Okok, But What If The Metatron Actually Wants Crowley And Not Aziraphale??

okok, but what if the Metatron actually wants Crowley and not Aziraphale??

Whether he wants him on his side to use him for his own plans, or if he wants to get rid of him somehow, I don't know. But we know Something Is Coming™️, and I think he wants to make sure that he has Crowley for that.

I've been wondering why he so desperately wanted Aziraphale to take over heaven. I mean I love him, but it just doesn't really make sense to me. He hasn't really been to heaven in forever and doesn't have a particular high ranking or extraordinarily strong powers for an angel of his ranking..

And the Metatron said he looked at "his previous exploits", but most of what Aziraphale has been doing hasn't been in the interest of heaven at all. So why him??

What we do know is that Crowley had a very high position in heaven, and we have seen how strong his miracles are (like, for example, the time-stop in s1 or the lightning thing). The Metatron could've referred to Satan when he talked about the “Prince of heaven” in that recorded counsel meeting, but I think he also could've meant Crowley?

However, he knows that he could never ever get Crowley to cooperate. So he needs a plan.

He knows that the key to Crowley is Aziraphale (for obvious reasons heh). Whether he drugged him, or manipulated him or whatever, he knew that he needed Aziraphale if he wanted Crowley.

Also, while Metatron is on earth and does his whole thing (ugh), he pays a lot of attention to Crowley, considering that he's “just” a demon.

When he first enters the bookshop and Michael doesn't recognize him, he asks Crowley if he knows who he is, but why? Why even talk to him at all, he's a demon after all? And as a demon, wouldn't he be least likely to know him anyway?

We all saw that look he gave Crowley before leaving the bookshop, but even during the talk with Aziraphale, he almost immediately mentions that Aziraphale could bring Crowley with him and make him an angel. After their talk, he sends Aziraphale to tell Crowley about it.

And RIGHT after Aziraphel and Crowley's talk, he enters the bookshop and asks how Crowley took it, like he's been waiting outside.

He just seems to think a lot about this random demon.

And this plan works whether Crowley takes the offer or not. Ideally, he'd just decide to go with Aziraphale to heaven. But even if not, the Metatron has Aziraphale in heaven and can use him to manipulate Crowley. Or he just waits until Crowley comes to get his angel (which, let's be real, isn't that far-fetched).

Eddie’s quiet, which is so fucking weird it pricks Steve’s attention almost immediately.

He leaves it thirty seconds, just to make sure he’s right before he says anything.

Since thirty seconds is a really long fucking time with Eddie Munson, Steve figures he’s right.

Eddie’s never quiet, even if he’s not talking, he’s tapping. He’s fidgeting with something, spinning his rings, chewing noisily on a hang nail, tapping his foot...something.

Usually, he’s singing, ‘Dancing in the Dark’ is playing on the radio right now, and even though Eddie will deny it with his final breath, Steve knows for a fact that Eddie knows every word to this one.

No matter how many times he says it’s not ‘real’ music.

Whatever that means.

The song ends and ‘West End Girls’ starts up.

Nothing.

Just Eddie, working mechanically, squirting mustard, flipping the bread onto the side already done with ham, slicing, moving the sandwich, starting again.

“Alright, what’s wrong?”

“What?” Eddie grumbles.

“There’s something up with you, spill.”

Eddie snorts a sad sounding laugh, no humor to it, “nothing.”

“That’s absolute bull shit, come on, fess up,” Steve stops grating cheese and goes on to buttering slices of his own loaf. The kids are like locusts, and they’ve learnt over the months that it’s just easier to be prepared before they descend. Eddie’s got all the stuff set up for game night already.

“Steve, come on, there’s nothing-”

Steve points in Eddie’s face with a pickle juice covered fork, “friends don’t lie.”

“Holy fuck Harrington. Don’t pull that shit with me, come on.” Steve knows full well what a massive soft spot Eddie has for El, so he knows this is sure fire. After a second, Eddie sighs and sort of collapses onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar, “can’t you leave it? I don’t want to talk about it, you don’t want to hear about it-”

“I do. Of course I do.” Which is total truth, Steve is here for Eddie, no matter what he has going on. If he can help, he will, and seeing Eddie down like this isn’t fun.

Eddie runs his fingers through his fluffy bangs, dragging them back. He looks real tired, Steve doesn’t know how he hasn’t already noticed that yet today, “are you sick?” Steve puts the back of his hand against Eddie’s cheek and then up under his hair to feel his forehead, it’s as big as a warning sign as any when Eddie not only doesn’t pull away...but kind of, leans into the touch. Which is...odd. Normally Eddie would be flapping his hands at Steve to get him off.

Because that’s another thing about Eddie. He can touch you as much as he likes; as soon as you try and touch him back? He’s pulling Ninja moves to get away. Eddie will flop right onto Steve on the couch, will trail himself all over Steve’s back when he’s sitting somewhere. He will hug Steve from behind with no hesitation at all. He’ll tug Steve’s hair and run away giggling which...Steve has tried not to read too much into that one, considering. The point is, Eddie is free and easy with his affection.

The second Steve so much as lays a finger on Eddie’s shoulder? It’s like Steve’s hands are fire or something.

But the temperature feels fine so Steve takes his hand away again, “come on man, what’s up?” Steve leans against the counter top, facing Eddie to show he has his full attention.

“All right, you know what, fine, you asked for it,” Eddie takes a deep breath, spine straight, hands braces on his knees while he looks Steve square in the face, “I’m gay.”

Steve nods, waiting for Eddie to explain what’s up. After a minute, it gets awkward and nothing else seems forthcoming, “yeah. Sure. So what’s eating you?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, he’s hated the expression, ‘what’s eating you?’ since the bats, so Steve always goes out of his way to use it.

“That’s it, you’re not, like bothered? Or surprised?”

“Oh, nah, I’ve known for ages.”

Eddie’s mouth flaps like a fish, clearly shocked, which Steve is deeply satisfied by, “you’ve known for...you know? You knew? You already know? How do you know?” Eddie’s surprise is genuinely comical, and nice to see since it’s almost over done and that’s more like usual Eddie.

Steve sighs, “it really, really wasn’t hard to work out. You are not a subtle guy Eddie-”

“And what the hell does that mean?” Eddie snaps back, clearly affronted.

Steve stands straight, and without missing a beat lifts his shirt up to his armpits. Eddie’s eyes immediately, hungrily, rake over the newly exposed skin. Steve waves a hand in front of his own torso like a magician revealing the trick, and Eddie turns bright pink and starts sputtering, “that’s not- I mean- you can’t-” but he’s glaring at the floor, chargrinned and caught out, and he knows it.

Steve goes back to constructing sandwiches, making two grape jelly, cream cheese and turkey especially for Eddie since it’s his favorite, “yeah, so I knew. And then Rob explained the hanky code thing to me. So I know...well, sorry, but I sort of know your preferences too, I didn’t mean to know that part but.” Steve shrugs, doesn’t know what else he can do really. If Eddie’s going to walk around in public advertising that he likes to be tied up and fucked, well, it’s not Steve’s fault if he knows that. Since it’s right there, public knowledge, and everything.

All of that seems to be settling in with Eddie too, from the way he now won’t really look at Steve, so Steve moves him along a little bit, “sooooo, what’s the problem?”

Eddie sighs, scratching at his knees, “I don’t know how much you know about...stuff. And...you know. There are limits to what you, you know, probably want to hear about.”

“Eddie,” Steve stands firm, “I have held your guts in with my bare hands. I have seen you, literally, naked and crying in the bathroom that time. I have helped you with the stitches, with showering, I have cut your toe nails when you couldn’t bend and washed your hair for you and helped you with getting to the bathroom so you can shit-”

“I get it, I get it, fine, fine-”

“What I’m saying is, I don’t think those kind of boundaries exist any more. What I’m saying is, you can tell me anything, and it won’t bother me. Literally anything. But it will bother me if something's bothering you and I can’t help. So. Spill.”

“God, you’re such a Mom,” Eddie huffs and whines, looking away for a second. “Pretty sure you can’t help anyway,” he adds, mumbling.

Steve sighs.

“Okay. Okay. Fine. Look. Guys are. It’s just hookups okay. That’s my choice, hookups or nothing. Hawkins isn’t exactly...you know. And with the cult leader murder thing. So, not a choice, really. There’s no real option, for you know, an actual relationship. And. Anyway. I go. I hook up. I come back. That’s it. But that doesn’t give me a lot of time for...anything meaningful. And I like to be, you know, I have things I like. Specific things-”

“Tied up things-” Steve smirks.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Eddie waves his hand dismissively. “But...after that, especially if it’s...rough. You’re supposed to take care of each other a little bit and I didn’t get that and now I’m. Pretty sure I’m dropping.”

“Dropping?”

“Yeah it’s...like a bad come down after being high, I guess. Feel, jittery. Tired. Kind of, worried about...I dunno, something. Nothing. Feels bad, man.”

“Right, so what do we do?”

Eddie snorts, “there’s nothing you can do. It’s a,” Eddie mumbles the next part, “submissive thing.”

“Like a post sex kind of thing? Like you get roughed up and then you need to be...taken care of, after, to like, put it right again?” Steve frowns, thinking through what Eddie’s making a half assed job of articulating.

Eddie’s mouth flaps again, “I, yeah. Yeah, kind of, exactly kind of that, yeah. So that, you know, you know it wasn’t really real, I guess? I don’t know.”

“But whoever this asshole is, he didn’t do that for you?” Eddie nods. Steve checks the clock. They have well over an hour before the kids are due, “so what's this entail then?”

“Eh,” Eddie shrugs, “you know, clean up, maybe food and water. Reassurance,” Eddie hides behind his hair, hesitating before he adds, “snuggles.” Steve gives him what he hopes is an encouraging look, “…normally I can sort of just, I don’t know, push through it, hot shower and that, go for a nap. Didn’t work so good this time.”

“Right,” Steve puts the tray of now covered sandwiches in the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water, “here, drink this.”

Eddie takes the bottle reflexively, but rolls his eyes, “you can’t just fix this Steve-”

Steve adopts his pissed off Mom of several children tone, hands on his hips, “drink it.”

Interestingly enough, that works, Eddie’s jaw snaps shut and after a moment of looking absolutely shocked, he cracks the bottle and starts to chug it. Which is deeply satisfying considering Eddie Munson doesn’t seem to listen to anyone. Next Steve cuts up an apple and drizzles chocolate sauce over the slices, then peanut butters some crackers. He puts them next to Eddie’s elbow on the counter. Eddie’s eyes are wide and clearly very fucking interested, he sits there, poised, but he doesn’t move until Steve says, “eat,” which he immediately does with no argument at all this time.

What a thrill. Telling Eddie Munson to do something and him actually doing it. It’s wild. Not only that but actually waiting quietly to be told. It’s a minor miracle.

“Okay, come and wash your hands,” Steve says after, and Eddie does, again without any kind of argument at all, “go sit on the couch.”

Eddie does that too, and Steve follows him in. He parks himself next to Eddie. And Steve’s not, like, gay or anything, but he can do this. Those physical boundaries don’t exist any more between them, not with everything they’ve been through together, so if Eddie needs a snuggle, so be it.

He tugs Eddie into his side; Eddie goes, but is kind of stiff to start with. Steve perseveres, getting an arm loosely against Eddie’s shoulders and the gently playing with his hair. Pulling his fingers through the ends results in a little gentle tugging to work through some slight tangles, but that seems to do the trick, and Eddie absolutely melts against Steve, “there you go,” Steve whispers, “feel better, huh?”

Eddie hums, but otherwise doesn’t move. Steve can sit like this for an hour if it makes Eddie better, no problem at all.

Later, Steve listens from the kitchen as the game runs, Eddie’s definitely feeling better, he’s absolutely on top form out there. Steve smiles to himself, plating up Eddie’s sandwich separately, emptying out a bag of gold fish on the side and folding a paper towel and tucking that under the sandwich.

Eddie grins at Steve when he delivers it, and Steve has to resist the funny urge to kiss Eddie on top of his curls as he makes his way past.

PART TWO

slow hours at family video (steve falls for it at least once a week)

make my house a home

Good People - Final Part

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

It is not often that Wayne is happy with the monotony of work. Tonight is one of those nights, if only because it allows him to think about where he went wrong speaking to Eddie. He had never meant to imply he thought Eddie was like Al; he'd meant the apple and tree comment to for Richard and Steve. However, he does acknowledge why Eddie drew the conclusion that Wayne might have thought Eddie would follow in Al's footsteps.

Wayne's being a hypocrite, applying the logic to one boy, but not the other. And even though he never, not once, thought that Eddie would become Al, he'll never be able to take that thought from Eddie's mind that he had. He can apologize until he's blue in the face, Eddie might even forgive him, but he's not sure Eddie will ever believe him. Not truly.

And how could Wayne expect him to?

No. That's a shame Wayne will take to the grave.

Next strike to Wayne's conscious; the misjudgment of Steve Harrington, and how it ties into the fact Eddie accused him of not trusting his judgement, and, moreover, Eddie being right. Wayne hadn't trusted in Eddie's trust of Steve.

He should have. It's been years since Eddie came home crying about a boy, but what father doesn't see their kid crying over their first heartbreak and doesn't grow protective? And with Eddie, it's even more terrifying. Getting mixed up with the wrong boy could mean bruised ribs, black eyes, or worse.

In a town like Hawkins, a boy would just have to claim Eddie made a sexual advance and his murder could (would) be justified.

Now add the manhunt and being suspected of murderer to that. Well, Wayne's scared for Eddie's life almost every minute of his day.

But it's no excuse. Or if it is, it's a poor one.

Wayne doesn't know the full story but he does know that Steve was with the group of people on Eddie's side; that he was there with the Henderson kid, the Buckley girl, and Nancy Wheeler, digging Eddie out of the rubble from the earthquake, getting him to the hospital as fast as they could.

Steve Harrington was part of the group that saved Eddie's life, and that should have meant more to begin with. Instead, Wayne's been waiting for a shoe to drop that very well isn't coming.

He's going to fix this.

He'll give Eddie his space to be angry with him, and he'll try again in a few days.

When Wayne gets home, around 6:30am, Eddie's van is gone. He's not surprised. He probably left shortly after Wayne did, not leaving sooner just to avoid him.

There is a note on Wayne's bed when he makes it there. Says he's at Steve, and instead of letting Wayne know when he'll return it just says the words 'be back' followed by a bunch of questions marks. He ends it with 'call if worried' and leaves a phone number that must be for the Harrington residence.

Another hurt Wayne can't blame on anyone but himself.

Wednesday passes. Wayne eats breakfast, goes grocery shopping, pretends to care about his shows before sleeping the afternoon away to prepare for another graveyard. Eddie has not returned when he wakes, and two short hours later, he's off to work.

Eddie's van remains gone.

Returns from work Thursday morning and repeats Wednesday. He replaces grocery shopping with laundry and cleaning out the leftovers for trash day tomorrow morning. Goes to work.

Friday morning he returns home. No Eddie. He waits for it to be a more appropriate time, a little before 10:00am to call the number Eddie left.

It rings, rings, rings, then, a voice he hasn't heard in years. Richard Harrington's voice sounds as cold as it always was as the answering machine recites, "You've reached the Harrington's. We are not available. Leave a message."

"This is Wayne Munson. I just wanted to make sure Eddie's- that's he's alright. Let him know that I called. Checked on him. He doesn't need to call back but I'd appreciate it."

He hangs up the phone, lump in his throat. He misses his boy, and he wants to make his right, but he can't force that. Eddie has to always want to make it okay between them.

He's usually off Fridays, but he asked to pick up a shift. He can't face Linda without having fixed this. He spends the morning and afternoon doing all the small fixes he'd been putting off. Anything to keep him busy. He goes to sleep at his usual time, and wakes up two hours before his shift like normal.

Check's his answering machine but if anyone called while he was asleep, they didn't leave a message. There's still no van when he heads to work.

The plant tells him to leave an hour early. He tries to argue to stay but he's just waved off, told to go get some sleep because he's been looking a little worse for the wear.

He gets back to Forest Hills around 5:40am and finds there is another car parked at his home. Not Eddie's van, but the sleek maroon BMW that belongs to Steve Harrington parked where the van usually is.

When he pulls into his spot, the headlights of his truck light up Steve, sitting on his steps, wrapped in a coat. It can't be more than 50℉ outside right now.

Steve stands as Wayne cuts the engine and climbs from his truck. He gets to the front of his truck and Steve speaks.

"Eddie's okay," Steve says, hands shoving deep into his pockets, "I tried to get him to call you back yesterday but, well, you know Eddie."

Wayne nods, because he does know Eddie. "I appreciate you tellin' me. But you coulda just called."

"I could have."

They look at each other for a moment, and just as Steve opens his mouth, probably to tell Wayne he's going to go, Wayne speaks first, "you wanna come inside and have a cup of coffee to warm up?"

Steve tilts his head slightly to the left before he says, "are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright," and then Steve steps away from the stairs so Wayne can climb them and let them into the trailer. Steve follows behind silently but with familiarity. He's spent so much of his time here since spring break- the shame crawls through Wayne again. He'd assumed, once upon a time, that Eddie and Steve spent more time here than at Steve's because why would Steve want the trailer park boy in his big fancy house? Now, though, he wonders if it's because this place felt more like a home, even with Wayne's cold shoulder.

Steve sits at their little kitchen table, a luxury they didn't have before because there was no room in the single wide, one bedroom they'd had before. The new double wide (with three bedrooms) offered them a bit more space for a dining area.

Wayne's still suspicious of the government's offer to replace their destroyed home, but he wasn't foolish enough to deny the offer when it was made to him by Jim Hopper (newly returned from the dead back then).

"How do you take your coffee?" Wayne asks, once the machine finishes filling the carafe.

"Oh, I can fix it-"

"Nonsense," Wayne waves him back to sitting, "just tell me."

"I like it with just enough milk to take the scalding heat out of it," Steve says, and while Wayne's not sure just how much that it, he tries anyway.

He sets a cup in front of Steve before taking a seat across from him. "I really do appreciate that you came to tell me Eddie's okay. I want to give him his space but...."

Steve sips his coffee before shooting his cup a small smile. Wayne must have got the ratio right. Then, he looks to Wayne and the smile drops, a more serious expression taking its place and he says, "Eddie wouldn't really tell me what your fight was about, other than, uh, me and that you... overheard some of what I said last time I was here. I don't, like, want to come between you and Eddie, but I'm not, I'm not going to let you scare me away. So, just tell me what I have to do to get Eddie to believe we're cool, and I'll do it. Anything, except for getting out of Eddie's life. 'Cause I won't."

"I would never ask you to do that," Wayne says. Steve squints at him, a look of suspicion now. Completely warranted, given what Steve has known of Wayne thus far. "I owe you an apology, Steve. For how I've been treatin' you."

Steve's eyes go wide, "Oh. What? Why?"

"You've been nothin' but good to Eddie. For Eddie. And I refused to see that. I made a judgment about you without knowin' anything but your name." Steve let's out a soft 'oh' at that, but Wayne plows on, "And that weren't fair, and it weren't right. I can't undo it, but I want you to know I regret it. I'm sorry."

"Okay," Steve says, after a moment. "I forgive you."

It's Wayne's turn to be surprised. He's a bit speechless. So much so, he takes a page right out of Eddie's book and asks, "are you sure?" which is a question he's never asked after having an apology accepted before, but one Eddie had asked a lot when he first came to live with Wayne, and they were learning to co-exist.

"Yeah. I get it."

He doesn't like that answer. Doesn't like the he contributed to the mind set that gave Steve that answer. "You're allowed to be mad at me for it."

"I think Eddie's mad enough for both of us."

It doesn't feel like closure. It doesn't feel like forgiveness, but Wayne doesn't know what to say. He can't just start sprouting all the bad things he thought about Steve; there's no reason Steve should have to listen to that. But without hearing it, Steve doesn't even know what he's forgiving Wayne for. "I'll be honest with ya, Steve. It feels like you shouldn't."

Steve frowns at him. "Why?"

Why? Why? For all the reasons Eddie yelled at him, and all the things Linda said, and all the agony he's felt these last few days. The guilt and the shame that still eat at him, even as Steve Harrington says he forgives him. "It's too easy."

Those three words have Steve leaning back against the chair. His eyes dance around Wayne's face before taking in the whole of him. Or, what Steve can see of him with from across the table. When Steve meets his eye again, Wayne sees recognition there. "If you can't forgive yourself, I get that. I do. I-I've spent most of my life as one big apology. And I'm not saying that I, like, don't still feel like- what I mean to say, is that, I forgive you. I'm not, like, gonna hold it against you that you were just trying to look out for Eddie, man. Like, two years ago your fears would have been justified, so."

"Don't make it right," Wayne argues, but he doesn't know why.

"No," Steve agrees, "but I'm forgiving you anyway. You think you're the first person to hear the name Steve Harrington and assume you know everything you need to know about me already?"

Steve's words sound like they could be confrontational, but his tone is light. Teasing? Wayne says, "no. Suppose I'm not."

"Every person I love has done that," Steve says, and the ease of which he says that has Wayne feeling some sort of way. Eddie's words echo in his mind 'you made me help him feel that way'. How many other people have made him feel like he's a bad person? "Even- even Eddie. He made a point, during spring break, to, uh, well, he didn't apologize for anything because there was nothing to apologize about, but he made a point to tell me I was very 'metal' and a 'cool dude' so.... I know my name comes with, like, a shadow or a curse or whatever. I think it will for as long as I live in Hawkins, but that's," Steve flaps his hand in the air, as if that fills in for the word he can't find, and it's a move so reminiscent of Eddie. "Anyway, if you aren't actually, like, ready to accept an apology, you shouldn't be making one."

Wayne sits in that for a moment. There's a lot more to Steve Harrington than he'd ever thought. So much he doesn't know, actually, but he thinks he's okay with learning more. This boy told Eddie he was half-way in love with him earlier this week, and while Wayne never heard Eddie say it back, he knew anyway. It's why he was so protective. "You're pretty wise for your age."

Steve grins and shakes his head. "Nah, that last part was all Robin. She says it all the time to me."

"Well, then you best stop apologizing when you ain't ready to accept the forgiveness," Wayne parrots back the words.

Steve throws his head back and laughs.

They finish their coffee with silence and small talk. Steve tells him about how he never thought he'd miss his job at the video store but working at Melvald's is making him long for the days when the biggest complaint was late fees. Apparently, there's so many more things to complain about in retail.

Wayne talks about working at the plant and how the tasks are repetitive and a bit labor intensive, but the graveyard pay is worth it. Steve asks him a few more questions about working at the plant that Wayne's happy to answer and the more Steve asks, the more Wayne becomes aware that Steve might be looking for a change of occupation. He makes a mental note to put in a good word to Floyd, just in case.

Steve leaves with the promise of returning with Eddie, as soon as possible. As he was heading to the door, Wayne asked why he showed up so early.

"Eddie can't stop me if he's not awake," was Steve's answer, a mischievous grin on his face.

Wayne watches from the porch as Steve backs out. Steve shoots him one last little wave with his fingers before heading away.

He goes back inside and washes the dishes. Even dries and puts them away, a feat usually done once a week; he and Eddie have no qualms with using dishes directly from the dish drainer. His only other chore for the day is leaving for work a bit early so he has time to stop at the gas station and fill up the truck.

Grabbing the remote from its spot on the coffee table, Wayne plops onto the couch to spend his day as mindlessly as possible with some TV.

He goes to sleep at his usual time and wakes up at 7:43pm according to his alarm clock; a little over two hours before his shift is to start. It's time for more coffee, he thinks as he dresses for work before heading to the kitchen.

He jerks to a stop when he sees Eddie and Steve sitting on the couch, leaned close and talking softly. He's not about to repeat a past mistake, so he makes his presence known. "Evenin' boys."

Eddie pops up from the couch quick as lightning, taking a few steps towards Wayne before stopping. "I don't like being mad at you."

Wayne nods, "I don't much like you bein' mad at me, either. For what it's worth, I am sorry."

Eddie closes the distance between them, then, and pulls Wayne into a tight hug. Wayne returns it instantly, how can he not? He hears Eddie say, softly, "it's worth an awful lot, you terrible old man."

They part, and Eddie speaks first, "but if you ever pull shit like this again, I won't be so quick to forgive."

"I won't," Wayne says, at the same time Steve says, "he won't."

Both Munsons look at Steve, who grins back at them.

"You think you know my uncle that well already, from one shared cup of coffee?" Eddie asks, sounding amused.

Steve shrugs, "no. I just, uh, plan to stick around, y'know. Kinda hoping there's no dude after me for him to be an angry dad about. I would appreciate it, though, Mr. Munson, if you'd skip the shovel talk bit of all this?"

Eddie sucks in a breath and Wayne's a bit shocked by what Steve's implied. What Steve's admitted, really, out loud in front of another person. Wayne wonders if any boy Eddie's ever liked before would have done that.

"What good's a shove talk when you've already told me you ain't goin' anywhere?" Wayne says, hoping his tone is as light and teasing as he wants it to be.

"Glad we're on the same page," Steve agrees, "but, uhh, do you want me to go? So you can have a real talk?"

"No," says Eddie.

"No," says Wayne, at the same time.

"Oh. Okay. Uh, in that case, you got anything to drink here besides coffee?"

Wayne nods and they all pile into the kitchen to get a beverage before settling in the living room. There will be time to talk later, Wayne realizes. He's going to apologize properly.

Later, though, when he'll really be ready to accept Eddie's forgiveness, because there's no doubt Eddie'll forgive him. So, he's going to sit in the living room and chat with his boys until he has to go to work.

By the time Friday comes around again, he'll be able to tell Linda she was right, everything's going to be okay one day, and maybe ask her on a date he's been putting off asking for since high school.

Done!! I hope the ending is sufficiently cheesy.

I'm so sorry if I missed you! There were a lot of people asking to be tagged haha

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @kaij-basil-lionelli88 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @mugloversonly @limpingpenguin @krazyperson @acrolius @salisbury-at-the-stake @littlebookworm86 @savedbytheirmusic @wxrmland @myownworstenemyyy @thelittleclare @awkotaco24 @djohawke @wrenisflying @croatoan-like-its-hot @actualwakingnightmare @krowepoison @jamieweasley13 @yourmom-isgay @irregular-child @oldwitcheshat @abstractnaturaldisaster @wishiwasacasualfan @vinteraltus @zerokrox-blog @warlordess @stevesbipanic @steveshairspray @slowandsteddie @samsoble @waelkyring @just-a-tiny-void @saramelaniemoon @halfadoginatank @nightmareglitter @scarletyeager @hellfireone @rovia2312 @munsonslure @a-little-unsteddie @soaringornithopter @eddiethehunted @starlight-archer @dryptid @inkjette

hello i’m attempting something for steddie week too, but it'll be one large thing probably @steddie-week

day 01: pining

2 new messages

eddie The Problem munson: —steeb —esteban —stefano  —stevie —love of my life apple of my eye pls pls tell me i can call you  —i am very chill etc etc —no i’m not  —let me call youuuu  —😠🥺🙏

Steve snorts as he picks up his phone and reads Eddie’s messages that keep coming in his usual spam of consciousness, a giddy feeling spreading in his chest as he snorts and goes to answer. 

— Call me then, coward 

Not a second later, his phone rings. Steve picks up immediately, even though he considers making Eddie wait; just to be difficult. Just to calm his racing heart that is always so lively around Eddie. 

“What,” he says, attempting to sound bored and annoyed — in vain, because even he can hear the smile on his face. Traitor, he thinks to himself. 

“Steve,” Eddie sing-songs, drawing out Steve’s name like he does every time he’s happy. “Steve, Steve, Stevie.” 

“Ed, Ed, Eddie,” he sings back, relaxing into his couch and shutting the laptop. Lesson planning can wait, he decides, shuffling all the loose pages into the text book and placing his laptop on the pile, trusting that physics won’t betray him. “What’s got you so happy, hm?” 

“Why do you think I’m happy?” Damn idiot has a smile on his face as he asks that, Steve can hear it. It makes his own grin widen and he huffs into the phone. 

“I literally know you, babe.” 

Babe. His heart flutters every time he says it — and he tries not to, because it’s meaningless, it’ll never happen. But Eddie picks it back up every time, and Steve is weak. God, he is so, so weak. 

On the other end, Eddie hums and Steve basks in the sound for a moment. It’s always so contagious, Eddie’s happiness, and he wants to soak it all up. Wants to be the reason for it. Wants, wants, wants. 

“You do,” Eddie says, his voice so light and fond it makes Steve’s whole body tingle. And his heart flutter. And it fills him with such happiness that he feels like he could take on the entire world right now, just with the way Eddie’s voice went all soft on him. 

God, he’s hopeless. So, so hopeless. But he’s also weak. An addict, leeching off Eddie’s attention, getting a kick out of the smallest dose, and absolutely certain he couldn’t survive if it were taken from him. He needs it. Even if it kills him a little bit, because— 

“She said yes.” 

Steve blinks. “Huh?” 

“Chrissy. She said— She said yes, Stevie. We’re getting married.” 

He says it and he sounds so happy. So, so happy. And Steve is the world’s worst best friend for the way he freezes, the way he almost drops his phone if it weren’t for the vice grip he has on it, frozen in time and space because his heart has stopped beating. It has stopped, surely, because no beating heart can hurt this much. No beating heart can crack open and still work the way it used to three, five, seven seconds ago. 

Eddie, bless his entire soul, laughs to fill the silence, and it’s the happiest sound. A boyish one, like there is no pain in the world and not a worry on his mind. A bit hysterical, too. Like he can’t believe it himself yet. Like this is the best day of his life and saying it again has reminded him of it. At least that’s what Steve imagines it feels like when someone wants to be married to you. He wouldn’t know, of course, as the only person he would ever ask is already engaged to someone else. Apparently. 

Eddie is engaged. 

Engaged and laughing and so, so happy. 

And Steve feels nauseous. Dizzy. Breathless. His eyes begin to sting and the hand that’s holding his phone begins to tremble, his grip so tight it hurts. 

Steve feels… too much. His hands tremble and he tries hard not to cry. 

“You’re getting married.” 

“We’re getting married.” 

They’re getting married. 

Fuck. 

Someone has to tell Robin. Because in true Platonic Soulmate manner, Steve and Robin fell in love with the two people who are in love with each other. Like the chaotic mess they are. 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner,” Eddie continues, a bit more sober now. Sounding genuine and sufficiently awkward about it, in true Eddie-manner. Like the big old softie he secretly is. “I would have, but…” 

But I know you’re in love with me and didn’t want to burden you with the love I carry for someone who isn’t you, Steve’s brain auto-fills helpfully. But you keep flirting with me and there was never room for someone else when I was with you. 

But, but, but— 

He swallows and drags in a deep breath past the pain in his throat where all the words he can never say are forming a massive lump. 

“Hey man, don’t worry about that, we all know I suck at keeping secrets,” he offers. And it’s a lie, because he has kept this one thing secret for years and years. This one thing, this huge and all-encompassing thing that he can feel in the tips of his fingers when he is texting Eddie, and on his tongue when they are talking, and in his heart even when he is sleeping. 

This one thing, this one secret, is his never-ending love for Eddie. 

And he will add another one to that, a lovely little friend for it. To keep it company. That other secret, of course, will be the way his heart has shattered into a million little pieces and will remain that way until he can’t even look at Eddie anymore. And even then will he look at Eddie and smile at him, and Eddie will smile back and the pain will flare up again.

Again and again and again, for the rest of their lives. Possibly even beyond that. 

“You do suck at that,” Eddie chuckles, though it is quieter this time, almost private. Fond. Gentle. Always, always like that. It used to mean something once. And if Steve closes his eyes, he can imagine that Eddie smiles his secret smile, the one Steve has only seen directed at himself. It almost breaks him. 

Eddie’s I have known you for a whole eternity and love you beyond words, silly, but you also make my life so much harder-smile. That’s what he has dubbed it because that is what Eddie had said the first time he smiled like that when Steve was drunk off his ass. 

But. But, but, but— 

It’s no use to think of that now, to reminisce and imagine what might have been if… Well. If Steve weren’t Steve. 

And that sure is a dark path he doesn’t want to trudge now, not in the face of the even darker path of Eddie getting married that he sure as hell will have to walk down for the rest of his life. 

He sighs and tries to think of something to say. Something good. Something that is not Please don’t marry Chrissy. Please don’t take yourself away from me. Please. Please don’t get married to anyone who isn’t me. Please open your eyes and see me, please listen to me, please understand what I say when I say I love you. Please.  

He kind of spaces out for the rest of the conversation, not really listening to Eddie’s words over the ringing in his ears and the pumping beat of his shattered heart. 

Eddie speaks softly to him, the undercurrent of happiness and contentment still in his voice, and it would give Steve life, it would be contagious, it would be so very precious if it didn’t also drive the knife of pain ever deeper into Steve’s entire soul, slicing him apart with no one around to put him back together again.  

Splitting him in half. One half that just wants Eddie to be happy, to sound like he does right now for ever and ever. And the other half, loathing that Eddie’s happiness is not inspired by him, not because of him, not in any sort of relation to him. 

It’s not fair. And Steve is torn. So he shuts himself off and lets Eddie ramble, tells him that he is tired after pulling an all-nighter again and wrangling the his difficult seventh graders that were particularly hard on him today when the other man asks him if he is all right. 

“Steve,” Eddie sighs, and a traitorous tear rolls down Steve’s cheek at the caring exasperation he hears there. “How often do I need to tell you that sleep is important? You’re gonna wear yourself out at this rate. And the kids just suck.”  

“I know,” he says, and sniffs, willing the tears to not fall. Not until Eddie has hung up on him. 

“Aww. That emotional, huh?” 

At that, Steve sobs out a laugh and gladly accepts the way out. “Well, excuse me, my bestest friend whom I love very much is getting married soon! Or, well, I hope it’s soon, nobody has time for all that suspense. Anyway, I am allowed to be emotional about this!” 

Eddie chuckles again and sighs gently. “Yes, you are. I’m glad you are. Thank you, Stevie.” 

Don’t thank me. Not for this. Not over this, please, don’t thank me. 

“Don’t thank me,” he says with a grin, and it hurts his cheeks from how forced it is. “Thank yourself for being brave enough to actually go through with the proposal! We both know you’re chicken shit.” 

Just like me, he thinks. Just like me. 

They laugh and it sounds hollow to Steve’s ears. He just wants the phone call to end, wants this to be over with. Wants them to not get married. Never, ever, in this life or the next. 

He wants… he wants Robin. No, he needs his best friend, his soulmate. He can’t cry alone, not about this. 

Eventually, Eddie hangs up, that smile still so audibly his lips, and that painful happiness still very clear in his voice. Steve wants to share it. But he can’t.

All he can do is stare at the phone in his trembling hand before he closes his eyes and lets himself cry, his head falling back against the couch until he slumps over to one side. He stares and he cries until he can’t anymore. 

Eddie. The love of his life. Is getting married. To Chrissy, the other, platonic love of his life, who is like a sister to him. Who, coincidentally, is the love of his real platonic soulmate’s life.

Fucking hell, the mess they find themselves in!

After a while of pitifully staring at the wall, all cried out and feeling thoroughly pathetic, he lifts his phone and speed-dials Robin. 

“Stevie?” 

He sniffs, and it must sound as awful as he feels, for her next words are, “I’ll be right there. Alcohol or ice cream?” 

“Both?” he whimpers after a moment, and Robin hums right back. 

“I’ve got you. I’ll be there in ten.” 

She hangs up before he can say anything more, and he is overcome with all the love he holds for her. 

As he waits for her to come over, he does not move from the awkwardly half curled-up position on his couch, the lesson plans for tomorrow forgotten completely. This is his life now. His Eddie-less life. His engaged-Eddie life. His loveless, hopeless, endlessly pitiful life. 

come back tomorrow for: bittersweet & angst | read here