Steve is excellent at molding himself perfectly to his partners interests when he is in a relationship. With Nancy he read every single article of the school newspaper she wrote. Movies nights were either filled with Tom Cruise (not that Steve minded that much) or documentaries he tried to be interested in. Once he suggested they'd watch an episode of Star Trek together but when she said "I really want to watch this documentary" he had relented.
It's the same with every girlfriend or fling afterwards. They get to pick the movie, the music, the dinner, the activities. Or more accurately Steve picks exactly what they like because they seem to expect it. He shows up to Sarah's piano recital and watches Heidi's cheer practice. He let's Jenna eject his Tears for Fears tape with a frown and put on some Ska instead. And when Chloe really, really wants to go out for milkshakes he pretends like ice cream doesn't make him want to throw up after Starcourt. Not a single one of them ever shows up at his basketball games or his swim meets.
Love means sacrifice and putting yourself second. At least when you're Steve Harrington.
So when Steve starts dating Eddie he doesn't expect anything else. It's not as bad though as with some previous dates. It's nice to listen to Eddie go on a long ramble about the history of metal. He likes to sit in during the DnD games, flicking through a magazine while Eddie and the kids play. And sure he is not the biggest fan of horror movies but it's a nice excuse to cuddle up with Eddie during movie night. Not that he would need an excuse, Eddie is incredibly tactile.
Steve is in the middle of a little league baseball game when things change. He is so focused on coaching his team he doesn't notice the mop of black curls in the audience at first. Only when his little team has their first home run and an eardrum shattering whistle comes from the bleachers, Steve turns and is surprised to find Eddie in the audience, smiling, cheering, hollering.
When he spots Steve looking at him he waves at him with an even bigger smile. During a brief water break Steve jogs over to the bleachers.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, still surprised that Eddie is here.
"Came to support my boyfriend and his team, of course," Eddie grins. If they weren't in public, Steve would steal a kiss right now. Eddie very much loathes sports and yet he still came.
Once the game is over Eddie drives both of them home. When he turns on the tape player, Steve very much expects the usual metal to come out of the speakers. Instead he is met with the familiar voice of Duran Duran. He expects Eddie to change the tape but he just lets it play. After Duran Duran there is a Judas Priest song and maybe the Duran Duran just got on there by accident. But after Judas Priest Hall and Oates plays and Eddie even hums along? No complaints, no berating Steve for his horrible taste in music, but fucking humming along?
"Did you…did you make this?" Steve asks, trying to wrap his head around what is happening.
"Yeah, thought this way we can both listen to stuff we like," Eddie smiles and laces their hands together. "But I also got some Bowie and and Queen tapes if you want something else."
It's the few musicians they can agree on. But Steve shakes his head.
"No, I like it. Leave it."
When they get to their small but comfy new home Eddie dashes upstairs to take a shower and tells Steve to pick a movie from the few he rented earlier.
The first one is Rosemary's Baby. Of course Eddie picked a horror movie. But then the next tape surprises Steve yet again. It's Back to the Future and the one after that is Star Wars there even is Top Gun. And Night of the Living Dead. A perfect mixture really.
When Eddie comes back from his shower Steve is still staring at the movies a frown on his face.
"You alright, Steveheart?"
"You know you don't have to do this," Steve says slowly. "Pretend you want to watch something I like. Or listen to my music. I don't want you to pretend."
Eddie walks over, wet hair dripping onto the floor. He presses a kiss to Steve's cheek and takes Top Gun out of his hand.
"I'm not pretending," he says and walks over to their TV. "I want to watch stuff you like. The same way you agree to sometimes watch stuff that I like. That's how it works, doesn't it? We compromise."
Steve blinks. Compromise. No ones ever really wanted to compromise with him. No one ever cared enough.
"Why?" he asks and sits down on the couch.
"Because I love you. And I want to know about the things you love. The same way I want to hear about your day or how your run went, if you liked your green smoothie this morning," Eddie says and sits down on the sofa too, pulling Steve into his arms.
And maybe it's taken him 22 years to learn. But finally Steve realizes that love is not putting others always first. Love is to meet in the middle. Love is to care, and to compromise and to share.
He's never felt so loved like when the intro to Top Gun starts playing.
Prompt #3 - TV Tray | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Pre-Steddie, Dustin & Erica | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Has Lots of Help, Steve Made Sure Of It, Scoops Troop Forever
"Here," Dustin says, unfolding the little metal legs of the TV tray. It has My Little Pony on it. It barely squeezes down over his thighs.
Eddie raises an eyebrow.
"From Erica. Shut up," Dustin hisses, making sure the tray is at least somewhat level over Eddie's lap. Putting down a spoon.
Eddie isn't sure how Henderson got babysitting duty today, but it's better than Gareth, he supposes. Gareth wants him up and walking yesterday and won't take no for an answer. Forcing Eddie to shuffle along the hallway of the rental house.
And Eddie know he means well, but everything still fucking hurts.
So, no thank you. He's gonna sit in bed for a while longer. Physical therapy will come later. Probably not professional, but Eddie knows Steve's developing a plan of attack.
Eddie's only a little concerned.
"Yeah, are you making fun of Applejack?" Erica hollers from the doorway, and Eddie grins. He didn't know she was here.
"Never," Eddie argues. At least she didn't call him a—
"—nerd."
Well, scratch that.
She brings over a bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, setting it down right on the colorful metal surface. The sandwich is only a little burnt, and is cut into four little squares, with cheese oozing out.
He's happy to see both of them. Steve is running a tight ship on who gets to help take care of him. Hell, Gareth only got clearance a couple weeks ago. So two more new faces is nice. He thinks that must mean he's doing better.
That, or Henderson just annoyed the fuck out of Steve until he relented.
"Thank you for sharing your toys with me, m'lady," Eddie says, picking up the spoon Dustin had brought him. It's harder than he'd like it to be. It still shimmies in his hand, shaking as he tries to guide towards the bowl of what he assumes is Campbell's tomato soup.
He grips his wrist with his other hand, his better hand, and tries to steady it. He could just try to learn to eat with his left hand, but he wants to play guitar again, so his fucking right hand has to cooperate. That's just how it's gonna be.
It's gotta learn how to work again.
Eddie would be embarrassed, but he's been poked and prodded, and seen at his weakest ever since the bats gnawed the shit out of him. This is nothing in comparison. Showing a little weakness to two kids that love him, for some insane reason, is barely a blimp of embarrassment.
Nothing like Wayne and Steve bathing him after bringing him home from the hospital. That had to be the last true embarrassment he had. Steve Harrington carefully wrestling him onto a bath chair, and then holding him steady in the tub while Wayne scrubbed his back was just the final straw of privacy. Even if Steve had laid a wet washrag over his crotch. Like that was gonna make it all better, and more normal.
It certainly was not.
Steve clucking about Eddie's wounds, still not healed, even after being released from the hospital. Bandages were changed. Creams and lotions applied. Medications carefully administered.
A watchful eye that hardly ever left his sight.
It was weird, until it wasn't. Now, Steve's just part of his daily routine. And Steve can bathe him all by himself, trusting that Eddie will be able to hold onto the chair while Steve scrubs and rinses his hair.
Tomorrow is bath day again, and Eddie knows he's getting a little ripe. All the deodorant in the world just won't cover it up. Not totally.
Maybe soon he'll graduate to standing in the shower all by himself, but that day just isn't here. Not quite yet.
Today, he eats while Henderson and Erica argue just to hear their heads rattle.
"You little shits had better have taken good care of him," Steve snaps, breezing into the room, dropping his jacket on Eddie's desk. Well, in theory it's Eddie's desk. He's never sat there, not for a minute. It's Steve domain right now. Hell. Most of the room is Steve's domain.
In the early days, while Wayne was working overnights, Steve would lay out a sleeping bag on the floor, staying close, for when Eddie was bound to wake up from the nightmares. These days, he's graduated to his own bedroom. Mostly.
This house has three of them, and it didn't take long for Eddie to realize Steve had just moved on in.
"Jeez, way to have faith in us," Dustin whines, and Steve ruffles his hair, pulling him close.
"Lunch was edible?" Steve inquires.
Erica has her hands on her hips, and Eddie is absolutely certain there's only one answer to that question:
"Fantastic. Erica made pie," Eddie says, and she nods, as if he's passed the test she was administering.
Steve nods, and sits on the edge of Eddie's bed, hand curling around Eddie's blanket-covered shin, squeezing.
It's nothing. And everything.
There's been no moves made. But Eddie feels like maybe there might be whenever Eddie's back on his feet again.
It's a good motivation to keep getting stronger.
"I rented some movies—"
"—yes!" Dustin interrupts.
Steve ignores him.
"Adult movies."
"Ew," Dustin adds, and Steve is clearly getting frustrated, waving his hands.
"Jesus. Not like that. Just not for children," he clarifies, and Eddie tries to bite back his smile, just letting Steve continue to dig this hole for himself.
Steve sighs.
"I brought your own tapes. Take them and go," Steve finally says, defeated. He always gives into them, and honestly, Eddie loves that he does. They're good kids.
"You're not gonna give us a ride?" Henderson whines. Eddie knows how this ends. Of course Steve's gonna shuttle them around.
Steve looks at Eddie, tilting his head, then squeezes his leg once more, before grabbing his jacket, herding the two kids away, towards his car.
"I'll be right here awaiting your imminent return!" Eddie shouts.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇
for @corrodedcoffinfest day 8 prompt 'where's the beef?'
rated t | 659 words | cw: recreational drug use | tags: established steddie, good babysitter steve, everyone's high
🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔
“Beef and Jeff are close.”
Jeff giggles. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Gareth giggles, too. “Like. Your names.”
“Beef isn’t a name,” Frankie says, but his words slur a bit. “Maybe Jeff isn’t even a name.”
“Where’s beef?” Eddie asks. No one answers. “Where’s the beef?!”
They’re so crossfaded. Jeff only had one beer because he knew Eddie was bringing the good weed, but he’s still pretty out of it. Eddie’s somehow the worst of them all.
Steve is their babysitter, or at least that’s what he told them when he took one hit from the joint and then sat on Eddie’s bed like it was his. All of them are spread out on the floor, and Steve’s eyes are on them, but he doesn’t say much.
“You’re all a mess,” he finally says. “Everyone needs water.”
“But Steve.” Eddie sits up and stares at him seriously. “Where is the beef?”
Steve rolls his eyes. “The freezer. Next to the chicken.”
“Can we have the beef?” Gareth sits up and asks. He pouts at Steve, and Jeff already knows it’s gonna work. Steve’s got a soft spot for him, and it’s somehow even bigger than the one Eddie has for him. “In cooked beef form.”
“You mean a burger?” Steve asks.
Jeff thinks he has the patience of a saint. He’s high as shit, but even he knows they aren’t making any fucking sense.
“Do I mean that?” Gareth turns to Eddie, blinking slowly. “Burgers sound good. Burgers are beef. Cooked beef.”
“Yeah,” Eddie nods. Steve shakes his head and gets up from the bed. “Where you going?”
“To make you burgers. Or try to since the meat is frozen.”
“Cooking it makes it unfrozen,” Frankie says with a sigh. “Even I know that.”
Jeff decides that he’s probably the closest to sober out of all of them, so he stands to try to help Steve. Not that Steve needs it. But maybe he’ll like having company.
He only stumbles a little before he straightens and follows Steve out of the room. No one even notices him leaving.
Steve’s running the hot water in the sink when he makes it there, leaning over the counter and yawning.
“You don’t have to do that. They’ll forget about this in the next five minutes,” Jeff says as he leans on the other side of the counter. “If they haven’t already.”
“It’s fine. I could eat anyway.”
“Why do you take care of us all?”
Steve looks up at him and tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“We do this once a week and you always stick around to keep an eye on us. Even when Gareth and Eddie do too much. Why?”
The corner of Steve’s mouth turns up for a moment before he looks back down.
“Someone has to keep an eye on you guys.”
“But we’re fine. You could tell us to fuck off. We could take turns.”
Steve shuts off the water and holds up the package of beef. “None of you know how to make burgers.”
“But we—“
“Jeff, dude. I like taking care of people I care about, okay?” Steve sighs.
“You care about all of us?” Jeff isn’t an idiot. He knows Steve obviously cares a lot about Eddie, and clearly cares quite a bit about Gareth because Eddie does, but all of them?
“I wouldn’t stick around if I didn’t.” Steve starts to separate the meat, more than half of it going into a mixing bowl and the other going into a much smaller bowl. “Do you actually wanna help or just try to convince me not to babysit?”
“Why do you have some separate?” Jeff asks as he walks around the counter and waits for instructions.
“Frankie doesn’t like the spices I usually use. So I just put salt and pepper in his.”
Eddie buying Steve a plush Ewok on valentine's day. Giving it a little rose to hold. And bringing Steve a box of chocolates to finalllyyyyyyy confess his feelings.
He shows up on Steve's doorstep around noon, so fucking nervous his knees are shaking. He rings the door bell and then walks in a circle twice, like an impatient cat, his hands shaking as they hold his gifts.
Steve answers the door with that cute little pout, not expecting anyone today. He hides at home on valentines now. But he smiles when he sees Eddie. His smile falteres for a tiny moment when his eyes fall on the Ewok and chocolates in his hands.
But then his face turns pink and he rubs the back of his neck and he's like,
"Are those for me?" All shy and Eddie has completely lost control of his speech so he opens and closes his mouth a few times before clamping his shut and just nodding.
As soon as he nods Steve lights up. He bolts out the door, the like, two steps between them and moves his hands over the Ewok and he's like,
"You got me one of the teddy bears!!! I love himmmm!" And takes it and hugs it. And then looks at Eddie and is like,
"You didn't correct me." All quiet as he pets at the Ewoks paw. And Eddie just shrugs and says,
"Do i ever?" And he know he looks besotted and gooey and love drunk. And Steve just looks at him for a minute and then nods slowly and is like,
"You wanna come in?" His hand falling to Eddie's wrist. He loses contol of his mouth again at the touch and nods again. Steve grabs the chocolates too, and then Eddie's hand.
He tugs him inside and they sit on the couch watching Star Wars, and then other stuff neither one of them pays attention to, for the rest of the day. Steve's little Ewok setting between them or on Steve's lap.
Steve names him Theodore. Eddie turns red to the tips of his ears.
(Steve's the only person besides Wayne that knows that's his real name. The only person Eddie himself has ever told. 🧡)
rating: G | WC: 481 | ao3
tags: future fic, parent steddie, family fluff (the tooth-rotting kind)
The patter of feet on the stairs precedes a yellow blur past the entrance to the living room. Steve smiles to himself as he marks the page in his book and sets it aside, knowing he might lose his place if he doesn’t take care of it now.
Sure enough, he hears giggling from around the corner, followed by a badly contained whisper: “I don’t think he saw me!”
“What’s he doing?” an identical voice hisses from above.
Steve doesn’t look, but he assumes whichever of the twins is downstairs takes a peek into the room, because there’s a pause before she replies, “He’s just sittin’ on the couch.”
“That’s perfect. Sounds like a great opportunity for an ambush.” An impossibly wider smile stretches Steve’s lips at the sound of Eddie entertaining the girls’ new obsession.
The onesies had been a birthday gift from Papaw Wayne, who not only puts up with daily rewatches of The Lion King while Steve and Eddie are at work, but who managed to spin the obsession into an interest in real-life big cats. Every night for the past week, they’ve begged Steve to read to them from an issue of National Geographic in lieu of a bedtime story, and they’ve started spouting off fun facts at every opportunity.
“Dad, did you know a mountain lion can jump more than forty feet? That’s almost bigger than our yard!” was parroted to Eddie while he was buckling Gwen into her car seat yesterday.
“Girl lions do all the hunting, Mr. Chief Hopper,” was deadpanned to Jim at Steve’s birthday party, after they overheard him insinuating he was a better shot than Nancy.
“A lion family is called a pride, too!” Beth chirped to Robin on the way to the festival in Indy last week, swinging their joined hands back and forth.
“Bengal tigers roar so loud you can hear it…well, I can’t remember, but it’s really far away.” They mentioned this one to Eddie yesterday, too, as he did his best to corral their lack of volume control away from Steve’s migraine.
At the moment, Steve is sure Eddie knows how not-sneaky they’re being, but he still plays along and stage whispers, “Alright, my little cubbies…”
The girls titter and protest. “We’re not cubbies!”
“Oh, that’s right! My apologies to the powerful lionesses,” he amends, which makes them laugh some more before he continues, “On the count of three.”
Steve tries to brace himself for the roughhousing without making it too obvious. He’s lucky his migraine is gone, so he can enjoy his family’s wonderful chaos.
“One…two…”
The twins stifle their giggles, getting ready to pounce.
“Three!”
Both girls run into the room at top speed, little voices roaring, with bared teeth and clawed fingers. Eddie is on their heels. Steve puts on an exaggerated expression of terror and lets them tackle him into the couch cushions.
Jeff can’t put his finger on it, but something’s wrong with him.
He’s never the first one to arrive for band practice, let alone early. But here he was in the garage tuning his guitar.
Jeff is watching from across the room. He’s punctual. He’s been playing his music at a lower volume. He hasn’t killed anyone’s character out of spite in at least a month. And Mike actually deserved it last week.
Jeff even heard him make comments about the cubs/cardinals game to Wayne in passing.
And there’s something wrong with Eddie’s hair.
It’s not frizzy like it normally is. It looked … soft. Defined. Conditioned —
“You’re sleeping with Steve Harrington!” Jeff snapped, pointing accusingly to Eddie.
Eddie’s face dropped.
His eyes darted between their friends — when did the other guys get here?
For a moment Jeff felt bad blurting it out, catching the fear in Eddie’s eyes. But just like everything else Eddie has faced, he’s replaced the fear with confidence.
Eddie’s eyes narrowed angrily at Jeff. “So what if I am?”
Jeff shrugged, plucking at his strings. “Good for you, man. Just hit me, that’s all.”
That made Eddie physically stumble. Like he wasn’t expecting that. “What?”
“You’ve been different,” Jeff said. “Not in a bad way. Good actually. Just — made me realize it.”
The garage was silent. As if everyone was afraid to make a move.
“Is there — is there gonna be a problem?” Eddie asked, all bravo drained from his voice.
“Nope,” Jeff said. “Like that we’re not waiting on you. Bring him by sometime.”
Eddie stood still, still trying to process everything.
“How did — how did you know?”
Jeff pointed to his own curls. “Your hair. Looks nice. Figured Steve washed it, huh?”
Eddie blushed, pulling a strand over his face. There was a mumbled of a ‘yeah.’
Gareth scoffed. Eddie’s glare quickly went to him. Gareth threw his hands up defensively. “No, it’s just that if anyone can take that mane of yours, it’s Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington.”
Eddie let out a laugh. “Whatever. Just play, bozos.”
Yeah, something’s different about Eddie.
He’s happier than he’s been in years. And Steve Harrington is to thank for that.
Steve Harrington using exercise as a form of self-harm.
He's athletic. He's been working out one way or another for every sport he's ever played. And, thanks to his dad's high expectations of him, that's a lot of sports.
Post-S2 concussion his coaches drop him one by one, calling him a liability at best or a glorified bench warmer at worst.
Sports were his stress relief. Basketball, swimming, baseball-- he needs the release. Can't function without it.
So he takes up running.
He runs until he's sick, light-headed, and barely able to stand. He runs from the monsters and the doctors and his parents and everything he can't shake off. Runs until he's shaking, tripping over himself on the pavement. He doesn't care about anything except for the burn in his lungs and the pain in his legs.
Doctors warned him to take it easy. Nancy tells him to stop. His parents call him lazy. The kids think he's just a jock, even though Dustin and Max have both walked in on him heaving into the kitchen sink.
The migraines get worse. He probably needs glasses, maybe hearing aids-- but he stopped going to his follow-up appointments when his parents started asking too many questions.
It all comes to a head when he goes for a run on a hot summer day, the sun baking him alive before he even gets started.
One foot in front of the other. There's black spots in his vision. He can keep going. His stomach cramps. Keep going. Just one more step. Push harder.
One more.
One more.
One more.
One more.
He wakes up in the back of an unfamiliar van.
He'd worry the G-men finally came for him, but there's matted shag carpeting scraping his neck. The smell of stale weed makes him sick all over again and thank God there's a plastic bag shoved under him so it doesn't get everywhere. He just wishes this dude would stop yelling, he's louder than Dustin.
"Fucking Christ, Harrington, thank god you're alive. If you'd died in the back of my van they would've burned me at the stake."
"Munson?"
"Yeah Golden Boy, it's me. Although," Munson pauses, assessing Steve with the same clinical eye he gets from Nancy, "you're not looking so golden right now. Almost as pale as me."
And that's it. After a few protests, Munson drops him at home. Steve keeps running himself into the ground.
Almost nothing changes. He gets a job at the mall. There's some torture and another monster. He meets Robin. Billy dies.
And he runs. And runs. And runs.
Except maybe Steve starts running past the trailer park. He knows Max is going to move in soon, and it's his job to scope it out. One time he nods when he sees Munson on the porch. The guy's decent enough to wave back.
Steve's not sure if it's coincidence or not, but eventually Munson starts handing Steve a water on his way by. Then a Gatorade. Then calling out to him to say hi, inviting him to sit and offering a granola bar.
Max starts turning up at about the same time. She starts running with him. She's not as fast, she can't go as far or as long as Steve can.
He slows down. He makes sure she doesn't overwork herself and shortens their routes. They always somehow end up at Munson's porch even though Max's trailer is right there.
The burn in his lungs has cooled down, the shooting pains in his legs become a warm ache instead. Stretching feels practically euphoric.
Munson sits down next him, handing him another glass of water. Their sides are brushing. Steve's insides flutter with nerves, the sensation so similar to how running used to make him feel, all the way back before his concussion. He realizes suddenly that it's been a while since running made him sick.
The tip of Eddie's pinky brushes his own. Max smiles to herself as she pretends not to notice. It's better than any runner's high Steve could ever chase down.
"How're you feeling, Stevie?"
Honestly... "Pretty great, actually."
"Yeah," Eddie smiles, "you're looking more golden every day."
When Steve told everyone that he was dating Eddie, he didn't expect to receive so many shovel talks in return. And okay, he could understand Wayne and the Hellfire guys' reluctance to accept him as Eddie's boyfriend considering his not-so-exemplary track record.
But the kids, too? Ouch.
He had assumed that they were on his side what with their shared traumas and camaraderie over several near-death experiences. Apparently, he should have known better.
It was fine. Really. He was happy that Eddie had many people who cared about him. Aside from El and Will who were still warming up to him, Dustin and Mike had ensured to let him know there would be serious repercussions should he hurt Eddie. Lucas was gentler than those two, but his point was crystal clear. Erica couldn't care less who he dated, and Max was the only one who gave both him and Eddie her equally scary talk.
Steve had thought that was the end of it, but then one uneventful day, Robin started telling him, "You have to be careful, okay?" And he felt like losing it.
Of all people, she was his person. While he didn't care which side other people picked when it came down to him or Eddie, he couldn't stand her choosing anyone over him. It was childish and petty (pathetic), but they were platonic soulmates with a capital P—which she'd declared herself. Damnit!—he had the right to at least feel betrayed when she picked Eddie's side.
"Ugh, not you too," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off his frustration.
"What?" Robin blinked, baffled by his reaction. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I know I wasn't the best person in high school," he said, crossing his arms over his chest in a poor attempt at shielding himself. "And I know you're worried that I'm gonna be an ass to Eddie. But I'll never hurt him on purpose. Not after everything we've been through! Jesus, it's not like you've just met me, Robs. And I get it, okay? Eddie's your friend, too. And I'm glad that you two got along so well–"
"Woah, hold your horse, cowboy." Robin held up a hand to stop him mid-rant. Then, she squinted her eyes like an old lady trying to read newspapers and spoke slowly, "Who said I was worried about Munson?"
He pouted and gave her a sulking look. "You literally told me to be careful with him."
"I said you should be careful for your own sake, dingus," she explained. "I've already tipped Munson on what's gonna happen if he hurts you. I think he took my advice quite seriously because I may not be good at giving shovel talk, but I have Nancy's words that she'll lend me one of her guns when the situation calls for it."
Oh. Steve parted his lips in surprise. After a wave of fondness and relief and gratitude washed over him, he finally registered what she'd just said. He gasped.
"Wait. You threatened to shoot Eddie on my behalf?!"
"You're my best friend." She shrugged nonchalantly.
"But, but he's my boyfriend!"
"Well, tell your boyfriend to sleep with one eye open if I see you crying because of him."
Steve shook his head helplessly. He didn't know she could be so protective of him, or how nice it was to be someone's first option. He gave her a fond smile.
"Love you, too. But please don't kill my future husband."
She knocked her shoulder gently against his own. "He'll live as long as he makes you happy."
Steve laughed. "Yeah, it's one of his best traits."
rated T | written for the May @steddiemicrofic prompt 'door' | 199 and 599 words | Hellfire club, choose your own adventure
---
You come at long last, weary traveler, to the end of your arduous journey through the winding woodland path. A misty clearing opens before you. You approach a tower of stone, moss covered and slick with frigid dew. At the bottom, torchlit, two splintered wooden doors with rusted iron hinges beckon.
