Bing Crosby's voice warbles from a portable stereo propped up near the sink, singing about a white Christmas; red-ribboned garland lines the windows and door frame; small wreathes bedeck the cabinet doors; and Steve Harrington stands at the kitchen island.
He turns when he hears the slip of Eddie's socks on the tile, grin already blossoming across his face, and they're hugging before he really processes it happening. Steve mumbles, "it's good to see you, Ed," in his ear.
The hug is too tight and too long for what they are to each other now.
They break apart, Steve immediately turning back to the baked sugar cookies spread out on the island.
"Wanna help?" He asks.
Eddie sticks his hands in his back pocket, walks to stand next to his ex, his best friend, his--everything in the world that matters. "What are we making, Stevie?"
"Frosting sugar cookies. Think you can handle it?" He wiggles a pipping bag in Eddie's face.
"No way," Eddie says.
"Yeah, c'mon, you're a good artist."
"With like, pencils and shit. Not icing."
"You'll do great."
"You sure about that? Remember when--"
Steve snorts. "Oh, you mean the last time you tried to bake, and I had to mop chocolate batter off my ceiling? And I found dried splatters of it for months? Yeah. I remember."
Eddie hides his laugh in a cough. "Sorry?"
He wanted to bake a cake for Steve's birthday, back when they were together, made a mess instead. Steve had just laughed and kissed him, started cleaning.
Their relationship started out hot and heavy in the months after Vecna. They got caught up in it, threw themselves headfirst into the kind of love that sucks you under, turns you inside out, leaves you with nothing. It ended, like it was always going to, when Eddie couldn't get out from under the shadow of his own self-loathing. Terrified he was fucking everything up, he packed his bags and left in the dead of night.
They're older now, though. More settled. The trauma softened by time.
"Coffee?" Steve asks.
"Please."
Steve gets it brewing, pours a couple mugs, adds the cream and sugar just like Eddie likes. Of course.
They ice cookies--and okay, Eddie's not so bad at it--and they chat and it's good. Nice. Two old friends catching up.
"Hey," Steve says.
Eddie looks over, would never not when it's Steve asking. The man in questions smiles at him, big and guileless, which is all the warning Eddie needs. He doesn't quite manage to duck in time, and Steve swipes frosting covered fingers across his face. He makes a pained noise, an injured little squeak, that has Steve in hysterics.
"Steve!" He shrieks.
The culprit is doubled-over, clinging to the countertop to stay on his feet, shaking with laughter.
"You--you," Steve half-sobs. "The look on your face!"
Eddie grabs a mostly fully piping bag. "You're gonna get it, Harrington."
"No--no," Steve darts sideways. "This sweater is dry clean only!"
"Should have thought of that." Eddie manages to smear frosting across Steve's wrist. "No one actually uses the dry cleaner, anyway."
They tussle around the island, giggling and shouting. He finally manages to catch Steve, drawing lines of icing over his face to the sounds of spasming giggles.
"Okay, okay," Steve says. His chest visibly heaves from exertion. "We should clean up."
Eddie shrugs. "You brought it on yourself."
"Yeah, yeah. Here." Steve hands him a wet towel and they spend the next few minutes smearing frosting off their faces.
He tosses his red and green smeared towel into the sink. "Happy with yourself?"
"Uh-huh, yeah--Oh, you've got a little--" Steve points towards Eddie's chin.
"Here?" Eddie wipes haphazardly at his face.
"No, it's--Can I?"
Eddie nods and then Steve is pressing his index finger to the corner of Eddie's bottom lip, gently swiping. Their eyes lock and there's nothing else in the room.
"Got it," Steve whispers. He doesn't pull his finger away.
"Thank you." Eddie's not sure anything but air comes out.
Steve's eyes dip down, fixing on Eddie's mouth and the spot his own fingers rest.
Eddie thinks he might die.
On the other side of the house, there's the sound of a door closing, the thud of approaching feet.
Steve pushes away, grabs a cookie and a piping bag.
Eddie has a few seconds to settle himself, figure out how to breathe. He's barely calm when Mark's deep voice rumbles through the kitchen, "Hey, babe. How's the baking?"
"Good," Steve says. "Work okay?"
He can't be rude, has toacknowledge that Mark is here, in the room, co-owner of the house.
"The usual." Steve and Mark smile at each other, soft and intimate.
When they kiss, Eddie drops his eyes.
"Eddie! Good to see you, my man!" Mark says, wrapping him in a loose hug.
Eddie pats his back, says, "Been awhile."
"Yeah, you should come around more often. Know Steve here would love to see you. Guess LA is keeping you busy."
"Guess so," Eddie agrees.
He's desperate to get out of here, dying for a break, to blot their easy intimacy out of his brain. "I--uh, think I need a cigarette break. I'll be back in a minute."
"Don't take too long," Steve says. He doesn't look away from Mark, so Eddie doesn't bother answering.
He steps out the back, cigarette and Bic already in his hands, lights it before the door is back in the frame.
--
Hours later, he slips out to the front porch, this time for a second to breathe. Even outside, he can hear Mike and Dustin yelling, the girls chiming in, Joyce and Hopper and Wayne laughing, "Rockin Around the Christmas Tree" blasting.
He walks to the side of the house, steps stuttering in the snow when he sees the glowing ember of a lit cigarette.
"Eddie?" Steve asks. "Need a smoke?"
"Nope, just wanted to clear my head." His heart thuds loud enough he's sure Steve can hear.
There's a beat, only a second or two, before the cigarette falls to the snow with a soft sizzle and Steve's hands are bunched in his shirt.
The kiss is hot, hard, desperate. His fingers dig into Steve's hair, pulling tight.
"Baby, baby," Steve murmurs, their mouths not even parted. "I missed you so much."
Eddie whimpers, clings tighter. "I know, sweetheart. I know, but we promised--"
"Fuck, I'm sorry. I just--"
"Stevie." His thumbs caress the planes of Steve's face. "I can't do this anymore. We said--"
"I know, I know. But I can't stop thinking about you. It's all the time. I miss you so bad that it hurts. Right here in my chest. And fuck--I lo--"
"You don't," Eddie says. Vision obscured with tears.
"I do," Steve's fingers grip around him tighter. "I always have. I never stopped. I thought you--I thought--"
"Steve?" Robin's voice calls into the night.
They let their hands drop away from each other, step apart so they're no longer entwined.
"Be right there, Rob," Steve says.
Eddie lights another cigarette. "You should go in," he says.
"Yeah." Steve nods, won't look in Eddie's direction. "Merry Christmas," he says, walks back toward the house.
He thunks his head against the red-brick of the house, staring up at the gleaming white lights lining the edge of the roof, finally letting the tears fall.
Hey, I am looking for Jenneelx reader fic where Danneel used to have a relationship with Reader but they broke up and Danneel marries Jensen. Later reader works on the set of Supernatural and is a bit reluctant to talk to Jensen because of her past. Then they talk and Jensen tells her something about having troubles with Danneel. Reader tells him that Hilarie Burton influences Danneel a lot and that's why Danneel changed somewhat which led to their breakup. Do you have any idea who wrote it?
I’m sorry I was unable to find this in the allotted time. Hopefully someone recognizes it because this was a very good amount of information.
For any followers if this fic sounds familiar please add to the post so we can find this fic for akshi8278
oh, purple rain
in the summer sky,
let me have my love.
oh, too-grey clouds
from days passed by,
let me have my love.
oh, light that filters
through the mist,
let me have my love.
oh, roses that ever
look sun-kissed,
let me have my love.
for who am I
without you, darling?
the night sky
is too dark, darling.
without you,
I lie awake
just thinking.
without you,
I stare down the sky,
not blinking.
might miss you
if I look away.
this isn’t what I wanted.
I wish you’d stayed.
I'm letting go.. but what I'm letting go is not you,it's me.I'm letting myself go. I'm letting go this girl insanely in love with you.I'm letting go all this mess in my head. I'm letting go these sleepless nights of thinking. I'm letting go these feelings.I'm just letting it go..
