WHO’S THE DADDY HERE? SOMEONE’S GETTING IT IN THE BUTT AND IT AIN’T ME.
Check out my Thiam, Scalia, Stydia fanfictions. I have other Stydia fics from a while ago when Scalia and Thiam weren’t a thing. I don’t talk about those. A WestAllen, Bellarke, and Brostavo fic as well. :D
can you believe gustavo acosta & haley meyers invented wig snatching?. ever since i became a stan, my wigs have never stayed in place and a bitch is mad.
FIC: wave my hand, reveal the stars (brooke/noah/stavo)
MTV Scream. Background Audrey&Noah and Emma&Noah. 3.6k. cws: canonical character deaths and trauma; panic attack
“Because it’s March,” Brooke says, like he should know this. “And we’re not going to have a lot longer to take ill-advised weekends off school and just be normal teenagers.”
Noah comes dangerously close to saying something stupid, something like “we’re not just normal teenagers,” but he sees the way Brooke is looking at him and stops. Because she knows and has the scars to prove it. She definitely doesn’t need him reminding her.
(Or: the Lakewood Five go on a road trip.)
[read on Ao3 | title lyric]
By the time college acceptances start coming in, Noah has a resume twice as long as most people twice his age. Between the graphic novels and The Morgue, people have heard of him, and that’s apparently… something he’s going to have to deal with.
“It’s because you’re good at what you do,” Audrey points out when he tries to - not complain, he’s definitely not complaining about the scholarship offers and the admissions, but at least point out that this definitely isn’t normal. “Lots of high schoolers probably have shitty podcasts and bad graphic novels, but you-”
“-have Stavo doing the art?” Noah quips. “And Piper Shaw’s audience? My success has never been because of me.”
“It’s because of you and the people you choose to surround yourself with. Or steal listeners from, as the case may be.” Audrey shrugs. “You take what you can get.”
“And you get what you can take,” Noah mutters. It’s nonsense, maybe, except he’s both gotten and taken in his life and he’s not sure what’s brought him more. But maybe he’d rather take listeners and readers and notoriety, because he’s earned a bit of non-killer-based notoriety by now, right? Right.
Audrey rolls her eyes. “You still didn’t answer my question,” she says, which is… true, actually. “Have you decided what you want to go to school for yet? Writing? Journalism? Broadcast?”
“Underwater basket-weaving,” Noah says, and Audrey bumps her shoulder against his. “What, just because I didn’t get into some neat little West Coast film school-”
“California film school, thanks, there’s a difference.”
“And SoCal, no less.” Noah grins. “My awesome best friend.”
“Which is why you need to pick a school. So I can brag about my awesome best friend.” Audrey looks at him expectantly. “Do you need to talk through it?”
Noah does not, because he can recite the conversation they’ll have, word for word. Well, everyone knows me for the graphic novel, but that’s kind of Stavo’s thing, isn’t it, so I don’t think I can do that. So you’re going to do the podcast then? No, there are other murder podcasts, and hopefully I never have new murders to broadcast about. Then what are you going to do, Noah?
Yeah. What’s he going to do?
#
Brooke plans the entire road trip, which is why Noah trusts it instinctively, maybe, even though it kind of sounds like yet another horror movie in the making.
“My dad owned a cabin upstate in the mountains,” she explains, and Noah is fiercely proud of the way her voice doesn’t catch as she says it, even though it’s not his to be proud of. “We can take a long weekend, we’ve earned a nice, normal vacation.”
“I’m bringing a gun,” Audrey says, ever practical.
Emma shifts closer to Audrey. “How’s the cell reception?”
“Never had a problem,” Brooke promises. “And it’s close to a town, so it’s not like we’ll be all alone. It doesn’t even have to be this weekend or anything. But we have to go.”
“Have to?” Noah repeats. “Why?”
“Because it’s March,” Brooke says, like he should know this. “And we’re not going to have a lot longer to take ill-advised weekends off school and just be normal teenagers.”
Noah comes dangerously close to saying something stupid, something like “we’re not just normal teenagers,” but he sees the way Brooke is looking at him and stops. Because she knows and has the scars to prove it. She definitely doesn’t need him reminding her.
Instead he looks at Audrey. “I already know you’re in.”
“I’m bringing a gun,” Audrey says again. “And I’m researching this place for spooky ghost legends, just in case.”
Brooke beams and Noah can’t help but look at her. It kind of feels like staring into the sun, where he knows nothing good will come out of it but he wants to look anyways, just so the after-image will stay with him. “Stavo said he’ll drive,” she says, because of course Stavo did, he’s the kind of guy who likes driving, who’ll drive his friends upstate just because.
“I’ll have to tell my mom,” Emma says thoughtfully, which is as good as a yes. Emma and Maggie have reached some kind of understanding, the kind that Noah gave up on having long ago because an understanding involves parents who care, but it means she’ll be there.
“Noah?” Brooke says, and Noah realizes that he’s definitely just been staring at Brooke, shit. But she doesn’t look bothered by it. She’s just smiling at him. “You coming?”
Like he ever had a choice. “Of course,” he says. Emma smiles and Audrey bumps her shoulder against his and all Noah can see is Brooke’s smile widening.
#
An incomplete list of side-effects of serial-murder-based trauma, compiled by and pertaining to one Noah Foster:
1. The nightmares. That’s probably obvious.
2. He doesn’t like texting anymore. Not that he texts people very often, but he’s figured out that there’s no way to be sure that the texts he gets are from who they say they’re from. (They have security questions, codewords. It’s Emma’s idea, but Noah definitely uses it the most. Nobody ever judges him for it, either, which is… probably a side-effect of collective trauma, really, but Noah likes to think that it’s because he has good friends.)
3. He doesn’t like calling very much either. Or, specifically, the first few dozen times he got a call from an unknown number after everything went down, he threw his phone into a wall.
4. He changed his ringtone. All of them did.
5. He doesn’t like small spaces. That’s probably also obvious.
6. Small spaces apparently includes cars, sometimes, which Noah finds out the July between junior and senior year. He’s an hour into a car trip on the way to visit family when something underneath his skin lights on fire, and suddenly everything is too small, too close, too much for him all over again, and nothing his parents say helps at all.
(He calls Brooke, because if anyone knows anything about dealing with trauma-based claustrophobia it’s definitely Brooke, and she talks to him about school nonsense, all the way across the state border and into Utah. Stavo shows up at some point and talks to him too, about the graphic novel and The Morgue. By the time Noah crosses into Arizona they’ve all started talking about family, mostly Noah’s, after some questions from Stavo. It’s not until his phone dies that Noah realizes how far he’s driven, how far they carried him.)
7. Sudden loud noises are a no-go.
8. Anything with a mask? Also a no. (He and Stavo go to a horror convention in December, to promote the graphic novel, and they’re both jumping at shadows the whole time. Or, well, Stavo does for a while, and while PTSD isn’t a competition Noah thinks that he wins this round - loses, maybe, whichever means he has it worse - because he can’t calm down. But Stavo does, and he steers Noah around the convention center with a hand on his elbow, never letting go if he doesn’t have to.)
9. He doesn’t trust tall scruffy dudes in leather jackets. Actually, that one’s mostly Emma’s, but he co-opts it anyways.
Tenth but not last - and this is probably the one that matters the most, in the long term - is dating. Between Riley and Zoe, he doesn’t have a great track record, and he knows there’s no reason to assume there’ll be another killer that’ll come after them, but there was no reason to assume it would happen the first time, either. And it’s not his fault, except - maybe it is? Maybe he feels responsible for it. So he’s not going to date someone who hasn’t survived a serial killer, just on principle, which limits his options. Emma’s just a friend, Audrey has surpassed “love interest” and catapulted straight into “cool sister,” and…
And nothing. That’s the end of it.
(It’s not the end. When has saying that ever made something end? It’s just that Brooke and Stavo are already dating each other, and he’s never going to be able to get in the middle of that. He doesn’t even know which one of them he would want to date, which is… a whole other issue, honestly, and he’d burn that bridge if he ever got to it. So it’s good he’ll never get to it.)
#
Emma shows up to the road trip with three fully-packed picnic baskets, all courtesy of Maggie. Audrey shows up with four audiobooks, two comedy podcasts, and seven albums of different genres. Stavo brings his dad’s minivan. Brooke, in all technicality, brought the road trip.
“Oh my god, I didn’t bring anything,” Noah whispers, quietly enough that only Audrey can hear him. “Do I need to go get something? What do you bring on road trips?”
“You can buy groceries once we get to the cabin,” Audrey suggests. “Or you could bring nothing, and let the rest of us be as extra as we want.”
“You’ve never been extra before in your life,” Noah says boldly. Audrey rolls her eyes at him. “Seriously, though, are we going to need groceries? Because I can get-”
“Everyone get in the van or we’re leaving,” Brooke shouts. “I get shotgun, Noah gets the backseat.”
Audrey’s jaw drops. “Hey, I wanted the backseat!”
“Tough,” Stavo says. He and Brooke are standing next to the van, dressed up like springtime and something idyllic, his arm wrapped around her waist. Staring into the sun, Noah thinks. “You and Emma are in the middle row.”
“Bullshit,” Audrey half-whines. “Noah doesn’t care if he’s in the middle, right, Noah?”
Noah opens his mouth to say that no, he doesn’t care, actually, and then stops. The backseat is definitely going to have more room than the middle seats would - maybe not leg room, but enough that if he gets antsy again he can move around and swap positions without bumping into anyone. Brooke and Stavo definitely did this on purpose. For him.
“Actually,” Noah says apologetically, “I definitely care, and I’m not looking this gift horse in the mouth.”
Audrey glares at him. “Traitor.”
“But I get the backseat,” Noah sing-songs. Audrey rolls her eyes and starts towards the van. “Aw, c’mon, Auds, you can pick the first album we listen to.”
“I was already going to pick that,” Audrey says. “But you’ve lost your album privileges.”
“For the way there or the way back?”
“Depends on whether or not you behave.”
Noah wrinkles her nose at him. “Do you ever get to critique someone else’s behavior?”
Audrey flips him off as she climbs into the van. Emma’s already waiting in the other middle seat, so Noah goes to the van, looking at Brooke and Stavo as he does. “Thank y-”
“Just get in the van,” Brooke says, but she’s smiling at him like she’s pleased with him, or with herself.
“Enjoy the extra leg room,” Stavo adds, with a flicker of a smirk, and Noah feels warm. He’s not sure if it’s blushy warm or wow-my-friends-care warm, but he knows he has to get out of this situation, stat.
“I will,” he says, and Stavo’s smile widens, and Noah smiles back out of reflex before he climbs in the back.
Audrey kicks his shin as he climbs past her. It could mean any number of things but Noah decides that it must mean she forgives him for taking the backseat. Yeah. That’s definitely it.
#
Noah does pay for groceries once they’re at the cabin. It’s one part out of guilt, one part because he can pay for it (thank you, podcast sponsors), and one part because he wants to go into town.
Emma comes with him. She doesn’t say much as they walk into town, or as they get the groceries, but on the walk back she says, “Is it weird that I’m glad the air is thinner up here?”
Noah blinks. “What do you mean?”
“Like I have an excuse to have trouble breathing,” Emma says, conversationally, like she’s not making batshit crazy comments about PTSD. Noah kind of likes it. “I know it sounds awful, but it’s nice to have the excuse, you know?”
“Yeah,” Noah says, because he does know. “Do you still get panic attacks?”
“Not as often as I used to.” Emma brushes her hair behind one ear. “I know it’s a big step forward, you know, daily down to every other day.”
“Down to once a week?”
Emma laughs. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, alright?”
“Never.” Noah grins at her. “We’re gonna be messed up till we’re not anymore.”
“And when can we expect that?”
“I don’t think it’s something we can expect so much as it’s something that’ll happen.”
Emma nods, looking thoughtful. “It’ll happen,” she says. Noah’s not sure if she’s talking to him or to herself. “Noah?”
“Yeah, Em?”
“We’re gonna get through this, right?”
Noah thinks that the rest of the world probably expects them to be through it already. It’s been five months since Halloween, over a year since Piper. But that’s not enough time. They’ve buried too many people to be done digging through the wreckage, let alone rebuilding.
“Yeah, Em,” Noah says softly, and Emma smiles at him like she might even believe him. “We’re gonna get through this.”
#
The problem with not being through this is:
Noah wakes up at 4:17 in the morning and his skin is too tight around his body. There are three bedrooms in the cabin: the one Brooke is sharing with Stavo, the one Emma is sharing with Audrey, and the one Noah is sharing with his suitcase and his post-traumatic stress. It’s that same stress that wakes him up and he knows, instantly, that the room is too small for him. There are no windows, it’s too dark, and he needs to get the fuck out.
So he does. He grabs his phone, he scribbles something on a sticky note that he leaves on the kitchen counter, and he bolts out the door. The air is too thin up here and it doesn’t help, and the sun isn’t out and it doesn’t help, but he can walk. And that always helps.
“Okay,” Noah says. His ears are ringing. “Okay. What can I do?”
He walks to town, because it’s something to do. It’s a mile and some more away, and it feels longer in the dark, without Emma there. And he loves the mountains - god, he loves the mountains and living in Colorado - but the thin air and the breakdown don’t mesh super well. And every time he thinks he’s worked it out of his system he’ll have some stupid thought, like Riley would love the stars up here or Zoe talked about camping once and it’ll set him right back off, and he walks in circles, into the woods, out of the woods, into the streets.
Noah’s phone starts ringing at - and he has to check, to make sure - 6:32. He blinks at the screen slowly before answering. “Brooke?”
“Password,” Brooke says, voice tight.
It takes Noah a couple seconds to think of it. “Skinny jeans. Password?”
“Watermelon sorbet.” She sighs. “You okay?”
He wants to say yes. Instead he swallows, throat feeling too thick. “I don’t know.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in town. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Do you want to get breakfast?”
“I don’t know if I can eat.”
“Stavo and I can eat, you get coffee and steal our food if you get hungry.”
Something about that makes Noah’s stomach drop. “Brooke-”
“We were going to drive into town anyways,” Brooke says. It’s not quite gentle, but it’s gentler than she normally gets. “I couldn’t sleep either.”
Noah takes a deep, dizzying breath. “Okay.”
“Good. Meet us at Wallflower Diner?”
“I don’t know where that is.”
“It’s a block from the grocery store. We’ll be there in like ten minutes, okay?”
“Okay,” Noah says. He feels more centered than he has all morning. Brooke has that effect. “Tha-”
“Don’t,” Brooke says sharply. “You don’t have to thank us for anything, okay? We’re all just working our way through this together.”
Noah closes his eyes and swallows hard. “Thank you anyways.”
Brooke sighs. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re not?”
She hums. “Maybe. Ten minutes?”
“Ten minutes,” Noah repeats, and doesn’t say goodbye before he hangs up.
#
Stavo waves him over as soon as he’s inside the Wallflower Diner, already sitting in a booth. “Brooke’s talking to the waitstaff,” he explains as Noah approaches. “She apparently knows them all.”
“Because of her dad,” Noah guesses. Guesses correctly, if the way Stavo’s eyes flicker is any indication. “Shit.”
Stavo shrugs, gestures at a mug sitting next to him. “We got you coffee. Four cream, two sugars.”
Noah looks at the coffee warily. Stavo has done enough coffee runs during graphic novel plans that he knows how Noah takes his coffee, just like Noah knows his, and Brooke’s, and the sheriff’s. “Sitting… next to you?”
“Uh, yeah, that was the plan.”
“Okay,” Noah says, too fast but not squeaky like he was afraid of, and plops down next to Stavo. This is fine, totally fine. He’s still jittery but he feels like an actual person again, and he can definitely handle sitting next to Stavo, his friend, his business partner, the dude he would totally date if he had the chance but that’s not the point because he can platonically sit next to a guy-
“You look cold,” Stavo says, and before Noah can protest Stavo’s arm is around his waist, tugging him over, and Noah’s so tired that he lets himself be tugged because he’s not initiating it so it’s definitely not weird, right? And besides, Stavo is holding onto him and that’s something solid, something reassuring.
“That note freaked you guys out, huh?” Noah takes a sip of the coffee. His hands aren’t shaking but he still feels like he’s going to drop the mug.
Stavo shrugs. “Our last group vacation didn’t end so great.”
“Yeah, our standards are kind of out of whack now. Nobody died yet, so we’re doing okay.”
“And you brought your phone with you, which made our lives easier.”
Noah takes another sip of his coffee. “Brooke said she couldn’t sleep.”
“Woke up around an hour ago. Dreaming about her dad.” Stavo shifts his arm around Noah’s waist and he knows, knows it’s a bad idea, but he leans into Stavo’s side anyways, head dropping onto his shoulder. “She’s tough. You both are.”
Noah snorts. “She’s tougher than I ever was, and we all know it.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Stavo says lightly. “You took something awful and you made it into art. Two different kinds of art. Not a lot of people can do that.”
“Not a lot of people have enough awful things happen to them,” Noah says dryly, and Stavo laughs at that, soft and genuine and Noah kind of wants to live in it. He can hear footsteps approaching them and he knows it’s Brooke, and that he should get up, but he thinks he’ll be selfish. Just for a few seconds.
“You two,” Brooke sighs. She sounds tired as hell, Noah can hear it just like he can hear that she’s been crying. He looks up just as she slides into the booth next to Noah, without hesitation, putting her head on his shoulder. One of her ankles hooks around his, and Stavo reaches out the hand that’s on Noah’s waist, and she takes it, and Noah thinks a little hysterically that this is never what he imagined when he thought about being caught up between them.
“You good?” Stavo asks, voice low.
Brooke makes a noise that might be yes, might be no. “I’m glad you came with me,” she says. “Both of you.”
“I didn’t,” Noah starts, only he’s not sure how to finish that.
“You’re here,” Stavo says, with finality. “You showed up. That’s more than a lot of people do.”
“And you’re okay,” Brooke says, jostling his ankle.
Noah takes a breath and thinks about passwords, phone calls, car rides, backseats, diners, horror conventions, Brooke, Stavo, him. Always making room for him. And if he’s going to ruin this he knows it’s unfair to do it now, when they have the rest of the weekend together, but nothing about the past year and a half has been fair.
“Guys,” he says around the knot in his chest. “What are you doing?”
“Getting breakfast,” Brooke says. “Asking you out, maybe, depending on how breakfast goes.”
“But we don’t have to talk about that right now,” Stavo says, before Noah even has the chance to tense up. “Seriously, first priority is getting some food in you, because you look like you need it.”
“But-”
“But we can talk about it later,” Stavo says a little more firmly.
Brooke scoffs. Noah can’t see her face but he knows she rolls her eyes. “If you want to talk about it,” she clarifies, softer than Stavo.
And Noah - Noah doesn’t know where he’s going to college, or what for. Noah doesn’t know when he’ll wake up in a bedroom feeling trapped. Noah doesn’t know when the panic is going to fade. But he knows that he wants this. Whatever it is, he wants it.
“Okay,” Noah says, and he can feel both of them relax against him. “Jesus, were you that nervous?”
“I was absolutely that nervous,” Stavo says, tugging Noah closer. Brooke doesn’t answer, just curls a little closer against him.
“Huh,” Noah says. He shouldn’t be surprised. He knows what it’s like to have something worth losing. Maybe now he is that something.
