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0blobthefish0 · 2 years

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Mr. Barnes

bucky barnes masterlist | main masterlist

5,255 words P.E Teacher Bucky x Photography Teacher Reader

Bucky's got a crush on you, and everyone knows it, including you, but you've never accepted his advances for dinner until now: when you find yourself stuck in a storm and Bucky arrives just in time to save you, he takes you home.

There was without a doubt, to all the other teachers and to most of your students, that Mr Barnes had a crush on you. He was a handsome man, there was no denying that, but you weren't one to rush into a relationship solely based off of physical attraction. Now this had caused Mr Barnes to pop into your classroom and say hello every time he was on your side of the school:

You were sat at your desk, going through the examples of the photographer your class was looking into, when Mr Barnes slid into your classroom and had taken a seat. You stumbled over your words lightly, not expecting him to sit down.

"Nice of you to join us, Mr Barnes," you smiled politely at him.

"It's a pleasure to be here, Miss Y/l/n," he smirked, and the class snickered as they watched your interaction. You quietened your students down and swiftly moved on with your lesson. You were about to go through the editing method when you realised that the cards had been wiped clean, as it was a new year, and so you needed to take a picture of someone.

"Would anyone like to be the model for today?" You called out the class and watched as everyone sunk into their chairs, not wanting to be picked on. You sighed lightly and then your eyes landed on him, "Mr Barnes?" You asked hopefully.

"Hm?" He said moving to sit up.

"You've got a nice face; how would you like to be my model for today?" You questioned him, drawing no attention to the fact that you had complimented him, and you could have sworn that his cheeks tinged slightly pink. You raised an eyebrow at him awaiting an answer.

"Oh yeah, of course," his words falling out as he stood up and you walked over to guide him to the wall. He gestured to the floor, and you nodded your head.

"Yes, thank you," you mumbled and turned your back to him to face the class. "Now, what can you tell me about his work?" You asked the class, and, to your delight, a boy raised his hand. "Yes, Harry?"

"There's nothing behind the person."

"Yes, well done, how about the people's faces? What are their expressions like?" And a student raised their hand. "Addie."

"They're blank?"

"Very good," you congratulated them, "anything else you could tell me about the face... anyone?" You leaned to the side to look at the board, "Okay, I know that it's kind of hard to see on the board, but only the eyes are in colour the rest of the photo is in black and white."

You walked over to the other side of the class, the room erupting into steady chatter, to grab a camera and slotted in a card as you walked over to Mr Barnes. You looked up to see him watching you and frowned slightly, "Can you crouch a little, you're a bit tall." You mumbled and you heard him chuckle before doing so. You weren't even that short, only a half a head shorter than the man in front of you. "Thank you."

"Dinner tonight?" He whispered as you focused your camera. You rolled your eyes; he knew you were busy.

"No smirking or smiling, Barnes." You reminded him, ignoring his question as you took the picture. "That's good, thanks, now back to your seat." You beamed, a smile on your face because his eyes were perfect for the task at hand.

You had shown your class how to edit in the style of the photographer with the, very handsome, picture of Mr Barnes. His steely-blue eyes shining through at the end of the editing process and then you had told the class to take their pictures and start editing. Mr Barnes had slipped out, unnoticed by you.

▪▪▪

You stood, shivering, in the cold bite of the wind with a frown on your frozen face. You were on break duty and stupidly hadn't brought in a coat, to be very honest it wasn't your fault it was your damn weather app. This morning you had checked, and it had told you that it was going to be quite warm today, so you hadn't bothered to bring one in. What a dreadful mistake that was. And so, you stood there, extremely bored and extremely cold with your arms hugged around your waist. It would be over soon, you thought to yourself, and then you could finally slink off to the sanctity of your toasty classroom.

Now, Bucky was not on duty, but he was on his way to the P.E department when he saw you trembling from the corridor window. His eyes furrowed, where was your coat? It was freezing outside. There was no way he would allow himself to ignore you, so he took a detour to come and save you.

"Cold?" You jumped slightly from the sudden intrusion. Your ears had been so cold you hadn't heard anyone come up behind you. You gasped loudly and put a hand to your heart. Beside you stood, James Barnes.

"James," you breathed out. "Don't scare me like that." A smile already creeping up to pull at the corners of your lips.

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean for that to happen." He smiled abashedly and scratched the back of his head. "Where's your coat?" He questioned you with concern and you looked up at him with a thin, awkward smile.

"I don't have one, the damn weather app lied to me this morning." You muttered, feeling betrayed and slightly ashamed by your foolishness. Unconsciously, you had drifted closer to him, so, when he let out a chuckle, you could feel him move beside you. Butterflies flew around your stomach realising just how close the two of you were. You felt him place a warm hand over your upper arm and heat instantly spread to your skin. You hummed quietly.

"Jesus, you're freezing, doll." He murmured, the pet name falling from his lips absentmindedly, and you could feel a blush begin to thaw your cheeks. His other hand rested against your other arm, and both began to rub up and down in attempt to warm you up. If you had no self-respect, your knees would have buckled right there and then.

"Don't worry about me, James, I've only got-" you brought out your wrist to check the time and was left stunned, "Ten minutes?" You cried out. There was no way you could survive out there for another ten minutes. He needed to get to class, or he'll be late.

"Would you like my coat?" He offered and you began to protest as he moved to take it off. "No, no, you're taking the coat, Y/n, you're going to freeze." He told you and hung it around your shoulders, his scent hitting you in the face. "Put your arms in," and when you did, you could already feel yourself begin to relax, the coat already so warm from him wearing it. "Better?"

"Better," you sighed happily as you turned to face him. There wasn't a way that you could have prepared yourself for the look that Bucky Barnes was gazing at you with. There were really no words that you could think of that would perfectly describe his look, except for the fact that he looked content. You smiled up at him, he really was a beautiful man, his steel-blue eyes staring into your own when they caught attention of some girls muttering from afar. And with that, the moment was over. A pink blush covered his cheeks as he played with his hands, dark metal contrasting pale flesh.

"Right, well I've got to go," he started awkwardly, "prepare for class." He patted you on the shoulder and, with haste, left.

Bucky's heart was pounding as he stormed through the corridors, the way in which he always did. You looked so good in his coat, and he knew that he'd think about that interaction for days to come.

Because you were on duty you were slightly late to your own class and when you walked in, you walked into a full class muttering as they chatted to their friends.

"Sorry for being late, class," you apologised as you slid off his coat and hung it on the back of your chair. You fumbled as you tried to quickly start up your laptop.

"Whose coat is that, miss?" A girl teased knowingly from the back of the class. You accidentally dropped the whiteboard cleaner, taken aback by the question.

"No one's." You replied instantly, bending down to pick up what you and dropped. You cursed yourself inwardly, you should have said that it was yours.

▪▪▪

It was finally the end of a very, very long week and you were exhausted. So exhausted that you had just nearly fallen asleep while you marking papers at your desk. Your head sore from where it had bashed against the table so aggressively.

You now stood at the bus stop, usually it would have been here around now, but it wasn't. Your car was in for repairs and your friends were all too busy on the other side of town to give you a lift. The week had been unfortunate to you and just as you sighed, just by some miraculous chance, you felt a drop hit your face. You looked up to the dark sky above when it started to get heavier and heavier until it was pouring. You swore as you rummaged through your bag, where the hell was your umbrella? Your efforts stopped abruptly and you scoffed. Your car. Of course your umbrella was in your car, why wouldn't it be?

You leaned, defeated, against the bus shelter, it's roof had been ripped off, not even a week after it had been replaced, by some odd group of teenagers. You checked the time once again, where was that bus? After a few minutes, you gave up on standing and sat down on the bench. It was too dark for your liking. Too dark and too alone for you to feel safe.

You were drenched to the bone when the rain had decided to calm down slightly. A sleek, black car pulled up beside where you were sitting and you bolted upright, fearing the worst, and ready to sprint. The window rolled down to reveal Bucky and you physically relaxed. Bucky was looking at you with concern, your hair sticking to your face and your clothes so wet they were dripping. You were staring at him when you realised that he was talking.

"Pardon?" You questioned as you shuffled closer to hear him.

"Get in!" He shouted so you could hear him over the wind.

"But I'm dripping!" You shouted back. "Your car will get really, really wet!" His eyebrows furrowed at you.

"The bus ain't coming, just get in." He ordered and you quickly walked over to the other side, eager to get out of the pouring rain. You pulled open the door and slid into the passenger seat beside him. The door slammed shut, leaving the row of the wind outside behind you.

"Sorry about your car," you mumbled sheepishly as you turned to face him. He shook his head and chuckled.

"Don't worry about it, doll, I've got a blanket in the back, but you're gonna have to take off that coat of yours if you wanna warm up." He informed and you nodded your head before unbuttoning your coat and slipping it off you with difficulty. Bucky leaned over to grab the blanket from the back seat and, as you buckled your seatbelt, you took a moment to admire his frame and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. Over the months of working with the man you had gained a steadily growing fondness for him, as well as a friendship.

He placed the blanket on your lap, and you wrapped it around your shivering body; you hummed at the feeling of the soft blanket and Bucky shifted into gear and turned out of the bus stop, eyes trained on the road.

"Thanks for saving me, Bucky." You smiled at him from the side, and he turned to meet your eyes for a brief moment.

"If I hadn't you would've been there all night, maybe even the whole weekend." He teased and you grinned and shook your head.

"I'm not that bad." You frowned, your belief in yourself wavering slightly, and Bucky raised an eyebrow at you as if to say 'really?'

"Hey, could you turn up the radio?" He asked politely and the quiet hum of the radio increased as you rolled the dial. The two of you sat quietly as you watched him listen in to the weather.

"Please get home as soon as you can, weather's really going downhill with winds reaching ninety miles per hour, a tornado may be on its way." No wonder it was so bad tonight.

"Do you live close?" He murmured.

"Thirty minutes away, at least," you replied with a shake of the head.

"Sleepover?" He questioned turning to you and you let out a laugh, never in a hundred years would you have thought that you'd hear Bucky put out the idea of a sleepover.

"Yeah sure, I wouldn't mind."

"Great, I can finally make that dinner I've been asking you on," he smirked and turned to face you, his eyes shining.

"Yeah, you can." You smiled and he smiled back before the two of you settled into easy conversation.

By the time you had arrived at his house, you had only just started to warm up. You left the car, still wrapped in his blanket and trudged lightly after him, ears stinging from the cold winds. You watched as he opened his door with ease and familiarity and pushed it open, standing to the side to let you in first, he was always such a gentleman. You smiled as you stepped inside, you heard the door click shut behind you and the light flick on when you felt a hand over your waist, guiding you further into his home. You could feel that all too familiar feeling in your stomach every time he touched you, gods, were you falling for the man. You felt him stop behind you and you stopped with him. You turned around to face him.

Bucky smiled at you and chuckled lightly at your state, hair and clothes drenched and wrapped up in his blanket, all because of the bus. How you've managed to survive on your own, he would never know. You frowned at him as he laughed.

"Oh, come on, Barnes, it's not that funny." You huffed.

"You would've been there all night, doll, drenched and cold, did you even have your phone on you?" He questioned teasingly.

"Yes," you answered him defensively. He grinned and shook his head.

"I'll go grab you a towel and some dry clothes, okay?" You nodded and thanked him. "You can... explore," he added before leaving you alone.

Bucky went straight to his sister's emergency stash of clothes when, as he was rifling through them, an idea formed. He thought back to when he gave you his coat and how much he loved seeing you in it. He felt himself blush lightly just by remembering how you looked; he could give you his clothes to wear, it's not like you'd know that you had another option. He chewed his lip as he thought, before he got up quickly and walked into his own room. He grabbed a t-shirt, a pair of joggers and a clean towel. He was about to go back down stairs when he remembered underwear. He pulled open a draw of his sister's and took them all. He shrugged, you had a selection to choose from.

When he returned, he found you in the same spot as when he left. He smiled and handed you the towel and his clothes.

"My sister only visits in the summer and I thought you'd like something warmer," he pointed out and mentally patted himself on the back for telling you at least half the truth of why he handed you his own clothes. "And umm some underwear," he presented the lot to you and your eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. You weren't sure what he was expecting you to do, take one or take them all? Your hands were already pretty full so you decided on taking just the one. You picked one out at random and added it to your pile.

"Thank you for the clothes, Bucky, I really appreciate it," you told him genuinely, with a bright smile at how considerate he was.

"There's a bathroom just over there," he pointed behind you and you turned to see, "and a hot chocolate ready for when you come out?"

"Mmm yes please," you grinned, your eyes sparkling with excitement. He nodded and you left to get changed. He couldn't help but smile, goddamn it, you were cute.

Once the door clicked shut behind you, you dropped his clothes onto the toilet seat and began to undress. You felt sticky and gross and quickly dried your skin with the towel and your hair as best as you could before pulling on Bucky's shirt and trousers. You hummed happily, already feeling warmer than you had been. You caught yourself in the mirror and lightly gasped when you saw a slightly raised sore bump; you brought a hand to it and hissed as you were electrified with a sharp pain. You frowned at yourself, you hadn't thought that you had hit the table that hard. You left the bathroom with your bundle of sodden clothing and your feet pattered against the smooth wood as you made your way to the bright kitchen, illuminating against the dark corridors. Just as promised, Bucky stood by the counter, two mugs of hot chocolate steaming wispily on the table. You breathed in the scent of warm chocolate and smiled.

"What do I do with these?" You questioned gesturing to your clothes. Bucky came forward and took them from you.

"I'll put them in the washer, they'll be clean and dry by the morning," you nodded your head and thanked him, "there's socks and a hoodie on the chair if you want," he smiled before walking off.

Bucky's heart was pounding. When he saw you walk out, he swore he stopped breathing, you looked amazing in his clothes. He chewed his lip nervously, he didn't know how he was going to make it through the whole night, all he wanted to do was scoop you up and hold you and keep you close. However, that was probably weird, the two of you were friends, but he didn't want to be friends. He wanted something more, something special and precious. Not that your friendship wasn't, he just really, really, really wanted to kiss you.

As he threw your clothes into the washer a piece missed and fell to the floor and, as he bent down to pick them up, he realised what they were- your underwear. Now, usually Bucky wouldn't have thought anything of it; he would've picked them up without a second's notice and chucked them in with the rest. However, as he registered what they were he also took note of the material; lace. He felt his face heat up, tomato-red, and quickly picked them up and threw them in with the rest before slamming the door shut and turning it on. He took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully, and then his brain betrayed him, an image of you in them flicked past his eyes and his jaw clenched. Jesus fucking Christ. He needed to think about something else. Dinner.

When he came back into the kitchen, you were sat at the counter, feet covered with socks and bouncing to a tune he couldn't hear with his hoodie on and hands cupping a mug. He smiled, he could get used to seeing this, seeing you so comfortable in his home, and in his clothes.

"You look comfy, doll," he smirked as he rounded the counter and stood on the other side.

"I sure am," you smiled and took another sip, eyes watching his own as he stared at you.

"Hungry?" he asked, "cause I'm starting dinner."

"Starving," you replied. "Can I help?"

"Oh no it's okay, sit and watch, I'll put on a good show for you," he winked, and you chuckled. Where was all of this confidence coming from? "Bourbon?" He questioned as he brought up a bottle and gestured toward your drink. You shrugged, why not, and offered your cup to him. You watched as he poured the alcohol into your hot chocolate, and you swirled your mug to mix it in evenly. You took a sip and felt the mixture burn its way down to your stomach, a fire burning and keeping you warm from the inside-out. Bucky took a gulp from his own before replacing it with liquor.

"I've only got pasta, nothing too fancy, sorry, didn't know I'd find you lost tonight." He smiled amusingly.

"I was not lost!" You huffed and shook your head at him. He chuckled and moved over to the cupboard to get a pot and a pan.

Bucky did in fact put on a show, his expert chopping skills and ability to put something together was mesmerising. Conversation was aided with the slight buzz of alcohol, and you were having a terrific time, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest every time he looked at you with his brilliant steel-blue eyes. His hoodie was warm, but you didn't want to take it off, liking the feeling of wearing his clothes and the scent of him. Not long after, Bucky was plating two bowls of pasta and pouring to glasses of red wine. His cooking smelt heavenly.

"Where'd you learn to cook, Bucky?" You asked him as he sat down beside you. A smile stretched out onto his face.

"My ma. Taught me everything I know," he replied proudly and brought his glass to his lips.

"Aww a Mama's boy, one that knows how to cook and a pretty one too. It's a wonder how no one's snatched you up, Buck." You smiled. Bucky didn't know what to say and he felt himself shrug and take another sip of wine, his cheeks warm and his heart clenching almost painfully.

"Shut up and eat your pasta," he blushed, and you let out a laugh before shoveling a forkful into your mouth. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your throat as you took your first bite. Bucky felt his heart hiccup and he turned to watch you. "Thought you were making out with the pasta for a second, doll," he chuckled.

"I would if I could, Bucky, I would if I could," you nodded, you didn't know what you were doing, it was probably the alcohol talking, "but I could settle for the chef." You murmured with a cheeky smirk and returned to eating as if nothing had happened; Bucky didn't know if it had happened or if he was just imagining things. Fantasy or not, it didn't help his blush. You giggled when you saw his face and you brought your glass up to your lips. Bucky stared intently as he watched you lick the dribble of wine off of your bottom lip. He really, really wanted to kiss you.

Nothing else had happened for the remainder of the dinner, and after you helped him clean up. Bucky's sleeves were pushed up to his elbow as he washed the dishes, and you couldn't take your eyes off of his metal arm. Gods, it was sexy. You dried the washed dishes with a towel and put them away, only with slight difficulty as you didn't know where they went. His other arm was also sexy, muscles and veins running up the limb, you wondered what it would feel like to touch or to kiss.

"Bucky," you started, and you heard him hum, "where do the glasses go?" You questioned as you held the two in your hand.

"Up in the top cupboard on the left," he directed and pointed in the direction of the cupboard. You nodded your head before walking over, you opened the cupboard easily and you could see plates neatly stacked on the bottom shelf and glasses on the top. You put one down on the counter and stretched to add the glass to the shelf, however you found yourself not being able to reach. You let out a quiet huff as you relaxed from the stretching before trying again, and again, and again. Now, Bucky knew you wouldn't have been able to reach it from the beginning and he smirked to himself as he watched you try over and over again.

You stared up at the top shelf and sighed before attempting it one last time. The glass was halfway up when another hand wrapped itself around it from behind. Your head turned to the side to see Bucky, stretching over you to put the glass in its rightful place. You turned around, so you were facing him and muttered a thanks. Bucky looked down at you and smiled before taking the other glass, from the counter, and putting it back with the other. His top pulled up as he stretched, revealing a slither of his toned stomach. You couldn't help but blush at the position you had found yourself in. Trapped under Bucky as he loomed over you. Bucky took a very small step back when he was finished and smiled awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head.

"Movie?" He asked you quickly. "If you're not too tired."

"Oh no I'm not tired, a movie sounds great," you smiled and he lead you out into the sitting room. You hadn't seen this room before so you allowed your eyes to wander around the various items displayed. When you looked back to Bucky, you found him sat close to the end of the sofa, and as you moved to find a seat, he patted his lap.

Now, Bucky had no reason to expect you take up the offer, so when you did he wasn't fully prepared.

You chuckled at him when you saw the smirk displayed across his face as he patted his lap, and you shook your head with a smile as you walked over to him.

"Feeling bold today, Bucky?" You questioned as you climbed into his lap, sideways so you could lean against the arm of the sofa. You felt his cool, metal arm slide under your back to support you as you made yourself comfortable. Bucky shrugged to your question, his smirk still present oh his face. "So what're we watching today?" You asked as you looked up at him and you watched as his smirk softened to a smile.

"Not sure, doll," he answered you as he leaned forward, squeezing you with his body as he did. "Pick whatever you want," he told you as he passed you the remote.

"Anything?" You drawled out with a cheeky smile and Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at you. After a few seconds, he nodded his head slowly, unsure of his decision already.

"Yes.. anything," he replied sceptically and you couldn't help the grin that was stretching across your lips. You quickly found yourself scrolling to the Disney section and you heard a quiet grumble before you selected your chosen film. "Really?" Bucky questioned you as it started to play.

"Of course, it's like one of the best animated films ever." You replied frankly and relaxed as your eyes trained on the screen. Bucky looked down at you, comfortable in his arms, and smiled before focusing his attention on the bright colours flashing on the screen.

The two of you hadn't lasted long into the film; a lot more tired than you had thought, you had fallen asleep not even halfway into it and Bucky had drifted off soon after you. Bucky woke with a jolt and scanned the room quickly, his eyes stinging slightly from the bright screen in front of him. He watched as a helicopter flew past the camera, the mechanical whir of the blades causing his heartbeat to pick up. He scrambled for the remote and the tv shut off with a click. Silence. His head fell against the back of the sofa as he let out a shaky sigh, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. When his eyes fluttered open, they were already adjusted to the lack of light within the room, and they fell on your sleeping form; he felt his heart flutter and nervous butterflies fluttering in his stomach, crashing clumsily against the walls. He studied you, the rise and fall of your torso; he matched his breathing to yours, slow and steady, and he felt himself relax.

"You asleep, doll?" He whispered and instantly felt stupid for asking the question, of course you were asleep. You were splayed across his lap, hair out of place, his shirt riding up just short of exposing the smooth skin of your stomach. There was something so normal about the scene Bucky found himself in, something so comforting he couldn't quite place a finger on. He admired you for a little while longer, with a smile on his face, when he realised that if you stayed like that you would most likely have horrible back pain when you woke up. Stiffly, he placed one hand under the back of your knees and the other under your upper back and lifted.

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself in a plush bed, the sun dancing patterns on the walls; you had thought it was a dream: you felt strong arms wrap around you and pull you close to his chest, your half-conscious state recognising Bucky and your own arms clung onto him. You felt the sharp intake of his breath and the journey through the house and up the stairs, Bucky pushed open the door to his guest room and carefully placed you on the soft fabric before pulling the duvet over you. His fingers brushed the hair from your face, and he hesitated for a second before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. A light hum escaped from your lips, and he looked down at you, his eyes full to the brim with adoration. Bucky turned to leave once he had caught sight of the time, but he felt your hand move to his, your hand curling around his left and he felt his breath hitch.

"Stay with me," you mumbled softly, the sound moving barely past your lips; it was so quiet he hardly heard it, but the constriction of his heart told him that he hadn't imagined your words. He played with your fingers as he weighed his options, but that was the last thing you could remember.

You felt yourself frown at the thought of him turning down your barely conscious offer, however that was short lived because when you turned to your side you saw him. He was facing you, he looked peaceful with his eyes closed and his eyelashes touching his cheek. You turned under the duvet and rested your head against the pillow and closed your eyes. It was too early to wake up on a weekend anyway.

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

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The note shows up in Eddie's mailbox cubby on Valentine's Day.

It's nothing fancy, loopy cursive handwriting on lined paper:

"I know this is probably silly but I can't go another day without saying it, and today seems appropriate for this kind of confession. Seeing you in the morning is the best part of my day. You're so gorgeous it leaves me breathless. I hope you don't mind if I don't leave my name. Just wanted you to know that you're beautiful."

His eyes fill with tears that he blinks back, a goofy smile stretching his mouth wide.

"You good there, Munson?" Robin Buckley asks.

"Oh, yup, yeah, all good." He laughs. "Just got one of those 'you're my favorite teacher Mr. Munson!' notes."

He squeezes the letter to his chest before slipping it in his pocket.

---

The worst thing about Eddie's new job is that someway, somehow, Steve-fucking-Harrington works here too. PE teacher, JV basketball coach, of-fucking-course. Once a douchebag jock, always a douchebag jock. What makes it all worse is that he's still the prettiest guy Eddie's ever seen.

---

The first week of March, there's a commotion in the hallway that has him rushing out of his room, ready to breakup a fight. He finds Harrington already there, holding Dustin Henderson and Will Byers by their shoulders. Troy Walsh and James Dante stand across from them, wearing matching snarls.

Of course Harrington is picking on little nerd kids; he knew it. But before he steps forwards to break it up, Steve speaks, voice low and angry. "You want to tell me what happened here, Troy?"

"Byers tripped. He really should watch where he's going," Troy says. James laughs.

Steve's glare goes even more icy, more disdainful (it's so fucking hot, Eddie hates it). "You want to take that again? And try being honest this time, or you're suspend from the team."

Troy splutters for long enough that Eddie finally notices Will's stricken face, the sketchpad and snapped colored pencils littering the linoleum.

"I saw you take those things from Will, and unfortunately, I'll have to call your parents and you will be responsible for purchasing a new sketchbook and pencils. You're also benched for the next four games."

The boys shout, but when Steve raises a hand they quiet immediately. "You want to complain more, or do you want it to be five games?"

"No, sir," they answer before scampering off.

Harrington faces Dustin and Will. "You boys okay?" he asks them.

"We're good, Mr. H," Dustin answers.

"Glad to hear it." Steve begins collecting Will's ruined belongings, stops to study one of the drawings.

"This is really good, Will."

Will flushes. "Thanks. It's my character for dnd,"

"Dnd? That's that game that El and Max are always talking about? With the character sheets and the dice?"

"Yeah!" says Dustin. "You know it?"

Steve's smile is a little bashful, and it tugs at Eddie's heart in a way he has to ignore. "Not much. Just from what the girls have said. You want to tell me about it?"

"Really?" Their eyes light up.

"Really. You can stop by the gym during lunch. Only if you want to, though."

"Cool," says Dustin.

He pats them both on the shoulder, and they hurry away, leaving Steve and Eddie suddenly alone.

Eddie should head back to his class, hasn't been needed in this situation at all, really, but before he can disappear, Steve spots him and his eyes widen.

"You need something, Munson?" Steve's cheeks go a faint pink.

He shakes his head, feels wrong-footed. "Uh, that was really cool what you did just there."

"They're really good kids," Steve says. "I know them a little. Used to babysit El Hopper." He slides his hands into the pockets of his khakis and, seriously, fuck Harrington for looking like that in a pair of Dockers.

"Babysitter, Harrington? Never thought I'd see the day. Or that you'd be the one defending a bunch of nerds," Eddie says. He means it teasing, but Steve's face warps into a frown.

"Y--yeah, I guess. I mean. I'm trying not to be that guy anymore, and Robin's really helped--"

"Shit, man, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant, at all--"

"--I feel terrible about all that shit I pulled back in school. That King Steve stuff? I was awful and you didn't deserve--"

"Steve!" Eddie cuts him off. "I forgive you. For everything." He looks down at his shoes. "For all I didn't want to believe it, you really have changed."

They're both pink faced now, avoiding each other's eyes. "Thanks," Steve says. "I should get going, but--for the future-- I really wouldn't mind--um--trying to be friends."

The grin that passes across Eddie's face is huge. "Yeah, Harrington, I'd like that."

Eddie has to run to make it to his classroom on time. He passes Dustin and Will and the rest of their gaggle of friends, rushing them along, but forgets all about it as he steps in front of his third period juniors.

---

He and Steve are...friendly now. They chat, they joke, they share smiles that have Eddie's heart beating too fast even though it's not like that. Turns out Steve is kind and funny (a little bit of a bitch too, but in a way that ties Eddie's stomach in knots), and a hell of a teacher.

---

His freshman are in small groups, peer-reviewing an essays, when Max Mayfield catches his eye. She's one of his favorite students and absolute trouble.

"What's up, Mayfield." He asks.

"Are you friends with Mr. Harrington?" She asks.

He chuckles. "Sure, Max, we're friendly enough. Why?"

She narrows her eyes, like she knows he's not being totally honest. "Oh, nothing. He just talks about you all the time."

He's blushing horribly and Max, and all of her friends, smirk up at him. "He does?" He chokes out.

"Mmhmm," Lucas Sinclair says. "Says he thinks you're really cool."

"Definitely one of the best teachers here," Mike Wheeler adds.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, very funny, guys. How're your essays going?"

They answer, but before Eddie goes to help another group, Will says, "he really does like you, Mr. Munson. A lot."

El nods earnestly up at him. "It is true," she says. "I know him."

"Thanks, kids. I'll keep that in mind." He gives them a smile, tries not to let their words get to him. When he reaches the next group, though, he notices his hands are shaking.

---

Gifts start turning up in Eddie's cubby. It starts with a bag of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies from his favorite bakery. There's a small note that says "from your secret admirer," on the packaging. Every two weeks or so, something new shows up in his little mailbox; a woven friendship bracelet, a yellow rose, Hershey kisses, a delicately painted dnd figure that gives Eddie a small crisis because it's his own bard character, an Iron Maiden cassette, a bag of dice that almost brings him to genuine tears.

Eventually, he gets another note. This one is typed and reads: "I would love to have coffee with you 11am this Saturday at the Cafe on Main Street."

---

He walks into the cafe at 10:50am, wearing his favorite pair of ripped black jeans and a burgundy button-down, his hair pulled into a loose bun. He doesn't recognize anyone there.

Eddie gets in line, studies the menu, and the little bell above the door rings. He whips towards the sound to find none other than Steve Harrington in little wire rim glasses, a butter colored sweater, and jeans the man must have painted on, Jesus Christ. Honestly, the whole thing is enough to give Eddie a coronary (and to, embarrassingly, chub up in his own tight jeans).

"Steve?" He asks. He's overwhelmed with the (stupid, stupid) hope that it's been Harrington all along. "What are you doing here?"

"Henderson asked me to meet him. He around?"

"Uh, no?" Eddie feels heat creeping up his throat.

Steve shakes his head, as though he expected as much. "You alone? We could grab drink."

"I can't believe this." Eddie hides his face in his hands, knows it's gone horrifyingly crimson.

"What's wrong?"

"My secret admirer told me to be here now, so we could meet," Eddie's misery slices through his words. "I'm such an idiot."

"I--your--what?" Steve stammers.

He gathers himself enough to look Steve in his hazel eyes and ask, "I'm assuming it wasn't you leaving notes and gifts for me at work?"

And he expects Steve to say no. To laugh and ask why he'd ever do something like that, but instead, instead he flushes a deep red. "O-only one note."

"What?"

"I, uh," Steve clears his throat. "I left you a note. On Valentine's Day. I--we weren't friends yet, and I wanted you to know how much I liked you. It's --uh--it's pretty silly, huh? Robin's--"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts. He's going to tell Steve that he reads the note often enough that he has parts memorized; that it's the kindest thing anyone has done for him, but what he says instead is, "Dustin Henderson told you to meet him here at 11?"

"Yeah. Said he had something to show me."

Eddie remembers running into Will and Dustin and their friends that day in the hall, the weird conversation in class, the dice and the miniature. Something must click for Steve at the same time because his mouth drops, blush getting somehow deeper.

"Oh my god. Henderson! I'm gonna kill him. They figured out I had a crush on you."

"They WHAT?" Eddie says, loud enough that several looks are aimed their way.

"I'm so, so sorry, Eddie. Holy shit, this is so humiliating. You have to believe me, I had no idea they were doing this. God, I'm really starting to think it is possible to die from embarrassment."

"You have a crush on me," Eddie says instead of any of the dozens of helpful things he could say.

"Um. Yes?"

Eddie takes a deep breath, straightens his spine, and asks, "You wanna have coffee with me?"

"I'd really like that." Steve's return smile is so beautiful, it makes Eddie weak.

---

Eddie Munson is making out with Steve Harrington in the backseat of Steve's BMW. He and Steve spent the day together. They've kissed for so long that the sun has set, both of their lips are swollen, their skin red from stubble, and Eddie is nowhere near ready for the night to end.

Steve breaks away, gently pulling their mouths apart, but arms still tight around Eddie. "Hey, what kind of gifts were they giving you anyway? The kids?"

"Oh," Eddie blushes. "Uh, cookies, a dnd mini, lots of candy, a set of dice."

"Oh my god," Steve says, he pulls a little more away. "Oh my god, I'm going to kill her, Jesus Christ."

"Who are are you killing, sweetheart?"

Steve groans. "Robin. She was helping them. We found a set of dice at this little bookstore and she told me to get them for you, and--" he breaks off with a helpless, frustrated noise.

Eddie doesn't mean to, but he starts to giggle.

"It's not funny!" Steve says.

That only makes Eddie laugh harder. "Your best friend," he squeaks. "And a group of literal children set us up. That's hilarious, Harrington."

Steve's mouth drops and for a second Eddie thinks he'll be upset, but then he's giggling too, his whole face crumpling into it.

Steve pulls Eddie close once the laughter subsides, his eyes trained on Eddie's lips.

"We could pretend we didn't get together," Eddie manages to say.

"What, like, make them think they failed?"

"Yeah. We could tell them I got stood up, but you and I hung out. Had a bro day."

Steve giggles again, and it's the best sound Eddie's ever heard. "I'm absolutely on board with this plan, but you should definitely kiss me some more."

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, his voice low. "And what'll I get out of it?"

"Why don't you get over here and see."

As if Eddie could turn down an invite that enticing. He slides a hand behind Steve's head, drawing him in, and they're kissing like they never stopped. It only been a few hours, but Eddie knows--without a doubt--he's already head over heels.

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