“listen. i’m telling you again. we’re NOT telling her i got you that lego set for winning that fight, am i clear?”
megumi nods with a roll of his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “i don’t think she’s gonna be as mad as you think she will be. this isnt the first time this happens, you know?”
“regardless, the lego set remains unmentioned,” satoru points at megumi with a serious index finger, to which megumi rolls his eyes again as he resumes setting the dining table. “the tone of her voice on the phone said she’s coming for blood. i don’t wanna be on her bad side.”
“oh? so you set me up instead?!” megumi lets go of the plates to cross his arms over his chest. “is the strongest really such a scaredy-cat, now?”
“i’m not scared!” satoru is offended, even though he’s about to piss his pants. “and I wasn’t the one that decided that beating up 8 fucking kids on one go was the brightest idea ever, was i?”
“but you rewarded me for it!”
“he did what?”
the two of them freeze in their place, eyes widening as they hold each other’s gazes, too scared to look at the source of the voice coming from the kitchen entrance.
they stay quiet for a solid amount of seconds, and you remain unmoving. gojo gestures for megumi to look at you first, to which megumi replies with a subtle shake of his head, a thin sheet of sweat breaking on his forehead.
“i asked a question.”
thunder is rumbling, and when gojo decides to, very slowly, shift his gaze to you, it’s a scene right out of a horror movie when lightening strikes and thunder rolls on cue. you’re standing at the entrance, drenched from head to toe, a cut or two fresh on your face. your uniform remains unscathed, save for the water dripping to make a little damp pool beneath your feet.
“you’re home early, sweets,” gojo tries to approach, but you pin him in place with a glare. his nervous grin gradually falls from his face. “how was the mission?”
he hears footsteps approaching quickly, and when tsumiki comes to a halt behind you, seeing the state you’re in, she begins to slowly retreat despite satoru’s look of despair at her.
“you rewarded him.” you echo megumi’s words. the 14 year old swallows hard, eyes sliding from you to the suddenly more interesting kitchen sink. “he almost gets expelled, and you reward him.”
“but he didn’t get expelled!” satoru chuckles cheerfully. “he apologized, and all! didn’t you, megumi?” he nudges the teenager’s shoulder pushing him a bit forwards so he can take some of the impact himself. he lowers himself a bit to mumble to him through his teeth. “who’s the scaredy -cat now, huh?”
“I-i—“
“i leave the house for a couple of days— not even a couple, this was a day and a half, and i have to wrap my mission up quickly because my son’s being turned into a delinquent with his dad’s support?”
it takes satoru a couple of seconds to register the words that just came out fo his partner's mouth. he immediately looks at the flustered teenager by his side, to find a light blush on his cheeks and neck.
something warm settles behind gojo's ribcage. it was never addressed, that they're practically family. the only d word megumi calls gojo is dick, but fuck, by the look on megumi's face, the way his skin is painted pink, he knows that the seemingly stoic kid feels the same.
satoru doesn't even think you realize the way you addressed them.
tsumiki peeks her head from behind you. there's a sweet smile growing on her sweet face that he catches. he tries not to smile, he really does, but something in his demeanor is shattering right before his eyes.
"satoru!" you raise your voice, a frustrated frown painting your features, but all satoru feels is the love spreading through his body, his fingertips buzzing with it and all. "this is not rewardable behavior!"
"don't be mad at him..." megumi mumbled, finally taking a step forward. your gaze shifts to him, but he's looking anywhere but you. "he only wanted to cheer me up. this is my fault."
your eyes can't help but soften. gojo watches the change of expression in awe.
"if it helps, they were bullies." satoru chimes in a much softer voice, matching the look on your face. he ruffles the boy's hair, who doesn't push his hand away for the first time in a while. "it's just that megumi here has his own way of doing good. peculiar," gojo pauses with a little laugh when the teenager finally pushes his hand away grumpily. "but he's still doing good."
you finally spot the scar on his cheekbone, one that's already been tended to by satoru it seems, but you still walk across and hold his cheeks in your hands to check it out. its really not that deep, but something still tugs at your heart.
and satoru is still watching the changes of your expression, taking note of every little one. he knows you all too well, you see, and he knows that you're about to start tearing up any second now.
"why don't you guys go fetch angry mom here a towel or two?" he addresses the children, grabbing your wrist to let go of megumi, who looks too guilty for his own good right now. he brings you closer to him instead. "I'm afraid she'll only be grumpier if she catches a cold."
megumi hesitates, but tsumiki calls for him, understanding the cue better than her younger brother.
once they were both out of sight, gojo chuckles in endearment when you shove your face in his chest, uncontrollable tears escaping past your heavy lids. he grabs your head with one hand while the other holds you to him, soaked and all.
"oh baby," he sighs. he doesn't think he's ever been happier than this moment right here. "you just called him my son."
you punch him right in the gut. he groans out in pain, but his hold never wavers on you. "he is your son."
"i think we both prefer the name long-term pain in the ass, but that will do." he raises your head to look at him, and when he sees that red nose and tears down your cheeks, he can't help but giggle some more. "god, you're literally the best thing to ever happen to me."
"shut up." your cheeks burn in his hands, and you're unable to look away. "I was so scared something had happened to him. i would've never forgiven myself."
"the fuck do you take me for?" satoru fakes offense, raising an eyebrow down at you. you roll your eyes at him, from which he takes even more offense, letting you go with a scoff of disbelief. he dramatically removes his sunglasses and crosses his fingers in front of him. "I'll hollow purple your ass so hard right now and you'll never live to tell the tale."
"sure, honey," you pat him on the chest with one hand and wipe away your tears with the other, beginning to turn away from him with a, now more subtle, eye-roll. "whatever you say."
he grabs you and pulls you flush to him again, this time capturing your lips in a sweet, chaste kiss that has your whole body letting loose right there in his arms. your arms wrap around his neck like a reflex, and he squeezes you into him, a dull ache beating in him to just merge your bodies into one,, to have you in his very bones, and maybe even then it wouldn't be quite enough.
"i would rather be torn in two than let something happen to any of you," he breaks away from the kiss to peck your nose. you look into his eyes, and it worries you just how true his statement is. "what else do I have to fight for?"
=====================================
more?
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For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."
Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3
[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]
Angsty-ish Prompt List
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“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.
“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.
Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.
Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.
The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.
“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”
Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”
“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.
“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.
Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”
“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.
“I mean…” Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.
“No,” Gareth reiterates.
“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.
He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.
Like, one or two, maybe.
“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”
“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.
“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”
“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”
This declaration is met with a moment of silence.
“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.
“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”
“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.
“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.
“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”
“Constantly,” Gareth adds.
Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”
“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.
“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”
Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”
“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”
“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”
“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.
He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.
“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”
“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.
“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”
Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.
“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.
And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.
Easy.
Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.
“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”
The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.
There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.
Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.
“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”
Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.
“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.
He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.
And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.
Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.
“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.
Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”
Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”
“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”
“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”
Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”
“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.
That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.
Steve says nothing.
“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.
Except.
Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.
“Oh, shit.”
Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.
“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.
“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”
“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”
“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”
“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”
Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”
“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.
“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”
And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.
“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”
Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”
I like being with you, too.
Eddie had said that.
He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.
“I– I didn’t mean–”
“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.
Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.
“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.
“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”
“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”
Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.
“Steve…”
“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.
After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.
He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.
“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.
“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.
“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.
Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”
The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.
Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.
With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.
And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–
Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.
He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.
His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.
At least he won’t have to wallow for long.
Part 2
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