Summary: When you stop at a red light Dustin takes destiny in his own hands: he plays the matchmaker for Steve.
Warnings: meet-cute. Dustin being the wingman. Steve getting flustered. fluff. no use of y/n.
——————
„You know,“ Dustin says casually. „You totally want someone to come home to.“
The car hums quietly at the red light, the dashboard glowing soft yellow in the dark. Steve has one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against his thigh like it’s restless. Dustin’s slouched in the passenger seat, legs up on the das despite being told a thousand times not to.
Steve snorts. „No, I don’t.“
„You do,“ Dustin says now confident. „You want someone who waits up for you. Maybe yells at you for doing stupid stuff. Or maybe steals you fries.“
Steve opens his mouth to argue - and then freezes.
Because in the car next to them, bathed in the glow of the streetlight, is a girl. Cute. Ridiculously cute. Windows down, music low, hands relaxed on the wheel. You glance over, just for a second and you smile like it’s nothing.
Steve on the other hand forgets how to breathe.
„Oh,“ Dustin realizes. „Ohhhhh.“
„Don’t,“ Steve warns.
Too late. Before Steve can even finish the word, Dustin is unbuckling, throwing the door open and sprinting out into the crosswalk.
„HENDERSON!“
Your eyes go wide as a curly-haired menace suddenly appears in front of your car, waving enthusiastically before hopping into the passenger seat like this is a completely normal thing to do.
„Hi!“ Dustin grins. „Don’t panic. I’m not a criminal. I’m a matchmaker.“
Steve slams his head against the steering wheel.
„I’m sorry,“ you say half laughing, half stunned. „Is… is he with you?“
„Yes,“ Steve calls weakly from his car. „Unfortunately.“
Dustin ignores him. „Okay, so here’s the deal. My best friend Steve,“ he points dramatically across the lane. „Is the best guy you’ll ever meet. Great hair. Terrible self-esteem. Would literally die for people he loves.“
Steve is red. Fully. Catastrophically red.
„Dustin, get back in the car,“ he begs.
„He’s single,“ Dustin continues. „He pretends he’s fine with that, but he’s not. He wants someone to come home to. He just won’t admit it because he’s emotionally constipated.“
You bite your lip, clearly trying not to laugh. „Is that so?“
„Yes,“ Dustin says firmly. „So. Would you go out with him?“
The light is still red. Time stretches. Steve considers simply driving into the nearest building. Then you look at him - really look at him - and your smile softens.
„…Yeah,“ you answer. „I think I would.“
Steve’s head snaps up. „Wait - what?“
The light turns green. Dustin whoops, throws you a thumbs-up and scrambles back out of your car, sprinting back to Steve’s like he’s just won a gold medal.
„DUSTIN!“ Steve hisses as he peels forward. „You can’t just do that!“
Dustin grins, smug and knowing. „Relax. I just solved your entire romantic life at a red light.“
Steve risks one last glance in the mirror. You’re still there - pulling up beside them again, smiling and giving a small wave. Steve waves back, stunned, heart racing, already knowing he’s never going to hear the end of this.
Dustin leans back in his seat, satisfied. „See? Told you. You just needed a little push.“
Steve exhales, helplessly smiling. „I hate you.“
„No you don’t,“ Dusting giggles. „You’re welcome.“
——————
Thank you so much for reading! 💙 if you like it please interact with this post in any way
the concept of wayne being the one to introduce steddie.
eddie living in Indy, doing music. wayne running into steve at the grocery store and talking about the recent game for the team on wayne's hat.
steve just kinda sticks after that. he comes over to watch the games, dinners on sundays. he helps wayne with household chores the man is getting a bit too old to do as easily as he once did.
wayne asks steve once why he doesn't just spend time with his friends his age and steve says he doesn't really have any.
"well, except for my best friend, robin, but she's in college so mostly my friends are these high schoolers i used to babysit."
and wayne loves steve, thinks he's a good guy, so he's eager to do some light meddling. he mentions his nephew as often as he can.
"your kids play dungeons and dragons? my boy eddie loves that game."
"my nephew plays guitar in a band. i bet he could play one of those songs you like, though it might not be his style."
he tells cute stories about eddie, updates steve on his life and eventually it must work because steve seems to gain an interest.
"so you said he was my age?"
"does eddie look like you? what's he look like?"
"you said he's in a band?"
until one day steve faux casually asks "is your nephew coming to visit anytime soon? i'd like to meet him, see what all the fuss is about."
wayne smirks.
"if that's okay! i wouldn't want to entrude on your visiting time!"
"of course it's okay. i'd love for you two to meet." so he invites eddie over.
it's just a shame he never mentioned steve to eddie. after he arrived and greeted his uncle he turned and was promptly met with the sight of a beautiful, daresay shy, stranger.
"hi, i'm steve," he said with a dorky wave. "it's nice to meet you i've heard a lot about you."
eddie was a little off balance. "for some reson i haven't heard a lot about you," he said, sending a pointed look to his uncle.
"but it's really nice to meet you. i'm eddie" and they shake hands and hang out with his uncle which is only a little strange but mostly nice.
steve leaves for the night to let them sleep and eddie confronts wayne as soon as the door is shut.
"so were you ever gonna tell me you met the love of my life?"
wayne laughs, he knew they'd get along.
"this was me telling you! you're welcome by the way."
Okay so hear my out what if its Damien x Y/N (Who usually works behind the camera) but its a charity stream and its karaoke and Y/N breaks into full theater kid songs and I'm thinking maybe Our Lady of the Underground from Hadestown and is like fully into it and everything and even dressed up for it and no one knew they could really sing until they started to sing that song?
Flowers In Her Hair
Damien Haas x f!crew reader, platonic best friend/matchmaker Angela Giarratana x f!reader
A karaoke stream turns into something more.
TW: None!! Enjoy pookies <3
To say you were nervous was the understatement of the century. How had she convinced you to do this? More importantly, how had she managed to keep it a secret from everyone else? Angela grinned behind you, makeup lights distorting her reflection a little as she pinned flowers into your hair. “He’s gonna love this.”
“Oh my god shut up.”
It was your fault really. She had caught you singing RENT to yourself as you replaced camera batteries and fiddled with lights before a shoot and immediately decided you were going to sing on the annual karaoke stream. You had tried to play it off, claiming it was just your phone, but she had (rightfully) called your bluff.
She had given you an out, of course, she wasn’t cruel. But she had also given you enough confidence to agree to do it, even if it was also going to be in front of the guy you’d had a crush on for years. She knew that too, and had taken her time both hyping you up and endlessly teasing you about it.
“He’s legitimately so Hades coded. I saw you drool a little bit when he rolled up his sleeves the other day. It’s perfect for the two of you.”
You glared at her where her teasing smile flickered behind you in the mirror. “I told you Ange, he doesn’t like me and it’s as simple as that.”
“I call bullshit.”
“I’d put money on it.”
“$20 says he confesses after this.”
“Deal.”
She finished pinning part of your hair up, letting the rest gather in unruly waves down your back. Leaning her head on your shoulder, she declared, “Miss Persephone, you are the most beautiful queen of the night I’ve ever seen.”
“Shhh you’ll spoil the surprise.” You fixed the lace of your boot before standing up. “I’m gonna go hide in the corner now. See you soon! You better be ready.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
You snuck into the far back corner to sit and wait. Cameras were covered today so all you needed to do was sit and watch. You fiddled with your puffed sleeve as people started to file in. Bailey came up to you, smiling gently. “You look beautiful! Did Angela do your makeup?”
You smiled back, crinkling the small flowers that dotted the corners of your eyes. “She did. It’s amazing how she can focus when she really wants to.”
“It really is.” She clocked the nervous look on your face and squeezed your hand. “You’re gonna do a great job up there. She’ll be there the whole time.”
“I know, I just need to breathe I think.”
“Good call, generally people need to do that.”
—------
“Thank you everyone for donating so much! Since we’ve hit one of our goals, we are going to have a special performance coming up!” Trevor yelled as everyone cheered. Angela had slipped away to change into her overalls a few minutes ago, and you had started to tap your feet with anxiety. You saw her creep back through the stage doors as the rowdiness continued, giving you a quick thumbs-up.
She grabbed the microphone from Trevor’s hand, quieting the crowd. “Please welcome, our Lady of the Underground, Persephone!” Everyone started to clap, jaws dropping as you made your way front and center. The sequins on your dress glittered under the set lights as you started to twirl, singing. Angela was a great backup singer, but also succeeded in calming your nerves as she took your hand to dance. You couldn’t help but laugh, sometimes missing the words as she spun you around. When the song ended, the two of you took a huge bow, and Angela almost tripped, making the two of you laugh even louder. People rushed over and started to hug you as the stream ended, and you felt lighter than a cloud, surrounded by those you loved.
Meanwhile, Damien was frozen in place, stuck to the couch, hyperfocused on the ethereal girl spinning around in front of him. She had always been magnetic to him, pulling him away from his work and to her side during long nights at the office. Even on her “worst” days, she was glorious to him, with big hoodies bunched up around her elbows as she fixed something and huge cups of coffee threatening to spill on her desk as she animatedly bickered with Angela. He just liked to see her smile, opting to leave dad jokes on her computer screen instead of kissing her breathless in the middle of the office like he did in his wildest fantasies.
But now, she looked really, truly, free. Her voice was beautiful, yes, but she was so happy and in her element up there, lights shining down on her, that he couldn’t look away. To look away would be a crime against the universe. He hoped that maybe he could see her like that all the time, spinning around in one of his t-shirts in his kitchen, cats dodging her dancing feet. He longed to pull her close, to never let her go. He needed it more than he had ever needed anything else.
“She feels the same, you know.” Angela’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
“What?”
“She looks at you the same way you look at her.”
He went to protest, but then he caught her eye and watched her face morph into something softer, more reverent, like she was looking at the most precious thing in the world. “Oh.” He breathed it more than he said it.
People started to filter out of the room, including Angela, who pulled her into a hug and then pushed her gently towards the couch. Damien stood up to meet her, brushing her hair out of her eyes softly.
“You were amazing up there.”
“Thanks.” She blushed, but continued to meet his eyes. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“Angela told me something funny.”
She giggled, “Doesn’t she always?”
“She said that we look at each other the same way.” She froze, eyes widening. His hand came up to cup her cheek. “Please tell me she’s right.”
She searched his deep brown eyes for any hesitation, any semblance of something that may tell her that this was all a cruel joke played by fate, but she found none. Taking a deep breath, she said, “She’s right.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please do.”
The kiss felt like coming home, like something in the universe that had been out of balance had shifted back into place softly.
And somewhere across the office, Angela could sense that the universe had put 20 extra dollars in her pocket.
A/N: I love a best friend knows bitches are oblivious trope and helps but also gets what they're due ($20). This was legit so cute, they're in love your honor!!!! Like love love fr.
Summary: Henry decides to use his school's craft fair to try and set up his favorite godfather, Spencer, with one of his favorite teachers. His ploy seems to work, too.
Warnings: None
A/N: With this fill for last year's spring event for Fluff Bingo, I couldn't help but use one of the few kiddos we have to set Spencer up with his favorite teacher. I love Jack, but Henry is equally precious. How could I not use him this way?
Part 2
Spencer Reid Masterlist | Character Masterlist
"Uncle Spence, you made it," Henry shouted, his happiness apparent. He raced between the groups of people, easily dodging elbows and knees, in his pursuit of his destination. That happened to be one Spencer Reid, godfather extraordinaire.
Spencer couldn't help the smile that tugged across his lips, bending down and catching Henry in his arms. "I couldn't miss this when you invited me as sweetly as you did. Where's your mom?"
"Dad came with me. Mom's home with Micheal. He's sick."
That pulled Spencer's previous smile into a frown for a moment.
Will, who'd been watching his son and his friend interact, stepped in. "Michael's fine. Just a little stomach bug going around school. Henry had it last week. He's fine to be here. We both are."
It was no secret how Spencer felt about germs, even those involving those he cared about.
Hearing that nothing serious was going on, Spencer allowed himself to relax. His attention returned to Henry as he asked, "So, what should we see first? I don't know that I've been to a craft fair like this one before. You'll have to show me how it's done. I don't want to miss anything."
Henry beamed at the idea of teaching Spencer something. His godfather was so smart, he knew, and it wasn't everyday that Spencer told someone he didn't know something. Knowing just the place they'd start, he grabbed Spencer's hand and tugged him forward.
No words were exchanged as Henry was on a mission, but a look of amusement passed between Spencer and Will.
Spencer didn't have a clue what Henry had in mind first, but he never would've considered the refreshment table set off to one side. Across the banner, he read the school's name that Henry attended. Compared to the other booths set up nearby, he didn't spy any type of signage broadcasting prices.
Henry called out a name, but Spencer couldn't quite make it out over the noise echoing through the large space. He hadn't thought to ever forget the sounds of a gym, and he hadn't really. Just that the memories had managed to fade at the edges a bit.
All Spencer knew was one moment Henry was holding his hand, and the next, he's watching Henry tugging someone from the booth until they stood in front of Spencer. Until you stood in front of him. You wore the sweetest smile Spencer could remember anyone ever wearing. When it flashed towards him, he almost forgot how to breathe. You were breathtaking.
"So, you're the famous Uncle Spence we hear so much about," you said, holding out your hand while also introducing yourself. You retracted your hand just as quickly, but your face never lost its smile. Settling for a small wave, you asked, "Are you enjoying the craft fair, Dr. Reid?"
Spencer's brain refused to work. You had him off-kilter with the knowledge you've shown in the few moments of time you've shared with him. How did you know he didn't like to touch others, especially strangers? How did you know he went by doctor rather than mister?
As if guessing his thoughts, you leaned a bit closer but not too close and said only loud enough for him to hear, "Henry talks about you a lot. We hear about your adventures every week. You're quite impressive. Henry tells us you're a real-life hero."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Spencer stammered.
His cheeks warmed at Henry's praise of him, but more so, at the way you continued to look at him. He could make out the open curiosity you had for him, but he couldn't tell if it was genuine interest one feels for another or if you were merely being polite for a student's sake. A part, bigger than he'd ever admit aloud, of him wanted it to be the former, but his experience almost assured it was the latter.
"Hm, I wouldn't discount yourself too much," you rebutted softly, your eyes leaving his face to inspect the rest of him. He really hoped you wouldn't find him lacking, grateful Hotch and Morgan weren't standing next to him. Will was more than enough to make enough comparisons. You must've liked what you saw because your smile never faltered though your attention shifted to Henry. "Wanna grab your uncle one of the cookies I promised to save just for him?"
Henry nodded and dashed behind the booth's large table.
Spencer could make out the containers from the store you'd bought the cookies. One of them held a couple leftovers that weren't available to others. The others had been set out around the table in a display meant to entice fair-goers until the supply had been depleted.
Henry raced back with the plastic package, handing it to you.
You popped it open and motioned for Spencer to take the cookies. "Only hands that might've grazed them were mine, and I wore gloves after washing my hands thoroughly. Can't be too careful nowadays."
The way you hadn't made him feel weird for his germaphobia endeared you to him all the more. It was the reason he didn't hesitate in picking up the cookies while murmuring his thanks. As politeness dictated, he took a bite and followed it up with, "There are really good."
"They're the best store-bought ones you can find," your eyes sparked with mischief as you added, "but you should really try the ones I bake sometime."
The cookie he'd been chewing lodged itself, causing him to choke.
Will came to his rescue, thumping his back until he could take in normal breaths again.
You, the sweet temptress you were, held out a small cup of lemonade from the booth you manned for the school. Your face had contorted into something more akin to someone feeling shame or apologetic of their actions as you murmured, "I didn't mean for that to sound the way it did. I mean, I do bake some great treats, but I'm not trying to insinuate anything. We are surrounded by families and little ones after all."
Spencer quickly shook his head. Even if he'd only met you, he knew enough from what Henry had told him to know you spoke the truth. Everything about you screamed how much you adored the kids, calling out to the ones you recognized. It didn't matter you held a conversation with him or any other adults that happened along. You had kind words for everyone that passed and encouragement for the few students helping you run the booth.
As if realizing he'd been monopolizing your time, he took a step back.
"I should let you get back to it," he said, grabbing up Henry's hand, "but maybe we can stop by again. See if you have anything left before we head out."
Your smile glowed once more as you nodded. "I'd really like that. Maybe you could tell me what about the booths I can't see, too. I've heard some good things, but I won't really get the chance to explore today."
"It's all weekend, isn't it?" Will asked, surprising both you and Spencer as he hadn't really said anything up until then.
You nodded.
Will continued, "Are you working the booth tomorrow?"
You shook your head.
At your answer, Will's grin came out as he eyed Spencer for a moment before turning back to you, "Then, maybe you and Spencer here could explore the fair together. That is if Spencer here wouldn't mind coming back and seeing it a second time. What do ya say, Spence?"
"Oh, I couldn't ask that of you. That would be too much," you protested, but Spencer was already saying, "Um, yeah, I could do that."
Will clapped. "Great. Now that's settled. Henry, why don't we let them sort themselves out, then we can pick Uncle Spence back up in say another few minutes?"
Henry quickly agreed, taking off for a booth not too far away. It held a bunch of crocheted plush animals that might appeal to his younger brother.
Will followed after him after shooting Spencer a wink and saying, "Don't bungle it now."
When the two of you were alone, you risked touching Spencer's sleeve. His gaze dropped to where your warmth seeped through his thin shirt before you hastily took it away again. He missed it as soon as you did. That surprised him the most.
"Please, don't think I was fishing. I wouldn't want to impose on what's surely limited time to yourself. You don't have to come back tomorrow if you don't want to."
"But what if I want to," Spencer said over your rambling.
It was enough to have you snapping your mouth shut in brief shock. It was also enough to have Spencer wondering if he'd somehow overstepped or misread your earlier possible interest in him.
Only when your smile blossomed once more did he breathe out a soft sigh.
"I'd really like that but only if you really and truly want to."
Spencer allowed his own smile to come out as he said, "I really want to."
The two of you might've continued to smile at each other if one of your students hadn't called out to you.
"I better get back to it, but please, stop by before you leave. We can exchange numbers, then we can secure plans for tomorrow after I'm done for the day." You took a step back toward the booth behind you, but you didn't get far before you added, "I really am glad I got the chance to meet you, Dr. Reid."
Spencer offered his own sentiments, watching as you backed up until you bumped the booth. He bit his lip lest his smile grow wider at how cute you were.
It took another minute before he, too, moved away, intent on catching up with Will and Henry. After all, he had a new job to scope out the best booths to show you tomorrow. Maybe even spend a few minutes considering his options to prolong his time with you tomorrow, including possible dinner plans.
Spencer had known Henry had a special reason to ask him to his school's annual craft fair, but he hadn't counted on you being that reason. He definitely hadn't considered how much you would end up affecting him or the turn of events that took place.
But, he couldn't say he regretted them as he spared a final glance at you and your booth.
Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.
And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it.
So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.
They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."
After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.
He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.
And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.
Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."
He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.
Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.
Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.
They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"
And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."
Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"
"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."
He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."
Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."
His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.
The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.
The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"
Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"
The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.
Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.
It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"
Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."
He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."
"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."
"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.
---
The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.
He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."
Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."
The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.
Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.
He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.
They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.
When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze.
---
Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.
The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.
It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--
Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.
He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.
He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.
Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.
"Okay?" Wayne asks.
"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.
He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"
And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."
And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."
Hi. A while ago I read a sterek fanfic where Derek overheard stiles saying that he liked a quiet/a bit moody/stiff werewolf and Derek thought that stiles meant Boyd. So Derek prepared dates for stiles and Boyd because he wanted to make stiles happy. Does anyone know the name of the fic? Or something similar? Thank u
Hi @irmejjj! I found it.
Cupid Shuffle by rebekahdarian
(1/1 I 6,524 I Teen I Sterek)
he 5 times Derek set Stiles up with the broody werewolf of his dreams and the 1 time he realized he was the broody werewolf Stiles dreamed about.
--Or--
“He’s a broody werewolf who’s emotionally constipated.” Stiles’s words were muffled and hard to hear, but Derek was sure he hadn’t misunderstood. His crush, he potential true love, was in love with Boyd.
