Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Day 06: Delayed Flight | WC: 997 | Rated: G | Warnings: None | Tags: Established relationship; Married Steddie; Steddie as dads; Rockstar Eddie Munson; Hurt-comfort. | Notes: Part 1 (But can be read as a standalone too).
“How much longer ‘til Papa gets home?”
It’s the sixth time Hailey asks that in the span of an hour. Steve can’t even get mad at her because he’s feeling anxious too. Eddie should be home already, but he’s still stuck at the airport in New York.
The past five months have been tough for all of them. With Corroded Coffin back from their hiatus after four years, this is the first time Eddie’s spent more than a few days away from home.
Hailey’s been patient for the most part. At eight, she’s now old enough to understand her Papa’s work, but that doesn’t mean she misses him any less.
“I don’t know, baby,” Steve says, dropping a kiss on her hair as he snuggles her closer against his side on the couch, small arms circling Steve’s middle as Hailey rests her head on his shoulder. “He said his flight was delayed because of the storm. He’s probably not gonna make it here until tomorrow, I think.”
Cuddled close to her dad, Hailey stays quiet for a long time and Steve waits. He knows she’s not watching the movie they’re supposed to be watching; his daughter’s watched Zootopia at least forty times and she’s always laughed herself silly at Nick’s shenanigans in every single one of them.
Except for tonight.
Tonight, they’re already halfway through the movie and she hasn’t let out a single laugh yet.
So Steve waits because he knows that sooner or later Hailey’s bound to share whatever is clearly troubling her thoughts.
“Do you think Papa is really coming home in time for Christmas?”
Her voice is so small and unsure that it breaks Steve’s heart, and the sniff that follows her question makes him hug her even tighter.
“Of course he is, sweetie, it’s only the 21st.”
There’s another silence and then, “But when Grandpa Wayne’s flight was cancelled last year, took him a week to get a new one.”
Sometimes Steve hates how smart and observant Hailey is.
He sighs, tired, anxious and powerless. Gentle fingers card through his little girl’s soft hair as he feels his shirt get a little damp where she’s resting her head.
Steve lets her cry it out for a little while, then carefully eases their hug so they can face each other.
“Your Papa promised he’d spend Christmas with us, didn’t he?” he asks, wiping the remaining tears off her pink cheeks.
“Yes,” Hailey nods.
“And did he ever break a promise before?”
“No.”
“Then he’s gonna be here. Knowing your Papa, if he can’t get into a flight within the next few hours, he’s probably gonna rent a car and drive home by himself if he has to.”
The giggle he gets in response is tiny, but it’s also honest and enough to ease some of Steve’s worries.
They don’t talk about it for the rest of the movie. When it ends, Hailey’s dozing off against Steve’s shoulder, soft snores leaving her slightly open lips.
Any other day, Steve would wake her up and make her at least brush her teeth before bed, but tonight he just scoops his sleeping daughter up in his arms and makes it to the stairs.
-
-
It’s a little past five when Eddie thanks the Uber driver, grabs his single suitcase and climbs out of the car.
The street is dead silent, not a single soul around to greet him after so long away. In the house, all the lights are out, as expected, except for the single porch light Steve always leaves on for him when he knows Eddie is gonna get home late.
The sight brings a soft smile to his lips, and he crosses the damp flagstones towards the front door in a much lighter step than before.
The house is silent too, just like the street outside, but Eddie’s whole body relaxes when he finally closes the door behind him, the familiarity of the place bringing back the sense of belonging that had been awfully absent for the past five months.
He puts down his suitcase in the entryway, takes off his boots and leaves his shoes there with his coat and scarf before making a beeline to the stairs, his eagerness to see his family again not allowing him to be as quiet as he would otherwise be in such an early hour.
Hailey’s room is the closest one to the stairs and that’s where Eddie stops first. His hands trembling in anticipation as he carefully pushes the door open.
But Hailey’s not there; her bed is empty and perfectly made.
Eddie’s panic, however, lasts a single second. He turns on his heels and marches down the hall towards his own room, his heart melting in his chest when he’s finally blessed by the sight of his husband and daughter all cuddled up and fast asleep on their bed.
His breath catches in his throat, and Eddie pads into the room without hesitation.
He missed them so much these past months. It was torture not having them with him on tour, like it used to be when Hailey was little. Waking up alone every day, having breakfast with just the guys instead of with his two favorite people in the world.
Eddie hated every single second of it, heart always longing for his family. But now he’s home, and he has his family within his reach again, and he’s not gonna let them go any time soon.
Steve stirs awake the moment Eddie sits on the edge of the bed.
His gorgeous eyes are bleary, and confused, but they light up when he recognizes Eddie. The smile that follows is beautiful, even if a little sleepy around the edges.
“You made it in time.” Steve whispers, their hands finding each other naturally even in the dark room.
Eddie leans in, hovers over his husband for only a moment before kissing him gently and whispering back, “I promised you I would, didn’t I?”
The relentless hammering of rain on the terminal’s vast windows provided a dreary soundtrack to the collective groan of a hundred delayed passengers. Gate B17 had become a purgatory of slumped shoulders and dying phone batteries.
Steve, leaning against the gate desk in his crisp, pilot’s uniform, offered a sympathetic smile to his small, captive audience. "I promise, the second we get the all-clear from the tower, we're out of here."
Robin, his co-pilot, chimed in from where she was doodling on a napkin. "Yeah, unless the tower gets struck by lightning. Then we're all building a fort out of those awful airport chairs."
Their primary audience consisted of three unaccompanied minors they’d been informally babysitting. Dustin, a strategic mastermind at twelve, was currently trying to negotiate extra snacks from Steve’s wallet. Lucas and Mike were debating the aerodynamic viability of a paper airplane design.
"See, the wings are all wrong," Mike insisted, scowling.
"It's based on a dragon, not a 747, you philistine!" Lucas shot back.
The source of their current debate, a beautifully crafted paper black dragon, had, on its last flight, nose-dived directly into the head of the man trying to sleep in the adjacent row of chairs.
Eddie "The Freak" Munson, though these kids wouldn't know that, jolted awake with a snort. He shoved a curtain of messy, dark hair out of his face, his expression a thundercloud to rival the one outside. He was dressed in head-to-toe black, a worn leather jacket covered in patches for bands like Dio and Metallica, and he looked like he wanted to summon a demon to smite the entire airport.
"My apologies," Steve said, his voice a smooth, professional baritone that nonetheless carried a hint of amusement. He strode over, scooping up the paper dragon. "The aerodynamicists are still working out the kinks."
Eddie just grunted, pulling his hood up and resettling against his backpack.
But Steve, ever the people-person, didn't retreat. Over the next hour, as the kids’ debate shifted from paper airplanes to the merits of gelatinous cubes versus owlbears, Steve kept subtly pulling Eddie into the orbit of their conversation.
"See, Henderson here thinks a fireball spell is the answer to everything," Steve said, leaning against the chair opposite Eddie's. "But our sleepy neighbor looks like a man who appreciates the subtlety of a well-planned ambush. What do you think? Fireball or stealth?"
Eddie cracked one dark eye open, glaring. "I think silence is a critically underrated spell."
Steve just grinned, undeterred. A while later, as Robin explained the basics of cockpit instrumentation to a fascinated Lucas, Steve tried again. "She makes it sound complicated. It's mostly just buttons and levers. And a lot of talking to people in Houston who have even less idea what the weather's doing than we do."
Eddie, who had given up on sleep and was now scrolling grimly through his phone, didn't look up. "Fascinating."
“C’mon, you’ve got an opinion,” Steve pressed, gently kicking the toe of Eddie’s boot. “You’re clearly a creative type. All that black. The rings. You don’t think there’s any artistry in navigating a metal tube through a storm?”
Eddie finally lowered his phone, fixing Steve with a weary but slightly intrigued look. “The artistry, Captain, is in surviving the boredom beforehand. This feels like a failed Charisma check.”
“Or maybe you just haven’t rolled a natural twenty yet,” Steve countered with a wink.
It was only when Steve, after handing out the last of his secret stash of mini-pretzels to the kids, leaned against the chairs and said, "You know, for a guy trying so hard to be left alone, you've got a very compelling face. It makes a man want to keep talking to it," that something seemed to fully click.
Eddie slowly lowered his phone. He looked at Steve—really looked at him. He took in the perfectly styled hair, the confident posture, the charming, slightly bitchy smile that had been directed at him for the past two hours. The thundercloud on his face cleared, replaced by a dawning, wicked comprehension.
A slow, sly smile spread across his own features. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial rumble that sent a shiver down Steve’s spine. "Is that so, Captain? Well, they say the cockpit's the most comfortable part of the plane. Maybe once we're finally in the air, you could... show me the controls."
Robin, overhearing, choked on her Diet Coke. Both amazed and aghast that that worked. Steve’s professional composure finally broke into a genuine, delighted laugh. The rain continued to hammer down, but in the small world of Gate B17, the atmosphere had just gotten significantly warmer.
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