pats you on the shoulder, speaking up for the first time since he got out here. “Get some sleep. You did great today.”
Your smile grows, and you shake your head. “Heard. Thanks, Doc.” You glance back over at Mohan. “And I’ll send over what I’ve got,” you tell her, taking a step back to exit the conversation. “We still on for drinks later this week?”
A hesitant look overtakes her expression. “I don’t know, I—”
“What did I say? I’m getting you out of your cave.” You shoot her a look. “Don’t make me threaten to withhold my research.”
Finally, you get a smile. “Fine. Yes. We’re still on.”
“Good,” you say, turning to walk away. From over your shoulder, you call, “Get some rest. All of you!”
“Not sure I know what that is,” Abbot responds.
You find yourself chuckling as you walk away. It’s only then, when you hear the crinkling in your pocket, that your steps falter. Suddenly, you remember what you originally came out here to do. Who you came out to find.
And now, you’ve got something else to talk to him about.
You find Langdon toward the back of the hospital. You knew he’d still be here. Of course, he’s still here.
He’s sitting on the curb, head between his legs and in his hands. Your shoes scrape against the pavement, and the sound makes his head snap up. There’s a look of hope on his face-- hope that you, maybe, were someone else. It’s evident by the way his expression disappears the second he meets your eyes. He sighs, and it’s something heavy and labored as his head drops back into his hands.
Neither of you says anything. He doesn’t know why you’re here or what you want, but frankly, he couldn’t give less of a shit. He was at the end of the worst day of his life. He might as well round it out with a conversation with you.
After a hesitant moment, you take a seat on the curb next to him. There’s just enough space between you two that it’s not overwhelming, but still mildly intimate. It’s safe. You never thought you’d want to be this close to him, but after today? Anything goes.
As Langdon’s mind continues to spin, he’s pulled out of his misery by the sound of that same crinkling that stopped you in your tracks. It’s obnoxious against the quiet of the night, but it confuses him more than anything. He lifts his head to look over at you, only to see a bag of Peanut M&Ms outstretched in your hand.
It’s your version of a peace offering. He glances up at you, suspicion written across his face with the smallest glint of humor in his eyes. When he doesn’t immediately take them, you push the bag out at him once more, as if the offer’s going to expire.
With another long, heavy sigh, he snatches it from you, and you have to pretend like that doesn’t end a wave of relief through you. You fish through your sweatshirt pocket to find the bag of regular M&Ms you bought for yourself, tearing into them once they’re in your hand.
For a long while, neither of you speak. It’s an odd, stark contrast to what you’re used to with him. There’s no bickering, no expectation for a quick and witty rebuttal to shut him up. It’s just you and him, sitting on a curb outside the hospital, coming down from an adrenaline high the likes of which you’ve never felt. You’re two people who went through something completely, out-of-this-world awful, eating M&Ms together with no words to exchange. You’re still shaking.
(Langdon notices the way your fingers tremble as they reach into your bag, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Perhaps that’s his peace offering.)
Instead, he asks, “Vending machine?”
He doesn’t look over at you. It’s a casual question, one asked as he chews, as if he’d asked for the weather or what the time was. But you’re open to it.
“Yup,” you say shortly. “You got the last bag.”
Langdon nods. “Cool.”
“Yup,” you repeat.
Another beat passes between you. Then, he asks, “How’d you know?”
You glance over as he lifts the bag up, then shrug. “It was your study snack,” you reply. “Only thing I ever saw you get from that loud-ass machine in the library.”
He nods again, but it’s slower this time. “You were always good at that.” When he feels your eyes on the side of his face, he finally meets them. “Noticing things.”
“Yeah,” you say with a shrug, because you’re not sure what else to say. “It’s kinda part of the job.”
You both turn away from each other again, the air between you two feeling just a bit tighter this time around. You can’t hear anything but the sounds of the city and the hospital, and the crinkling of your candy bags.
You’re the first to speak this time. “You alright?”
It comes out more timid than you had wanted, but he doesn’t seem to react to it. “Yeah,” he replies. You know it’s a lie. “You?”
A sigh creeps up on you. “Yeah,” you repeat.
He knows it’s a lie. There’s a silent agreement between you that you won’t call each other out.
“I heard--” You clear your throat as your voice comes out a little too raspy for your liking. “I heard you did a supraclavicular subclavian?”
He stops mid-chew and shuts his eyes. “Fucking Slo-Mo.”
His reaction has the beginnings of a smile tugging at your lips. If you needed any sort of confirmation that Mohan was telling the truth, he just gave it to you. “You read my paper?” you ask.
Your voice is light and just a bit teasing, but there’s a fondness in it that Langdon’s not sure he’s ever heard directed at him. It’s enough to have him muttering, “I could have read or heard about that anywhere--”
“But you didn’t,” you say. “You read my paper.”
Langdon nearly groans. “I told her not to—”
“You read my paper,” you repeat again, grin growing larger. “All that talk in med school about how you didn’t trust my research and—”
“I always trusted your research,” he interjects, pointing at you. “You were way too much of a meticulous, pedantic freak for any of that to be wrong. I didn’t trust your indecisive, game-time, on-the-spot procedures.” When he sees you rolling your eyes, he suppresses his own smile. “But a case study written by that meticulous freak about a new, risky procedure? I’m reading that entire thing front to back.”
You hate the feeling that stirs in your chest. You hate the fact that his validation still gets that type of reaction from you. You don’t need it. You knew that paper was good. You had the acclaim and accolades to prove it. But hearing it from him and knowing that he didn’t just read it, but he fucking remembered it well enough to use it in an emergency situation?
That’ll get you. That’ll get you every time.
Fuck, you hate yourself for it.
Despite all of that, your smile stays on your face as you nod along. You lean in slightly when you ask, “It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, waving you off. The humor in his voice isn’t missed. “It’s cool.”
You don’t know why you do it. Maybe it’s your exhaustion. Maybe you’re still reeling from the day. Maybe it’s because you suddenly feel closer to him than you’ve ever felt before. Maybe it’s because he’s being open and as nice as he can muster up right now.
Whatever it is, you pop an M&M in your mouth and say, “I read a couple of your papers, too.”
Now, it’s his turn to be surprised. You don’t look at him, but you can see the smirk growing on his face out of the corner of your eye. “Did you?”
“One or two of them,” you shrug. “Had to know what riveting content my mortal enemy was researching. Couldn’t have him writing a better paper than me.”
“I’m sure that’s what it was.”
“It was,” you insist, though you know it’ll fall on deaf ears. “I’m nothing if not competitive.”
Langdon huffs. “Don’t I know it.”
“I wouldn’t be talking,” you scoff. “If I’m competitive, you’re--”
“I know. I’m bad too,” he says, chuckling softly. “Wouldn’t have been half as fun if we weren’t.”
Your brow lifts in agreement. “Right on.”
You lean back, holding yourself upright with your arms behind you. The mulch on the ground sticks into your palms, but you’re too exhausted to care. With another long sigh, you stare up at the sky, the lights from the hospital and the city clouding your view of the stars. You’re about to muse about how much you miss seeing them when he says, “‘Mortal enemy,’ huh?”
“I don’t have a ton of them.” You shrug. “You didn’t have a lot of competition.”
He hums. “Guess I should be lucky that I’m number one.”
“Easiest thing you’ve ever won,” you say, failing to bite back your grin.
“Only thing I didn’t have to compete with you for.” He shakes another M&M into his hand. “Of course it was easy.”
That grin of yours falters slightly. When you try to respond, you find that your words fail.
Luckily, he continues by asking, “So, what did you think?”
“Of what?” you question.
“My papers,” he says. “The ones you’ve read because you trust my work so much.”
That strange feeling stirs in your stomach again, but this time, it’s a little different. While it’s familiar, you can’t define it. It causes enough discomfort in you that you feel yourself withdrawing from him. This is too comfortable. Too nice.
There’s a piece of you that needs things to return to normal. To get back on course. But that other piece of you, the one that harbors all of your anger toward him-- that one suddenly overtakes you. It’s like you remembered what you really came out here for. It wasn’t just to find him and eat candy with him. It wasn’t to joke around like you’re old friends. Because you’re not.
You came out to make sure he was stable. Okay. And then, you came to yell at him.
You don’t look at him when you say it. Your eyes return to the night sky, and you sigh. It’s deep enough for Langdon’s expression to morph into something confused.
“I’ll let you know when you get back,” you say, voice soft and sad.
He doesn’t get it at first. That confusion he wears becomes more prominent, and his brows knit together. But then, you look at him. You’re disappointed. You’re angry. You’re upset. He’s seen all of that, but never all together. Never like this.
Then, it clicks.
The color drains from his face. “Did fucking Santos tell you? Because I swear to God, if she—”
“Do not,” you begin, voice so lethal that it has him snapping his mouth shut, “blame Santos for this. She did exactly what she was supposed to do. She’s not the one using. She’s not the one who fucked up. That is on you.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “Jesus, did she tell everyone? I don’t fucking need this from you—”
“She didn’t tell me,” you say. Your voice is firm, and he chances a look at you. “She didn’t need to. I heard you and Robby fighting.” Lighter, you add, “You pulling me into the break room and talking about Santos didn’t help your case either. I kind of put two and two together.”
He doesn’t have anything to say to that. He just sits there, drained and miserable, unsure of where he stands with… anything. His eyes shut, and he turns away from you, jaw trembling.
When he finally speaks, his words are quiet. “I’m not an addict.”
“You are,” you reply, and a small piece of your heart breaks as his shoulders slump, defeated. While you may not be his biggest fan, you don’t like seeing him like this. It’s so hard to hate him like this. “But you’re going to fix that.”
A humorless, rough laugh escapes his lips. “Because it’s that easy.”
“It’s not. And it won’t be,” you state, refusing to bite at his attempt at an argument. “It’s going to be hard every single day going forward. But you’re going to do it.”
He’s quiet for a long while again. He obviously doesn’t know what to do with you right now. He’s not used to talking like this with you. It’s just as uncomfortable for him as it is for you.
But then, “You sound so sure.”
His sarcasm comes off half-hearted. It’s like he’s trying to put up that ever-familiar wall between you two, but can’t. There’s too much uncertainty in it. For the first time in years, you feel like he’s being one-hundred-percent vulnerable with you. You figure you owe him the same kindness.
“I am,” you tell him. There’s no room for arguing.
You watch him nod. “How do you know?”
A smile graces your lips. “Because I know you,” you say. His heart pulls at how honest you sound. “And when the hell have you ever given up on something just because it’s hard?”
If he didn’t know what to say to your previous comments, you’ve left him dead in the water with this one. It feels like a good parting line, and you don’t have much more to say.
So, you stand, brushing the dirt off your hands onto your scrub pants. He’s still looking at you intently, like he’s trying to figure you out. He walked into work today with his relationship with you completely cut and dry. You didn’t like each other. You didn’t get along, and you had your history, but you worked well together. That was it.
But you’d lived through something traumatic together today. Not only that, but you knew why he’d be taking a leave of absence. Now, he felt exposed, as if you could read him better than anyone else. Maybe you could.
You hadn’t weaponized it, though. Not that he thought you would. But still… You could have. You hadn’t. There had to be something to that.
Before you can say your indefinite goodbyes or leave, he clears his throat. Gently, he says, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me today.”
With a small, sad smile, you readjust your bag on your shoulder. “Just be there for the team next year,” you tell him. “We’ll call it even.”
He doesn’t know why you’re being so kind to him. He doesn’t feel like he deserves it. You’ve never been like this with him before. Perhaps he didn’t give you the opportunity to.
Before you leave, you nod at him. “Good luck, Langdon,” you say.
As you walk away, he can’t help but feel like you’re taking something of his with you.
