Eli

19 | Pro0ongle_18 on AO3 | AroAce

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Masterlist

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Main Ships:

Merthur:

Sharing a Bed is Ludicrous | AO3

Tavern again, eh? | AO3

The Bets Are Off | AO3

Bring Me To Life | AO3

Meet Me Halfway | AO3

Heaven's Gate | AO3 | Tumblr

Steddie:

Secret Keeping | AO3 | Tumblr

The King Has Lost His Crown | AO3 | Tumblr

America's Suitehearts | AO3 | Tumblr

Flambert:

Workplace Betting | AO3 | Tumblr

Office Adventures With Aria | AO3 | Tumblr

Fake Dating For Paparazzi | AO3 | Tumblr

Hold Me Like A Grudge | AO3 | Tumblr

Malec:

Silver is Rarer than Gold | AO3

Wenclair:

American Beauty / American Psycho | AO3 | Tumblr

Misc Ships:

Klance

Kiribaku

Anderperry

Wilmon

Payneland

Ineffable Husbands

Requests Are Open!

I write fluff, angst, crack treated seriously, and potentially smut in the future.

I'll write oneshots, drabbles, series and headcanons as well, just bear with me on how long they'll take :)

Please note that I do have boundaries and will not write anything that crosses them, this includes (but is not limited to) ships I don't agree with, problematic ships, morally corrupt/dubious plotlines etc

I am open to writing about fandoms not listed here though, just let me know where the ships is from in advance :)

X Readers:

I will x readers if requested, so far they're limited to my wattpad but I'm open to publishing them here too :)

Again, I'll take requests for characters but if they have a canon sexuality (gay/lesbian/aromantic etc) I will be writing the reader in accordance with that.

AO3

As always, my AO3 will be linked with every story that requires it. I do cross-post a lot of my fics there anyway but some either won't be posted there or will only be posted there.

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Missing Inhibitions - Tarzan

Word Count: 1,523

CW: Swearing, Exhibitionism, Public Nudity, Male Masturbation, Not proof read - 18+ Content! MDNI!

Requested: Yes! Thank you @midnightking24 for the request :)

Summary: After a few days of exploring the jungle, Tarzan finds himself in a bit of a predicament whist swinging back to his family's camp. In the rush of swinging through vines, he manages to lose his loincloth, the small shred of dignity in the jungle. In the search to find a replacement, he realises something about himself and perhaps explores this new opportunity.

This is my first smut fic so please be kind! T^T

The jungle wasn't exactly known for its civilised nature. It was wild and unpredictable. For most, the jungle was a vast expanse of chaos - no rules to follow, no thoughts to repress and certainly no shame to feel.

It was a far cry from Central London to say the least.

Tarzan knew he was different from the day he learnt to walk. Despite his mother's constant reassurances that he was, in fact, her son, fitting in never got easier. He picked up habits from the other gorillas, never once felt insecure regarding the lack of body hair in comparison to the others. To him, he was one of them, looks or not.

One key attribute to the jungle Tarzan found home in was that it was extremely humid. Whilst his body had adapted quickly to the temperatures and climate, some days were worse than others in terms of heat. Tarzan was at least greatful that the only cover he had to wear was the loincloth. His mother had drilled into him the importance of decency, whether he was covered head-to-toe in hair or as bare as his once-baby backside.

So Tarzan wore the loincloth.... most of the time.

🌴

Tarzan thought himself a master of vine swinging by now. He'd been doing it his whole life and the thrill of hopping between one vine to the next would never get old, he was sure of it. Besides being a fun travel method, it was great for drying off after the obligatory wash in the creek.

With not much going on in the jungle, it was one of Tarzan's favourite pass times to go for a swing around, explore some new territory, maybe stay for the night before returning to his family. A man has needs afterall.

It just so happened that on his particular occasion, Tarzan was on his way back from a long exploration of the new territory he found. He had spent the last few days on sandy beaches where he could splash in the shore or walking through shrubbery that offered new berries for the picking. He had a run-in with a fairly aggressive snake but swinging was Tarzan's speciality and escaping was an easy feat.

Regardless, he had been swinging for the last day and bit, not keeping track admittedly as he focused solely on the breeze that perforated his long locks instead. He found a clearing suitable for resting and perched himself on a fallen log to soak up the remaining sun. It was only when the breeze picked up again that he realised his lower half was airier than normal.

Glancing down, he noticed the distinct lack of loincloth that once guarded his nether regions. Tarzan's face twisted into a huff, he must have lost it during his zoned-out swinging and not realised. The issue was that he was only a few miles from his family's camp and who knows how far back he had lost the damn cloth. He'd have to find another before his mother found out and lost her mind.

Exhaling a big sigh, Tarzan pulled himself to his feet and climbed the nearest tree. The feeling of rough tree bark against the length of his cock was a feeling he never envisioned happening, especially not like this. Sure, he had gotten off before in the comfort of his own, notably far away, tree but he had relied heavily on his own hands for that - not a tree.

He wouldn't deny the feeling was pleasant.

Securing a vine, Tarzan began his hunt for a new loincloth, hoping to find one before he reached camp with his family. Now that he was aware of his nudity, the distinct beginnings of his hardening cock became more apparent. He wasn't sensitive per say, but the vine brushing against his length so snuggly drove him crazy in a way he found overwhelming.

One part of him was grateful the jungle inhabitants were winding down the the evening and making themselves scarce. The other part of him was mildly disappointed by the lack of attention he was receiving. There was something oddly thrilling - exciting even - at the idea of someone else seeing his manhood so proudly on display. His cock twitched in delight as the thought crossed his mind.

Stifling a grunt, he swung to the next vine, keeping his eye out for any sufficient cloth replacement. The wind caressed his body as he flew through the air, driving him that bit further insane. Landing on a nearby branch, Tarzan grappled with the idea of a quick orgasm before he continued his search. It would certainly make his plight more manageable, but anyone could stumble upon him at his most vulnerable.

The thought sent another, bigger, twitch to his cock that he couldn't so easily ignore anymore.

🌴

There was something inherently freeing about swinging unclothed through the jungle that Tarzan enjoyed more than he likely should. He couldn't help the growing hardness he felt nor the urge to continue swinging in the hopes that someone would look up.

His teeth sink into his lip, he was learning a lot about himself these past few days. Most apparently, he couldn't deny himself the pleasure any longer.

Making sure he was far enough away from his family's camp, yet still close enough to return without issue, he climbed his way to the top of the tallest tree he could find and slouched against the bark.

His cock, thick and long enough to rival those of the other gorillas', pressed against his thigh with a slight curve - eager for release after the exhilarating swing. It was a collection of wiry veins all leading to the tip that throbbed an angry red at the lack of pleasure. Drops of pre-cum trickled from the slit onto his skin, painting it white.

His head hits the trunk behind him with a "thunk" as his hand trails down his defined stomach, prickles of electric tingles under his skin as his fingertips pass over until he reaches the base of his shaft. That mild touch alone sent waves of pleasure through him that couldn't be stifled no matter how hard he tried. His hips jerked uncontrollably into his own hand, his breath catching in his throat.

Wrapping his hand around the base, Tarzan slowly eased his hand up toward the tip, watching the beads of precum dribble onto his fingers with a shaky sigh. His cock was hot to the touch, smooth skin a contrast to the coarse hair surrounding his pubic bone. He stroked his length with growing urgency, the tightness in his balls growing with each pass.

"Ohh... f-fuck" he breathes.

He knew his body well, knew he needed to start slow and work his way up until he was wrecked. Knew the exact spot on the underside of his cock that would give an involuntary jerk when enough pressure was applied. There was an art to squeezing just below the head before an oncoming orgasm that had him seeing stars.

His wrist found the rhythm before his brain did. Gradually increasing the speed of his strokes until he was reduced to a panting mess. He spread his legs that little bit wider, allowing his wrist to move without restraint, squeezing harder with the incoming orgasm building in his balls.

"Fuck... Ohh." he groans, giving an experimental twist to his wrist that had his eyes glazing over with unbridled lust.

His hips jerked into his clentched hand, fucking it wild in a way that had more heat pooling in his lower abdomen. It was too much - the pleasure building up beneath his skin was spilling over at a rapid pace.

His hips stuttered, that little sign that he was on the cusp of release. His cock pulsed and within seconds of his final firm squeeze, he was coming. He gutteral moan leaving his lips as cum spilled out over his fist and onto his thighs in thick, white ropes.

His chest heaved, greedily taking in air as his high slowly dwindled. His hand gave a few meager strokes that had his legs trembling through the remains of his orgasm.

There wasn't a lot he could use in terms of cleaning himself up, but until he could find a nearby creek, he'd have to make due.

🌴

Finding a creek proved easier than he anticipated. The sound of flowing water drew him in immediately, only a short distance from the tree he had temporarily found shelter in. By the time he had pulled himself together, the sky had darkened to a pitch black and stars twinkled from between the canopy of leaves above. Predators would likely still be luring for a quick hunt so he had to be quick. Even if the idea of being caught excited him just a little.

The other issue was finding a suitable replacement for his loincloth before he returned to camp. It proved more difficult than first anticipated, however, after searching the jungle floor with the precision of gorilla's grooming, he finally found a suitable scrap of cloth that would work perfectly. And no one would have to know of this ordeal.

🌴

Masterlist

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Helloooo :>

Just a quick one to say my requests are open 💞

I'll write pretty much anything but I have a list in my masterlist if you're interested :)

Thank you!

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Heaven's Gate - Merthur

Word Count: 4,840

CW: swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, angst, major character death

Summary: Arthur's sick of the are-we-aren't-we he has with Merlin, what better time to change that than early spring, the season of love and renewal? Along the way, secrets are shared, feelings are hurt, and realisations are made.

Masterlist

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Winter had been and went in Camelot, it was the worst one they had seen since before The Great Purge and many people in the lower town suffered as a result of the harsher conditions. The last few weeks had been dedicated to providing aid to those living in that segment of the kingdom – food, warm clothing and furs, water that hadn’t froze, and anything else that became apparent later on. It was moments like this where Arthur was proud to be part of Camelot, the community’s togetherness was something to be admired.

That being said, everyone in the kingdom breathed a sigh of relief when the first inklings of spring crept through the streets. The snowfall thawed and the water returned to the town pumps, even birds tweeting slowly faded back into their mornings bringing the joy of spring with them. Best of all, the dark nights retreated feeding light to the early mornings once again which meant he could torment Merlin by waking him up earlier whilst he gave himself a lie in.

What wonderful times are upon us.

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Aside from the warmer weather and longer daylight hours, spring brought love and renewal with it – as cliché as that sounds. There were still cold days where they were reminded winter hadn’t completely disappeared but as the birds returned to Camelot and her surrounding forests, the kingdom deemed it bearable until the warmer weather cascaded over the town.

It was a transition time which meant anything could happen whether good or bad, maybe even personal or communal. Many would take advantage of this time to renew their relationships or start new ones, with winter’s clutches finally relinquished, they were free to mingle once again and host little get together to catch up. Arthur was one of these people.

He saw the majority of his friends and family around the castle so renewal wasn’t a million miles away but now he could return to the activities he most enjoyed – that being training with the knights, exploring the market with Morgana and Gwen, and making Merlin read books to him in a field of flowers. This year, however, Arthur wanted to focus on romance. His father had been adamant about marriage and settling down especially as Arthur grows older by the years, meaning he either finds someone himself or he agrees to an arranged marriage set up by his father – which might actually be the end of him.

That being said, Arthur already had a someone in mind, a certain clumsy manservant of his that tripped over nothing and stumbled into his life randomly. He was annoyed that Morgana noticed his feelings before he did, she hasn’t stopped teasing him since Merlin first saved him from that old woman’s revenge plot and it was growing tiring. Unlike Morgana, however, Arthur had a plan to make Merlin his that was so fool-proof, even Lancelot had agreed it was good.

He had taken all the things Merlin loved (and he loved about Merlin) and turned it into the perfect date, one that would be memorable for the two of them regardless of where their relationship goes. He had already told Audrey to prepare them a few meals fit for a picnic along with a variety of fruits that Merlin mentioned in passing that he liked. He borrowed a blanket from Morgana which he stuffed inside a pack along with a waterskin and the book Merlin had started reading to him a while ago that they never finished. He had even picked the place for their picnic in advance, making sure it was close enough to Camelot should there be an emergency, but secluded enough that they couldn’t be interrupted.

Now it was just a case of waiting for the right day.

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Sunlight poured through the windows as Merlin pulls the curtains open, shining onto Arthur’s sleeping face causing him to scrunch his eyes tighter. He rolls over, trying to drift back off to sleep for those extra few minutes in bed but Merlin was having none of it.

“Rise and shine, princey!” he beams, tugging the covers away from Arthur’s sleeping form. “Breakfast is ready, get up or I’ll eat it myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare, Merlin.” Arthur grumbles into his pillow, reaching for his blankets half-heartedly. He’d never admit it, but he enjoyed being woken up by Merlin, the little titbits of personality he threw in to keep things interesting was so like him, it was almost adorable. Compared to George who was very by-the-book and proper, Merlin’s energetic playfulness was something that couldn’t be replicated. Arthur hoped he could be woken up like this every day for the rest of his life, the idea of not having Merlin around was both depressing and frightening – especially when the idiot refused sword fighting lessons, Arthur swears he does it on purpose just to freak him out.

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Merlin's teasing voice pulls him from his thoughts, smooth like honey and yet so addictive. “Would you like to find out, clotpole?”

“Merlin,” Arthur warns, though his voice held no anger, only amusement. He sits up in bed, the blankets pooling around his waist as he stares at the manservant with a half-lidded gaze. “One, don’t you dare touch my breakfast before I’ve had a chance to wake up. Second, I’ve told you many a time not to call your prince that.”

Merlin just snickers, moving to fetch Arthur’s clothes from the wardrobe whilst the latter shook himself awake. “My apologies, sire,” he responds though it lacks any true remorse. “I’ll from this moment forth refer to you only as his royal pratness. Seems reasonable, don’t you think?” he makes his way over to the divider that Arthur had parked behind and threw the shirt and trousers over the top to hang until Arthur was ready.

“Ha ha, very funny, Merlin. You seem to be in an unusually good mood today, something happened?” Arthur asks, taking the shirt from the divider and pulling it over head.

“A letter from my mother came this morning,” Merlin replies, his tone lighter and fonder. Arthur loved hearing Merlin talk about his mother and Ealdor, he felt it strengthened their connection and allowed Arthur into a piece of his history that he hoped to see for himself at a better time. He knew Hunith, of course, but since that prior attack they hadn’t had the chance to visit, much to Merlin's dismay. Luckily, they were close enough that when Hunith sent a letter, it was usually addressed to them both as Merlin would only tell Arthur everything anyway.

“Oh? How is Hunith? Is she alright?” Arthur asks, hoping to get Merlin to elaborate. He liked hearing him talk, even if it was mindless drivel.

“She’s doing well, says the village is stronger than before with our help and their crops are starting to grow again,” Merlin summarises, hanging a belt off the edge of the divider before moving around the room to collect Arthur’s laundry for his next chore. “She’s hoping that within the next few weeks their fields will be full of new seeds and the children will finally be able to play again. Did I tell you about her new hobby? She took up quilting, says it’s been really helping with the cold nights and keeping herself busy without me there to chase after.”

“Oh really? That’s admirable, we should go visit and see if she’ll make one for us.” Arthur suggests, hobbling out from behind the divider as he tries to get his boot on. Once it’s on, he takes his seat at the desk and looks over his breakfast – two sausages, two eggs, a drumstick and some cheese. Merlin had really bargained with Audrey by the looks of it, not that he minded of course.

“I agree,” Merlin replies, carrying the laundry basket on his hip as he turns his gaze to the prince. “I’m sure she’d love to make sure we’re warm enough, she worries a lot since we left. She’ll fatten us up before we leave though, not that you need it.”

“Merlin,” Arthur chides, side eyeing the manservant with lingering amusement. “What did we say?”

“Right, sorry, your royal pratness.” Merlin clarifies. “You have a meeting with your father before noon and then training with the knights at mid-afternoon. I have some errands to run for Gaius, so I'll be out most of today. I’m sure George will step in.”

Arthur internally groans for several reasons he won’t explain aloud. He dreaded meetings with his father, usually it meant a lecture about responsibilities and taking over the kingdom soon. If he had to sit through another “pick a princess and marry her already, Arthur” he was going to lose his mind. Added to the fact that Merlin was disappearing off somewhere for Gaius which meant Arthur would have to deal with several hours of George’s prim and proper services, he wasn’t having an easy day.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur rests his chin on his palm, nudging his food around his plate with his fork. “Do you have to? Is it so urgent that it requires your immediate attention?”

Merlin snorts, pausing his task to meet the prince’s gaze. Their eyes met and Arthur swore there was a spark of something between them. “Can’t live without me, can you? Unless you want to risk the catastrophe of swerving your duties, you’re free to join me. Though I’m sure your father would have an aneurysm if he found out.”

“Can’t be any worse than the lectures he’s been giving me recently. “Find a bride, Arthur” “You need an heir, Arthur” “Marry a good princess, Arthur, the bloodline requires it”. Does he ever get tired of the same shitty line just worded differently?” Arthur grumbles, taking an aggressive bite of the pork sausage on his fork. “Honestly, it’s as if he still sees me as the naive child I once was. I’m twenty-five, I’m an adult for Christ’s sake.”

“Wow, twenty-five and you’re still unwed, what a disgrace.” Merlin teases, wandering over and taking the pitcher from beside Arthur’s plate. He pours the water into Arthur’s empty goblet then sets it back down.

“Says you, I bet you’re on the cusp of disgrace as well, aren’t you?” Arthur scoffs, leaning back in his chair, both arms extended to rest on the desk.

“I’m twenty-three, thank you. I have a few more years before I reach pinnacle disappointment crisis.” Merlin replies, a smirk pulling at his lips. He shifts his weight to one leg, holding the basket on his hip, his free hand resting sassily on the other. “Besides, I’m too busy running around after you to be falling in love. At this rate, I’ll just marry the job.”

“By job do you mean me?” Arthur smirks, it was the smoothest line he had dropped whilst being fully aware of his own flirting. “Because I’m sure there’s an unspoken rule about that, Merlin.”

The latter rolls his eyes so hard Arthur was scared they’d disappear inside his skull. “Don’t flatter yourself, prat. Anyone who gets stuck with you should be tested for insanity.”

“Ouch.” Arthur grumbles, swatting at Merlin’s hand that reaches for the drumstick on his plate. “Thank you, Merlin, very helpful.”

“My pleasure.” Merlin beams.

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

It wasn’t often that Arthur got a break in his busy schedule, usually it was packed with meetings or signing official documents related to the kingdom’s growth, or even just some kind of abnormal quest that seems to happen very often. And whilst he was used to Merlin wandering off on silly errands, he wanted today to be about them, about the picnic he had arranged for them weeks in advance, he was tired of the casual flirting and needed something real before he lost his mind.

He found himself storming through the corridors, hoping that Merlin had returned from his errands so Arthur could steal him away under the guise of a preposterous quest out of the citadel. It seemed luck wasn’t in his favour, however, when he ran into Morgana and Gwen leaving the former’s bedchambers. They spot him and their faces brighten with teasing mischief.

“Arthur! How’s it going with Merlin? Finally asked yet?” Morgana smirks, crossing her arms over her chest. She wore a long white dress with a spare neckline and long sheer sleeves. It had a lace layer sewen over top with gold detailing patterned throughout, paired with her intricate gold jewellery and light-coloured flats. Her hair was styled in a braided bun with a few strands left free to frame her face.

To her left, Gwen stood with a soft smile, she wore a long, deep burgundy dress with drooping sleeves and a square neckline. She paired it with an intricate gold belt around her hips and a gold locket necklace. It seemed Morgana had tended to her hair, making her curls more defined and half tied up, enough to look elegant.

Arthur huffs at her teasing, unamused. “Har har, very funny. I haven’t had the chance, he’s being pulled away every five minutes to run errands for Gaius. At this rate, I’ll never ask him.”

“Well, that’s no way to talk,” Gwen chimes in, tilting her head knowingly at him. “You’re the prince, aren’t you? Make time.”

Arthur parts his lips to argue then pauses. She wasn’t wrong in the sense that he could order Merlin to drop his chores, but he knew Gaius was probably hindering on Merlin completing them. Wait a minute, George!

“You’re right, Gwen, I’ll make time.” Arthur grins, gently patting her shoulder as he passes by. “Have fun on your date!”

“How did he--?” Gwen mumbles, a rosy flush forming on her cheeks.

Morgana snorts. “Takes one to know one, I guess. We better leave before someone else interrupts us.” She takes Gwen’s hand, laying a suave kiss on her knuckles before urging her down the hallway opposite to where Arthur was heading.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Arthur barges into Gaius’ chambers without knocking, words already spewing from his lips before he could stop them. “Gaius! I need Merlin for something, in return, I’ll have George take over whatever chores Merlin hasn’t finished—”

Two shocked faces stare back at him, Gaius was leaning against his workbench, myriad potions and alchemy equipment sprawled out in front of him, sizzling and bubbling without a care. He held a grimace as he stared back at Arthur, as if anticipating the worst possible outcome to this situation.

Merlin, however, looked horrified. He stood opposite to Gaius, hands still elevated as brooms, cloths, books, potions and more floated around the room by magic, completing trivial chores with ease. His eyes were glowing that gorgeous gold colour rarely seen in Camelot until his concentration broke, shifting them back to the deep blues Arthur loved so dearly. Everything that was once floating came crashing down in an instant, leaving a mess across the floor that Gaius would surely have him clean up later.

“So that’s how you get everything done so fast,” Arthur grumbles, the realisation only just now crossing his mind. He leans against the doorframe; hands tucked under his armpits as he soaks in the room. “You little shit, here I was thinking it was a great punishment for your lacklustre arse, come to find you’ve been cheating it this whole time.”

Merlin’s horrified expression shifts to disbelief in seconds. He glances from Arthur to Gaius, then back to Arthur, then back to Gaius as if trying to figure out if this is truly happening or not.

“It’s not gonna slide now though, I’ll think of something else, a real punishment,” Arthur says, steeping further into the room. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Merlin, clear your schedule, we’re going out.”

“To the pyre?” Merlin squeaks out, unsure of how else to process this interaction. Surely Arthur wouldn’t keep him around after this, right?

“No, you moron, we’re going to the field outside Camelot. Grab a pack, we leave now.” Arthur instructs, turning and leaving the room with a sweeping pivot.

Merlin’s gaze stays stuck on the door long after Arthur had left before shifting to Gaius. “He’s planning to murder me where no one will see.”

“Don’t be daft, Merlin,” Gaius replies, already making quick work of cleaning the floor. “You wouldn’t be standing here right now if he was planning to execute you.”

“Nah, he’s definitely planning something, probably going to stab me with Excalibur, make it some kind of private affair.” Merlin spirals.

Gaius rolls his eyes with a long, drawn-out sigh. “Merlin, get out.”

“Right,” Merlin mumbles, running a hand through his hair, it was getting long again. “So, he can kill me faster, I hope he makes it painless.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Merlin found Arthur in the courtyard waiting with two horses, one had a pack attached to its saddle, the other only had a saddle and reigns. He cautiously approaches, making quick work of attaching his pack to the horse as Arthur makes the last few checks on the reigns.

“Finally, where have you been?” Arthur taunts, petting his horse affectionately. “We’ve been waiting for ages, did you get lost again?”

“I told you, I didn’t get lost, I was testing the secret passageways.” Merlin replies, tightening the straps on the saddle. “Besides, I’d like to postpone my death sentence.”

“Death senten--? Merlin, I’m not going to execute you. Just get on the horse and follow me.” He orders, swinging himself onto his stead and grasping the reigns.

Merlin sighs, dreading the next few minutes of horse-riding that would inevitably lead to his downfall. Regardless, he climbs onto his horse and follows behind Arthur with a trot, not saying a word in response. It was very unlike him to not send a jab back at Arthur – almost unnerving.

They ride through the kingdom and out the gatehouse towards the fields. With spring’s long-awaited return, the flowers were starting to emerge from the grass, trees and shrubs had little buds where new leaves were growing again. It wasn’t quite wat Arthur had in mind for their first official date, but it was pretty enough without the snow everywhere. The sun was beating down on them thankfully, only a few fluffy white clouds littered the sky, but Arthur noted the cool breeze that passed them every so often, a reminder that Winter was still prevalent. Nevertheless, Arthur wouldn’t let it ruin their day. They were both bundled up in long-sleeved shirts and warmer trousers, they could survive a bit of wind.

The journey was shorter than expected, even with Merlin frequent stops to admire the budding flowers along the way. Arthur suspected it was just an excuse to make it longer since he seemed dead set on Arthur trying to kill him. Honestly, how many times did he have to say “I’m not going to kill you” before Merlin took the hint?

They rode into the fields, luscious green grass and a scattering of flowers and weeds. Now this is what Arthur had imagined. He hopped off his horse and lead it towards a nearby stream so it could rest up. He took the pack and hoisted it over his shoulder. “Come on, Merlin, no time like the present.”

The manservant in question released a dreaded sigh and climbed off his horse, unlatching the pack and following behind Arthur with the demeanour of an innocent man on trial. “Are you sure this isn’t some cover so you can run me through with Excalibur?”

“For the last time, Merlin, no.” Arthur replies, stopping in the middle of the field to pull out the blanket he had packed. He wafts it a few times before lowering it, placing rocks on the corners to keep it from floating away. “Now make yourself useful and help me unpack this.”

It took around ten minutes, but they finally unpacked the picnic Audrey made for them and sat back on her elbows just admiring the view. Audrey had perfected Merlin’s favourites - strawberries, blueberries, apple slices, fruit tarts, sliced bread, different cheeses and meats for their platter, and of course the mead. Arthur grabs the last thing from his pack – an arrangement of flowers he had picked up from the market that morning consisting of bluebells, cow parsley, dog rose, meadowsweet, oxeye daisy, and sweet violet. Arthur was pleasantly surprised by how many flowers had grown already, especially enough to make a bouquet but he noted the way Merlin’s eyes lit up at the sight of it and deemed himself lucky.

Merlin took the bouquet with care, smelling the flowers deeply, their scent lingering for just a moment before he pulled them away from his nose. “How did you know these were my favourites?”

Arthur shrugs nonchalantly, readjusting his position to lay more comfortably on his side. “Lucky guess. Knew you’d be in for this sappy stuff.”

“Oh, shut up, pillock.” Merlin chuckles, setting the flowers aside against the pack Arthur had brought so they stood upright. He gently brushed a few petals as if fixing them. “So, you’re really not going to execute me? I did commit a form of treason.”

Arthur scoffs. “Moment ruined then, I’m not going to kill you, Merlin, how would I survive with George as my manservant? He’s as stiff as a castle wall, I’d go insane after a month,” he replies, glancing up at the clear sky. “Besides, I should be thanking you for using it to save my life, and yes, I already knew about it before today so relax.”

It was like a weight had been lifted from Merlin’s shoulders. His chest deflated with the relieved sigh he exhaled, body slumping backwards until he was laying flat on the blanket. By God, if he wasn’t the most beautiful creature Arthur had ever seen, deadly but oh so beautiful. Arthur sits up enough to lean over Merlin’s lax form, hand reaching up to push a strand of Merlin’s dark hair from his forehead, getting lost in the boy’s half-lidded eyes.

“It’s getting long again,” Arthur comments, twirling a strand around his finger. “You going to cut it?”

“I was thinking of growing it out,” Merlin admits, eyes never leaving Arthur’s. “What do you think?”

“I think you with long hair will do me in.” Arthur chuckles, cupping Merlin’s cheek in his hand.

Merlin returns the sentiment fondly. “Dollophead.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Arthur jokes, leaning down until their foreheads meet. “I might be in love with you, Merlin.”

“Might be?” Merlin teases, fingers playing with the blond hair at the back of Arthur’s neck. “Let’s change that, shall we?”

Their lips meet in one of the best kisses Arthur has ever had the privilege of accepting. Merlin’s lips were firm and a little chapped, but Arthur couldn’t care less, the kiss itself was sweet and tender, both of them trying to saviour it for as long as they could before the need for oxygen separated them.

Arthur pulls back just enough to inhale; eye’s fluttering open to admire the warlock beneath him. “So… should I be wary of enchantments from you?” he jokes, clearly thinking he was hilarious.

“You ass.” Merlin laughs, pulling Arthur back in by his hair. Their second kiss was deeper, filled with more passion that had only bubbled over through the years. It was overdue but oh so satisfying.

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Little did Merlin know that in a few short months their positions would be swapped and Arthur would be bleeding out from a stab wound through the chest whilst Merlin cradled him desperately. The sobs that would wrack through his body felt as if they shook the area around them, hands gripping Arthur frantically as he whispered reassurances he knew he couldn’t keep.

The worst part would be Arthur’s acquiescence. The smooth features of his face as if welcoming the cold embrace of death. His eyes, though dimming, never left Merlin’s tear-filled ones, soaking him in for the last time until they met again in a very different world.

“Merlin,” he mumbles, shakily reaching up to grasp the warlock’s cheek. “Look at me, love.”

Merlin forces himself to breathe before he looks into the eyes of his friend, his king, his lover, his everything who was now dying in his arms. Another tear fell onto Arthur’s pale cheek.

“There you are,” Arthur breathes, a weak smile crossing his blood coated lips. “You’re so beautiful… I love you, Merlin.”

Merlin gives an undignified snort. “I love you too, I’m so sorry.”

Arthur only shakes his head, weak but there, the loosening of his hand made Merlin grasp it tight and hold it against his cheek with another sob. “Don’t apologise, you really… are the worst.” He sucks in a sharp breath. “But you’re mine, until we meet again.”

“We will,” Merlin insists, he didn’t know who he was reassuring more, himself or Arthur. He was desperate but then again, who wouldn’t be? “I’ll wait for you. I promise.”

Arthur held on until Merlin’s final word before letting go.

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1,500 Years Later

Merlin often struggled with the idea of Valentines Day, not because he was lonely per say, but because everything linked back to Arthur in one way or another. Merlin just wished he were there to celebrate it with him.

He never truly moved on from Arthur, how could he? Arthur was his other half, the other side of his coin, his fate and destiny, that wasn’t something he could just forget about. Their connection was something he would never find again in anyone else, unique only to them.

As sappy as it sounded, Arthur was his one and done. That’s why every Valentines Day, Merlin walked to the Lake of Avalon with a bouquet of bluebells, cow parsley, dog rose, meadowsweet, oxeye daisy, and sweet violet, the same ones Arthur got for him on their date, and threw them into the river in the hopes that if Arthur ever did return he would know Merlin never forgot him. Though his hope dwindled with every passing year, he never missed a Valentines Day.

This year was no different, Merlin bought the flowers at the market that morning then walked the three miles to the lake to gift them. Winter had relinquished it hold and the sun was shining brightly for the first time in months; Merlin took it as a positive omen despite the breeze. The lake had thawed overnight, leaving the fish to bob and swim freely long the surface of the water, it rippled as the breeze hit it creating that calming sound Merlin had grown to love.

He stops at the edge of the lake and sighs. “Happy Valentines Day, my love. I’m still not sure if you can hear me but it’s worth a try. Kilgharrah said you’d return when Albion needs you most, but what if I need you? Sorry, it’s sappy day not Merlin spills his deepest insecurities day. I brought another bouquet, the same one you got me for our first date, you remember the one. It’s very pretty, you’d love the different flowers at the market now, there’s so many and they’re all so pretty.” Merlin says, thumb brushing against one of the oxeye daisy petals. “I miss you a lot as you can probably tell, especially around this time of year. Doesn’t feel right celebrating without you, fuck you for making me wait, by the way. Taking your sweet ass time, your highness. Whatever, come back to me, yeah? I love you.”

He kisses one of the flowers in the bouquet before throwing them into the lake. He watches them float for a moment before stepping backwards towards the path home, but something makes him stop. A gloved hand rises from the water, the bouquet in hand, revealing an arm and then…

“Holy shit.” Merlin breathes, standing stunned only for a moment before wading through the water towards the fucking prat that just stepped out of the lake.

Arthur barely managed to catch Merlin with one arm as the other jumped on him, trusting Arthur implicitly to keep them upright. The former king laughs as he holds Merlin tightly, not caring if he was being strangled by Merlin’s twiggy arms.

“I love you too, idiot.”

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

AO3

[pro0ngle]

American Beauty/American Psycho - Wenclair

Word Count: 5,218

CW: possibly ooc, disturbing references (it's Wednesday, it's expected), tooth-rotting fluff, light angst

Summary: Enid absolutely loves Valentines Day - Wednesday does not. Wednesday's family are convinced they're already dating and Thing plays a little matchmaker when Enid ends up going to the Valentines Ball alone. It works out in their favour.

Masterlist

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Enid knew that when it came to Wednesday Addams you had to expect everything and nothing at all paradoxically. You can expect murder, unsolved cases, sass, sarcasm and lots of black, but you can’t expect affection, colour, and certainly not romance. Expect any of these and you’ll get your heart broken, that was the mentality Enid underwent when making the conscious decision to follow Wednesday until the ends of the Earth (being best friends). She knew what she was getting into the minute Wednesday walked through Ophelia Hall that fateful day almost a year ago. She made it very clear that friends and romance were not on her bucket list and yet… Enid couldn’t help it.

Wednesday had this way of showing affection that was just so her. It wasn’t conventional by any means, but it was so Wednesday that it made Enid’s insides melt every time. Therefore, when Wednesday showed any type of affection, no matter how small, Enid treasured it dearly. Take that creepy doll for instance, Enid had never liked porcelain dolls, especially ones with real hair and she could swear this one’s head turns whilst she sleeps, but it was a gift from Wednesday. The same Wednesday who once complained about how many stuffed animals she had, the same Wednesday that hates anything with colour. She had picked this out specially for Enid, and the latter didn’t have the heart to get rid of it, no matter how horrific it was.

That being said, Enid definitely wasn’t expecting anything from Wednesday as Valentines approaches. She had, of course, gotten Wednesday a few small things tailored specifically to her gothic aesthetic, but she wasn’t getting her hopes up for anything in return. She wasn’t disappointed. Not at all.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Anyone could guess that Enid’s favourite holiday is Valentines Day, not even because it’s lovey-dovey, but because she takes any opportunity to sappy. Gift giving and physical touch were definitely her love languages and everyone around Nevermore knew it. When the holiday came around, every student knew Enid would be there singing its praises.

They also knew that Wednesday would rather gouge her eyes out than celebrate the bright holiday. At first, people were surprised Enid even bothered getting Wednesday anything for Valentines, knowing with upmost certainty that the little psychopath would burn it before it even saw her dorm. But Enid, sweet Enid, was determined to make Wednesday’s Valetines less miserable (in her eyes).

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“What do you even see in little Miss Storm Cloud?” Bianca asks Enid one afternoon in early February. It was one of those rare sunny days, so everyone was taking advantage of the light by sitting in the Quad. Enid sat on one of the picnic tables, her feet resting on the bench part as she gazed longingly towards her dorm’s balcony. The window was closed with no sign of Wednesday or Thing much to Enid’s disappointment, she hadn’t seen them all day and secretly she was missing her goth roommate a lot.

“You remember what happened last time you asked that question?” Ajax asks, pointing a fry at Biance with a small smirk. When was he ever without food.

“Yeah, I got a long enough rant to make author’s cry,” Biance teases, crossing her arms over her chest. “And then got redirected to Pinkie Pie’s little blog for more little rants.”

“Hey!” Enid cries, a small pout forming on her lips. “My blog isn’t purely rants, much less about Wednesday, but having her as a roommate makes information easier to obtain.” She looks away, trying to hide the faint blush on her cheeks. “And Pinkie Pie, really?”

Biance just shrugs again. “Same image, different fonts.” She takes a swig of her tea courtesy of the coffee van across the Quad. “I’m sure Wednesday would agree.”

“Actually, Enid is more closely aligned to that of an energetic, untrained puppy rather than a strangely magical horse that bakes cakes.” Wednesday says, appearing out of nowhere beside Enid, who jolts in surprise. “I’ve found that unlike fish, a dog bite can seriously maim and kill.”

“Wednesday!” Enid cheers, straightening up and tilting her head towards the goth girl. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you all day.”

Something in Wednesday’s gaze softened as it landed on Enid, but it was gone before anyone could notice. “I had some business to attend to, it was urgent.”

Thing crawls up Wednesday’s shoulder and signs for a moment.

“You went to Crackstone’s Crypt again?” Enid sounded concerned, leaning closer to Wednesday. “Is there another monster? Another weird supernatural pilgrim killer?”

Wednesday’s lips twitch, as if holding back a smile. “Unfortunately, not, though I wouldn’t be opposed. No, I needed a moment to destress.”

“And what better way to do that than in a creepy, dusty, dark crypt where a dead man once tried to kill you.” Bianca scoffs.

“Very Wednesday.” Ajax chuckles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wednesday asks, as monotone as ever.

“Nothing, ignore him,” Enid jumps in, resting her hand on Wednesday’s arm to redirect her attention. “So, what’s up?”

Wednesday glances down at the hand on her arm then back up at Enid. “My mother has invited you to dinner again tonight. Six o’clock sharp, don’t be late.”

“Really?” Enid perks up, ever since the body swap incident Enid had grown fond of Morticia and Gomez, finding their love adorable and their stories highly interesting. “Of course I’ll be there! Lurch makes the best steak I’ve ever had.” She beams. Morticia had noticed her hesitance around Wednesday’s favourite roadkill pot pie and made an effort to fix a menu around Enid’s dietary requirements.

Enid, of course, was more than grateful for the hospitality. She felt closer to Morticia than her own mother, as much as it pained her to admit. Morticia cared more about Enid as a person than whether she wolfed out or not, sure that didn’t quench her curiosity, but her questions were non-invasive, so Enid answered happily each time.

Wednesday gives a brief nod in response. “Mother found some new recipes she’d like to try out. If you’re willing, of course.”

Enid nods rapidly, beaming smile never leaving her lips. “I’m sure whatever it is will taste amazing! Do I need to bring anything? A gift or… wine?”

Wednesday sighs softly through her nose, of course Enid felt obligated to bring something, she was too caring for her own good. “No, only your mere presence will satisfy their nagging. Even Pugsley misses your bubbly personality.”

“Aw,” Enid coos, holding a hand to her chest. “I miss Pugsley too, I feel like I haven’t seen much of him this year.”

“Tragic,” Wednesday replies, face as blank as a fresh canvas. “I’d argue you were lucky.”

Enid snorts but abruptly stops, grabbing Wednesday by both arms and pulling her closer with a frantic look. “Wednesday! I have nothing to wear!”

Wednesday’s eyes widen slightly; she was used to Enid’s sudden touches and panics. “Your closet is so full I could hide my convicted serial killer uncle in there and you’d have no idea.” She replies.

“Super helpful,” Enid sighs, reluctantly letting go of the goth’s arms, her own falling flat on her lap. “I doesn’t have anything nice to wear, your parents wear suits and dresses for crying out loud! How am I supposed to—”

“To?” Wednesday urges, her gaze never leaving Enid’s increasingly reddening face.

“Never mind. I just don’t have any nice dresses to wear, they’re all very casual.” Enid explains, twisting her fingers around each other.

“You’re acting like I invited you to a gala,” Wednesday says, annoyingly calm about this entire thing. “It’s just my parents; you’ve met them many times before.”

“But this is dinner, Wednesday! And both times I felt very out of place, no offense to your parents, I just—want them to like me.” Enid whines.

“They already do,” Wednesday replies, the reassurance in her tone surprised Enid. “Just act like your annoyingly hyper, charming self and they’ll fold.”

“You think I’m charming?” Enid asks.

Wednesday chooses not to respond.

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By six o’clock, Wednesday was already dressed and waiting for Enid so they could leave together. She had chosen to dress up a little after considering Enid’s panic back in the quad, thus she wore a white blouse with bishop sleeves paired with a black waistcoat that had small vertical white stripes. Her dress pants matched the waistcoat, and she had obviously worn her Doc Martens with the platform soles. Enid was tall enough without her Mary Janes.

Speaking of…

Wednesday glances up as Enid emerges from the bathroom. The shortness of breath and light dizziness that occurred when she lay eyes on the werewolf girl was pleasantly similar to a heart attack. Wednesday dismissed the thought.

“How do I look?” Enid asks nervously, pinching the pastel pink fabric between her fingers.

The dress was unfairly gorgeous by normal people standards. It was a long pastel pink dress that stopped around mid-shin, shrouded in a lace with flower patterns and stars. It was tighter around the bodice and seemed to poof out around Enid’s hips, with puff sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that accentuated Enid’s chest and collarbones. There was a thin, lace collar that connected the bodice of the dress to the sleeves. And as Wednesday had predicted, she wore nude tights with pink Mary Janes, making her taller than her still.

“Disgustingly cute.” Wednesday replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just looking at you makes my skin crawl, and not with hives.”

Enid beams at the compliment. She skips closer and turns around. “Can you zip me up? I can’t reach the zipper.”

Wednesday’s eye flick from the Enid’s multicoloured hair down to the white zip sitting flush against her spine. She carefully reaches out, sighing as if this were the most physically taxing thing Enid could have suggested, and pulled the zipper up. She paused momentarily at the base of Enid’s neck; she felt the overwhelming urge to lean in and sink her teeth into Enid’s supple skin.

A little closer…

No. Wednesday leans back, pulling the zipper up all the way before stepping back. “I can feel my skin itch already. Come on, we need to leave.” She side steps Enid and grabs her bag on the way out of their dorm.

“Wait up!” Enid calls after her, hot on her heels with a small crossbody bag in hand.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Dinner with the Addams was always going to be exciting. Gomez and Morticia welcomed her with tight hugs as if she were their own, guiding her to the round table in the centre of the dining room where silverware and a vase of wilted flowers were already set out.

Lurch had already prepared a fifth seat beside Wednesday’s usual spot for Enid, giving her a steak knife instead of a normal one like the others. Enid had never felt so seen at a family dinner before.

“Enid, dear, I had Lurch cook you a Mediterranean Style Chicken Piccata. I had Wednesday tell me the foods you enjoy, I hope you like it.” Morticia smiles as the family take their seats. She picks up her napkin and rests it on her lap, Enid copies her motion, smoothing out the creases with a nervous smile.

She had no idea Wednesday even knew her favourite foods, much less enough to supply her mother with. Regardless, Enid was certain she would enjoy whatever Morticia had decided on, especially over roadkill pot pie.

Her gaze flicked to Wednesday, who was sitting rigidly beside her, eyes locked on the plate in front of her. Enid chose to believe it was because her parents and Pugsley were here, and not because Enid herself was intruding by any means.

“So, Cucciolotta, how’s school? Wednesday doesn’t like elaborating when we ask her about you.” Gomez chimes in, giving Enid a warm smile that allowed her to relax somewhat. She had no idea what the name meant but knowing Gomez, and knowing the Addams, it was likely something affectionate.

Wednesday, to her credit, leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Cucciolotta means “little puppy” in Italian. It’s gut-wrenchingly affectionate, a pet name for a child.”

Enid giggles quietly, it was quite on the nose, but she liked the pet name, she liked how they included her so easily without making a big fuss. She glances over at Gomez with her signature beaming smile. “School’s great, I’m in the middle of making a new dance routine for the Valentines ball coming up. In fact, I would love any suggestions you may have, you and Mrs Addams are like… the poster couple for Valentines.”

“Don’t make me gag.” Wednesday mutters, rolling her eyes at the comment.

“Oh, Enid, that’s so sweet,” Morticia coos, hand resting on her chest. “We’d love to help you, and I’m sure Wednesday can teach you a few dances – Tango, Salsa, Waltz.”

“Yes, like the Salsa Caleña, or the Capoeira.” Wednesday replies, picking up her glass of water.

“Now, Wednesday, those are hardly Valentines dances,” Morticia chides, swirling her wine with a look of amusement. “Though, I’m sure Enid would love a demonstration.”

Wednesday chokes on her water, clutching her chest as she coughs violently, glancing up she glares at her mother coldly. Of course, her mother managed to read every one of her emotions, the slightest deviation was obvious – sticking out like a sore thumb against her usual misery. It was infuriating how she couldn’t keep this one thing to herself without her family giving their two cents.

Enid manages to clear her throat and smiles at Morticia. “Sorry, I didn’t realise Wednesday could dance. She never mentioned it.”

“Oh yes, Wednesday was never too fond of dance lessons. She took strongly to more… deadly hobbies.” Gomez chuckles.

“Fencing, archery, embalming. That’s just to name a few.” Wednesday replies, leaning back in her seat as Lurch approaches with the meal cart.

He lifts the lid off the main dish and begins serving it onto their plates one by one. When it gets to Enid, he uncovers another dish and serves her a portion of the Mediterranean Style Chicken Piccata. It looked and smelt delicious, the aroma practically wafting into Enid’s nose. She had to stop herself from drooling on the table.

With a soft “thank you” Enid takes her plate and sets it down, waiting for the Addams to begin eating before she too picks up her fork. The chicken was better than she could have ever dreamed of - it was succulent with a bit of zest for the perfect combination of flavours. Enid had never tasted chicken this good, her mother was dead set on steak and beef, so chicken was a rarity in her home but this? This was heavenly.

“What do you think, Enid?” Morticia asks, a hint of curiosity in her silky tone. “Is it to your liking?”

The girl in question could only nod delightedly. “This is amazing, Mrs Addams, my compliments to Lurch.”

Morticia was practically radiating from the praise, delighted that her meal choice was up to Enid’s standards.

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Dinner continued without a hitch. Morticia and Gomez ruminated on their days at Nevermore and stories of Wednesday and Pugsley. Wednesday stayed mostly silent the whole time, chiming in only when her opinion was necessary or when she felt the need to clarify how a story actually ended. Pugsley and Enid were just along for the ride, enjoying the banter and pitching in where they could. Enid had felt more at home joking with Gomez than she had with her own parents, their dinners mostly consisted of awkward silence and then a rat race to leave the table once they were done eating. She loved her parents, truly, but it just felt like her father was the only one to see her as a whole and not just for her wolf.

Lurch drove them back to Nevermore in silence, not that Enid minded, she was used to Wednesday’s quiet time and after the chaos of her family, she probably wanted it more than ever.

They arrived back at Nevermore just after the ten pm lights out curfew. To Enid, Nevermore had never seemed creepier than in full darkness, to Wednesday it was a haven. They crept up the staircase to Ophelia Hall as quiet as possible, Enid kicked a wall by accident turning a corner and nearly broke their cover, but they made it without waking anyone up. Enid claimed the bathroom first, shedding her dress and shoes with a sigh of relief, she loved her outfit, but it was starting to dig into her waist and stomach. She grabbed the hanger she left on the door and hung the dress back up, grateful for the napkin she left on her lap to keep the dress clean of mess.

She changed into a faded pink sweater and pastel purple pyjama shorts before carrying the dress and shoes back out into the dorm to put away in her wardrobe. By the time she returned, Wednesday was already in a black, oversized t-shirt and grey checkered pants. The goth girl was undoing her braids, letting the waves free. One day, Enid would try to curl Wednesday’s hair, just to see if it would hold, not because she thought it would look beautiful on her…or anything.

“Got any Valentines plans?” Enid asks as they both finish their routines. She was brushing her hair in her vanity mirror whilst Wednesday took her mushroom pill like she did every night.

“Of course not. I’d rather fight Joseph Crackstone and die again than engage in such a trivial, mind-rotting holiday funded by capitalist greed.” Wednesday replies, pulling her bedsheets back and climbing into bed.

“Ah…” Enid replies awkwardly, she should have expected that response honestly, it’s not like Wednesday was a lovey-dovey person like Enid. Slightly disappointed, Enid climbs into bed and turns out her side lamp. “Well… goodnight.”

“Night.” Wednesday mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. It shouldn’t be cute, it really shouldn’t, not when she looked like a corpse.

With that, Enid tried to fall asleep.

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Valentines Day came faster than Wednesday cared for, she couldn’t walk five steps without seeing a couple making out or being very affectionate in the halls. She’d roll her eyes and keep walking, but the repeating theme was starting to grate on her nerves.

Was she the only one who saw the futility of this stupid holiday?

With a sigh, she returns to the dorm after her class, finding Enid pacing nervously on her side of the room. She was dressed in a white turtleneck, pink denim dress, pink tights, a red jacket and her red Mary Janes. She looked like the pinnacle of Valentines Day and it only added to Wednesday’s annoyance.

“What crawled into your skin?” Wednesday asks, dropping her bag onto her bed. Thing crawls out, making his way to his trunk house. She drops into her desk chair and pulls her typewriter closer, hoping to gain a few hours of writing in the meantime.

“Wednesday!” Enid squeaks, whipping her head around to the macabre girl. “You’re back early, I thought you’d be at the library or exploring a graveyard.” She replies awkwardly, twisting her fingers to distract herself.

“The library is overrun with fanging vampires, and the graveyard is being used as a frat party location. Not quite the idea of fun I had in mind.” She huffs.

“Right… then I assume you don’t have a date for the ball tonight?” Enid asks, shuffling over to where Wednesday was sitting.

“No, you know school balls are not my forte. After the torment of the RaveN, I think I’ll pass.” She retorts, fingers pressing the keys on her typewriter rhythmically.

Enid toes at the floorboard nervously. “That’s- I mean, you don’t need a date this time, you can go alone… or with a friend.” She tries to hint subtly.

Wednesday snaps her head to Enid. “You want to subject me to the humiliation ritual of adolescent relationship in public? Absolutely not.”

Her words struck a chord in Enid, her chest growing heavy with the rejection. She should have expected that Wednesday wouldn’t go with her to the ball, it should have been obvious but something in Enid screamed for a bit of hope. “Right…” she backs away slowly and returns to her side of the room. The burning sensation behind her eyes lingered like a nightmare, she grabs the pink dress she had bought a few days ago in Jericho. It was a floaty pastel pink with a mesh fabric over it that had a cute strawberry pattern throughout. It was the last one in the store, and it was in her size which Enid counted as fate. She paired it with white fluffy socks and her pastel pink Mary Janes – as always. She brushed through her hair, pinning two front pieces back with matching strawberry pins she had in her jewellery box. As much as she wanted to cry and hide away, she wasn’t wasting a pretty dress on rejection and dust.

 She left without saying goodbye to Wednesday, picking her clutch up from her desk as she passed.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Thing climbed onto Wednesday’s desk after Enid had left, tapping furiously on the wooden surface. Wednesday barely glances at him as she continues typing.

“Of course I’m not going to that ridiculous ball. It’s an excuse for couples to frolic in public without being reprimanded for it.” She scoffs.

Thing signs furiously once again, clearly frustrated with her avoidance and refusal.

“Enid will be fine on her own. She lives for this kind of event, plenty of petty drama for her mind-numbing blog,” Wednesday replies. “I’m sure people will leave their insipid little pictures in response.”

Thing smacks the table aggressively, gesturing to Enid’s side of the room and then at Wednesday.

“I’m not going. I don’t have anything to wear for a start, and I don’t have a date. Two strikes.”

The dismembered yet sentient hand climbs off her desk and scuttled across the floor to her wardrobe. He returns pulling a large black box that has W.F.A engraved in silver lettering on top. Wednesday recognised the box immediately, it had been a gift from her mother after she heard about the Valentines ball. She hadn’t bothered looking inside so the ribbons were still attached.

She sighs, resigning to her fate at Thing’s hand, and crouches down in front of the box. She unties the black ribbon and lifts the lid, revealing a beautiful black dress. It was long and silky with layered ruffles and cape style lace sleeves. It was paired with a black over bust corset – trust her mother to add one of those – and black choker. It seemed Wednesday was providing her own shoes, luckily, she had a pair of black heels that matched this dress perfectly.

“This is your fault,” she aims at Thing, watching him tap happily at her acceptance.

She gathers the garments and moves to the bathroom to change. Whilst in there, she braids her hair and ties it back into a low bun, leaving two strands and her fringe out. She reapplies her eyeliner around her eyes, rubbing it slightly for a smoky look. Stepping into her heels, she returns to Thing, who has a gift bag waiting beside him. It was a pastel pink with red hearts all over it, inside was the disgusting sappy gifts a normie couple would exchange – red roses, chocolates, a card, the perfume Enid loves but was running out of, and a locket necklace. She glances blankly at Thing, who shrugs, and sighs, picking it up by the silver rope handles.

“You owe me big time.” She tells him, voice colder than ice, before leaving the dorm for the stupid Valentines Ball.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Arriving at the ceremony hall where the ball was being held, Wednesday wanted to throw up and scratch every inch of her skin simultaneously. It was covered head to toe in bright pinks and reds with heart shaped balloons, chocolate fountains, heart confetti and a photobooth.

I’m doing this for Enid, I’m doing this for Enid, I’m doing this for Enid.

She sucks in a breath before walking through the parting crowd, trying to spot Enid. She was aware she stuck out like a sore thumb wearing black, but she refused the risk of breaking out into hives by wearing anything else. Her piercing glare cast over the hall, eventually spotting Enid sitting alone at one of the tables, phone in hand as she types, probably updating her blog.

Wednesday approaches her, standing to her left with the bag held out in front of her. “Even in this eye-straining colour, you still look more appealing than these morons.” She says, gaining Enid’s attention.

The werewolf girl whips her head around, eyes wide as she locks on Wednesday then the gift bag. She shakily reaches out and takes the bag, peeking inside like there was a bomb in it. Seeing the gifts, she feels her face flush and smiles giddily. “You got this for me?”

“Thing helped,” she admits, flopping into the chair beside Enid. “Considering those colours make me want to rip my flesh off.”

Enid giggles and sets the bag aside with her phone. “I really appreciate it, but what changed your mind? You seemed dead set on not coming.”

Wednesday grips her knees through the fabric of her dress, suddenly edged with nerves. “… Thing made a few compelling arguments. Ultimately, I can see that this event is important to you, and that you wanted me to attend – for whatever reason I can’t comprehend – so I dug this out of my closet.”

“Well,” Enid smiles fondly. “It looks beautiful, not very Valentines though.”

“I’d sooner carve my own eyes out before touching coloured clothing.”

Enid giggles again, a sound that Wednesday had grown to like over the course of their friendship. The werewolf girl jumps up, taking Wednesday’s hand and dragging her to the dance floor as a slower song begins playing from the DJ’s speakers.

“C’mon! Your mom said you can waltz, so don’t try to escape.” Enid beams.

“Of course you’d remember that,” Wednesday grumbles, taking the black napkin from Enid so she could hold her waist without breaking out. Her other hand takes Enid’s. “If we’re doing this, I lead.”

“Okay.” Enid replies, more than happy to follow Wednesday. She falls into step surprisingly quick, following Wednesday’s moves with ease and grace.

Their eyes never left each other as they waltzed around the floor, other couples stopped to stare at them in awe, their display taking their breaths away. Wednesday spins Enid out, the latter’s dress spinning beautifully around her like in those cliché romcoms she loves so much. Pulling her back, Enid breathes a surprised chuckle.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she admits. “You’re good.”

“Of course, I’m good at everything I do.”

“Except socialising.”

“…Shut up.”

They continue their dance, the air lighter and filled with something electric. The song was coming to and end but Wednesday had one last trick up her sleeve.

Right at the crescendo, Wednesday dips Enid down almost smirking at the way she squeaks and clings to her tighter. Their eyes locked again and Wednesday felt drawn to Enid now more than ever, was this how her parents felt? It was obnoxious and yet… she craved it.

Pulling Enid back up to stand, the werewolf girl dragged Wednesday over to the photobooth much to the latter’s chagrin. They were sat shoulder to shoulder in this tiny portable box facing a screen that kept counting down every so often before blinding them. Enid kept making faces for the first few whilst Wednesday remained straight-faced and slightly horrified. On the final picture, Enid gently grabbed Wednesday’s chin and pressed their lips together right as the flash went off.

Wednesday was stunned, even as they stood waiting for their pictures to print. “What was that?” she asks suddenly.

“A kiss,” Enid replies casually, taking their printed pictures from the slot and beaming at them.

“Disgusting. Do that again and I’ll skin you alive.” Wednesday replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “I suppose I could make an exception… for you.”

Enid snickers, handing Wednesday one of the photo strips. “Got it.”

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

“Wednesday,” Enid pipes up once they returned to their dorm after the ball. Both had changed into pyjamas and were getting ready for bed, but Enid remembered the gifts in her closet waiting to be given.

“Yes, luna mia?” Wednesday replies, putting her dress on a spare hanger to keep it crease-free.

“I have something for you,” she says, grabbing the black gift bag and bouquet of black dahlias. When Wednesday turns to face her, she holds them out with a shy smile.

Wednesday’s shoulders relax at the sight of the gifts. She takes the bouquet first, admiring them with the tiniest smile, of course Enid memorised her favourite flower, she shouldn’t have expected anything less.

She takes the gift bag and peeks inside, noting the two boxes of supposedly chocolate. Enid must have remembered dark chocolate was her favourite as well – notably for its bitter taste, the higher the percentage of cocoa powder, the better. But there was an extra box, smaller than the others and a black velvet. She picks it out, leaving the flowers on her desk in favour of opening it. Inside was a black signet ring with W.A engraved into it, on the inside of the band, Wednesday spotted familiar latin phrases etched into the metal.

“Te amo, usque ad fine”

Wednesday’s lips pull into a fond half smile. “I love you, until the very end? How sappy of you, luna mia.”

Enid’s cheek flush, wringing her hands with nerves. “I, erm… I had your parents’ help. With the translating that is, I picked the ring and metal.”

Wednesday walks over, slipping the signet ring onto her index finger where it fit snugly. She stops in front of Enid and gently cups her cheeks, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “It’s perfect, disgustingly sappy, but perfect.”

“Thank god.” Enid sighs with relief, hands finding Wednesday’s waist. “Happy Valentines Day, Wednesday.”

“You’re going to make me say it aren’t you?” she asks, pretending to be annoyed. “Fine, Happy Valentines Day, Enid.”

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

AO3

[pro0ngle]

Hold Me Like A Grudge - Flambert

Word Count: 2,801

CW: swearing, alcohol, mentioned harassment, tooth-rotting fluff, slightly suggestive, mentioned chronic pain

Summary: Robert was never one for Valentines Day until he started dating Flambae, who was very passionate about spoiling his boyfriend. Luckily for the latter, Robert has patrol which means preparations are all on him (and Beef).

Masterlist

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

Robert wasn’t too fond of Valentines Day, he wasn’t totally against the holiday or anything like that, he tolerated it at best, but it wasn’t something he personally partook in.

Since his mother died when he was very young and his father was never around, he didn’t really have a good role model when it came to Valentines Day. He had Chase but since he was older than Robert, he never babysat when he had a date – not that Robert could blame him.

To make matters worse, Robert was crowned Mecha Man at eleven years old when his father died which was considered more important than love and dating. He didn’t have time to explore or experience high school romance like everyone else, he had to be Mecha Man, people needed him for what he could provide, and that wasn’t romance.

It was only when he became a dispatcher at SDN that he found romance to be more prevalent. Whilst he couldn’t deny the women around him were attractive, he didn’t find himself wanting to be with them. He didn’t feel connected to them in such a way as office romance, Blonde Blazer felt more like a best friend than a potential love interest and Invisigal’s harassment was a huge turn off – not someone he wanted to involve himself with romantically.

There was one, however, that caught his attention immediately – Flambae. Robert found himself drawn to the former villain in a way he never felt before, attracted to the sassy remarks, the petty arguments and supposedly offensive nicknames. He couldn’t help it; the thrill was too enticing.

Needless to say, it didn’t take long before he was securing Flambae for himself, it surprisingly took less begging and more making out than he had expected. He could still feel the burn imprint on his lower back.

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Unlike Robert, Flambae loved Valentines Day, he’s had more experience with dates and romance over the course of his life and even if he wasn’t dating anyone (which happened more than you think), he spent Valentines with his sister and niece, making sure their day was special.

Flambae hadn’t had a lover in a while so when Valentines Day rolled around and Robert was just as infatuated with him as the day they met, he knew he had to do something. Robert wasn’t one for big displays or over the top romantic gestures, he liked small, intimate moments and Flambae was more than happy to oblige.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Flambae saunters over to Robert’s cubicle and perches on the edge of his desk, arms crossed over his very much exposed chest. “Bob-Bob, you on patrol tonight?”

“Hello to you to, Chad.” Robert teases, leaning back in his seat, on hand rests on the arm of his chair, the other gently lands on Flambae’s knee. His thumb rubs light circles around the joint.

Flambae rolls his eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah, hello Bob-Bob, are you on patrol or not?”

“I am, won’t be home until late, around eleven I think.” Robert replies, his hand moving up Flambae’s leg to his inner thigh. It wasn’t inherently sexual, just a motion Robert did frequently to ground himself or keep Flambae close.

Flambae hums thoughtfully, tapping his bicep. “Hm, I’m not waiting up for your dumbass then. Enjoy your patrol, Mecha Bitch.” He gets up, preparing to leave when Robert’s arm slinks around his waist.

“Not so fast, Matchstick.” He smirks, pulling Flambae between his legs. “Where’s my kiss, hm? You forgot the one this morning and nearly forgot my goodbye kiss, something wrong?” his tone shifts from flirty to concerned. “Did- are we good?”

Flambae stares at him for a moment, then gives the softest sigh only reserved for moments alone with Robert. “Bob-Bob, you’re an idiot, but you’re my idiot. Can’t get rid of me, you don’t have a receipt.” He smirks, leaning down to press his lips firmly against Robert’s. He didn’t typically kiss Robert whilst at work, only ever hugged him from behind or kissed his temple, he liked saving the good stuff for their apartment.

Robert melts into the kiss, hands gravitating to Flambae’s hips instinctively. His thumbs continue that circle movement which drives Flambae crazy, squeezing at times and tugging him closer. God, Robert was a fiend for affection.

Flambae pulls away after a final, drawn-out kiss. “Come home in one piece this time, Bob-Bob.” And then he was gone.

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With Robert out on patrol all evening, Flambae had plenty of time to set up his little surprise for his boyfriend. Because after everything Robert’s done for Flambae over the course of the Phoenix Programme, he deserved a special something in return.

He started with dinner, a proper dinner not a fucking pot noodle like Robert’s been eating for the past week and a half. Flambae’s complained about this many times, but Robert’s defence is always “I don’t want to wake you up after patrols, babe” – curse him for knowing how badly Flambae values his sleep. So yes, Flambae is cooking him a homemade lasagne, and yes, he will be making it early so it can set and the sauce can thicken up to accentuate the flavour. He’s a connoisseur, darling, he knows his shit.

Whilst the lasagne is in the oven, Flambae rests another pan of garlic bread baguettes on the hob so that when the lasagne is done, he can throw the garlic bread in – that way it won’t burn.

Next up was the decorations. Flambae was dramatic which meant he needed to go all out for this Valentines Day – Robert deserved it and Flambae was extra, win-win. He sat at their dining table, a packet of heart shaped balloons resting in front of him. He had bought an electronic balloon pump to fill them up more efficiently, this one in particular could fill two balloons at once if Flambae was smart about it. Thankfully he only had once ballon casualty which ended up in the bin, but the rest were perfectly shaped and resting against the ceiling, their strings dangling to the ground. He may have went overboard with twenty-four, but he liked how they looked so he didn’t care.

After balloons was the dining table, Flambae started by setting up the two plates and cutlery – the fine China shit that Robert only uses for special occasions. Beef was running around after him, tongue sticking out in that playful manner of his that Robert cooed over. “Beefaroni! You’re gonna trip me up!” Flambae grumbles, though there was no malice in his tone. “Don’t worry, I made you a special doggy meal so you’re not missing out. Robert will be thrilled.” He pets Beef’s head before moving to grab a vase from the cupboard. They rarely kept flowers in the apartment, but Flambae supposed this was an occasion that called for them, he had gone out and bought an arrangement of red and orange roses, with a few hibiscus and anthurium scattered throughout. Did he have to pay extra for these particular flowers? Yes. Was it entirely worth it? Also, yes. He set the arrangement in the middle of the dining table along with a scented candle and a bottle of Prosecco because Robert hated red wine. Flambae had frozen a few strawberries in an ice cube mould in the hopes of recreating that Pinterest photo he saw a few days ago.

Beef yips at his feet, pawing at his leg in the hopes of being picked up. Flambae, ever the push over, picks Beef up with a resound huff. “You are spoiled, Beefaroni, but sure, you can crash my date with Bob-Bob.” He opts for carrying the rotund dog around with him as he finishes up the surprise for Robert. He left a trail of fake rose petals (because he will be keeping these for next year) from the door to the dining room and then a few stray ones leading to their bathroom. He knew Robert would be sore and aching after dispatching all day and then going out on patrol, he would need a deep massage and a lot of cuddles to satiate that discomfort.

He had just enough time to change into an outfit fit for a date – sand-coloured button up, light grey slacks and his hair braided down his back – before the front door unlocked and Robert stumbled inside looking exhausted and on the verge of passing out. He drops his keys in the dish on their side table before kicking his boots off, groaning at the pain in his back. It was only after he hung his jacket up that he noticed the petals, “Chad? Beef?” he calls out, gaining no answer.

He stumbles through the hallway and into the dining room where Flambae had dimmed the lights and lit the candle. Flambae stood against the table with Beef in his arms, smiling fondly at his boyfriend who looked thoroughly surprised. Beef yipped happily and wiggled his paws at Robert.

“Welcome home, Bob-Bob. Happy Valentines Day or whatever.” Flambae greets, urging Robert closer with one arm. Once he was close enough, Flambae draped his arm behind Robert’s back, holding him fluish against his chest.

“Or whatever.” Robert teases, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to Flambae’s lips. “You did all this, huh? I should have known something was up.” He pulls away enough to pet Beef’s little head, giving him the attention he desperately wanted.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off,” Flambae replies, gently nudging Robert to his seat at the table. “I made dinner, bitch, you better like it.”

“I’m almost certain I won’t,” Robert jokes, chuckling as he takes his seat at the table. He watches Flambae saunter into the kitchen to grab the lasagne and garlic bread. “Fuck off, you did not make my favourite meal. You absolute sap.”

“Shut up, asshole, you need a proper meal. Now eat it or starve.” He says, putting a portion onto Robert’s plate, then his own. He leaves the remaining dish in the kitchen before taking his place at the table opposite Robert.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Dinner was a success in Flambae’s eyes, Robert clearly loved the food if his pornographic moans were anything to go by. They both were a little tipsy on the wine but that just meant Robert was a clingy bastard who thought he was the best at flirting ever.

“Bob-Bob, I need you to stand up,” Flambae says, taking Robert’s arm and gently hoisting him up out of his seat. “C’mon, I got one more surprise for you.”

“Oh? Does it involve you in our bed?” Robert smirks, dragging a finger down his lover’s bare chest. He could stand for the most part, but he was leaning heavily on Flambae – not that he minded.

“It will eventually,” Flambae replies, choosing to carry Robert over his shoulder firefighter style. “You’ll like it, you clingy asshole.”

“I already like the view.” Robert giggles, patting Flambae’s ass with one hand.

“In front of Beefaroni? You’re disgusting.” Flambae retorts, carrying Robert into their bathroom. He carefully dropped Robert onto the closed toilet seat and leaned over the side of the tub to fill it with warm water and that weird bath solution Robert loved so much. He could feel his boyfriend’s piercing stare on his backside but chose to ignore it – for once.

 “You’re so beautiful, Matchstick,” Robert mumbles, the exhaustion was kicking in again it seemed. “I still wonder why you chose me, but I’ll fight any bitch who tries to take you.”

Flambae snorts, one hand testing the water temperature, the other covering half of his face. He loved when Robert got like this, a mixture of sassy and protective (Robert called it protective, Flambae would call it possession but to each their own), it was hilarious to watch. “I can assure you, Bob-Bob, I tripped and fell down the rabbit hole that is your personality. Besides, you’re good with Aria, that’s crucial for our relationship.”

“She’s a sweet kid,” Robert smiles. “And I stole your spot as favourite uncle, suck it, Matchstick.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, babe. I’ll win it back.” He says, turning the tap off and adding the bath solution. After mixing it in with his hand, he helps Robert undress before they climb into the tub together. Robert lay back against Flambae’s chest, sighing with content at the warmth surrounding him.

It was something Robert had expressed early into their relationship, his chronic pain he’s had for years, the days where it was too much to even get out of bed, the flare up during work but how he couldn’t just leave because the team needed him – the world needed Mecha Man, not Robert. And with how baren Robert’s old apartment was, Flambae knew he wasn’t taking care of himself properly, so he chose to do it for him. He ran baths, he booked doctor’s appointments, he picked up Robert’s prescriptions, made him real dinners and gave him deep tissue massages. Anything he could think of that would ease at least a fraction of Robert’s pain. His ability to heat his body helped a lot during this progress, Robert would mention how it felt like having a giant hot-water bottle and the aches disappeared within moments. It was always his excuse for cuddles, even if he wasn’t necessarily having a flare up, he would beg Flambae for a few minutes of cuddles just for the warmth he provided.

Aria caught on to this very fast and soon enough, Flambae was being ambushed by both of them at once whenever she visited. Aria loved that Robert had a cane too, not in an old man way but in a concealed deadly weapon way, she called him a spy and demanded they play pretend spies where Flambae is the bad guy they’re capturing. Robert loved every goddamn minute of it, flare ups and all.

Without question though, baths like this were Robert’s favourite activity. Good for his health, got him clean and he could cuddle his boyfriend. Flambae was more than used to Robert falling asleep on him during these intimate moments, he would hold Robert close between his thighs and massage the knots out of his back and shoulders, watching the way Robert’s body melted under his warm touch, all the stress of the day just pouring out of him.

“Chad.” Robert groans, the first knot in his shoulders coming undone under Flambae’s hand. “Shit, if this hero thing doesn’t work out, become a masseur.”

“I don’t think you’d enjoy me giving deep massages to random dudes, Bob-Bob.” Flambae snickers, pressing out another knot.

“Oh, fuck,” Robert moans, body arching with relief, his fingers were gripping the edge of the tub so tightly Flambae thought it might crack. “Yeah, you’re right. Go private.”

“So demanding, babe.” Flambae teases, kissing the back of Robert’s neck where his spine meets his shoulders.

Neither are sure how long they stay in the bath for, could have been hours with how tight Robert’s muscles were, but the bath water was still comfortingly warm when they decide to finally get out. Flambae wraps a towel around Robert’s waist, letting him lean against his chest and snuggle into his warmth. With that, he picks Robert up princess style and carries him to their bedroom for more cuddles. After the night Robert’s had, he deserves fluffy cuddles and lazy kisses rather than their usual bed-breaking activities.

“You’re so good to me,” Robert murmurs tiredly as Flambae climbs into bed behind him, arms wrapping tightly around Robert’s slutty waist to pull him closer. “Thank you for tonight, even if Beef did steal the spotlight.”

Flambae scoffs playfully, burying his face in Robert’s neck. “Beefaroni is the spotlight, Bob-Bob, you know this. But don’t thank me, I did this for us to enjoy, plus I knew you were going to be a little bitch after patrol.”

“Rude, my boyfriend is a bully, that gives me the ick.”

“Who the fuck taught you that?”

“Aria, she says you’re an unc.”

“That little shit.”

“She’s not entirely wrong.”

“Shut up.”

Silence stretched for a moment, not awkward but soothing. Only the sound of Robert’s breathing and Flambae’s little kisses against his neck filled the room.

“I love you, Matchstick.”

“I love you too, Bob-Bob. Happy Valentines or whatever.”

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

AO3

[pro0ngle]

America's Suitehearts - Steddie

Word Count: 4,314

CW: swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, suggestive content (not full smut)

Summary: Steve hates working the Valentines Day shift now that he's single. After Nancy dumped him months before their graduation, Steve's been harbouring a distaste for the holiday that is, until Eddie "The Freak" Munson asks him out. Then maybe Valentines Day isn't so bad.

Masterlist

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ♡ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

Steve used to love Valentines Day, being able to spoil his girlfriend at the time with whatever sappy shit he could find used to give him so much serotonin. He would take them out to dinners, movies, those weird Valentines festival things, anything he could think of in-keeping with the monthly theme. Valentines used to be his favourite holiday, until Nancy Wheeler told him their entire relationship was bullshit, and he fell from his high horse.

Now all he does is sling those sappy ice cream sundaes for couples that walk into Scoops Ahoy in his stupid little sailor’s outfit, wishing he had someone to be eating ice cream with. At least he had Robin…

“Haha, you wish that was you, huh, Dingus?” she snickers as he passes a bowl of ice cream to a couple at the counter.

Or maybe not.

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ♡ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

Steve was two hours into his shift, and he already wanted to go home. Couple after couple walked through the doors wanting ice cream to share, reminding Steve of how lonely he truly was. To make matters worse, the mall’s overhead speakers were blasting any and every love song ever created just to make him depressed. He was grateful for Robin, at least, who took over for him whilst he had a snack in the break room. He was snacking on one of the bananas meant for the sundaes and splits – his daily potassium he would tell Robin, very important – his feet kicked up onto the table with his head tilted back, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

Maybe if he knocked himself out, he could skip Valentines Day this year. He’s had enough head injuries to wake up fine afterwards; it won’t be the end of the world if he just conked out for a few hours.

“Don’t even think about it,” Robin’s voice calls from the partition, she was leaning through the window to pin him with a firm stare. “Get your ass out here, dingus, it’s chaos.”

Steve sighs, shoving the last of the banana into his mouth before walking back out behind the counter.

“Ahoy there, sailors! Would you like to set sail on an ocean of flavour with me? I’ll be your captain, Steve Harrington.” He cringes internally after saying it. Curse the corporate higher ups making him embarrass himself day after day with this shit spiel.

The couple opposite giggle at him, they had to be around thirteen ish, clearly in the honeymoon stage with how touchy they were. They give him their orders before handing over the money, not waiting for him to start slinging the frozen treat before walking off to claim a booth seat.

He groans, only managing to contain his eye roll long enough to turn around and grab a sundae glass – the seventeenth one in two hours. He added the three scoops of vanilla ice cream then turned around to grab the whipped cream, working around Robin who served the customers with easier orders. They had a system going during busy hours, Robin took the shorter, easier orders whilst Steve fixed the longer, more complicated orders – this usually included the ones that had allergies too which he wasn’t the fondest of due to the extra steps to clean separate scoopers and spoons, but he never complained outwardly.

“Ahoy there, sailor! Ready to set sail on an ocean of flavour?” Robin greets the newest customer at the counter. She already sounds over it but maintains a fake enthusiasm that even Steve is jealous of.

“Buckley!” the customer cheers, Steve can’t see them, but he recognises that voice anywhere. Eddie “The Freak” Munson had been stopping by Scoops every Friday for almost a month now, always to annoy Steve or to eat the company out of Rocky Road with extra M&Ms.

“What’ll it be, Eddie?” Robin asks, he could hear a smile in her voice. “Rocky Road with extra M&Ms again? Or are you trying something new this Valentines Day?”

“Ah, you know me so well, Buckley,” Eddie chuckles, Steve could imagine him leaning both arms on the counter, that stupid smug smile on his face. “But no, I’m here for a blueberry milkshake and a question for little ol’ Stevie.”

That caught his attention. He turns, sundae and strawberry sauce in hand, and gives him a curious look. “Hm?”

“Milkshake first, big boy.” Eddie teases, this big brown doe eyes staring into Steve’s with a hint of mischief, his fingers were twisting together, rings hitting against each other with a soft tink. If Steve didn’t know better, he’d have thought Eddie was nervous.

Steve sighs and turns back to complete the sundae order whilst Robin tends to Eddie’s milkshake. Steve is pretty sure Eddie is the only person that orders the blueberry milkshake, he’s yet to make one for anyone else that comes in. They should just rename it “The Eddie” or something. Adding the cherry on top of the whipped cream, Steve walks out from behind the counter and towards the couple in the far booth.

“Here you go, enjoy.” He says, setting down a napkin with two spoons inside it. He doesn’t stick around to hear their response, just walks back behind the counter to serve more customers. He spots Eddie sitting in the booth by the door, laying across the seat as he sips his milkshake. Steve assumes he’s still writing song lyrics for that underground band he’s in – what was it again? Corrupted… no… Corroded something.

He’s snapped out of his daze when none other than Erica Sinclair approaches the counter with her usual sass, and sighs.

It’s gonna be a long shift.

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ♡ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

When closing time finally rolls around, Steve had just finished kicking the last kids out and flipped the door sign to “closed”.

“Dingus, you’re on mop duty tonight.” Robin calls from the counter, she was already wiping down the surface and utensils with one of the rags from the back.

He groans but doesn’t bother arguing, making his way to the locker in the back, he grabs the mop and bucket, filling it with hot soapy water before returning to the front. He starts near the counter, noting that it was the dirtiest spot in the entire parlour, and begins mopping the stains, watching the tiles glisten back at him. It was back breaking and the mophead was so shit that water got everywhere he didn’t want it but whatever, he got paid for it. He sets down a yellow wet floor sign then moves to the front door, planning to meet in the middle since it was the least dirty and required less of his time.

“You got any Valentines plans tonight, dingus?” Robin asks, putting the lids back over the ice cream and clearing away the spoons for the dishwasher.

“Nah, probably another Valentines of me and my TV.” Steve replies, shuffling back as he mops further away from the door, not looking up from the floor.

“You know how sad that sounds, right?”

“I’m aware, thank you, Robin.” Steve deadpans.

“Just making sure,” she replies. “I’m going to dinner with Vickie, the girl from band, remember her?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums, shuffling back a bit further, the mop swaying back and forth as he moves. The weird ice cream splatters disappear instantly, and that random spot of something unknown vanishes as well – thankfully.

“She asked me out yesterday and well, how could I refuse? She’s so cute, Steve, I might not survive- watch out!”

Steve was so caught up in mopping that he forgot where he put the damn wet floor sign. His foot caught under the groove and he went tumbling backwards, fully prepared to hit the deck in the most embarrassing way possible. When the floor never came, Steve risked a glance up and locked eyes with none other than Eddie Munson, who’s arms were wrapped around his waist, holding him up. He had honestly forgotten Eddie was still hanging around, probably waiting for him to finish his shift.

“Woah, falling for me now, Stevie?” Eddie teases, that smug smile spreading across his lips again. “Bit sudden don’t ya think?”

Steve blanked for a long moment, just staring at him his arms wrapped tightly around Eddie’s neck and shoulder. He blinks once, then twice, before putting on his Harrington charm. “Well, you caught me, must have worked, right?”

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise, clearly not expecting Steve to flirt back. His jaw drops slightly and stutters out something inaudible before his grip slips and Steve drops to the floor in a heap.

“Eddie!”

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ♡ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

“I am really sorry,” Eddie mumbles, toeing at a loose pebble on the road in front of him. They were sitting on the curb outside the mall, the luminescent lights reflecting onto the ground around them.

Steve held an ice pack to his lower back with one hand, his chin resting in the palm of the other. He wasn’t upset at Eddie for dropping him, just a bit embarrassed that it happened in front of Eddie. He would be lying if he said he had not attraction to the metalhead, he definitely had a type that much was clear, but with Eddie it was different. Not because Steve is questioning his identity or because he’s aware Eddie is a dude, just that Steve’s never dated someone alternative – would Eddie appreciate the sappy crap he did with his exs? Would Eddie find his hopeless romantic antics annoying?

Robin had called him an idiot for this multiple times, but it was genuine concern. He knew Eddie liked metal bands, leather jackets, those punk patches, that strange dungeons game the kids play and Lord of the Rings. Now he felt that all his planning has gone to waste and he needed to do something fast before Eddie left.

“It’s fine, man,” Steve waves him off, feeling a little awkward. “Just a bruise, it’ll heal.” He’s had worse after all.

“I swear I didn’t mean to drop you, and that’s not me saying you’re heavy – mean, you’re mostly muscle so you are kinda heavy but not fat heavy!” Eddie rambles, hands moving wildly with each word. “Not that you’d be ugly if you were fat, I’m just saying that I’m an idiot and I should probably shut up now.”

“Eddie,” Steve smiles fondly, hand reaching up to rest on his shoulder. “It’s fine, I’m not offended.”

Eddie pauses, taking a moment to breathe before nodding. “Yeah, of course, right.”

Steve retracts his hand and they sit in awkward silence for a moment, just staring at the road. The parking lot was empty now, only the streetlamps for comfort. Steve felt like making a move just to fill the silence.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You, erm… wanna see a movie… with me?” Eddie asks, fidgeting with his rings, twisting them and sliding them off his fingers. “There’s a drive-in showing tonight… at nine?”

Looks like Eddie beat him to it. Steve sat momentarily stunned, just gaping at him before he kicked back into focus. “Yeah, yeah, I’d love to. What are we seeing? I’ll need to get changed first, can’t wear the uniform outside of work. Do you want me to pick you up?”

“Uh, yeah, sounds good,” Eddie agrees, a light pink dusting on his cheeks. He pulls a strand of hair over his mouth, hiding behind it. “As for the movie, well… not a great secret if I tell you, is it?”

“Tease,” Steve chuckles, running a hand through his hair – it had somehow maintained it’s volume despite the influx of customers and the night air. “Fine, but if it’s something shit, I reserve the right to up and leave.”

Eddie snorts, leaning closer to him. “Sure, sweetheart, but I’ll just follow you.”

“Is that so you can stare at my ass, Munson?”

“You know me so well already, Stevie.” He smirks.

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ♡ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

It took Steve an hour and a half to get ready and not even because of his hair this time. He couldn’t decide on an outfit which feels ridiculous in hindsight but to Steve it was a problem. He could dress like he always did – polo shirt, sweater and jeans – but he wanted to impress Eddie and fit in.

He wasn’t sure how far back in his closet he had to go but he managed to find a black t-shirt and old military green bomber jacket that was one size too big. He also found a pair of dark grey straight-cut jeans from his… phase. He paired them with his usual white adidas with the three green stripes up the sides. It looked wrong in his mirror but there was something excitingly new about it that called to him. He just hoped Eddie liked it.

Grabbing his keys and wallet from the side table in the hallway, he left the house and began the drive to Eddie’s trailer. He wasn’t sure when he memorised the address, but he made there in under fifteen minutes and spent an extra five in the car preparing to knock.

At last, he walks up the steps with a last-minute arrangement of black and red roses and a lone venus flytrap – the woman at the counter gave him a strange look but Steve didn’t really care. He assumed Eddie would prefer these over typical Valentine’s arrangements; he wore a lot of black so…

He knocks on the trailer door before he can second-guess himself and waited. Not even seconds later, Eddie was throwing the door open with a beaming smile. He had changed into a black hoodie with Iron Maiden’s The Trooper printed onto the front, his usual battle vest thrown over the top, his ripped black jeans and a pair of Doc Martens. Of course, Eddie couldn’t leave without his bandana, rings and subtle eyeliner under his lash line. It definitely wasn’t fair how attractive Eddie looked, especially in those tight ass jeans. Fucking hell, if Steve survived this movie tonight, he was going to thank Wayne personally for encouraging Eddie to look this damn hot.

“Stevie, finally, you’re six minutes late.” Eddie teases, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“He’s been pacing for the last hour.” Wayne chimes in from the couch, nursing a beer bottle whilst the sports channel plays in the background.

“Wayne!” Eddie scolds, bright red now as he turns to his uncle.

Steve chuckles and holds out the flowers, gaining Eddie’s attention back. “Here, wasn’t sure you’d like the sappy Valentines arrangements they had pre-made so I got these instead.”

Eddie stares at the flowers for a long moment which sent Steve into a spiral. Did he not like them? Had Steve fucked up bringing him flowers? Shit, of course he did, Eddie wasn’t like the girls he dated, he probably doesn’t even like flowers or has hay fever or something – oh fuck, what if Eddie has allergies?

He was so lost in his own head that he almost missed when Eddie carefully accepted the flowers, his big doe eyes glossed over with unshed tears. He admires the red and black flora for a moment before smiling like a giddy teenager. “They’re beautiful… thanks, Stevie.” He whispers softly.

Steve breathes a small sigh of relief, smiling at the other wistfully. He notes that Eddie shows so much emotion in his face and he loves every dip and contour. Admittedly though, his dimples were one of Steve’s favourite features, after his eyes of course.

Eddie retreats to find a vase for the small arrangement and Wayne takes his place by the door. Steve straightens his posture almost immediately, wiping the sweat from his hands on his jeans.

“Red and black roses, huh?” Wayne asks casually. “Eds leaves those same flowers on his mama’s grave every year, once on Mother’s Day and once on her birthday. I’m not sure if you knew that beforehand or if it were a lucky guess but… it means a lot to him. You did good kid, treat him well, yeah?” He reaches up and pats Steve’s hair affectionately, in that fatherly way that Steve had dearly missed. He had no right leaning into it as much as he did, but Wayne showed no signs of caring.

“Ah, Wayne, don’t give him the shovel talk!” Eddie whines, returning to the door quickly after seeing the display. “We’re going now, be back later!” he practically drags Steve back to the car, ignoring Steve’s sputters about the venus flytrap and hurried goodbye to Wayne.

Once they’re both settled into the car, Steve gets a better look at Eddie. He had half tied his hair back and used a clip to give it more volume, which Steve didn’t realise could be so attractive until now. It was only now that they’re sitting that Eddie noticed the venus flytrap still in Steve’s hand.

“Woah, a venus flytrap, is that for me?” he asks, turning in his seat to take the offered plant.

“Uh, yeah, just in case you didn’t like the flowers,” Steve admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I though it was more metal? A carnivore plant that is.”

Eddie chuckles. “You’re so cute, Stevie, I love it. It’s very metal.”

Steve feels his face flush and looks away, pulling himself together before driving them down the road towards the drive-in theatre. They drove in comfortable silence, the radio playing more love songs for the remaining hours of Valentines Day, Steve was just surprised when Eddie’s voice started singing softly along in the passenger seat. The plant was secure between his thighs, his fingers combing through a strand of his hair, his head turned towards the window. Even more so when he realised Eddie was singing, I Want to Know What Love Is by Foreigner, that definitely isn’t a song Steve would associate with Eddie Munson. He knew Eddie was in a band, obviously, it was a well-known fact that almost everyone in Hawkins knew, but he wasn’t expecting his voice to be so… sonorous.

He kept quiet, one hand on the wheel, the other hiding his smile as he listened along to Eddie singing. It was stupid, but he felt like Eddie was singing to him and Steve longed for that more than anything.

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ♡ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

It took another twenty minutes, but they arrived at the drive-in theatre right as the adverts ended. Steve parked up and moved to the trunk to grab the blanket he had stuffed in their earlier along with a backpack of snacks and an unopened tub of popcorn.

Walking back around, he found Eddie leaning against the driver side door, smoking a cigarette as he waits. He sets up the blanket on the hood and takes Eddie’s hand, helping him up before taking his own place beside him. Taking a snack each, they lay back and watch as the movie begins.

“The Rocky Horror Picture Show?” Steve asks as the title flash across the scene, the opening song playing faintly at first. “What’s that?” he flicks a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

Eddie just grins. “I hope you like musicals, big boy.”

Steve looks back at the screen with rising dread.

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ♡ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

Midway through the movie, Steve was a mixture of confused, horrified and intrigued. It was like watching a car crash, he just couldn’t look away from the screen. He could see Eddie beaming in his peripheral vision, quietly singing along to the songs and snacking on whatever he could get his hands on.

Steve snuck a quick glance at Eddie before shuffling closer as subtlety as he could, he was hoping to do the fuckboy cliché of yawning and wrapping his arm around Eddie’s shoulders but the other managed to beat him to it.

Eddie wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist, pulling the jock into his side, his hand gently caresses the spot on his lower back where he fell earlier, whether subconsciously or intentionally Steve wasn’t sure. He basked in the affection, cuddling into Eddie and looking back at the scene in time to see a character burst through a freezer on a motorbike.

“Who’s that?” Steve whispers, glancing up at Eddie with a spark of curiosity.

Eddie snorts. “You’re not gonna believe me, but his name is Eddie.” He whispers back.

“Fuck off.” Steve teases, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I’m serious! His name is Eddie; Columbia is in love with him.” Eddie chuckles, pulling him closer.

“Does that make me Columbia then?”

“Absolutely, darling. Can’t wait for Halloween.”

“Asshole.” But his smile said otherwise.

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ♡ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

After the movie, Steve was thoroughly disturbed and practically demanded they get milkshakes to make up for it. Eddie, through tears of laughter, agreed and they ended up in a diner just outside Hawkins, sharing a strawberry milkshake through two straws.

It was almost eleven at night and neither had any intention of going home yet. Steve didn’t want to go home to an empty house after this night of fun, and Eddie didn’t want the night to end at all.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie asks, stirring his half of the shake with his straw. His chin was resting on his other hand, looking at Steve through his unfairly long lashes. “Does this… are we dating now?”

Steve pauses mid sip and glances up at him. He swallows his mouthful and nods. “Yeah- I mean, if you want to. I’ve uh... I’ve been crushing on you for months now and this- tonight just kind of solidified that.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush red, that giddy smile making a second appearance on his lips. “You have? I’m not much better, I’ve had a crush on you since your King Steve days.” He admits, and Steve nearly spits out his milkshake. “Yeah, I was down bad, Stevie.”

“You like me then? Not to insult your taste but… why? I was an asshole, Eds, even I wouldn’t date me.” Steve replies, staring at Eddie like he grew a second head.

“I know, but you were never as bad as Tommy H or Billy, you were civil towards me and the other freaks. Underneath that fuckboy persona is a little outcast that didn’t want to be alone – at least I think so. Plus, I saw how you cared for Nancy when you were dating, you’re a hopeless romantic, Stevie, it was hard not to swoon.” Eddie replies, shrugging like it was a casual throw-away comment. “Besides, ever since graduating you’ve changed, for the better I mean. You’re making an effort to be the best version of yourself and it’s very attractive. Buckley was right when she said you were the best thing to happen to her; I don’t think I’ve ever had a date this amazing ever.”

Steve feels like a fish out of water, he’s left gaping at Eddie’s words, a mix of disbelief and heartwarming affection lingered in his chest. Eddie liked him, like really liked him, imperfections and all. It was new and it was slightly terrifying but damn if Steve didn’t want to jump in headfirst and drown in it. Finding his voice again, Steve decided fuck it.

“Hey, Eddie?” he asks, watching Eddie perk up in response. “Can I make out with you in my car right now?”

Eddie gives a disbelieving snort before nodding feverishly. “Fuck yeah, you can.”

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ♡ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

Returning Eddie to his trailer with his hair a dishevelled mess, eyeliner smudged and a few new hickeys along his neck and collarbones was a new kind of terror for Steve. They had spent the last forty or so minutes making out and more in the back of Steve’s car and now Steve had to act casual in front of Eddie’s uncle, like the other hadn’t been moaning his name just minutes prior.

“Chill out, Stevie, it’s just Wayne,” Eddie shrugs, he was carrying the venus flytrap with both hands like it was some precious fine China that would break instantly on contact. “The most he’ll do is throw a condom or give us a disappointed dad sigh. Don’t worry about it.”

Eddie’s words didn’t sooth his nerves at all, but Steve was momentarily distracted by Eddie’s jeans. He walks closer and rests one hand on the other’s hip, the other zipping up Eddie’s fly.

“Almost gave us away, Eds.” Steve teases, pulling Eddie flush against him.

The metalhead just laughs and captures Steve’s swollen lips in a deep kiss. “Thank you, darling.” He mutters, pulling away just enough that their lips brush.

The porch light flicks on and the trailer door opens next to them. Wayne stands in the doorway, one hand on the handle, the other holding a beer. “Eddie, it’s almost midnight, get yer asses inside before you freeze.”

“Shit,” Eddie beams, not making an effort to move away from Steve. “Sorry, Wayne, we’re coming in now.” He grabs Steve’s wrist and drags him inside before he can argue.

Steve sends Wayne a sheepish smile over his shoulder, receiving a fond one back along with a knowing head shake.

“Use protection, animals.” Wayne warns, walking back to the living area. “And try to keep it down, Eddie.”

“You got it, Uncle Wayne!” Eddie calls back before the door slams shut behind him.

┈﹒✮ ⊰ ‧ ☾ ♡ ☽ ‧ ⊱ ✮﹒┈

AO3

[pro0ngle]

Fake Dating for Paparazzi - Flambert

Word Count: 6,282

CW: swearing, light angst (no one dies), self-esteem issues, suggestive content, betting, alcohol

Summary: Robert absolutely hates paparazzi, especially when they get all up in his business about who he's supposedly dating. To shut them up, Robert tricks them into thinking he's dating someone at SDN, only it reaches the Z-Team and they never let these things go. Robert's crush on Flambae doesn't seem as secret anymore.

ˏˋ°•* ❥ Robert POV  ༉‧ ♡*.✧

If there’s one thing Robert hated most in the world, it’s the fucking paparazzi. Granted, it was worse when he was still active as Mecha Man, but when they did find him, it was like a goddamn war zone of parasocial questions. Robert couldn’t do anything without being torn apart by the paps wanting a scoop.

Take now for instance. Robert was told his recovery was good enough to return to patrols around the city but still nothing strenuous. For his first shift back, Blazer had offered to join him since his suit was still being repaired by Royd. Robert had agreed because he enjoyed her presence and she didn’t treat him like a broken vase that could shatter at any minute.

He and Blazer were casually walking down the street, coffees in hand as they talk mindlessly about whatever they could think of. SDN had repaired his spandex suit so that he was well protected on patrols, equipped with protective material and a utility belt filled with first aid and whatever tools they thought he would need. He wore his usual brown bomber jacket over the top; one hand stuffed in the pocket to keep it warm.

It had been a quiet evening so far, they hadn’t encountered any villains which was always a plus. As they continued walking, Robert cracked one of his usual dry jokes which elected a snort from Blazer. He treasured their friendship quietly, unsure of where he would be without her by his side, but he wasn’t able to enjoy it for long.

“Mecha Man!”

“Mecha Man, Blonde Blazer, over here!”

“Blonde Blazer, are you guys dating?”

“Mecha Man, what happened to the mech suit?”

Across the street was a group of paparazzi, their cameras flashing wildly in their direction as they spewed question after question trying to get their attention. Robert glances over for a fraction of a second before scoffing.

“Bit desperate, aren’t they?” he comments to Blazer, who nods.

“Very. Not surprised they’d resort to the dating scandal for a scoop.” She replies.

After a day of dispatching the Z-Team, Blazer’s maturity was a breath of fresh air to Robert.

“Typical pap question. What should we say?” Robert asks, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Mecha Man! Is it true you’re dating someone from SDN?”

Robert pauses for just a moment. They hadn’t specified Blazer specifically, Robert could say anyone and they would eat it up like starved animals. This gave him the best-worst idea ever.

He turns to them with a lazy smile and nods. “Yeah, but it ain’t Blazer.”

Blazer, catching on, chuckles and shakes her head in amusement. “You’re awful.” She mutters.

“Serves them right.” Robert replies as they continue walking. “They can trip over themselves trying to figure out who the non-existent person is.”

ˏˋ°•* ❥ Flambae POV  ༉‧ ♡*.✧

The Z-Team were sitting in a booth in The Sardine when the video was posted. After the whole fight with Shroud a few months prior, they made it a weekly tradition to visit The Sardine after work on Fridays, to cool off and relax after a – usually – painful week. Robert joins them where possible but with his patrols picking up, he hasn’t been able to go for a few weeks.

Flambae had just knocked back the last of his vodka and cranberry when Prism shoved her phone in his face, the video playing on loop. He could clearly see Robert and Blazer, both standing idle across the street from the cameras, talking quietly amongst themselves whilst the paps yell questions to no end. He furrowed his brows, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Mecha Man! Is it true you’re dating someone from SDN?”

Robert turns to the camera, a lazy smile on his face, Flambae loved and hated that damn smile, the same one that could disarm him at any moment. Stupid fucking Mecha Dick.

“Yeah, but it ain’t Blazer.”

Holy shit. Did Robert seriously just? His eyes flew open, taking Prism’s phone with both hands to stare at the figure of Robert on the screen. Hold on a second, Robert wasn’t dating anyone at SDN, at least to Flambae’s knowledge, so who was he talking about?

“Holy shit, did Robert just say that?” Malevola asks, glancing up from her own phone across the table.

“I thought he was a bitchless loser.” Sonar replies, tipping back the last of his beer before letting out the worst burp Flambae had ever heard.

“Nah, Bob’s been pulling women since he started.” Punch Up chimes in, one arm wrapped around Coupé’s waist, the other nursing his own beer as he talks animatedly.

Invisigal holds her hands up innocently. “Don’t look at me or Blazer, it never would have worked out.” She says.

“Maybe he’s into dudes.” Prism suggests, taking her phone back from Flambae’s motionless hands. He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring but he just hoped there was no drool.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Malevola comments, taking a swig. “I saw Phenomaman kiss him in the parking lot that one time after his breakup. Seemed pretty legit.”

“Let’s not forget our resident fire bender has the world’s worst crush on the guy.” Prism adds, sipping whatever fruity cocktail she had ordered.

Flambae could only scoff and roll his eyes. The Z-Team knew he was gay and thankfully never made a big deal of it but that never stopped the teasing remarks about his crush on Robert. It was worse when they bickered over the comms during missions, even Flambae could admit they sounded like an old married couple half the time. He wouldn’t change it though, not for the world, it made rescue missions and coffee orders that little bit more bearable. But at the same time, Robert suddenly announcing his relationship status made his heart ache.

“Can you blame him?” Coupé asks, sipping her beer with a shrug. “Robert’s attractive physically, and once he starts eating better and working out more, his body will go back to before the coma. Plus, he has that recluse, mysterious aura about him, how is that not compelling?”

The group stare at her in surprise, they weren’t expecting that kind of observation from Coop, though it isn’t shocking considering how silent she usually is.

Punch Up gently squeezes her hip, a playful smirk on his lips. “Should I be concerned, doll?”

“Not at all, love.” Coupé practically purrs, leaning into him subtly.

Flambae totally wasn’t jealous, not at all. He stood up and moved to the bar to order another drink, something stronger. He could still hear the team talking behind him.

“I need to know who he’s talking about.” Malevola says, nursing her beer.

“I can’t wait two days to find out.” Prism grumbles, tapping on her phone for a few minutes.

“Are you seriously texting him?” Sonar scoffs.

“How else am I gonna find out? I ain’t waiting on some shitty news article.” Prism retorts, sitting back in her seat as she waits for a response.

By the time Flambae returns with his drink in hand, the three bubbles had appeared on Prism’s phone, signalling that Robert was typing. Honestly, Flambae wouldn’t be surprised if Robert was the type of guy to text with one finger judging by how long he’s been typing.

At last, his response pops up.

--

Rob-Bob🦾

My hands are tied, sorry. Can’t go into specifics but he knows who he is. Enjoy your weekend, Cardi C :-) Read: 10:58 PM

--

“Oh my god, he uses those stupid ass emojis? What is he, a grandpa?” Flambae scoffs, reading over Prism’s shoulder.

“You stupid motherfucker, did you not see the message before that?” Prism scolds, shoving her phone in his face once again. “Robert said he - he’s dating a guy!”

Sonar spits his mouthful of beer across the table directly on Punch Up whilst Malevola cackles hysterically.

“Ah, ya bollocks ya!” Punch Up jumps up, flailing as he attempts to wipe the beer from his clothes and face.

“Robert’s getting dicked down before me?!” Sonar exclaims, genuinely distressed.

Invisigal snorts causing her to choke on her mouthful of beer and the table erupts into chaos.

ˏˋ°•* ❥ Robert POV  ༉‧ ♡*.✧

Robert acts like he doesn’t notice the shift in his team’s dynamic. Since the release of that video, Robert’s had people hounding him about his secret lover every second of every day. He was tempted to admit to the team that his “lover” didn’t exist, but the thrill of teasing Prism and Sonar was too much fun to pass up.

He leans back in his chair, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as the team bicker through his headset. It was a quiet day which meant the only calls they were getting were about cats stuck in trees, coffee runs and escorting old people across streets. Robert knew the Z-Team hated this type of hero work, they wanted the real criminals, the serious villains, so they could prove their worth to everyone who said they would never make it. Robert appreciated their determination, the way they strived to better themselves, it made him weirdly paternal.

“Hey, Lieutenant Dan! Did you keel over and die over there?” Invisigal pipes up through his headset.

He snorts dryly and presses the button on his headset to unmute. “You wish, what’s up, Visi?”

“Who’s the boy toy you mentioned in that video?”

Robert sighs, he knew it was coming, they wouldn’t give up until they had an answer they liked. “Someone from work, nothing else to say.”

“Who specifically, jackass!” Prism tunes in, already done with his shit.

He was surprised Flambae was as quiet as he was. Robert assumed he would be attacked by him constantly like usual. It was slightly unnerving.

“That would defeat the purpose of a secret, Cardi C.” Robert teases, rolling his chair back over to the desk, he glances over the screen for a moment to check on the ongoing missions. “Nice work, Coupé, never doubted you.”

“High praise, but it was easy work.” She says, he could practically hear the smirk in her voice.

Robert fondly rolls his eyes and takes an incoming call.

“We got a fire downtown, whole place just went up in flames and it’s spreading rapidly.”

“Flambae, did you have something to do with this?” Robert asks, switching channels to his team. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose with an irritated sigh.

“I’m offended, Bob-Bob, you just automatically assume it was me?”

“You have a track record, Flames, now fess up.”

“Wasn’t me.”

“Alright, Shaggy.” Sonar chimes in.

“The fuck?” Flambae asks.

“She caught me on the counter, wasn’t me.”

“Saw me banging on the sofa, wasn’t me.”

“I even had her in the shower, wasn’t me.”

“She even caught me on camera, wasn’t me.”

Robert groans into his hands, unable to stop the disbelieving chuckles through his nose. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Lighten up, Roberto.” Golem snorts.

“We have an actual mission to focus on, morons.” Robert says, though his voice was filled with warmth.

“Speaking of, you said something about a fire?” Malevola asks.

“Yeah, there’s a fire downtown apparently spreading wildly. Flambae, go take care of it, will you?”

“So bossy, Bob-Bob. Watch this, I’ll have it out with a flick of my pinkie.”

“Ego much?” Prism teases.

“You know it, babe.” Flambae responds cockily.

Robert just sighs, looking over at Chase who had popped his head over the divider to stare at him quizzically. He just smiles tiredly and nods, that damn song running laps in his head thanks to his annoying ass team.

ˏˋ°•* ❥ Flambae POV  ༉‧ ♡*.✧

Flambae was losing his shit. Robert wouldn’t let anything slip about his secret boyfriend no matter how much the team asked about him and Flambae was seconds away from jumping Robert’s fucking bones for a straight answer.

Prism had made a list of all the guys at SDN that Robert speaks to frequently, the team had taken to crossing off every name when no evidence appears. After crossing off Punch Up, Sonar, Chase and other people Flambae never bothered talking to, they were left with five options.

Royd

Waterboy

Phenomaman

Flambae

No One / Robert’s lying

Admittedly, Flambae wasn’t expecting to be left in the running much less make it to the final five. He thought he would have been crossed off ages ago, but Prism insisted there was still a chance. He wasn’t sure if she was being optimistic for his sake or genuinely knew something he didn’t. Either way, he wouldn’t oppose.

Since there were five options left, the team agreed to a small bet, ten bucks each, as to who Robert was hiding. Flambae placed his bet on no one and knew Prism bet on him, but he didn’t care for the others. He was going to win but disappointment was inevitable at the end of the day.

To make matters worse, Flambae had an awful mission that made him question why he was even trying to being a hero anymore. He knew there would be moments where he couldn’t save everyone, it was inevitable and Robert had warned them about it countless times, but this one hit too close to home. The girl had only been around ten years old, stuck under a fallen support beam and choking on the smoke that infiltrated the building. She reminded him so much of his niece, using whatever strength she could muster to ask about her little sister and mom rather than herself. He had reassured her they were safe and he would get her out, his first mistake. Her condition was worse than he anticipated and she passed out fairly quickly. Her last worse before unconsciousness hit were a hoarse “thank you”, which he didn’t feel he deserved. She was whisked away by paramedics before Flambae could ask about her and the pit in his stomach deepened as he walked back to SDN. He may not care for adults, but he had a soft spot for kids especially if they’re caught up in something out of their control.

His niece Aria was his pride and joy; he did everything in his power to keep her from the shit he and his sister went through just to survive. He would burn the world down for that kid and he made it exceptionally clear during missions and small talk. When Aria expressed how much she wanted to save a tortoise from a rescue shelter, Flambae couldn’t refuse. Now the two were inseparable and his sister would send him pictures of Aria, and the reptile curled up on the couch or in the garden or staring at each other through the glass of its terrarium. Since their family ran hot – due to their affiliation with fire – the tortoise would often curl up against Aria for warmth much to her delight. She claims it was meant to be, and Flambae couldn’t disagree. Needless to say, he couldn’t imagine not having her in his life.

Which is how he found himself in the SDN locker room, head in his hands as he mentally prays for the little girl in the hospital. His earpiece was discarded on the bench beside him, the faint mumblings of his team pouring out probably wondering where he was. He hadn’t told anyone where he was or why, he needed space to breathe, to think. He needed to feel he was worth being a hero.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, drowning out the world around him in favour of breathing languidly. He felt the pounding in his head from not drinking any water, as painful as it was, it grounded him somewhat, enough to keep him level-headed. His whole body jolted when a gentle hand landed on his head.

“Flambae?” Robert. Of course it would be Robert, fucker was so damn caring all the time. Selfless prick, no wonder he was a hero. “Flambae?” Stupid Robert and his stupid heroic personality and his stupid no-violence mantra and his stupid face and his stupidly gentle touch and—“Flambae!”

“What?” he exclaims, finally lifting his gaze from the floor to Robert’s brown eyes. They were a warm brown, like the coffee Flambae drinks in winter to warm himself up, comforting and filled with concern. Flambae appreciated that it wasn’t pity at least, Robert knew he wasn’t fragile.

“You zoned out, talk to me,” Robert replies, hand sliding down to caress his cheek. He hated the way he leaned into it.

“Just a shitty mission, it’s nothing, Bob-Bob. Don’t you have other idiots to worry about?” he asks, trying to maintain some distance, even if emotionally.

“They taking a lunch break, which you should be doing right now. C’mon, talk to me, Flames.”

Flambae sighs, masking his defeat with annoyance. “Fine, if you’re going to be a little bitch about it. There was a girl in there, around ten, she…” he hesitates, taking a deep breath to steady his shaking voice. “She reminded me of Aria; she suffered because I was too slow getting her out. Now she’s in some hospital somewhere fighting smoke inhalation. No kid should go through that, Robert.”

Robert was silent the whole time he spoke, taking in every word and offering support in the form of caressing Flambae’s cheek. He never pushed, he never pried, he never made Flambae feel like shit for expressing his thoughts. It was one thing he loved about Robert; he was dryer than a California drought, but he was a fucking good listener.

“You know,” Robert says after a moment, his tone silky as if lulling Flambae into his security. “It sounds to me like you gave her a few more vital minutes before help could arrive. You kept that girl safe and calm long enough for paramedics to take over, not many people can admit to doing that. She’s only able to fight in hospital because you saved her life, Flambae. Don’t you dare put yourself down when you just saved the life of a ten-year-old girl and her family.” His voice grew slightly stern, forcing Flambae to admit he’s right.

He sighs. “You have too much faith in me, Bob-Bob. I’m not the hero you think I am.”

“As your dispatcher, I’d agree, you’re not like most heroes at SDN. As your friend, I’d say you’re twice the hero they’ll ever be. You turned yourself in to better yourself and change your lifestyle, you ran into a burning building to save a young girl without caring for the consequences, you doubt your abilities to be a hero which shows you have more humility than half the top rank heroes SDN has hired in the last decade. You deserve to be here just as much as anyone else does, you hear me?”

Flambae scoffs, though it lacks any conviction, and rests his forehead against Robert’s stomach. His arms reach up to wrap securely around the dispatcher’s waist and back, holding him tight as if he would disappear or break without it.

To his credit, Robert didn’t push him away in disgust, instead he gently pulled the hair tie from Flambae’s hair and smoothed the silky strands before pulling him closer. One of his hands wrapped around Flambae’s shoulders whilst the other buried itself in the hair at the back of his neck, his face pressed into the top of his head. It was strangely intimate, but Flambae wouldn’t dare move a muscle, he needed this and he had a feeling Robert did too.

“You are a hero, darling.”

ˏˋ°•* ❥ Robert POV  ༉‧ ♡*.✧

It had been a week or so since the moment in the locker room, Flambae had returned mostly to normal with a softer edge whenever he spoke to Robert. Whatever moment they shared, it had changed their relationship in a positive way which Robert was grateful for, however strange it felt.

He had been working all morning on a report for his quarterly review with Blazer, making sure to highlight the progress he had made with the Z-Team and the fact that they surpassed their target for successful missions. If he did this correctly, the Z-Team could be in for a bonus to their pay checks and the Phoenix Programme would get better funding which meant better facilities and potentially expanding.

When the clock chimes for lunch, Robert rolls away from his desk and stretches, letting out a small groan at the pain in his back. Turns out getting exploded resorts in chronic pain that never truly goes away, who would have thought?

He stands up and walks towards the break room with his empty mug, Beef hot on his heels, probably hoping for some kind of treat because Robert is a pushover. Entering the tiny room, Robert appears to have walked into a verbal war zone. The Z-Team were sprawled out in the room, arguing back and forth about a bet and secret man – ah, his “lover”, makes more sense.

Brushing past Sonar, Robert shoves his mug under the coffee maker and presses the start button, making sure the liquid definitely starts pouring before he moves away to the fridge. He tunes into the conversation curiously as he browses the very limited options for his lunch.

“I’m telling you, fucks, there’s no one! Don’t you think we would know by now? It’s been weeks since the stupid video was released.” Flambae argues, crossing his arms over his (very nicely toned) chest.

“But what if there is?” Prism asks, she was sat at the round table, one leg crossed over the other, leaning her elbow on the table as she gestures.

“Well, Phenomaman is out of the question,” Malevola says, leaning against the wall with a box of Chinese takeout in hand. “The most Robert gives him is a fist bump, not exactly lover material.”

Prism sighs and grabs the sharpie from the table, crossing out Phenomaman in her notepad. “That leaves Waterboy, Flambae, Royd or no potential lover.”

“It’s not Royd either,” Invisigal says from the vending machine, snacking on a Twinkie. “He called Robert his brother the other day, so unless Robert is into incest, it’s definitely not him.”

“That’s disgusting,” Coupé pipes up, sipping her coffee.

“Please never say that ever again.” Robert comments, closing the fridge door after finding nothing edible that would fill his stomach. He moves towards the vending machine only to be stopped by Flambae’s hand around his bicep.

“Bob-Bob, there’s a container of food for you in the fridge, did you not see it?” he asks, spinning Robert back around to face the fridge.

“No? I saw one with your name on it but nothing else edible.” Robert replies, glancing at Flambae over his shoulder.

Flambae rolls his eyes as if Robert just said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “Yeah, that’s for you, dumbass. I wrote my name on it so these bitches wouldn’t steal it.”

Robert snorts and pulls the fridge open again, taking the black container from the middle shelf and moving to grab a fork from the drawer. By the looks of it, Flambae had made him mayflower curry and Robert was so hungry he couldn’t refuse it.

“You need to eat more, Bob-Bob, Twinkies don’t fucking count either.” Flambae scolds.

“Twinks are a delicacy, man.” Sonar comments, butting into their conversation.

“Shut up, Batboner.” Flambae retorts, rolling his eyes incredulously.

“Don’t make that a thing.” Sonar glares.

Robert ignores them and grabs a dog treat from the jar next to the coffee maker. Since Beef became a permanent fixture at SDN, Chase insisted they have a jar of treats for him on hand and Blazer readily agreed. Now Beef gets a small treat every time he follows someone into the breakroom – mostly Chase.

With Beef satiated, Robert grabs his coffee mug, food container and fork before following the rotund dog out to the office floor.

The Z-Team watch him leave before looking at Flambae expectantly.

“What?” Flambae asks.

“Since when do you make Robert food?” Malevola asks.

“And why weren’t we offered any?” Prism huffs.

“Since he stopped being a little bitch, now leave me alone.” Flambae waves them off as he leaves – probably to go annoy Robert.

After a long moment of silence, Invisigal turns to Prism. “I want to change my bet.”

ˏˋ°•* ❥ Flambae POV  ༉‧ ♡*.✧

Flambae wasn’t sure how it happened, but he found himself on patrol with Robert the following Friday. It was fairly cold for a February and Robert had stupidly left his jacket in the office, so Flambae forced his black one around his shoulders. It was his favourite – the one with the orange cuffs and the flame patterns that trail up the arms – but sacrifices had to be made, he supposed.

They were walking downtown, just casually talking, whatever came to mind really. Since it was late afternoon, they got stopped by a few school kids who clearly admired them asking for pictures or autographs with beaming smiles. Where Flambae went all out, Robert gave his usual small smile, hands stuffed in the pockets of Flambae’s jacket.

One of the kids, a girl with long blonde hair and blue eyes, smiles at them sweetly. “So, are you two dating? Everyone online is speculating if you’re just friends or secretly dating. Let me tell you, you’re doing a shit job if you’re trying to hide it.”

Flambae didn’t know whether to laugh it off or crawl into a hole and die. He expected Robert to be in the same position, but the other just smiled at him with a softness Flambae had never seen before and nodded.

“Yeah, we’re pretty obvious, aren’t we?”

The girl and her friends squeal excitedly, cheering about how they knew from the paparazzi video almost a month ago. Flambae felt his jaw hit the floor at Robert’s brazen admission. Was he serious, or was this just to get the press off his ass about having a partner?

“Sorry, we have to get back to patrol, it was nice meeting you though.” Robert says, waving at the group before walking away with Flambae trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

Once far enough away, Flambae stares at Robert sharply. “What was that, Mecha Bitch?”

“What?” Robert replies innocently, glancing at Flambae quickly before focusing on the street.

“When the fuck were we a couple?” Flambae asks. “I don’t remember agreeing to that shit.”

“You don’t want to be?” Robert asks in return, looking ever the casual asshole he was. Fucking prick.

“Don’t change the subject, asshole. Since when were we fucking dating?”

“What, you can’t handle being in a relationship with me? Wow, Flames, never took you as a pussy.” Robert teases, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“The fuck? I’m not a pussy, Bob-Bob. I can handle you with fucking ease.” Flambae replies before he can stop himself.

“Good to know, babe.” Robert stated, leaning over to press his lips to Flambae’s cheek briefly. He walks away like he hasn’t just flipped Flambae’s entire life on its head.

“Robert!” Flambae calls out, rushing after him. “Get your ass back here!”

ˏˋ°•* ❥ Robert POV  ༉‧ ♡*.✧

If Robert hated paparazzi, he hated Hero Galas even fucking more. He found it was just a bunch of top rank pompous assholes posing as heroes looking to build their reputation and social credibility by showing off at some event that will blow over in a week.

His father had told him these events were ideal for networking and building his image as Mecha Man, but Robert couldn’t give less of a shit. He always acted on the notion that actions speak louder than empty promises, he reassured the public through patrols and putting an end to criminal organisations, not flaunting his supposed wealth at a shitty event with even shittier people.

That being said, SDN were adamant that he had to make an appearance at the upcoming gala, for the public and to boost SDN’s popularity. Something about knowing Mecha Man approved of their values making a big difference. Robert agreed on the basis that the Phoenix Programme gets the recognition it deserved, hence why the Z-Team are joining him in the SDN funded limo.

They were all dressed to the nines, clearly pulling out their best clothes for this event that would inevitable lead to them sitting outside a taco place at eleven at night. Robert wore his only good suit – a dark navy blue blazer and trousers with a white button up, black tie and black dress shoes. His blazer sleeves were rolled up to his elbows out of habit and his tie was slightly loose around his collar.

Across from him, Invisigal sat sprawled out on the seat. She wore a dark purple blazer and dress pants with a black lace corset and black heels that Robert was sure Blazer had forced her to wear. She had eyeliner under her eyes and dark lipstick on, her hair barely changed, just looked brushed through and sprayed with hairspray.

Next to her was Blonde Blazer, who was clearly more experienced in the whole hero gala scene. She wore a tight, royal blue, off the shoulder dress that had a long slit down the side to show off her toned legs. Her iconic red gem necklace sat just under her collarbones and her long blonde hair was curled to perfection, half tied back in some kind of fancy ponytail. She was leaning over to whisper something to Invisigal, who smirks in reply.

To Robert’s left was Prism who went all out with her dress. It was a long, sleeveless silver dress with intricate beading and two cut out at her waist that had a lace fabric over the top. She had myriad pearl necklaces around her neck leading down to her cleavage with matching earrings and hair accessories. She ditched the wig for her natural hair which was styled with goddess braids and silver beads. She kept her two-toned glasses and blue lipstick though.

To Prism’s left was Malevola who’s dress was more simplistic but just as gorgeous. It was a deep red, silk slip dress with intricate black lacing over the top and flared sleeves. It clung to her figure tightly in all the best places before stopping at her ankles. She wore sleek black heels with a red bottom and black jewellery. Her hair was tied back into a twisted bun with a strand left free to frame her face. She was fixing her red lipstick in a handheld mirror.

Across from her was Sonar who wore a basic black suit with a white button down, black shoes and black gloves. Unlike Robert, Sonar opted for a black waistcoat under his blazer that had a silver pocket watch chain handing visibly across his side. In classic Sonar fashion, he was snacking on a double pack of Twinkies before a formal gala.

To Invisigal’s left was Punch Up who wore a white button-down shirt, brown dress pants and a matching brown blazer. He had a green flower corsage in the breast pocket, black suspenders and black dress shoes. His hair kept its perfect side slick, and his moustache was gelled to stay put.

In his lap was Coupé, who wore a short black lace dress that stopped mid-thigh and had a Queen Anne neckline. Over that she wore a long black cover with sleeves and silver detailing along the trim, the cuffs and across the chest and back. The back was the most detailed, made specifically to look like wings. It was very Coupé, in the best way possible. She still wore her mask, and Robert knew she had her knives sheathed at her thighs under the cloak. Her hair was slicked back beautifully with a small silver chain drooped between the back of her mask against her hair.

And finally, opposite the couple, to Robert’s right, was Flambae. Holy shit, Robert would commit crimes to see Flambae in this attire again. He wore a short-sleeved white button up that was open enough to match his costume and show off the sculpted perfection of his chest and biceps. It was tucked into a pair of khaki trousers and dark brown dress shoes to match his belt. His hair was left loose, the left side of his bangs pinned back with a silver pin that matched with his silver rings that rested on his fingers. Much like Invisigal, he was manspreading with one hand scrolling on his phone and the other resting behind Robert’s shoulders. Robert noted that he didn’t have a blazer but had his glasses hanging from his shirt. If Robert thought he looked good in dark colours, he looked just as good - if not better – in lighter ones too.

Robert was in for one long night.

--

When they finally pulled up to the red carpet, Blazer got out first since she was more recognisable than the Z-Team. The paps went crazy over her arrival, bombarding her with questions and flashing lights of cameras. After her, Robert climbed out of the limo, he felt Flambae’s hand rest on his lower back as he was getting out and hoped to God, he wasn’t blushing.

Robert smooths out his blazer before standing with Blazer, his arm respectfully around her back, the other stuffed in his trouser pocket. He offered nothing but a small, forced smile for the camera, opting to ignore every imposing question thrown at him regardless of what it was.

The Z-Team climb out of the limo and the paps hound them for answers about their backstories, what working at SDN is like and if they ever considered returning to villainy. Robert stepped in before they could answer that last one.

“How about you mind your own business, yeah? The Z-Team are heroes through and through, which is more than can be said about you.”

Golem arrived in a separate car, and his presence immediately shut the paps up. Robert relaxed at that and allowed Flambae to guide him away, his hand finding its place on his lower back again.

As they were posing for more pictures, one question stood out like a sore thumb.

“Mecha Man! Are you dating Flambae?”

Robert didn’t have to look to know Flambae is smirking victoriously. He felt the way his hand gripped his waist tighter, the way his chest puffed out more, preening at the question like a peacock. Before he even had the chance to open his mouth, Flambae’s finger tilted his chin up and suddenly he was consumed by the taste of Flambae’s lips. He wasn’t sure when his eyes shut or when his hand found Flambae’s cheek, all he knew was Flambae tasted like smoke and Takis and he couldn’t get enough.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end and Flambae pulled away with a shit-eating grin. Robert subconsciously licked the bottom of his lip and trailed after Flambae, the noise and camera flashes turning into a blur behind him.

--

Just as Robert predicted, they ditched the gala halfway through to grab Mexican food downtown. It was a strange sight, eight people all dressed up eating tacos and burritos at ten pm, it looked like they escaped from prom. Robert takes a bite of his taco, watching the rest of the team banter around him. It reminded him of the bar fight months ago, at least this time they weren’t roughed up.

“Did you idiots seriously kiss on the red carpet?” Prism asks them, smirking like she just won something.

“What? You don’t kiss your homies?” Flambae teases, taking a bite of his burrito.

“No on the red carpet, bitch!” Prism cheers. “How long has that been going on?”

“Couple weeks,” Robert finally chimes in, slouched in his seat on the wall, taco in hand.

“Pay up, bitches!” Prism celebrates, the cockiest smirk gracing her lips as she turns to the rest of the team, who just groan as they rummage through their pockets.

“There was a bet?” Blazer asks, she was nursing a soda cup in her hands, sat idle on the table beside Invisigal.

“Mandy, babe, you have a lot to learn.” Visi replies, hand resting on Blazer’s hip.

“You could have asked me, I knew the whole time.” Blazer admits, taking a sip through the red straw of her cup.

The team slowly turn to stare at her, a mixture of shock, disbelief and betrayal in their faces.

“You knew?” Malevola asks. “And you didn’t tell us?”

Blazer shrugs casually. “You never asked and Robert enjoyed the chaos it created.”

“It made for great entertainment. I can’t believe you thought I was dating Phenomaman though.” Robert admits.

“You asshole.” Coupé chuckles.

“Don’t try ta change the subject, Robert! Why didn’t ya tell us?” Punch Up demands, jumping out of his seat to approach Robert.

“Well, Flambae wasn’t exactly aware we were dating.” Robert snorts.

“Wasn’t aware? You didn’t fucking tell me at all!” Flambae cries. “You told the paps and a group of school kids before even me!”

Robert’s cool demeanour dissolved into chuckles, finding the whole situation highly amusing.

Flambae scoffs and walks over and plants himself in Robert’s lap. The latter leans back to accommodate him, arms wrapping loosely around his waist as Flambae tilts his head up. Brown eyes meet amber with a spark of something more than affection.

“You’re such an idiot,” Flambae mutters. “Just you wait till we get home.”

Robert smirks lazily and leans up, capturing Flambae’s lips in a deep kiss, unbothered by the group around them cheering and (or) gagging.

“Can’t wait, babe.”

ˏˋ°•* ❥ The End  ༉‧ ♡*.✧

AO3

[regrettorisotto]

i fucking LOVE LIFE !!!! YOU WANNA KNOW WHY???? IM ALIVE AT THE SAME TIME AS AO3 EXISTS!! THERES NEVER BEEN A BETTER AGE EVER !!!!! AND IM LIVING NOW AAAHAHHAHAHAHAHA

[pro0ngle]

Office Adventures with Aria - Flambert

Word Count: 4,842

CW: swearing, villain attack, descriptions of child abuse, slight torture

Summary: Flambae is entrusted with his niece after his sister is suddenly called into work last minute. Unable to get time off, Flambae opts for bringing Aria to SDN assuming it was the safest place for a child to be. Turns out Aria is more adventurous than he predicted and when a villain attacks, she's nowhere to be found.

>>> ──────── .✦➤

Flambae’s always been open about his family. He’ll tell anyone who will listen how proud he is of his niece and constantly show Prism pictures of her at her dance recitals. When he feels like being a dick, he’ll compare Robert with his niece just to piss him off.

“Wow, Bobert, my niece could hack faster than that.”

“Robert, my niece could give better directions than you.”

“Is that the best insult you could think of? My niece could do better.”

Safe to say, Robert was eager to meet this girl that Flambae hypes up so much.

>>> ──────── .✦➤

“So, when am I going to meet your boyfriend?” Aria asks, staring up at her uncle with those expectant hazel eyes. When Flambae looked at her, he just saw his sister’s attitude staring back, a carbon copy he always called her.

She was wearing her favourite red sweater with the flame heart design on the front, paired with a light blue skirt and her red converse. Her curly brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail; one strand left loose in front of her face to match her uncle. She had her hands on her hips like a parent about to scold him for sneaking out, Flambae didn’t miss the Mecha Man bracelet on her wrist either – little traitor.

“Wha- I don’t have a boyfriend, Aria.” Flambae defends, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No? But mom said you were having a lover’s spat again. Let me tell you, Uncle Chad, if you need me to kick his ass, I will.” She replies, eyes staring right through to his soul. God she was determined.

“Your mom is nosy as hell, we’re not having a “lover’s spat” and he’s not my boyfriend. But I guess you can come meet the team if you want.” He relents with a sigh, checking her backpack that was on the kitchen table to make sure she had everything.

His sister had begged him to watch Aria for the day after being called into work suddenly, and well, Flambae couldn’t say no to his niece. Only problem was that he couldn’t take time off work, so Aria had to come with him. He was already planning on handing her to Blazer, trusting her to look after his precious niece, but it seemed Aria was dead set on meeting Robert of all people.

“Yes! I get to see Prism!” Aria cheers, whole demeanour flipping as she rushes to the door. “Hurry up, Uncle Chad! You’re so damn slow!”

“You have a horrible mouth on you, kiddo, wonder where you learnt that shit from.” He grumbles, slinging the backpack over his shoulder and herding her outside.

>>> ──────── .✦➤

“Woah, this place is huge!” Aria exclaims the moment they walk into SDN. People were milling around, dropping off files and signing in, Aria’s eyes flickered over everything, amazed by it all.

Flambae rests a hand on her head and ruffles her hair teasingly. “Yeah, yeah, c’mon. You’ll have time to explore later.” He guides her towards the reception desk, signing himself in before filling out the paperwork for Aria’s visitor pass.

The lady at the desk smiles at Aria warmly. “Hi, sweetheart, welcome to SDN, you here to meet some heroes?”

Aria perks up and nods, standing on her tiptoes to peek over the edge of the desk. “Yeah! Uncle Chad says I can meet the Z-Team, Miss Blazer and Robert!”

The lady chuckles in amusement. “Well, that sounds like fun, just remember to keep this with you at all times, okay?” she turns, grabbing a green visitor lanyard and temporary visitor pass and hands it to Aria. “Enjoy your day, sweetheart.”

“Thank you!” Aria beams, taking the pass from her and hooking it around her neck. She was missing one of her top teeth, ironically in the same place as Flambae, which made the lady giggle quietly.

“Alright, kiddo, second floor,” Flambae says, hand on her back to guide her into the elevator. “You’ll meet Blonde Blazer first and she’ll give you a tour. Just don’t overwhelm her, okay?”

“You got it, Uncle Chad!” Aria chirps, smile never leaving her face as the elevator takes them up to the second floor. She was practically buzzing with excitement as the doors open, wanting to run around and explore the entire building.

Before them stood Blonde Blazer in her hero costume, looking ever the powerful badass she was. Flambae could appreciate an attractive woman when he saw one. She had her arms crossed over her chest, a soft smile on her lips as she looks at a stunned Aria.

“You must be Aria, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Blonde Blazer, but Blazer is fine.” She greets warmly. “Welcome to SDN, would you like a tour?”

When Aria doesn’t move, Flambae ruffles her hair again. Immediately she swats at him with a huffy pout. “Don’t embarrass me in front of Miss Blazer!” she hisses at him before turning to Blazer with a small smile. “I’d love a tour, thank you.”

Mandy chuckles in amusement at her sassy remarks. “I like you already, Aria. Let’s start with the Z-Team, shall we?”

Aria eagerly nods, taking Blazer’s offered hand and following her through the adjacent hallway to the meeting room where the heroes meet before shifts. The ten-year-old noted all the large doorways and wide walkways, assuming some of the heroes were unnaturally tall. It did make her a little nervous considering she was only as tall as Blazer’s stomach, but she swallowed her nerves, reassuring herself that Blazer would keep her safe no matter what and Uncle Chad was somewhere in the building.

Entering the meeting room, Aria wasn’t sure where to look first. She counted nine people of varying backgrounds all staring at her like they had never seen a child before. It was unnervingly silent until the woman with two-toned hair piped up with excitement.

“Holy shit! Is that Aria?”

Blazer nods, though looks annoyed by the swearing. “Yes, this is Aria, she’s here for the day since Flambae is busy. She wanted to meet you all.”

Aria, who had taken to admiring the woman in front of her, suddenly perks up. She gasps loudly which startles some of the others. “Prism!”

“Aria!”

“Oh my God, it’s really you! Uncle Chad talks about you so much!” she beams, bouncing on the balls of her feet giddily. She had wanted to meet Prism ever since Flambae mentioned she was his best friend. “You’re so cool! Will you be my best friend too?”

Prism laughs fondly at her and nods. “Of course, kiddo! You’re the coolest person ever, don’t tell your uncle I said that.”

Aria beams, nodding as if keeping a secret. With the knowledge of who Aria is, the team eased up and started introducing themselves to her. She took a liking to Punch Up and Coupé almost immediately, Punch Up was funny and Coupé was a badass who looked cool. She liked Malevola but was a bit wary of her, she was determined to look past the stereotypes of demons though and made an effort to talk to her at least.

Coming face to face with Sonar felt like a fever dream. She stared up at the half bat man inquisitively. “So… you’re the batboner guy?”

“Who the fuck—Goddamn it, Flambae.” Sonar grumbles, running a hand down his face in annoyance. “It’s Sonar, kid. Don’t forget it.”

“Sure, Batboner.” Aria replies, turning away from him to look at Golem. She heard Sonar screech followed by a thunk and Malevola cackling.

Staring up at the monster made entirely of mud, dirt, rocks and clay, Aaria tries to figure the guy out before introducing herself. When her observations come up futile, she hums. “I’m Aria, nice to meet you, clay man.”

Golem snorts, taking her tiny hand between two fingers and shaking it gently. “Same to you, kiddo. You thinking of being a hero?”

“Potentially,” she admits, smiling at him. “Still debating on it.”

Golem nods understandingly. “Fair, I’m sure your uncle’s told you stories, huh?”

“Many,” Aria chuckles. “Mostly funny ones about Robert or his missions with Prism.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Golem teases. “Well, whatever you decide to do, I’m sure you’ll kick ass at it.”

“Thanks, clay man.” Aria beams, giving him a quick hug before glancing over at Invisigal.

Now, Flambae had told her stories of Invisigal, and as much as she shouldn’t judge based on one person’s opinions, she wasn’t fond of the girl. Personally, Aria thought invisibility was the ideal superhero power it just depended on how the person used it, and from what she heard, Invisigal wasn’t using it heroically. Still, she gave her a chance.

She offers her hand to Invisigal, not smiling but not glaring either. “I’m Aria,” she introduces. “You’re Invisigal, right?”

The older girl nods, surprised Aria was even approaching her. She awkwardly shakes the girl’s hand. “Yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you.”

Aria nods in agreement and shuffles in her spot, unsure of how to end the conversation.

Blazer, noticing her hesitance, speaks up from the door. “Aria, you want to see the dispatching area?”

She perks up, spinning around to Blazer with the excitement of a puppy with a tennis ball. “Yes! Is Robert there?”

“Yeah, you can meet Robert and Chase, they’re our best dispatchers.” Blazer smiles, guiding Aria out of the meeting room and back through the hallway.

>>> ──────── .✦➤

On the way to the dispatching section of the building, Blazer got called away for an urgent mission review and urged Aria to follow the signs until she found the dispatchers.

Aria, however, used this opportunity to explore the building more. Hands holding her backpack straps, the girl continued down the hall, making a right turn, then a left, then another right until she found herself in the locker rooms. She wandered down the middle aisle until she spotted a familiar name on one of the lockers. Her uncle had stupidly told her his locker combination in case she wanted to ditch her backpack during the day, and she was certain he hadn’t cleaned it out prior to her arrival.

Dragging one corner of the bench over to the locker, she climbed up and started twisting the lock until it popped open. She tugged the door open and felt her jaw drop. The inside of the door was littered in pictures of Mecha Man and polaroids of Flambae and the Z-Team. The top shelf, from what she could see, had a rolled-up poster hidden from eyesight, she was almost certain it was another Mecha Man poster. Beneath that was a shelf with box of hair ties, bobby pins, and matches. Hanging up was his uncle’s favourite leather jacket, gifted to him by her grandpa, she knew he treasured every imperfection.

Sitting at the bottom were her uncle’s combat boots and a few energy drink cases, nothing as exciting as the unknown poster on the top shelf. Aria hesitated for a moment; he wouldn’t miss it surely. She glances around, making sure no one is around before reaching up and desperately trying to grab the poster. Her fingers brush it briefly before she pinched it between two fingers, pulling it down and into her arms. Beaming, she opens it and, sure enough, it was a Mecha Man poster, the back of the man contrasted with the silhouette of the Mech suit. Aria had never seen this print before, where had her uncle found this? Nevertheless, she stuffed it into her backpack, making sure it didn’t crease, and closed the locker behind her. She moved the bench back to its spot before walking away as if nothing happened. Just as she was walking out, she heard the overhead alarm blaring, a red flashing light consuming the hallway.

“Attention, building has been compromised, commencing infiltration protocol. Evacuate immediately.”

Without hesitating, Aria ran straight back into the locker rooms and tried to find her uncle’s locker once again, to no avail. In her panic, she found the only locker slightly open and climbed inside, holding the door closed behind her. Huddling into the far corner, Aria held a hand over her mouth, trying to quiet her breathing in case a villain was prowling.

How she wished her uncle was here right now.

She wasn’t sure how long it was before she heard a noise, it didn’t sound like human footsteps, it was scratching, like an animal. Against her better judgement, she pushed the door open enough to peek out, she watched as a rotund black and white dog scurried over, sniffing the ground until it spots her. She gasps softly and scoops the dog into the locker with her. It wasn’t her uncle, but it was enough to ease her mind.

Closing the door again, she looks at the dog’s collar, furrowing her brows at its name. “Beef? Strange but okay.” She whispers, letting the dog lick her cheek as she holds it closer. Her fingers instinctively stroke through Beef’s fur, calming her nerves almost instantly. Out of curiosity she looks at the back of the tag.

“If lost, please return to Robert at XXX-XXX-XXX”

“Robert,” Aria breathes, relief flooding her at the familiar name. If Beef was missing, Robert would surely try finding him and in the process, her. Not how she wanted to meet Robert for the first time, but she wouldn’t complain if he came to save her.

>>> ──────── .✦➤

Aria wasn’t sure how long she and Beef had been in this locker for, but she could still hear the alarm blaring faintly from the hallway. Beef had started whining softly which tugged at her heart, to try and soothe him, she started quietly singing You’ll Be In My Heart like her uncle used to when she was upset or worried. She wasn’t sure who it was reassuring more, herself or Beef, but either way, Beef stopped whining and cuddled into her more, so she counted it as a win.

Unfortunately, as much as she tried to stay quiet, it wasn’t quiet enough and soon heavy footsteps thudded down the hallway, getting closer and closer. Aria immediately went silent, hoping the threat would pass but her efforts proved futile.

The footsteps grew closer and she heard a gruff voice call out. “I heard you in here, girly, come out, come out wherever you are.” Followed by laughter than Aria could only describe as crunchy.

Aria squeezes her eyes closed, curling her body around Beef protectively. “Please, Uncle Chad.” She whimpers under her breath.

“I know you’re in here, girl,” the voice calls out again, this time the locker door was tossed open and Aria found herself face-to-face with a man dressed all in black, carrying the largest gun she had ever seen, with a mask over his lower face. “There you are, girlie.”

Before she could blink, his hand wraps around her neck, pulling her out of the locker harshly and letting her dangle in the air. Beef falls from her lap with a whimper that breaks Aria’s heart. One of her hands grips the man’s hand around her throat, trying desperately to rip it off, her other hand clawing at his wrist. She flails her legs frantically, hoping to kick him, she wasn’t going down without fighting, not after her uncle taught her to never give up.

“Struggle all you want, kid, it’s futile. No one’s coming to save you.” The man smirks, grip tightening just to hear her gasps for air.

“Fuck… you.” She manages, gasping between words. She grits her teeth and uses her power to burn his exposed skin. It does nothing but she basks in the wince that leaves his lips.

Her panic grows when black spots linger at the corners of her vision, her attempts to regain oxygen falling flat. Without oxygen, her flailing slows to an almost stop.

Is this it? I never got to meet Robert, I never got to tell my uncle I loved him one last time, I never got to see my mama. I’m so sorry Uncle Chad, I was too weak.

Her eyes roll back, eyelids fluttering closed. Just when she thought it was over, the locker room door slammed open and suddenly the hand around her neck was gone.

Crumpled on the floor, Aria greedily gasps for air, holding her throat with a pained expression. She was so sure she was a goner, what changed?

Forcing her head up, she makes out a blurry figure sitting on top of the villain, fist slamming into his face again and again with a fury she had only ever seen her uncle possess. From what she could make out, her saviour had messy brown hair, wore a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark brown slacks. Her admiration was cut short when Beef waddled over, nuzzling against her chin worriedly. She smiles, though it’s weak, and lifts a shaky hand to pet his head.

“’m okay… Beef.” She mumbles, voice trembling as she regains her breath.

The man’s head whips around to face her the moment the words leave her lips. She can make out his concern, the furrow in his brow, the split in his lip, the bruise on his cheekbone. He looked rough.

He clambers off the unmoving man and rushes to her side. His hand, large but gentle, rests on her back, rubbing it soothingly. “Hey, kiddo, are you okay? Any pain anywhere?” his voice was warm and Aria wanted nothing more than to fall asleep to it.

She nodded nonetheless, no point in lying to her saviour. “My throat.” She replies, noting how hoarse she sounded.

The man nods and moves her hand out the way, just enough to see the developing bruise under her skin. He sucks in a breath before looking into her eyes again. She didn’t know what it was, maybe the fact that he just saved her, but Aria felt implicitly safe with this man.

“Can I carry you? There’s medic outside that can take a better look than me.” He asks, holding his arms out to her.

Aria merely nods, unable to bear the strain in her throat. She shuffles into his chest, wrapping her limbs around him tightly like a koala. One of his arms supports her weight, the other protecting the back of her head as he stands up.

“C’mon, Beef, let’s get out of here.” He says before everything dark for Aria.

>>> ──────── .✦➤

When Aria came to, she found herself in the back of an ambulance, she guessed it late afternoon judging by the darker sky. Her eyes strained against the sudden light, blinking to try and ease the pain. Glancing down at herself, she eyed the IV tube in her arm and the oxygen mask leading off to the side. She tried moving her hand, feeling it weighed down by something – or someone which happened to be her uncle. His grip was tight with worry until he noticed she was awake, then it loosened, joined by his other hand which sandwiched her smaller one.

“Aria! Holy shit, don’t ever do that to me again, you hear? Fuck, I thought…”

Aria’s eyes soften with guilt at the panicked tone in his voice. She hadn’t meant to worry him; she just didn’t know where else to go. She may not remember much of the incident, but she remembered her saviour and mentally thanked him for bringing her back to her uncle.

“Sorry.” She manages to croak through the mask, trying her best to squeeze his hand. It seemed she needed to regain her strength first though.

“Hey, no, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry, Ari, I was just so worried.” Flambae replies, laced with affection and concern. He leaned over to kiss her forehead which made her feel a lot better. “I’m so glad you’re okay, kid, your mom’s gonna kill me though.”

Aria gives a little snicker at the thought. “I’ll vouch for you.” She promises with a small smile, then perks up. “Do you know where the man went? The one that saved me?”

Flambae hesitates at that, thinking momentarily. “Man? Oh, you mean Robert?”

Aria gapes at him. Robert? The Robert saved her? Holy shit.

“Language,” Flambae teases, she must have said that out loud. “Yeah, Robert saved you, he’s getting his lip checked right now.”

“Can I see him?” she asks hopefully.

Flambae nods, ruffling her hair before walking away somewhere. Left to her own devices, Aria recalls the incident in the locker room, the way Robert didn’t hesitate once, the way he beat that man to near death to protect her. Her uncle was right about one thing; Robert really was a hero. Another thought crosses her mind, causing her to gasp.

“My backpack!”

“Looking for something?” a voice asks, her saviour climbs into the ambulance holding a familiar Mecha Man backpack in his hand.

Aria beams, pushing herself to sit up. “Robert!” she throws her arms open, begging for a hug.

To her delight, Robert accepts and wraps his arms around her, rubbing her back much like he did moments earlier. “Hey, princess, you feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks to you. I owe you one.” She replies, burying her face in his neck.

“You don’t owe me anything, princess, and neither does your stubborn uncle. It’s what heroes do.” Robert replies, patting her head.

Another gasp leaves her lips, and she pulls away to stare at him. “That reminds me! Are you dating my uncle?”

Robert freezes momentarily before stuttering. “I- uh- what?”

“You have my blessing if that’s what you’re worried about.” She reassures, smiling cheekily at him.

He laughs, playfully shaking his head. “We’re not dating, but I’ll keep that in mind when I make my move, yeah?”

Aria nods furiously. “Can I be your wing woman? Please?”

Robert ruffles her hair with a fond smile. “Sure, princess.”

>>> ──────── .✦➤

Several Weeks Later

Aria was sat beside Robert at his desk in the office, her backpack discarded off to the side somewhere. She was leaning her elbows on the desk surface, chin in her hands as she watches the CCTV footage on screen with Robert. Since the incident, she had begged Flambae constantly to bring her back to SDN so she could hang out with Robert. He finally gave in after she pestered him for a week straight.

Right now, she was determined to be the best wing woman in history. Her uncle was on a mission to take down a group of thugs with Prism, and she was watching the CCTV with Robert to make sure they got out safely. Her uncle turns around and Aria glances at Robert.

“Tell him his ass looks good, he likes that. Preens like a peacock.”

Robert snorts but taps the pirate channel button on his headset obediently. “Hey, Flames? Your ass looks great from this angle.”

Aria giggles as her uncle figure stiffens before whipping around to stare at the security camera. “Fucking what? Run that by me again, Boberto?”

“I said, your ass looks great from this angle.” Robert smirks, knowing Flambae can’t see him. Aria tries so hard to stifle her giggles behind her hands.

“You’re so fucked when I get back, Mecha Dick.”

“Kinky.” Robert replies before switching channels. “Alright team, good job, return to HQ for lunch.”

A mix of voices mumble through the headset, relief and excitement at the idea of lunch. Robert pulls his headset off and sets it on the desk, turning to Aria with a smile.

“How was that?”

“Perfect, he won’t be able to resist you, Robbie.” Aria grins. She hops off her chair to grab her lunchbox from her backpack. She gives Beef a head pat before returning to her seat.

Sure enough, Flambae storms into the office, striding over to where Robert sat lazily in his chair watching him. He stops just short and slams his hands on the armrests, blocking Roberrt in. “Really Mecha Bitch? In front of my niece?”

Robert holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, man, she encouraged it.”

Flambae whips his head round to Aria, who was nibbling on her apple sticks, watching the whole interaction with amusement.

“Little shit.” He mutters, turning back to Robert and sighing. “Fine, you gonna tell her, or should I?”

Robert shrugs. “Why use words?” he asks before leaning up and capturing Flambae’s lips in a deep kiss.

Aria’s squeals fill the office as she cheers louder than ever before.

“Fucking hate you, Robert.” Flambae mumbles against his lips.

“Sure, you do, babe.” Robert smirks.

>>> ──────── .✦➤

The day of Aria’s dance recital she was a nervous wreck. She had been practicing for months but with the chaos of the last few weeks, she worried something would go horrifically wrong. Her uncle tried to reassure her, but it didn’t quite ease her mind.

She stood in the wings, peeking out just enough to try and spot her family. She knew her mama would be there, phone in hand, ready to capture every moment but there was one person she was hoping would join.

Her eyes scanned the crowd until she spotted them – her uncles. Flambae sat at the back, dressed in a casual button down, jeans and leather jacket. His hair was left down, flowing over his shoulders in waves. To his left was her mama, phone in hand as predicted, but to his right was her favourite person ever. Robert sat lazily in his chair, dressed in her uncle’s black hoodie – the one with flame patterns up the arms – and dark blue jeans. His eyes were scanning the stage, searching for something. When they lock eyes, he smiles proudly and gives her a small wave.

Immediately, all of Aria’s worried dissipated and a bright smile crossed her lips. She excitedly waves back before disappearing behind the curtain.

>>> ──────── .✦➤

After the recital, Aria sprinted off the stage and towards the crowd, weaving around people until she spotted her uncle’s familiar leather jacket. Not stopping, she runs over, shoving Flambae with an excited “Move!” and throwing herself into Robert’s arms.

“Uncle Robert!” she cheers, clinging to him tightly.

He laughs, securing his grip on her. “Hey, princess, you were amazing up there.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” she accuses with a playful grin.

“Wanted it to be a surprise, your uncle let it slip so I called in sick.” Robert teases.

“Wow, feeling so loved over here,” Flambae jokes sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest.

Aria just sticks her tongue out at him. “Suck it, old man.”

Flambae lets out an indignant gasp of offense. “How dare you! I’ll get you back for that, missy.”

“Sure, can I get back to Robert now?” she jokes, electing a laugh from both her mama and Robert.

“You little shit, Robert let me at her!”

“Ah! Robert protect me!”

>>> ──────── .✦➤

Two years later

Aria had never expected her uncle to get married, especially to a superhero. She had always joked that he would end up a crazy cat man, alone in an apartment somewhere. Of course, he just had to prove her wrong in the most obnoxious way ever by marrying Robert Robertson the third, aka, her favourite hero Mecha Man.

Jokes aside, Aria loved her uncles. She was the only exception to their child-free wedding because Robert said she was essential to their relationship even existing. She was both their flower girl and Robert’s maid of honour, Prism was Flambae’s groomsman which made Aria giggle.

So here she stood, behind Robert at the altar, watching her mama walk her uncle down the aisle as Robert tried to fight back tears. She couldn’t prevent her beaming smile as they hold hands during the ceremony, finally getting the happy ending they deserved.

--

At the dinner, Aria was settled between Robert and Chase at the head table, with Prism and her mama on Flambae’s side. Robert claimed it was because they were his family now which gave her special placement at the table.

--

During the first dance, Aria was stood to the side with her mama, watching Robert and Flambae slow dance with tears in her eyes. She hadn’t expected to get so emotional, but she was just so happy for them, her uncle Chad especially.

She hadn’t expected them to glance over at her and open an arm in offering. She gasps softly, letting out a sob and rushing into their arms, holding them tightly as they sway together in the middle of the dance floor.

“I love you both so much.” She whispers, eyes squeezed shut as if she would lose them.

“We love you too, princess.” Robert whispers in return, pressing a soft kiss to her hair.

“Our little wing woman,” Flambae smiles, rubbing her shoulder. “This is all thanks to you, kiddo.”

She gives a watery chuckle as they continue swaying, her family finally complete.

>>> ──────── .✦➤

AO3

[pro0ngle]

Workplace Betting - Flambert

Word Count: 1,985

CW: swearing, suggestive content, almost smut (not quite), slightly ooc potentially.

Summary: Prism makes a bet that Robert's waist is so small your fingers would touch if you grabbed him. Flambae needs the money and annoying Robert is one of his specialities, this was gonna be easy.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Robert has the sluttiest waist I’ve ever seen in a guy.” Prism states as Flambae enters the locker room that morning to clock in for his shift. He hadn’t been in the building five minutes, and this is the shit he hears?

“What happened to “Good Morning, Flambae, how are you? Robert ate shit in the parking lot today; I got it on video for you.”?” He asks, opening up his locker and grabbing one of the hair ties from the top shelf. Carding his fingers through his hair, he pulls it back into its usual ponytail, one strand left loose in front of his face.

“Oh, don’t act like you’ve never stared at him before. I bet if you put your hands on his waist your fingers would touch.” Prism replies, pulling her gloves up her arms.

Flambae was just glad it was the two of them in the locker room that morning. He’d hate to have to burn the place down to keep his secret safe.

“How much?” he asks suddenly, he could use the money honestly and he loved annoying Robert like a favourite pass time.

“Nine hundred—”

“Done.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Usually finding Robert was a cinch, the workaholic was either at his desk or eating in the breakroom, but when Flambae searched both and came up empty handed, he grew annoyed.

He found Blonde Blazer in the hallway, one of the only SDN Heroes he respected, and questioned her about it.

“Blazer, have you seen Bobbert around?” He asks, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed.

“Flambae, hello,” Blazer smiles, it was warm and genuine – one of the reasons he respected her more than most. She wasn’t hung up on his former villain lifestyle and treated him more as a friend. “He had a meeting just before lunch, he may still be in there. Is there anything I can help with?”

“It’s fine, I’ll bug Robert with it later. Thanks though.” He replies, waving it off as he continues walking down the hallway.

Climbing the stairs to the third-floor meeting rooms, Flambae grumbles to himself, of course the one day an exciting bet arises that he can win easily is the one-day Robert is in a fucking meeting. Typical.

He glances through the windows subtly as he walks past, the first three rooms were empty with no lights on but the fourth held more fruitful. Peeking through the door’s window, Flambae spots Chase, Royd, and some other higher ups that he has no care for. If Chase was there then surely…

And there he was, Robert Robertson in all his stupidly attractive glory, sat across the table in a dark navy-blue suit, his white shirt tucked in, the sleeves cuffed around his wrists and the first few buttons undone. His black tie was lightly loose around his collar yet still somehow presentable. He had trimmed his stubble to give himself a neater appearance, but his hair was still the same unkept mess. He was slouched in his seat, arms crossed over his chest and ankles crossed under the table, eyes fixed on the projection on the wall.

Fuck. Fuck, this was bad. Since when was Robert so fucking hot?

Picking his jaw up off the floor, Flambae scrambled away from the door, leaning against an empty wall around the corner. His hand clutches his chest tightly, trying to level his breathing. His face burned with no help from his power. “Fuck you, Bobert, you’re a dead man once you’re done in that meeting.” He grumbles, glaring at a spot on the floor with an intensity to combust.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It was another hour before the meeting finally adjourned. Flambae heard them file out of the room, Chase and Royd teasing Robert for how bored he looked during the entire thing. He watched as the higher ups walked down the hall, waiting for his dispatcher to show up.

After Chase and Royd was Robert – stupid, attractive Robert – he waits until Chase and Royd were slightly ahead before reaching out and grabbing Robert’s tie, tugging him into the adjacent hallway and slamming him against the wall.

Once the shock wore off, Robert relaxed seeing it was Flambae and not some other villain infiltrating SDN. He snorts, features relaxing into bored amusement. “Couldn’t keep your hands off me, huh? I know I’m irresistible, Flames, but at work? Scandalous.”

“Shut up,” he scoffs, scowl gracing his lips as he glares at Robert. “Since when do you wear a fucking suit?”

Robert shrugs lazily; thumbs hooked in the pockets of his trousers. “Since the meeting called for it. Why, jealous I wear it better than you?”

“You’re such a bitch, Bobert,” Flambae retorts. “No one other than the higher ups wore suits, why are you so special, huh?”

“Fine, you caught me,” Robert sighs. “They needed a cover for the SDN promotion material, they chose me so now I have to wear this all day.”

“You? They chose you for the promotion material?” Flambae snorts. “God, I feel bad for everything looking at that cover.”

Robert raises an amused eyebrow, a smirk curving his lips. “With the way you’re holding me here, I’m starting to think you’re lying, Flames.”

Flambae scoffs, glancing at his hand still wrapped tightly around Robert’s tie, holding him firmly against the wall. “Fuck you, Bobert.”

“When and where?”

“Bastard.” He snaps before slamming his lips against Robert’s.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Did you do it yet?” Prism asks as Flambae enters the breakroom almost two hours later. She was sat by the window, her feet on the table as she digs into a box of leftover Chinese takeout.

“You were gone a while.” Malevola quips from against the wall, also eating the leftover Chinese takeout. Did they get some without him? Assholes.

“No, couldn’t find that asshole anywhere.” He replies, swinging the fridge door open to grab whatever had been left behind. He found a similar box of takeout and nabbed it.

“Really? Cause Blazer said he was in a meeting that ended two hours ago. Chase and Royd are back at their desks which leaves you and Robert unaccounted for.” Prism replies, completely unconvinced. Curse her fucking observant nature.

“You lot gossiping?”

Speak of the fucking devil. Robert saunters into the breakroom, brushing past Flambae to get to the fridge. He was still in that fucking suit, but it was dishevelled in places from their encounter which looked more natural on him, in Flambae’s expert opinion. He had made sure all marks were hidden under Robert’s shirt for his eyes only.

“Look who it is, the man of the hour!” Prism smirks, pointing her fork at him.

Robert stands, coming out empty handed from his fridge raid. He gives Prism a confused look before moving to the vending machine.

“Are you getting another fucking Twinkie, Bobert?” Flambae asks, judging him openly.

“Don’t diss Twinkies, they’re good. Besides, you lot have snagged all the edible food in this place.” He replies, slipping a dollar into the machine and punching the number into the keypad.

Prism shoots Flambae a look behind Robert’s back. “Do it, coward.”

Flambae rolls his eyes before setting his takeout on the counter. He walks up behind Robert, almost close enough to press against him if they were alone. He reaches out and places both hands on either side of Robert’s waist, as Prism had predicted, his middle fingers and thumbs were touching.

He felt Robert tense under his hands, clearly trying to figure out what his game was, but ignored it in favour of sending Prism a smug look.

“Pay up, bitch.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“You have the sluttiest waist I’ve ever seen.” Flambae comments, watching Robert squat with the barbell resting securely over his shoulders.

He was supposed to be spotting Robert as he worked out but checking him out was so much easier when he had front row seats to Robert’s ass. Especially in those damn grey sweats.

His hands hover under the bar as Robert’s lift stutters. He takes the barbell when Robert signals and carries it back to the rack.

“Why would you say that?” Robert asks, sitting on bench and watching him curiously. He wasn’t annoyed by the comment, just amused and slightly concerned for Flambae’s mental sake.

“Don’t act confused, Bobert. My fingers literally touch when I hold your waist, it’s tiny.” He replies, walking to stand in front of him, hands on his hips.

Robert tilts his head up to look at him, smirking coyly. “Is that what you were testing in the breakroom? You could have just asked.”

“Don’t piss me off, that was a bet that I won.” Flambae argues.

“How much?”

“Nine hundred bucks, Bobert. It was a no-brainer.”

“I should get half then for my involvement.” Robert teases.

“Fuck right off, you’re not getting a cent from me.” Flambae refuses, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Fine, then I want something else.” Robert says, reaching up to grab Flambae’s hips, tugging him closer. He felt Flambae’s hand settle in his hair, stroking it reluctantly.

“What? Who said you could start calling shots?” Flambae smirks, tilting Rober’s head up to star into his eyes.

“I did, and I want you.” Robert replies cockily, pulling Flambae to straddle his lap. Flambae would deny going willingly.

He rolls his eyes and pushes Robert to lay down on the bench, bodies pressed together as if they would merge eventually. “Fine, only because I want you too.”

This kiss was very different to the one in the hallway. It was soft with lingering desperation, lips pressing together as if trying to savour the other’s taste. One of Flambae’s hands rested lazily beside Robert’s waist, the other twisting Robert’s hair around his fingers gently.

Robert’s own hands were more adventurous, trailing up and down Flambae’s sides, up his back, over his thighs and carding through his ponytail. He smirks into the kiss before pulling the hair tie out of Flambae’s hair, tossing it aside and burying his fingers in the silky strands.

“You have a strange obsession.” Flambae mutters against Robert’s lips, knee finding it’s way between the other’s thighs and pressing firmly against his growing bulge. The needy sounds that escape Robert’s lips set Flambae’s nerves aflame. “Fuck, you’re really testing me, Bobert.”

“You’re one to talk.” Robert replies breathlessly, heartrate thumping in his ears. God he needed Flambae so badly it wasn’t even funny.

“Beg for me, Bobert.” Flambae smirks, tilting his head to nip at the junction between Robert’s neck and shoulder. He sucked dark marks into his skin, drifting no lower than his collarbone.

Robert groan, this low mix of annoyance and overwhelming desire. “Chad, please, I need you.”

Stifling a moan, Flambae buries his face in Robert’s neck, his hand gliding down to wrap Robert’s thighs around his waist. “You sound fucking delicious, babe.”

Let’s just say, Robert was grateful the gym was soundproof.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Walking into the locker room a week later, Flambae opens his locker only to be greeted by a magazine sitting on the middle shelf. Picking it up, he stares at the cover where Robert sits on an office chair in that goddamn suit, legs spread, arms crossed and looking down at the camera in a way that should absolutely be illegal. Behind him, if Flambae could drag his eyes away long enough to look, was his Mecha Man suit in all its glory, looking as powerful as Robert felt. Royd had done a great job hammering out the dents and fixing the broken pieces. If you hadn’t known it was broken prior, you certainly wouldn’t be able to tell from this picture.

How Flambae was expected to go out on missions after seeing this was beyond him, but he knew one thing. Robert was not leaving their bed anytime tonight.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

AO3

[pro0ngle]

The King Has Lost His Crown - Steddie

Word Count: 3,801

CW: none (a bit ooc? I'm trying ^^)

Summary: Steve's trying to shed the King Steve persona and become a better version of himself. What better way to do that than get to know Eddie "The Freak" Munson and join his weird dungeons game? He runs into a few problems along the way but nothing he couldn't handle... maybe.

Lunch at Hawkins High was always a hoot. Everyone divides into their little cliques, and the cafeteria becomes a fucking war zone. The jocks were the worst for it, they had no shame in throwing food at other tables, yelling super loud for no reason, or just being plain annoyances. Now, there was a difference between Jock annoying and Freak annoying.

Unlike the jocks, Eddie “The Freak” Munson wasn’t annoying in an arrogant way, he was annoying in a “I refuse to conform, fuck the patriarchy, fuck society” way. Every Wednesday was another speech about society or about how conformity leads to our destruction through politics. For someone who repeated senior year three or more times, the guy wasn’t stupid.

Steve remembered sitting in the cafeteria, listening to Eddie rant as he walked across the table, trying to distract himself by eating his lunch. Listening to Eddie was better than listening to Tommy H slag off every nerd that ever looked his way. Towards the end of Steve’s high school career, he wished he could ditch the jocks and have a proper discussion with Eddie, something he actually cared about.

Steve wasn’t the smartest student either, but he enjoyed discussions, he liked learning new things that actually interested him. He wanted Eddie to enlighten him; to teach him new things so he could become a better person. Because that’s what Steve wants for himself, he wants to be better, and Eddie is probably his best bet.

--

Now Steve was aware of his social standing. He was a jock, or formerly a jock, he wasn’t well-liked by people outside of that circle, whether they knew him or not. He was certain that if he were to ask Eddie for a discussion, the metalhead would shut him down almost immediately. He had to build up that trust and thankfully, he knew a kid that could help him.

“You, Steve Harrington, want to learn DnD?”

“Yes, Henderson, for the last time, I want to learn your little dungeon game.”

Dustin blinks, momentarily disarmed by Steve’s sudden admission. He stares at his friend, eyeing him suspiciously. “You have an ulterior motive here, what is it?”

“Ulterior- what? Henderson, seriously, I just want to be involved, is that so hard to believe?” Steve asks, his hands gravitating to his hips in that familiar mom-like stance.

“Uh, yeah, Steve, it is hard to believe. You’re a jock, you’re ‘King Steve’, you don’t play DnD with us nerds.” Dustin says. “What brought this on, anyway?”

“I just, I want to shed that persona, you know? I don’t want to be King Steve anymore, I want to be Steve, just Steve. The best version of myself I can be.”

“To attract the ladies?”

“Shut up, idiot.”

“You didn’t deny it!”

--

So, Dustin was no help. But he did tell Steve that Hellfire met up every Friday after school to play a campaign or a one-off game. Steve also knew that Eddie was the ringleader of these campaigns, but from what he heard, Mike had a hand in some of the smaller games. That was something he appreciated, the kids meant a lot to Steve and knowing Eddie includes them like that reassured him that they were in good hands.

And that’s how he found himself parked outside Hawkins High after school, nervously looking through his character sheets that Dustin had given him. He had gone with Dustin’s suggestion of a Paladin but designed it to look more like him than his jock persona. Similarly, his stats weren’t great, but he was fine with that, he wanted a fresh start, and this is what he got. He flipped the page and found his scratchy notes about terminology and rules, Dustin had been so kind as to give him the basics about each dice and when to use them, what certain words meant and so on. So, Steve wasn’t a complete idiot about DnD but he was definitely the least knowledgeable. Hopefully Eddie wouldn’t kick him out the moment he stepped inside.

Speaking of, Steve glanced up as Dustin, Mike and Lucas approached the building. The three were laughing and shoving each other, backpacks heavy on their shoulders. Admittedly, Steve was a little jealous, he wanted friends his own age that could be close with like that. It seemed stupid for a senior to be jealous of freshmen, but Steve decided against overthinking it.

Steve hadn’t told Dustin he was joining their session this week, only that he was interested in their campaigns. He waited until they had disappeared inside before climbing out of his car, folder in hand, and slowly made his way into the school.

With it being after school hours, Steve was under the assumption that everyone had mostly gone home by now or were out partying in the jocks’ case. Unfortunately, it seemed luck wasn’t on his side. As he turned the corner, he ran straight into Tommy H and his group of assholes.

“Shit, is that you, Harrington?”

“Yeah, it’s me, don’t cream your pants.” Steve replies with a grumble, in the altercation he had dropped his folder, the character sheets spread out across the floor in a wild mess.

Before he could reach down to grab them, Tommy beats him to it. “What’s this, Harrington? You part of the nerd squad now? Oh, how the mighty fall, huh?” he chuckles cruelly, waving the sheets for the others to see. “I guess King Steve has finally dropped his crown.”

Instead of looking embarrassed or humiliated, Steve was pissed. He knew the freaks were treated like shit by jocks, Steve never had a hand in it personally, but he saw it and that was bad enough. He’s patience finally snapped at Tommy’s arrogance.

“You know what, Tommy? I’m glad my crown fell, because I finally get to see how much of an asshole you truly are without the rose-tinted perspective. You act all high and mighty, but you can’t even finish one algebra question without getting a nerd to do it for you. You brag about having so much money but go out of your way to beat kids up in the bathrooms for theirs knowing it’s only enough for their lunch that day. You bullied a girl yesterday because her dad died but we both know your parents aren’t in the picture either, they send you daddy’s money every month and never bother checking in because of how much you disgust them. The only reason you made the basketball team in freshman year was because I put in a good word for you, because I did your fucking homework for you. You’re a piece of shit, Tommy and everyone knows it. At least the freaks don’t have to take steroids and neurotics to find where they fit in.” Steve snaps back, arms crossed over his chest as he glares up at the jock. He had more to say, so much more, but Hellfire was starting soon and he needed to be there. “So whatever shit you have left to spew, save it. I can’t stomach hearing your whiny ass any longer. Stay the fuck away from me, from Eddie, from Hellfire and stay in your little corner of athletes that will peak in high school and go nowhere because life isn’t throwing balls into laundry baskets, Tommy. It’s real work and effort. But you wouldn’t know what that is, would you?”

He gathers his sheets as Tommy tries and fails to pick his jaw off the floor. Sending one last cold look, Steve shoulder barges him and storms off down the hall to find Hellfire.

--

It took an embarrassingly long time before Steve found the room where Hellfire was meeting. It was one of the old art rooms that had been blacked out for low light appreciation or something. Steve wasn’t quite sure, either way, they had decorated it with props from the drama studio to make it immersive and Munson had clearly gone all out for this campaign. Maybe this wasn’t a great time for Steve to join in.

He stood outside for a moment, sneaking glances through the glass of the door before working up the courage to step inside. The door creaked as he pushed it open, grabbing everyone’s attention in an instant. It felt like freshman year all over again, when Steve arrived a few minutes late and had to grin and bear the eyes on him. He felt smaller than he had in years, his palms already sweating and his nervous habit of picking his lower lip returned as if it had never left.

Eddie was the first to speak up. “Well, well, well, look what we have here.” He didn’t sound patronising, or annoyed, he sounded curious. Not what Steve was expecting at all, it threw him for a loop.

“Ah, hi…” Steve pipes up, immediately kicking himself for that awkward response. “Sorry… to barge in, I just… I was…”

Eddie waves him off. “No need to be awkward, Stevie, it’s just us freaks.”

Steve flinched at the word, hating how he said it, as if Steve were still the asshole he was a few years ago. “Yeah, well—”

“You were serious?!” Dustin cries from the other side of the table, he stood so fast, his chair tipped over and smacked against the floor. Steve winced at the sound it made.

“Yeah, I told you I was interested, you wrote me off.” Steve replies, he could feel all the eyes on him, but Eddie’s were the most prominent. As I he was analysing him from head to toe.

“I thought you were kidding!” Dustin argues. “You’ve never shown interest before, I thought…”

“Silence,” Eddie waves his hand over the table, and the room delves into quiet nothing. “Whether he’s been interested for a year or five seconds, he’s here now. Let’s show some manners, boys.” He was leaning over the table, hands resting on the edge for support as he glancing around the table, stopping at Steve. “You got a character, Stevie?”

Steve grapples with his voice before nodding, he fumbles with the folder he brought before handing it to Eddie. “Yeah, yeah, here it is.”

Eddie reads over the character sheet for a moment, it wasn’t the worst he’d ever seen but if Steve was serious about joining, he had a long way to go before he’d be with the others. “Not bad, Harrington, always pegged you as the Paladin type.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck shyly, taking the folder back when offered. Eddie gestures to an empty chair and he plops himself down awkwardly.

Dustin, knowing Steve has problems with auditory processing, picks up his folder and moves around to Steve’s left. If Steve had a question or didn’t understand something, he knew Dustin was there to help, and the latter didn’t mind in the slightest.

Eddie, watching everyone get settled again, nods and sits back down behind his divider. It was obvious that Garreth, Jeff, Freak (Frank), and Doug were struggling to adapt to the newest member of their campaign being Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington but Eddie would step in if they got angsty.

--

DnD proved difficult for Steve after several head injuries and many concussions. He was grateful for Dustin helping him when he couldn’t process something Eddie said but he felt guilty for taking so much of Dustin’s time just reiterating.

He also noticed the other players (minus Mike and Lucas who knew of his condition and were sympathetic) getting restless whenever he asked a clarifying question or took too long to decide what he should do next. Jeff seemed more patient, but Garreth was at his wits end and Steve just knew it.

He couldn’t blame the guy; he didn’t ask for Steve to insert himself into their campaign and then prove to be a nuisance. He would be impatient too if someone incapable of processing basic instructions joined the basketball team; he just wished this guilty feeling would disappear.

He had to refrain from standing up and leaving mid campaign out of embarrassment. But everytime he glanced over at Eddie, the metalhead would give him a reassuring smile and mouth “You’re doing great,” which ultimately motivated him to stay and finish the session. He wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome and hoped he wasn’t ruining their night.

“Oh my God, will you just roll the fucking dice already?” Garreth finally snaps, throwing his hands up in annoyance.

“Garreth!” Eddie scolds, expression hardening in an instant.

“No, Eddie! He’s a fucking liability and we both know it! He can’t even make a basic fucking call!” Garreth argues, slamming his hands on the table.

Steve says nothing, choosing to look down at the table in shame. He bites his lip, fighting the burning sensation that wraps around his throat and behind his eyes. His old habit of picking the skin off his fingers returns in a flash, only stopped by Dustin’s grounding hand on his own. He flashes Dustin a forced smile, blinking back the hurt before gathering up his character sheets and notes.

Eddie and Garreth are still arguing as he makes his way out the door. He could hear Dustin and Lucas calling out to him, begging him to stay and work things out but he ignores them. He’ll make it up to them later, he knows when he isn’t wanted.

Ignoring the stray tears rolling down his cheeks, Steve shoves through the double doors and out to the parking lot where his beamer sits alone in the dark. He managed a few steps towards it before his name was called again.

“Steve!” it was Eddie, standing by the doors he just burst through, looking concerned as all hell. But why? “Wait, please!”

Steve heard his own breathing, heavy and fast, his pulse rushing in his ears. He sniffles quietly but does as told.

Eddie speeds over, standing in front of him, unsure of what to do in this situation. “I’m sorry about Garreth, he was being an asshole, and it was totally uncouth.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I promise it won’t happen again; I’ll kill his character or something until he understands.”

Steve snorts, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. He felt silly crying in front of Eddie, especially over something so small. “No… no, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m cut out for Hellfire after all.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “No, no, Stevie, you were doing great. Sure, you needed a little more time but that’s normal. It’s not easy to join a fully fledged campaign as a new player. That’s my fault, I should have made a one off so you could practice at least.” He lifts his hand and gives Steve’s arm a reassuring pat. “You’re better than you think, Steve, come back and I’ll help you out.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Steve admits. “I’ve already ruined your night enough as is, I think I should just go home.”

He felt a lump in his throat at Eddie’s crushed expression. The last thing he wanted was to upset Eddie, he was trying to better himself, not disappoint people. He sucks in a breath and nods. “Okay, I’ll come back, but… you’ll have to help me out, man, I suck.”

“Shut up, you don’t suck.” Eddie chuckles, draping an arm over Steve’s shoulder and guiding him back inside. “I have some ideas for your character too, I think you’ll like them, Harrington.”

--

Needless to say, Steve is so glad he went back that day. It had been months since his first campaign and suddenly he was invested. With help from Eddie and the kids, Steve had levelled up his character a lot and now his stats were somewhat on par with Dustin’s own. He’d never expected his interest in DnD to develop into this, he had new friends – Jeff was the first to warm up to him, then Frank and Doug and finally Garreth. It took a lot to get on Garreth’s good side but somehow, he managed it and now they go out for drinks every other week.

They had also welcomed Erica to their group and she fit in perfectly. Steve must be the designated older brother figure because Erica stuck with him from the beginning and now their characters are a duo in every campaign.

It was the most fun Steve had had in a while, and it was a shame that he was graduating in a weeks’ time and wouldn’t have as much time to play. He had mentioned this to Eddie a while ago and his only response was “You know where we meet, Harrington, you’re always welcome.” It tugged at his heart strings to know that Eddie thought of him as a fully-fledged member of Hellfire.

It was the last campaign for Steve before graduation and Eddie said it was special but wouldn’t elaborate on how.

The whole group gathered in the art studio from Steve’s first campaign, folders on the table, characters waiting on the board in position, waiting for Eddie. Since joining Hellfire, Steve had taken to dressing more comfortably. He kept his light washed jeans but wore a black t-shirt with Iron Maiden’s The Trooper album cover on it – courtesy of Eddie’s wardrobe of course. Eddie had mentioned it going missing the last time they hung out and Steve had brushed it off saying he must have lost it in his piles of laundry.

When Eddie finally arrived, clutching his DM folder and looking wind-swept, his eyes lock onto the t-shirt instantly. They narrow playfully at Steve. “I knew it, you little thief, how long have you been holding onto that?”

“A week,” Steve admits, cheeky grin on his face. “You said I needed new clothes.” He shrugs casually.

“Yeah, new clothes for yourself, not from my wardrobe, Stevie.” Eddie teases, taking his seat at the head of the table. He sets up his divider and sheets and so the campaign begins.

--

“And as the dust settles, the debris clears, leaving the party standing tall, injured but alive. Their foe was destroyed, and the dark cloud over the land dissipates, welcoming the warm blues of the sky back. They had done it, their quest was completed, there was only one thing left – their reward.” Eddie narrates, waving his arms across the table.

The group cheer, exchanging high fives and hugs. Steve picks Erica up and spins her around as she laughs. This was the biggest campaign they had done, and it was the best ending they could have hoped for.

“As the party emerges from the ruins of the castle, the sun beams down on them, warming them instantly. You walk down the stairs, only pausing when a golden shimmering light surrounds Sir Stephen.” Eddie continues, moving Steve’s little figure to the middle of the board.

“Huh?”

“What’s going on?”

“Steve?”

But Steve was just as clueless as them, staring at his little figure on the table in confusion. Is this what Eddie had planned? Glancing up, Steve locks eyes with Eddie and feels his face flush. Eddie’s eyes were filled with a fondness Steve had never seen before, directed only at him, no mistake about it. Steve had never been on the receiving end of this much affection, never in the girls he dated or the kids he babysat – this was new territory and Steve wanted nothing more than to explore it.

“The quest was over, and so was Sir Stephen’s duties in the party. Finally, it was time for him to take everything he had learnt and all his experience and forge his own path, one that would challenge him, keep him guessing and solidify his spot… as a legend amongst men.” Eddie finishes, leaning on the table with a soft smile. “Not to worry, his memory lives on within the party, a scroll emerges from the gold shimmering light, revealing an artistic rendition of Sir Stephen, painted as though he were a mythological figure. And so, our campaign comes to an end and we must saw adieu, we wish Sir Stephen the best on his adventures and hope that one day – one day - he returns to Hellfire to rub it in our faces that he’s a higher level.”

Steve snorts but it’s wet with unshed tears. This is the second time he’s cried in front of Eddie, how embarrassing. “I shall try my best, good sir.” He teases, taking a playful bow as the party laughs around him.

The group each take their turns to hug Steve, wishing him well on his future after graduation and telling him he better say hello as often as possible. When it gets to Eddie, the metalhead cups Steve’s cheeks instead and smiles at him, the one that could disarm Steve at any moment.

“You better not forget about us, Stevie, being the ladies’ man that you are.” Eddie teases.

“As if, Munson, you guys are like my family, I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried – like shit on the bottom of my shoe.” Steve jokes back, earning an undignified snort of laughter from Eddie.

“Dickhead,” Eddie responds affectionately, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’m gonna miss your dumbass at my table every week. Whatever you end up doing, make sure you come say hi, yeah? Or I’ll hunt you down for sport,”

“For sport he says, as if he did any kind of sport in his high school career thus far.” Steve chuckles, arms wrapped tightly around Eddie’s waist. His curly hair was tickling Steve’s face, but he couldn’t find the heart to pull back. “I’ll stop by, I promise, whatever I end up doing with my… very disorientated life… I’ll make room for you, always.”

Eddie pulls away and his hands gravitate back to Steve’s cheeks, holding them gently. “Good boy,”

They stare at each other for a long minute before Steve cuts in, “fuck it.” He leans in and smashes their lips together in a messy, uncoordinated kiss. It was rough, it was unplanned, and it was so them.

Eddie giggled, literally giggled, into the kiss and Steve was far gone for him. The kiss broke a few seconds later and Eddie looked at Steve like he hung the moon and stars. “Wasn’t expecting that, not that it was unwanted. What do you say we take this… elsewhere?”

Who was Steve to argue?

--

A week later, Steve walked across the stage to Principal Higgins and accepted the diploma with a polite smile before looking out at the audience. His eyes landed on the Hellfire group cheering louder than anyone else for him. Sure, they got a few strange looks but…

Stranger Things have happened, right?

--

AO3

[pro0ngle]

Secret Keeping - Steddie Ficlet

Word count: 4,273 words

CW: none (bad formatting maybe lol, ooc characters?)

Summary: Steve has a secret, he can sing - really well too. He's not so subtle about hiding it though. Turns out everyone he knows is aware of this hidden talent of his but it comes in handy when the world turns to shit. He may even get a boyfriend in the process.

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ  : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

Steve had a secret.

Well, Steve had many secrets, but this is one he would take to his grave. No one, not even Robin knew about this secret, and he told her everything.

What’s the secret, you may ask?

Singing. Steve Harrington, The King of Hawkins High, The Hair, the idiot in a Scoops Ahoy outfit, could sing. And not only that, he could play instruments – guitar, keyboard and drums.

Shocking, right? All those times he teased Robin about Tammy Thompson not being able to sing or her being a band kid, he was secretly a musical nerd himself.

Luckily for Steve, no one had figured it out yet. He had managed to keep it to himself and not sing around the others no matter how hard it was at times (cough, Dustin, cough).

Either way, Steve was determined to keep this secret. Absolutely no one could know about this.

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ  : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

It was a quiet day at the Family Video, Steve was perched behind the counter rewinding tapes whilst Robin shuffled around restocking the shelves. They had one radio on the desk that was playing the top hits on repeat, currently it was Madonna’s Like A Virgin – much to Robin’s delight.

She had a habit of purposely singing badly to tease him into changing the station to something she wants instead. She often took control of the music in his car too which he abided by reluctantly.

The song fades to an end and Jimmy “Fast Hands” pipes up from the radio speakers.

“That was Madonna’s Like A Virgin for you on the Squawk today, up next we have fan favourite for you all, it’s ABBA with Super Trouper.”

Robin’s head snaps around to him and she grins widely. She was the only one who knew of his love for ABBA – a guilty pleasure he couldn’t deny, especially when he has a shoebox full of their albums under his bed.

“Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me

But I won’t feel blue, like I always do

Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s you,”

Steve smiles despite him, turning back to the tapes as the song fills the silence. This was, admittedly, one of his favourite songs from the Super Trouper album however, if you were to ask him what his favourite ABBA song of all time is, he would say The King Has Lost His Crown. For more personal reasons.

There was one issue with ABBA for Steve, and that was he couldn’t resist singing along, there must be something in the songs to make them so catchy. Either way, Steve couldn’t stop himself from singing along under his breath.

“Super Trouper lights are gonna find me,

Shining like the sun,

Smiling, having fun,

Feeling like a number one.”

“Are you singing?” Robin asks from behind him. A very manly scream escapes Steve’s throat as he jolts away from the blonde girl, clutching his chest in fright.

“Jesus, Robin! Don’t sneak up on me like that, you psycho!” Steve sighs, leaning back against the counter. In his fright, he knocked a few tapes off which clattered to the ground unceremoniously. “And no, I wasn’t.”

“You totally were! You, Steve Harrington, were singing ABBA!” Robin replies gleefully, pointing a finger at his chest with a teasing smile. “You should sing more, it sounded good.”

“No way,” Steve shuts it down immediately. “Not happening, I don’t sing, Robin, it’s not something I do.”

“Why not? Plenty of people sing everyday whether they’re good at it or not, Tammy sings and she’s on her way to Nashville,” Robin replies, turning to check the computer for the list of tapes that were returned.

Perfect, a way to shift conversation away from his secret hobby. “Tammy Thompson can’t sing, Robin, she sounds like a muppet.”

“Don’t start this again, dingus, whether she can sing well or not, she’s doing it and she’s making her dreams come true, that’s all that matters.” Robin insists, taking the remaining pile of tapes left on the counter and starting to rewind them.

Steve huffs and moves around the counter, crouching down to pick the forgotten tapes off the floor. “Either way, she did it because she has dreams, Robin, I don’t have dreams of being a singer in Nashville.”

“Whatever, I bet you’re just hiding the fact that you’re a good singer.” Robin smirks over her shoulder.

“I am not!” Steve squawks, unknowingly revealing his true reasoning. Damn Robin for being so perceptive.

“And that was ABBA with Super Trouper for your post-lunch listening, stay tuned for more.”

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ  : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

“Steve!”

As if Steve’s shift couldn’t get any worse, in come the party wanting a ride to God knows where at God knows what time with God knows who. Great.

“We need a ride, Hellfire is tonight and Eddie says if we’re late again, he’s gonna kill our characters off for good. Please, we need you’re help.” Dustin blurts out, slamming his hands on the counter and staring into Steve’s soul.

“Please, Steve, my character only survived the last campaign by sheer luck, I can’t be killed off now.” Lucas pleads, standing just behind Dustin with Mike at his side. Will and Max stood behind them, giving him sad puppy dog eyes.

Steve sighs heavily and runs a hand down his face. His shift technically wasn’t over for another ten minutes but with the looks they were giving him, he couldn’t say no.

“Fine, get your asses in the car, and I swear to God, if any of you leave crumbs or stains, I’m making you clean it top to bottom.”

“Yes! Oh my God, Steve, you’re a lifesaver!” Dustin beams, reminding Steve of when they first met and he was just a little kid. He missed those days.

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon.” Steve herds them out, flashing Robin a ‘Save me, please’ look before following them. “Bloody Hellfire, can’t Munson host it somewhere else? Somewhere more convenient?”

“Not many places are keen on having a group of nerds playing their weird, satanic fantasy game at their places.” Max replies, climbing into the back of Steve’s beamer with Lucas and Will. Dustin, of course, had shotgun which left Mike.

“Hey, wait a minute, where am I supposed to sit?” he asks.

“In the trunk.” Dustin snorts.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Mike deadpans.

Steve shrugs. “First come, first served, there’s plenty of room in the trunk, Wheeler.”

Mike huffs and makes his way round to the trunk of the beamer, popping it open and climbing inside. “Steve! What’s with all this shit back here!”

“Oh… I forgot about my bat,” Steve mutters after climbing into the driver’s seat. “Blame Henderson, all this upside-down shit meant my car became storage.”

“God, you need to deep clean this thing man, it’s awful.” Mike grumbles. “Is that an ABBA tape?”

“Woah! Mind your business, Wheeler, stop snooping through my shit!” Steve replies, slightly panicking at the thought of Mike finding out about his guilty pleasure.

“I’m not! It’s just there, it bounced off my shoe!” Mike defends.

“Whatever,” Steve turns on the radio and the tune of Easy Lover seeps through the speakers. Immediately Steve’s fingers tap against the steering wheel as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Fortunately, he knew the way to Eddie’s trailer like the back of his hand so he could afford to listen along.

“She’s an easy lover

She’ll get a hold on you, believe it

Like no other,

Before you know it, you’ll be on your knees.”

“Ugh, we’re being subjected to Steve’s top of the pops mixtape.” Dustin groans, slouching in his seat.

“It’s not that bad,” Will defends. “Could definitely be worse, this is one of the better songs he could have chosen.”

“Thank you, at least someone can appreciate good music,” Steve says, momentarily glancing at Will before turning back to the road.

This causes an argument between the teens as they try to figure out which song is the best. Steve tunes them out in favour of singing along under his breath.

“Now don’t try to change her, just leave it, leave it

You’re not the only one, ‘cause seeing is believing

It’s the only way

You’ll ever know, oh”

Slowly, the group of teens turn to face him, their argument fizzling out at the sound of his quiet singing. Unbeknownst to Steve, who continued as if nothing had changed, as if his little secret hadn’t just been revealed to four more people in the last five minutes.

By the time Steve pulled into the trailer park and stopped in front of the Munson trailer, the group were staring at him, not saying a word. They hold eye contact for a while before Max breaks the silence.

“You can sing?”

“What? No, I can’t sing, okay, I just remember the lyrics and can’t help repeating them.” Steve tries to defend himself.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Steve, sounded like singing to me.” Dustin argues, opening his door.

“It was good,” Lucas praises, hoping the compliment will get Steve to open up to them. “You should sing more, man.”

“No way,” Steve shakes his head, leaning back in his seat with one hand on the wheel, the other on his lap. “Now get out before Munson kills your characters,”

“Shit!”

“Hurry up, Eddie’s gonna murder us!”

“Thanks Steve!”

“Yeah, thanks!”

Steve watches them rush to the door, Mike clambering behind them, asking what all the fuss was about and why they looked so smug all of a sudden. He sighs and reverses out of the trailer park after the group safely entered, driving away with ABBA’s If It Wasn’t for the Nights playing through his speakers.

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ  : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

There was one good thing about Steve’s parents not being home, and that was being able to record his own tapes in peace. Along with singing, Steve often found himself with a guitar or keyboard, making covers of existing songs purely for his own entertainment. After teaching himself most of the instruments readily available to him, he needed an outlet which took the form of recordings.

Whilst he had no intention of anyone ever hearing these tapes or becoming a somewhat successful musician, he enjoyed the feeling of pride when a recording came out good.

Often times he found himself in his bedroom, sitting cross legged on the floor with his guitar, his cassette tape recorder and several empty cassettes littering his floor. He usually covered his favourite bands like ABBA or Tears For Fears but occasionally he branched out. Especially after becoming closer with Eddie “The Freak” Munson, he found himself dabbling in Black Sabbath and Metallica which was far out of his usual genres.

He knew it was stupid but if something ever happened and the people he cared for couldn’t find their tapes to fight off Vecna’s hold, he wanted to have something even if that something was his own rendition. He had already recorded Running Up That Hill for Max and Jessie’s Girl for Robin. He had a list of the party’s favourite songs and regardless of how different they were to his own, he enjoyed singing them. That was, until he reached Eddie’s.

The Trooper – Iron Maiden

Steve sighs softly, how the fuck was he going to pull this off? Luckily, Steve was better at learning by ear than off sheet, so he loaded up the cassette and began practicing.

↺ |◁   II   ▷|   ♡

Hours pass before Steve finally felt he could cover the song with at least enough accuracy to be recognisable. He plugs his guitar into the amp and then sets up his cassette recorder. He takes a deep breath before pressing the record button and grabbing his guitar. The opening riff plays through the amp, the recorder picking up every note as he plays. Soon enough, his voice joins it, not as raspy and metal as the original but as best as Steve could get it.

“You’ll take my life, but I’ll take yours too

You’ll fire your musket, but I’ll run you through

So when you’re waiting for the next attack

You’d better stand, there’s no turning back”

Despite being very out of his comfort zone, Steve enjoyed playing this song more than he thought he would. It was new, it was different and it was so… Eddie. As stupid as it sounds, Steve felt more connected to Eddie than ever through this song and his newfound appreciation for metal thrived with each chord he played.

Steve surprised himself with how far he got before potentially messing up. So far, he hit every chord and note with ease, maybe he should challenge himself to play more metal songs, ones with faster riffs or more complicated chords.

“And as I lay there gazing at the sky

My body’s numb and my throat is dry

And as I lay forgotten and alone

Without a tear, I draw my parting groan, oh, oh”

He finishes the recording with a final guitar solo before hitting stop on the recording. He sighs in relief, feeling good about the end product he created. It wasn’t much in terms of physical strain, but Steve felt that if ever the time called for it, it would do its job at keeping Eddie from Vecna.

He scribbles Eddie’s name onto the cassette before stacking it with the others. Next up was Dustin.

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ  : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

Steve wasn’t expecting to need those cassette tapes. They were a backup plan, a last resort if ever needed, not something he thought would ever see the light of day after he made them but right now, it was serious.

They were at Lover’s Lake, trying to decide what they were going to do about Watergate (named by Dustin, obviously). The whole group was there – Steve, Robin, Eddie, Nancy and Jonathan stood nearer the rock whilst the kids sat on the floor or on upturned logs. Steve had brought his little backpack of cassette tapes and hidden them in his car just a few metres away. They weren’t expecting to be ambushed, much less with all of them together.

It was Max first. One minute she was talking to Lucas about Kate Bush and the next her eyes were rolling back into her head, only the whites showing. Lucas’s frantic calls for Max caught their attention immediately.

“Shit!”

“Someone get the tape!”

“Where the fuck is it?”

“Max! Max, listen to me! Max, come back!”

“The tape isn’t here! We must have left it!”

That was all it took before Steve was running, sprinting, back to his car. Thank God for those running drills he did for the basketball team. Grabbing the backpack from under the passenger seat, he rifled through them to find the one labelled “Max”. Grabbing it, he breathes a sigh of relief and sprints back, waving it around. “I got it! I got it!”

Lucas, not bothering to check first, slams the cassette into the Walkman and shoves the headphones onto Max’s head, cranking the volume up all the way.

No one was expecting the masculine voice to play through the speakers.

“It doesn’t hurt me (yeah, yeah, yo)

Do you want to know how it feels? (Yeah, yeah, yo)

Do you want to know, know that it doesn’t hurt me (Yeah, yeah, yo)

Do you want to hear about the deal I’m making? (Yeah, yeah, yo)”

“What the hell?”

“Steve, what is this? Did you find a bootleg version?”

“You were scammed, dude.”

“Shut up!” Eddie was the one to break the silence. “It’s not a bootleg, Wheeler, it’s Steve.”

The group shut up quickly after that, staring at the former jock who bites his thumb nail nervously, eyes never leaving Max’s frame. She wasn’t floating, which was a good sign, but she wasn’t responsive either. Was it working? Was it giving her time at least?

Unable to stand the tension any longer, Steve crouches down in front of Max, hands resting on her shoulders, giving something to ground her. “C’mon, Max, please come back. I know I’m not Kate Bush, but I tried.”

They could still faintly hear Steve’s voice through the headset as the cassette played continuously. Subconsciously, Steve started singing along, maybe hoping it would increase her chances.

“And if I only could, I’d make a deal with God

And I’d get Him to swap our places

Be running up that road, be running up that hill

Be running up that building (yo)

Say, if I only could, oh”

As if by miracle, Max gasped and fell into Steve’s chest, clutching him tightly as her breathing felt heavy. Steve wrapped his arms around her, holding her protectively. She was back, thank whatever divine being above, she was back, he hadn’t lost a kid.

“Max! Oh my God!”

“Holy shit, it worked!”

“Max! fucking hell, don’t do that!”

Steve knew they would ask questions once the adrenaline had worn off, but for now he was content with holding his kid, knowing she was safe and not one of Vecna’s pawns.

A hand lands on his back, rubbing it gently, reassuringly. Glancing up, Steve’s brown eyes meet Eddie’s warm ones. The metalhead smiled at him and that’s when Steve knew he was a goner.

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ  : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

After Defeating Vecna

It was finally over, Vecna was gone and despite everything, they were all still alive. A little worse for wear, but alive.

Max was free form her coma, having Lucas help her around in her wheelchair. The boy never once complained, the relief of having her back outweighed any complaints he may have.

Eddie was scarred and bruised but walking around with the help of a crutch. He often mentioned how metal it was to have battle scars and raved about being able to design his own cane in the near future. The doctor said he may not need it constantly, but when fatigue hits or when Eddie has days were walking becomes tiresome, he should rely on a crutch or cane to help him.

Steve, similarly, had scars along his waist and neck. They weren’t life altering in the grand scheme of things, but he did find his secret hobby a little harder. Turns out being choked by weird supernatural bats damages your vocal cords a lot. The doctors reassured him it wasn’t irreparable, but Steve found even talking more difficult than before. He would have to work his way towards singing again in the future.

Thankfully, the others escaped with minor injuries – cuts, bruises, scrapes, a few torn muscles but nothing untreatable.

      » [American Pie – Don McLean] «

 1:35 ─〇───── 8:36

It was a week after Max was discharged that the group reunited at the field behind the radio station. It was far enough away that no one could overhear them and secluded enough for them to relax for once.

Lucas, being the gentleman he is, carried Max to the picnic blanket they had set up, setting her down as gently as possible beside El.

Will pat Lucas’ back as he sat down, reconnecting with Dustin and Mike as if no time had passed at all.

Nancy and Jonathan sat together at the far end of the picnic blanket, his arm was around her shoulders, holding her close as the sun started setting in the distance. They were talking quietly between them, probably discussing next steps and college plans.

Robin sat with Steve, snacking on the blueberries from the plastic container El had brought. Everyone was tasked with bringing something, whether it be snacks, meals, drinks or entertainment, to make it fair for everyone. Robin had taken interest in the fruits El and Nancy had brought along and was happily ranting to Steve about how good they were.

Steve, on the other hand, was too distracted to listen. They were missing someone, a very loud someone. Eddie hadn’t shown up yet and Steve was worried something may have happened on the way here.

His worry didn’t last long, however, as Eddie’s van parks on the hill by the radio station and the metalhead climbs out, using his cane to descend the hill. He looked much the same – white band t-shirt, black jeans, white Reeboks and that damn leather jacket. His hair, all wild and untamed, was pulled back into a bun and dear god, that should be illegal.

Steve watched in fascination as Eddie walked over to them, settling in beside Steve with a cheeky smile that he knew all too well.

“Harrington, fancy seeing you here,” Eddie grins, knocking Steve’s shoulder with his own.

He snorts and nudges him back. “Skipped physio for this I see,” he teased back, gesturing to the cane. “Gonna start calling you ‘old man’ from now on.”

Eddie gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “You wouldn’t dare! I’m only a year older, Harrington, that makes you an old man too.”

“Hardly,” Steve scoffs good-naturedly. “That one year is everything, Munson, means I’m young and up-to-date with the kids.”

Eddie can’t stifle the snort that leaves him, chuckling behind his hand at the absurdity. “Yeah, right,” he pulls Steve into a tight side-hug, ruffling his hair playfully.

“Hey, man, watch the hair! I spent twenty minutes on this!” Steve jokes, running a hand through his hair methodically.

“Not his precious hair, Eddie, c’mon.” Robin joins in, causing the others to join in on the teasing.

“Alright, alright, shut up,” Steve chuckles, causing the group to dissolve into laughs.

As the evening dies down and the sky dims to black, Nancy turns to Steve who was cuddled into Eddie’s side, listening to him talk to the Party about DND. “Play us something, Stevie.”

Admittedly, the five older members had a few beers between them, but Steve was of sound enough mind to hear her request (read: demand). He glances over and snorts. “Play? Play what? I didn’t bring a guitar; besides, I don’t think I can sing in front of you lot unless I want my reputation to tank.”

“Oh, come on. We know you can sing, dingus,” Robin chimes in, pointing the neck of her beer at him. “I’m sure someone brough a guitar, right? It’s a weird, shitty tradition.”

“That’s for parties, Rob.” Steve replies.

“Is that not what this is?” she retorts. Fair play.

Eddie perks up. “There’s an acoustic in the van, that good enough, Wheeler?”

Nancy nods approvingly, “perfect, Steve, go get the guitar and play us something. I know you can, you liar.”

With a huff and a grumble and a few choice words, Steve hauls himself up and towards Eddie’s van, twirling the keys around his index finger.

He returns moments later with the guitar in hand, settling beside Eddie once again. The metalhead’s arm finds it’s place around his shoulders, tugging him closer with ease. Steve holds the guitar in his lap and fiddles with the strings, tuning it up before strumming.

“Any requests then?” Steve asks, looking at Nancy but addressed to everyone.

“Surprise us,” Jonathan answers, gaining many hums of agreement.

Steve sighs and pucks a few strings before delving into the opening tune of American Pie by Don McLean.

“A long, long time ago

I can still remember how that music

Used to make me smile

And I knew if I had the chance

That I could make those people dance

And maybe they’d be happy for a while”

The group eased into silence, listening intently to Steve’s melodic voice as he sang. No one commented when he missed a cord or failed to hit a note due to his injury. It was familiar, comforting, a reassuring end to the endeavours they had faced. Most would say Steve’s song choice was depressing or morbid but to the party it was perfect. A representation of their current situations, everything they faced led up to this moment.

One last hurrah. One last goodbye.

As the song continued, Steve looked up from the guitar to reminisce on the group. Will had his arm around Dustin, rubbing his arm comfortingly. Mike and El were holding hands, staring out at the horizon thoughtfully. Lucas and Max were huddled together, eyes closed as they embraced the peaceful moment.

Nancy had her head resting on Jonathan’s shoulder, his own resting atop of hers. They looked at peace, cute almost, good for them.

Robin was nursing her beer, her head resting on Steve’s outstretched leg as if it were a pillow. Steve wasn’t sure how comfortable it was, but Robin seemed at ease for once, so he didn’t mention it.

Then there was Eddie. His Eddie. Staring down at him as if he hung the moon and stars, Steve may have slipped up on his words as their eyes met. No one said anything. And to think they had nearly lost this man, this golden retriever nearly succumbed to the Upside-down. Steve would carry him back through the gate several times over if it meant having this moment together forever. Steve almost lost him once, it wasn’t happening again.

“And they were singin’, “Bye, bye, Miss American Pie”

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

And them good ol’ boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye

Singin’, “This’ll be the day that I die””

His voice grew softer, more mellow, finally content with himself. That was the moment Eddie decided to join him.

“They were singin’, “Bye, bye, Miss American Pie”

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

Them good ol’ boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye

Singin’, “This’ll be the day that I die””

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ  : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

AO3