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jumblejen · 1 year

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We Were Always Going to End Up Together - Ch 10

Suptober 22, Day 10: Enchanted

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42237885/chapters/107429703

(Or read from the beginning: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42237885/chapters/106051008)

Their second date left Dean feeling just as twitterpated as the first, and then the third and the fourth were wonderful, as well as the coffee squeezed in on a Sunday before the maze opened. And then the maze was shutting down for the season and Dean went to Sam’s to help hand out candy (and push Sam’s raisins to the side). He always loved seeing how adorable the kids were and what creative things they came up with. His apartment complex didn’t have a lot of kids and wasn’t really the kind of place you’d want your kids going door to door at. Someday he’d have a better place, something not quite so suburban as Sam’s place, but not so far out in the country that he didn’t have neighbors.

Someday. For now his apartment was sufficient for what he needed and he had years ago decided that being able to put away a little each month was worth the rundown building he lived in. It was only a matter of time before the nice woman who owned it finally sold out to one of the groups dying to build some steel and glass monstrosity that began to price out all the folks that lived in this area. Dean hoped that day never came, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that this would be prime real estate and the neighborhood ripe for gentrification if any of the larger buildings sold. At least Sam approved of the money he saved.

For the first hour of Halloween, it wasn’t even dark yet and the candy requests were a little sparse. Just after sundown it went from a steady stream to a nonstop deluge of children of all ages. Dean gave up on closing the big door, instead dragging a kitchen chair into the foyer so he could just watch out the glass storm door, and even then he only sat down a couple of times in almost 2 hours. Sam and Eileen would join him for awhile and then drift off and do other things. Dean was pretty sure that they’d keep the light off altogether if he didn’t come over to help out. Well, once he had his own place, it would be interesting to see if any of the local kids decided to egg the house if they didn’t keep giving out the good candy.

The hordes of children thinned out again when Sam rejoined Dean in the foyer.

“Trick or treating is officially over.”

“I’m going to stay a little longer just in case there’s stragglers.”

“I meant to ask you, how are things going with the guy you’re dating?”

“Cas? Things are great with him. We’ve been seeing each other quite a bit.”

“Is he still working the corn maze?”

“Last day was yesterday for the maze. He said he was going to spend today breaking all the decorations down, but then that’s it.”

“That’s good. That’s good.”

“Yeah, mean’s it’ll be easier to see him, since his weekends won’t be completely booked.”

“So, uh, when do we get to meet him?”

Dean looked at his brother. “I dunno. It’s only been a month. Less than a month.”

“Well, we would love to have him over for dinner sometime if you change your mind.”

“Yeah, okay.”

They didn’t say much more and after another ten minutes, Dean was ready to call it quits. After all, it was a Monday night and everyone had work in the morning. Dean drove home carefully, thinking about what Sam said, about meeting Cas. There was something uncomfortable that clenched in Dean’s chest at the idea of Sam meeting Cas. Probably because Sam thought it was his brotherly duty to interrogate anyone he dated and give Dean a full report on any of his detected deficiencies. Not that any of that nonsense had stopped all the trouble he’d had with any of his exes. Sam wasn’t super good at reading people, and especially not at reading men Dean dated.

His ringing phone interrupted those thoughts and Dean was delighted to hear Cas on the other end. “Hey Cas.”

“Hello Dean. Are you still at your brother’s?”

“On my way home now.”

“Mind if I stop by?”

“I guess not. Everything okay?”

“…Yes. I just… Nevermind.”

“No, Cas, not nevermind. What’s up?”

“Just a hard day. It’s nothing.”

“Hey man, it’s gotta be something for you to call at 8:30 at night and say you need to come over. You got a ride?”

“Yes. I’m actually at the coffee shop down the street from your place.”

“They’re still open?”

“Yes. I mean, no. They’re letting me stay while they clean up.”

“I’ll be there to pick you up in five minutes.”

“Dean, you don’t have to …”

“No arguing, five minutes.”

“Okay.”

Dean hung up the phone, looking around the area with a new focus. He didn’t like the uncertainty in Cas’ voice. This was no booty call, not that he minded being a booty call. This was something else and Dean was going to do his damnedest to help.

Four minutes later, Dean pulled up to the curb in front of the coffee shop, reaching over to pop the lock on the passenger seat door. Cas slid in with a wave through the lit window of the store at two waiting employees.

Dean patted Cas’ shoulder. “You okay man?”

Cas’ eyes were wider than usual, fear tinging the edges with a hunted look Dean hated. “I don’t know,” was all he said.

Dean drove the block and a half to his apartment building, sliding into his reserved slot at the end of the row. They left the car and walked up to his place without saying anything, Dean’s worry growing a bit with each step.

Once inside, Dean hung up their coats and poured a glass of water for each of them and carried them into the living room. He sat on the couch and patted the seat next to him. Obediently Cas sat, clearly not sure of how to start.

When Cas was seated, Dean scooched over to his side and threw an arm around Cas, tugging his solid weight into him. “Hey, man. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I didn’t know who else to call.”

“You did good, okay. You can always call me.”

“Gabe left town.”

“That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but it’s why I didn’t call him.”

“Okay. You called me, I got that. And it was the right thing to do. So now you’re here and I’m here.”

“I had a panic attack.”

Dean hugged Cas a little tighter to his side. “What can I do?”

“This is helping.”

Cas sat forward a little, forearms on his knees, head cradled in his hands. Dean began rubbing his back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. He hummed a little too, ‘Hey Jude’ like his mom used to sing to him before she died. That song still made Dean feel better, so he figured it couldn’t hurt.

“I’m sorry Dean.”

“Still not seeing anything you need to be sorry for.”

“Things have been so good with us…”

“Yeah?”

“And I didn’t want to screw anything up, but now here I am barging in on you…”

“Cas…”

“I didn’t want you to ever see me like this.”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of fun with you Cas, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want the rougher parts too. Hell, my life isn’t always so rosy either. I’m enjoying getting to know you. Even the messy bits.”

“What if I told you that what I really needed was to curl up on your couch with you and watch a Disney movie?”

“Well, then that is what we’ll do. Lucky for you I snagged Sam’s login for his account, so we have access to whatever one you wanna watch.”

“Really?”

“Sure, man. I mean, I’d prefer not to watch Bambi ever again, but if that’s your comfort flick, I’ll manage.”

“Is Bambi anyone’s comfort movie?”

“I dunno. I saw it when I was a kid and bawled my eyes out. And that was before my mom died. On second thought, yeah, no, not watching Bambi even if it is what you want.”

“I didn’t know your mother died.”

“Yeah, she uh, died in a house fire when I was little. It was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. So how about we change into some sweats and you can pick out which movie you want to watch.”

Cas nodded and Dean led Cas gently to his bedroom where they changed into clothes more suitable for relaxing. It didn’t take long until they were both laying on the couch while Cas manned the remote, clearly searching for something specific.

“Enchanted?” asked Dean. “Haven’t heard of that one.”

“It’s both live-action and animated.”

“It looks like a princess movie.”

“It is.”

“Cool.”

“And there’s a dragon.”

“Awesome.”

“But it’s a musical.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I thought you might object?”

“Why?”

“Because of the car, and the flannel and the everything.”

“Well, it’s not a core part of my personality or anything. But yeah, I like musicals.”

“Even if it’s a Disney princess musical?”

“Hey, I want you to feel better. And there are very few things that I’m not willing to try, movie-wise. Besides, it’s your turn to pick anyway.”

Cas pressed play and relaxed back into Dean’s chest. Dean wrapped his arm even tighter around Cas. He may not understand exactly what’s going on with Cas, but he knew how to help. This was easy, even if the movie wasn’t one he would have picked in a million years. He just wanted this man to be alright.

#destiel #suptober22 #fanfic #enchanted #panic attack #comfort

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lexi-the-demon-69 · 2 years

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Comfort // A new life AU oneshot

!!IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER!! (This oneshot covers certain topics that might be triggering to certain readers. If you're uncomfortable with past trauma then this may not be the oneshot for you. I have other stories in this book if you're interested.)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"No... stop.. I'm not... the cookie you think I am..." Dark Choco cookie pleaded in his sleep while tossing and turning in discomfort, trying to get away from what was happening in his mind.

"NO! PLEASE NOOO!"

Dark Choco cookie shot up in fear, hyperventilating as he scratched his scarred eye vigorously. Looking around anxiously, to make out where he was. He was in his cabin, as per usual. He soon sighed and laid his head on the wall in relief.

'It was only a nightmare...' Dark Choco thought, 'It wasn't real...'

He laid back down to try and go back to sleep, but he couldn't. So, he did what he always did when he had a nightmare. He stood up and made his way outside. As Dark Choco cookie went outside, he made his way to the soda river. Glistening in the moonlight as the stars danced across the sky. He bends down and looks at his reflection, while watermelon fish swim by.

"Such a shame...." He muttered to himself as he sat down.

He sighed and began to throw pebbles into the stream. Trying his best to kill time, as his past began to replay in his mind.

"You are still young... someday you will learn."

"But, the kingdom is in need of change! We cannot keep hiding behind our walls!"

"Leave me..."

...

"Dark Choco cookie...! What have you done..."

"This is not what I wished for..! Father!!"

"Leave and.... never come back."

Many hours later, the sun showed its loving head to greet the morning. Parfait was just arriving at Dark Choco's cabin with a present in hand. She immediately knocks gently on the door and swings her arms back and forth in excitement. A few moments later, the door slowly began to open.

"Hi Dark Cho-" Parfait greeted before laying her eyes upon Dark Choco.

"Parfait Cookie..." the prince yawned, "didn't know you'd.... come... this early..."

"Dark Choco, did you get any sleep last night? You look exhausted!"

"I'm...I'm fine... I've been awake for many days on end before... this is no different."

"Are you sure? You look like you're about to pass out. Did something happen last night..?"

Dark Choco hesitated. Does he tell her about the nightmare he had? What if she doesn't want to be his friend anymore after that? What if she'll hate him forever? He had to come clean because eventually, she'll find out.

"I...." Dark Choco sighs, "no..."

"That's what I thought. Mind if I come in, so we can talk about it?"

Dark Choco opens the door wider so Parfait could enter easier. Once she entered, he closed the door behind him as he made his way to the couch, where Parfait was sitting. As he sat down, he rubbed his eyes to wake himself up a little.

"What happened last night?" Parfait briefly asked.

"T-this may seem a little... childish... but... I had a horrible nightmare." Dark Choco said while tensing up, waiting to be ridiculed, like many times before.

"Really...? What happened in that nightmare?"

Dark Choco was shocked. There was no laughter, no name-calling, no ridiculing, nothing. She actually cared to listen to his troubles, without anything in return. Why? Why would she want to help someone like him? Was it a trick? Was she going to use him like Pomegranate once did? Dark Choco tried his best to keep his guard up, but it slowly began to crumble. Like a wall, crashing down after being blown apart. He began to hyperventilate and scratch his scarred eye again. Parfait immediately caught wind of what was happening and started to calm him down.

"D-Dark Choco! I-it's ok! You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to... Just take a deep breath."

Dark Choco tried to take deep breaths and started to calm down. Parfait rubbed his back in hopes of calming him down more and pulled him in for a hug. Rubbing his throbbing head as Dark Choco started to tear up and break down.

"Oh Dark Choco cookie... it'll be ok... it was only a nightmare... it wasn't real. It's going to be alright... I'm here."

"I-I'm sorry... " Dark Choco hiccuped, "I-I shouldn't b-be crying over something s-so... childish..."

"No... no... you shouldn't be ashamed of something like that. Everyone goes through it." Parfait consoled him as she laid him down on her chest, rocking him as he cried in her arms.

"I-I'm s-so glad to have you.... as a friend.. P-Parfait cookie..."

"Sshh shhh.... it's ok... I'm happy to have you as a friend too...!"

This only made Dark Choco cry more. He felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders... once more. A few hours later, Parfait soon looks at the clock.

'Hm.. didn't he say that another visitor was coming around 2 o'clock?' She thought.

"Dark Choco..?" She asked, "Are you ok now...?"

There was no reply, all of that crying, head rubs, and rocking sent the prince right to sleep. Cuddling her softly as he tried to get comfortable. Making Parfait blush.

"Guess all that crying really tired him out..." She whispered, "Poor guy... I wonder what happened in that nightmare of his that was so traumatizing."

#dark choco cookie #parfait cookie #Dark Choco x Parfait #chocofait #cookie run au #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom au

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 1 year

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I’m so happy you’re writing! I’ve truly missed reading new fics. I can’t wait for more parts of Restless Man! (But genuinely take your time, I know it’ll 100% be worth the wait!)

I love Beau and can’t wait to read more for him because I haven’t been able to find much lately:)

It's been awhile for sure. It's a lot easier to spit out a quick imagine over 5K lately. I will hopefully have a part two ready for next week but we'll see! I'm not going to rush it just to get it out.

I love Beau. He's like a ray of sunshine (that's a badass too). I hope we can see more of him someday, even in just a small capacity.

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lost-soul-in-time · 9 months

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cassette

August, 1916

Oliver’s sitting by the swings and watching the other boys play around on the other side of the play area. They’re rough, pushing and shoving and getting their uniforms completely covered in dirt. It makes him absentmindedly reach a hand down and wipe away any dust or grim that may have impossibly gotten itself on his trousers.

He doesn’t like their roughhousing. He likes being clean.

“I saw you in class today.” A voice suddenly piped in, disturbing his train of thought as he turns his head to look at the culprit. Another boy who’s slightly shorter than him, brown hair so dark it could be black, even darker mocha-colored eyes, and a uniform that matched his own.

Most importantly, there wasn’t a single piece of dirt on his clothing. He’s chosen this one to be his friend.

“You talk funny. All fancy and stuff.” The boy adds, tilting his head as if trying to examine Oliver. He follows the motion, almost mirroring him, and the boy laughs, a short and amused sound. It earns a small smile of his own.

“What’s your name?”

“Oliver.”

“You’re lucky that name has an ‘r’ at the end of it. I don’t like olives. They’re gross.”

“I’m not very fond of olives either.”

Grinning, the boy nods as if the statement had been etched onto stone and it would now be mandatory by law to despise olives just as much as the both of them did.

“And you? What’s your name?”

“Marc.”

Marc holds out a hand for a handshake, confident grin still stuck on his face. “Remember that name, ‘cause it’ll be on the paper someday, maybe everywhere!”

Marc. Oliver makes sure to remember that name like it’ll be the last thing he’ll get to do. It’s not like he’s forgettable either, so that makes this much easier. With a growing smile, his hand moves to take Marc’s hand in his, his own hand being moved by the boy’s enthusiastic movements.

He made a friend today. Oliver just hopes it lasts for longer than a week.

#mozart (answered asks)#play something for me? (ask memes)#an untold story (lore)#mysweetlouise #((heheh))

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disabled-degenerate · 1 year

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I know you’re tired. I know it’s been so much to deal with, I know it seems like it’ll never end. I promise you are doing well, even if others don’t think so. I promise what you are doing is enough, that it’ll pay off someday. It’s okay if you’re tired of it and need a break for a minute, I hope you can get one or at least have things be easier for a day. You’re doing a good job, you’re taking care of yourself even when it sucks. That’s good, I’m proud of you. I love you.

#nutcase posts #trauma recovery #positivity #actually autistic #actually dissociative #actually ocd #if ur not any of these- this still applies to you. i am just using tags for my stuff #actually traumatized

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writer-in-theory · 2 years

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as the world caves in — part ii.

summary: after steve struggles to talk to his boyfriend about what he’s feeling, he finds out something in the upside down has a plan for him. pairing: billy hargrove/steve harrington content warnings: eventual flayed!steve, car crash briefly described, canon-typical violence, past abuse (billy), period typical homophobia (no slurs used) word count: 7.8k

masterlist previous part read on ao3

It was easier for Billy to catalog his life in specific moments, rather than sift through every shitty memory each time he tried to look back on his history.

It was good when his mom taught him how to surf, once he’d turned nine and she trusted him in the rips. It was equally bad when she left two months later, promising to come back for him someday with everything but her eyes, which told Billy the truth even then. It had been bad when Neil hurt him so badly they had to move to fucking Hawkins, Indiana to avoid all the questions from overly-caring teachers, but it had been that much better when Chief Hopper told him in February that there was no way he’d ever let Billy step foot back in that house on Cherry Lane. It had been wondrous when Steve, one random day in January, blurted out that he didn’t want to just be friends, and it was fine if that meant Billy had to beat him up and tell the whole school what he was, and it had been downright miraculous when, just a month later, that same boy was the first partner to ever tell Billy they loved him.

So it was only fitting then, that it was absolutely devastating when Steve Harrington disappeared for three days.

Billy had spent Saturday morning sleeping in for once, having taken the day off for the first time since the summer had begun. When he’d driven over to the Harrington place to find the driveway empty, panic began to nestle itself in his chest. Steve wasn’t the type to wake up easily in the morning—in fact, Billy was sure he could sleep for a whole day if no one prompted him to move. He didn’t think either of them was meant to be working that day either, but he could’ve gotten it wrong.

Hopper had reiterated as much when Billy relayed this information to him. “I bet Harrington’s just workin’,” he told him, “it’ll be good to spend a weekend apart.”

Even less panic-inducing, Steve had told him they’d see each other on Monday. Not Saturday or Sunday, Monday. It was fine, Billy told himself, this was just another one of those moments that reminded him his upbringing had been less-than-traditional. It wasn’t normal to panic when a person’s boyfriend goes missing, it isn’t normal to wonder if Neil had gotten out of prison early and had found out about the life Billy had made for himself without the man.

Except, maybe this was normal for a place like Hawkins. In San Diego, Billy could have snuck a handhold in public and could tell a select few people about the guy he’d been seeing. But here? Here in bumfuck Hawkins, Indiana, Billy was certain he could guess what happened to people like him and Steve if anyone ever found out. It was why Steve had been so worked up about it at first, the guy had admitted. He’d actually fucking cried on Billy’s shoulder one night, rambling about how he’d always disappointed his parents but this would be the line crossed that completely cut him off from them. There would be no more ‘this is my son Steve, at least he’s got the Harrington looks’. It would be all ‘no, I don’t know what you mean, we’ve never had a son’.

And Billy, well Billy got that. Or, he tried to get it. He knew what would have happened if Neil caught him with a guy again, and knew in uncertain terms that Neil would rather have no living son than one who liked guys. It was different for Steve though, he knew that much too. There had been no hope for Neil, not really. He’d long since thrown out the carrot schtick and simply used the rod, punishing and punishing for every indiscretion that Billy learned not to step a single toe out of line unless he was looking for a fight, aching for one in the way that proved to him that all he’d ever know was blood and bruises and hurt. There were no expectations to uphold, no promise of a proud father at the end of the day because all there would ever be was yelling or stern silence. He’d learned to stop hoping for better from his dad, but Steve hadn’t yet. Maybe he never would, even when the two of them hopped into the Camaro and drove off to sunny California like they’d planned all summer he’d still be hoping for that pride from his dad.

Maybe everything was fine, and Billy was overreacting. Maybe Steve was just busy and they would laugh about this the next time they saw each other. Hopper was right, Steve was fine and they could carry on prepping for California.

When Monday came and passed, though, and Billy still hadn’t heard a single thing from Steve, that same fear wrapped around his lungs and squeezed tight. Maybe someone had found out, maybe they hadn’t been careful and—fuck, Steve had even complained about being too obvious that one time last week they’d made out in the backseat of the Camaro. Did someone find out? Maybe an old classmate, or even a mom who would rush home to share the latest gossip of you remember that sweet Harrington boy, right? Well, I saw him with that Billy Hargrove today outside of that new mall, and you wouldn’t believe what they were doing.

Visions of Steve, his Steve, beaten far past what he’d done with his own fists in November flashed through Billy’s head. It left him dizzy, imagining what the boy would look like after two days of floating in the quarry’s lake when his attackers inevitably dropped him over the side of the cliff. What was the last thing he’d said to him? Billy wracked his brain, hands squeezing into his curls as he hoped it was something pleasant for once, none of the glass-sharp words that still burnt their way out of his mouth when he was overwhelmed.

‘Steve can come to dinner, he’s practically family.’

Billy groaned, shoving on his boots and ripping his way through the cabin, hands snatching at his keys so roughly he’s sure they scraped up his palm. That wouldn’t be the last thing he ever said to him, it wouldn’t be because they deserved better than that lame ass sentence.

“Where are you going?” El, Jane, asked him, and if it was anyone else he’d snap at them, rage for daring to interrupt his mission and slow him down with useless questions. But this was Jane, the weird little girl that Hopper took in a few months before he took in Billy. Apparently, she’d grown up in a lab right here in Hawkins, never seeing the outside world until she broke out in ‘83. Jane never talked about what happened there, but Billy shuddered to think what that kind of shit could do to a person. He never wanted to add more pain to that girl’s shoulders.

So, he sighed, fingers pinching his nose as he fought, fought, fought that building anger that used to wrap around him like a coat of armor. “Looking for Steve,” Billy answered, hand already up in protest because he knew what she would say. I can find him. Except Billy saw the bloody noses, saw the pure exhaustion that filled the girl every time she used her powers too much. Maybe he’d rope her in if he couldn’t find Steve after today, but there was no way he was asking her to push herself if it wasn’t necessary. “I haven’t heard from him since before dinner at the Byers.”

“I can find him,” Jane predictably offered, and he wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her, tell her to stop letting people take advantage of what she had to give so easily. The world wasn’t kind to freaks like them, he wanted to tell her, so don’t be kind back.

“Stay out of it,” Billy told her instead, letting enough of that storming anger out to make the words sound hard-edged, to make sure he didn’t have a middle schooler risking her life needlessly. He even told himself it was because he knew the other brats would never let him hear the end of it if anything happened to Jane, but even as he thought it he knew better because she was the only tolerable one. So no, he wouldn’t involve her and risk something happening in retaliation.

Because Billy knew what happened to people like him and Steve. He knew what happened to everyone else who dared associate with people like them, too. He saw it in the way Neil had beaten his now ex-boyfriend Chris so badly the guy needed surgery, saw it in the way Neil had threatened to do the same to Billy when they got home. He saw it in the small crowd that had formed in that parking lot in San Diego, how all of those judging eyes had landed on him instead of Neil, like he was the devil come to steal away all of their perfect fucking sons.

No, if anyone was getting involved in whoever had hurt Steve, it would be him and him alone. He could take a beating, had practically been training for it for a whole ass decade. It was impossible to live with Neil and not know how to grin through the pain of a few bruised ribs. Billy could take whatever happened, as long as he found Steve.

Except, there were no signs of him anywhere someone might’ve brought him. Billy drove to all the major party spots in the woods, even to the quarry, and looked down at the water long enough for him to feel sick at the thought of what a drop like that would feel like. What someone must think in those few seconds in the air with nothing to stop their fall except the concrete-like water rising toward them.

No, Steve wasn’t down there. He wasn’t, because Billy couldn’t accept that ending to this particular story. He wasn’t naive enough to assume they’d actually get a happy ending out of all this—wasn’t sure he’d earned something as apple pie as that—but it certainly wouldn’t be finished by the fucking quarry.

They’d spent too many nights in this spot, at first talking with as much physical distance between them as they could while still sharing a joint. It had turned into each of their escapes’—Billy would come when Neil kicked him out of the house and his body was a patchwork of bruises in varying states of healing, when the world resembled hellfire a little too closely for his liking. Steve would have bad nights too, showing up with this shuttered expression, never saying too much about it but eventually huffing out that his dad was ‘a grade A asshole’. They’d had their first kiss at the quarry, full of trembling lips and panicked eyes as they both realized what they’d done, what this meant for each of them going forward. It was where, after Billy had his first major fight with Hopper and feared being tossed out to the street, Steve held onto him and promised a future in California.

They’d pack up only what would fit in the car, wouldn’t tell a soul until they were already on the road when they’d call from a payphone and say they’d be back to visit on Christmas. They’d drive and drive, and Billy could make fun of Steve’s snack choices because who the fuck picks Funyons? They would make it to California and the first thing they’d do is find a beach, and Billy would pick Steve up and toss him straight into the ocean because the boy may have spent summers in Cancun but he’d never experienced California beaches. Billy would find a job working on cars because nothing brought him peace quite like being under a car, hands covered in grease and busy so his mind couldn’t be. Sometimes Steve would talk about college, others he’d talk about finding a job as a salesman somewhere because I have charm, right, Billy? You could practically call me Prince Charming with all the charm I have. And Billy wouldn’t give a fuck what Steve did as long as he came home at the end of the day with that same spark in his eyes that he’d get when he babysat those rotten kids.

No, this was not it for them.

Billy went back to the Harrington house then, flying down the roads taking them about as fast as his car could handle the turns, knowing Hopper would chew him out if he got pulled over but frankly not giving a shit because it had been over 72 hours since he’d last heard from his pretty boy and he knew Steve had been upset about something when he’d left. He didn’t know about what—couldn’t ask him because Steve was bad enough at talking about his problems just to Billy much less a room full of people. But he’d seen the way the light turned off behind those brown eyes, saw the way that stray piece of hair drooped over his face as Steve found a sudden interest in the tops of his shoes. He knew him, knew he was upset, and Billy also knew that being upset led to mistakes. God, what if he’d told someone? Steve always believed in the best of people—Hell, Billy knew he did because he’d beat the shit out of him and Steve still told him he was one of the best people in his life.

The Beemer still wasn’t in the driveway, but neither was the car that signaled Steve’s parents were home for their monthly check-in. Billy only halfway considered leaving before he was climbing out of his car, hurrying around to the back where he knew Steve kept a spare key under the leg of one of the poolside tables.

Billy hadn’t been back at this house in a while. They used to spend most of their time here—both of them knew without saying that the Hargrove house was not the place to be sneaking around. But ever since Hopper had gruffly handed Billy a key to the cabin and said he could stay as long as he wanted, Steve had continuously offered to come to him rather than the other way around. He always said the cabin was alive in a way his house was not, and Billy didn’t understand it quite as much as he did standing there in the living room, staring out at an empty house.

All of the lights were off, proving that Steve wasn’t there. It had weirded him out at first, always sneaking in through Steve’s bedroom window and seeing every single light on in the house no matter what time of night. Steve even had a little desk lamp he’d refuse to turn off when they slept, just one more thing Billy had to get used to when it came to shacking up with Steve Harrington. It made sense after being told the full story of monsters with teeth, and pools that killed, and a little girl who could move things with her fucking mind. And though Billy had never seen any of what Steve told him about, the sight of the dark house still had every hair on Billy’s arms standing on end.

“Harrington?” Billy called out, practically hearing the tiny echo the house threw back at him. He fought the urge to grab something to use as a weapon, wondering if Steve still had that fucking bat that Billy still couldn’t quite look at sitting around somewhere.

He made his way up the stairs, down that familiar open hall to the bedroom at the end on the right, the only door open still. Every light was off there, too, the window wide open though no sign of Steve himself.

Where the fuck was he?

“Fucking Christ,” Billy hissed, fighting the urge to slam his fist into the nearest thing to him. It would end up being the American History textbook that Steve had never returned, still sitting propped up and abandoned on the corner of his dresser. Instead, he hurtled toward where he knew the phone was, back downstairs in the dark empty kitchen that didn’t have any traces of Steve. He knew his boyfriend, knew he would never willingly wash his dishes the same day he’d dirtied them. Steve hadn’t been to the house today.

Something was wrong. Billy had to rely on those instincts for survival for too many years to ignore them now. So he dialed the first number he could think of, the number to Hopper’s office at the station. It rang barely twice before he could hear Hopper answer, a gruff, “This is Hopper.”

“Steve’s missing,” Billy fought out, wincing at the sheer fear laced in his voice. He didn’t sound like this, hadn’t since he was twelve and his dad pulled out the belt for the first time. He didn’t get scared, except he did when it came to the thought of losing the first person who actually made him feel worth a damn. “Someone hurt him, I know it.”

“Hold on, kid.” Billy gritted his teeth together, practically hearing them crack at the sound of that fucking nickname again. He never corrected Hopper, not unless he was in a particularly bad mood and he wanted to take it out on anything. He supposed this was a good enough reason to bite back, but instead he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, stuck the nail of his thumb between his teeth and bit hard. “Harrington does this. He disappears for a weekend and comes back lookin’ more dead than alive from all the booze.”

“Not now he doesn’t,” Billy pushed back, because Hopper may have known King Steve but that version of the guy was long dead before Billy ever got to town. Sure Steve still had that spark to him—the sharp sword-like words tumbling from his mouth when he got fired up enough, aiming right where he knew it would hurt most—but he’d long since given up on partying, on friends who only stuck around for the free shit, or apparently being the type of dick to go on three day long benders for no goddamn reason without telling anyone. “I haven’t talked to him since Friday. You fuckin’ know that’s wrong.”

The silence on the line told Billy that he was right and Hopper knew it. “Get to the station, we’ll talk. Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Don’t tell the nosy-ass kids with hero complexes, was what Hopper meant. Billy knew better than to tell any of them that their precious babysitter was missing, knew better than to rope any of them into more danger.

It took half the time as normal to get to the police station. Everyone in there already knew who he was, whether it was from the speeding, the parties, or because he was Hopper’s latest ward it was hard to say. They immediately let him through to Hopper’s office, where the man had elbows bent over his desk, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Don’t you know those fuckers’ll kill ya?” Billy piped up, shutting the door behind him with a slam and practically collapsing into the chair across from the desk. “You should really start on quitting, don’t wanna give Jane the wrong ideas.”

He was never gonna leave it alone, not after his and Steve’s one safe place was wrenched from them all because Jane thought it was okay to bring Mike around because Steve came around. And it didn’t make sense, because why couldn’t Hopper just explain to Jane that she’s thirteen and he’s eighteen, so of fucking course they’d have different rules? But this was the nicest place he’d stayed in since his mother left, this was the beginning of a family he never thought he’d get to have, so he wasn’t about to fuck it up now. So he didn’t fight it even when he wanted to (or just a little bit) and Steve must’ve noticed because he never fought it either, just packed up and left when it was time. Billy wished he wouldn’t snapped his teeth, snarled and fought tooth and nail for that extra time now.

“You first,” was all Hopper retorted, already looking exhausted at the thought of another missing person in Hawkins. “When was the last time you talked to Harrington?”

And Billy hated it even more than usual. For most of the time he knew him, Billy exclusively called Steve by his last name. But he hadn’t in months, not seriously anyway. He’d worked his way into Billy’s life and made a permanent home in his chest, a filled space among all the other abandoned holes other people had carved out of him. Hopper fucking knew that, he knew that because there was a growing place for him there too, for Jane and Little Byers and Joyce and even fucking Jonathan Byers. He was as important as the others, and still Hopper couldn’t fucking use his name.

“When you kicked him out of the cabin,” Billy huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking to the side. There was a little bookshelf in Hopper’s office, full of law books and protocols he’s sure the man in front of him had never read before. “On Friday.”

“You didn’t talk to him Saturday morning?”

“I just told you, he hasn’t been around since he left the cabin.”

For all Hopper’s faults, he was great under pressure. The man didn’t get scared, at least not outwardly. It reminded Billy of himself, of that survival instinct he’d trained up since he was nine and his mother was pulling out of the driveway without so much as a goodbye. Hop had told him that he understood what Billy was dealing with more than he could ever know, told him in the way that Hop just seemed to know how to handle him (most of the time). But this, now, terrified Hopper. Billy could see it in the wider eyes and the raised eyebrows, in the pinch in the man’s face when he ran his hand across it.

“He called when we were at dinner,” Hopper admitted, sending Billy’s heart flying straight through the bottom of the floor and straight to Hell as far as he was concerned. “I told him to call you in the morning.”

“What the fuck why didn’t you tell me!” Billy yelled, standing up so abruptly the chair tipped over behind him. He knew under any other circumstance Hopper would be telling him to sit his ass back down, would be telling him all about the right time to use language and when it wasn’t the best move. But instead, Hopper at least had the smarts to look guilty. “Why did he call?”

“I assumed to talk to you.”

“Assumed. You don’t fucking know?” It was getting worse, so much worse. Visions of Steve at the quarry flashed through his mind again, thoughts of how Steve had called him for help and he hadn’t been there. “How could you fucking miss that?”

“Hey!” Hopper finally fought back, standing up and pointing an accusing finger at Billy. Billy just watched it closely, eyes never drifting until Hopper thought better of himself and put the hand back down to his side. “We’re on the same team here. Don’t blame me for being pissed off that your boyfriend called on the one night I said was for family.”

“He is family.” The words growled out of Billy, practically feeling his imaginary hackles rising at the implication that Steve still wasn’t one of them, that he didn’t fit in their patchwork family. “He’s my family.”

“He’s around too much. It’s healthy to have separation and you needed to learn that. Then he goes calling yelling about needing something on the one night he should’ve been calling his own family!”

“He doesn’t have his own fucking family, Hopper!” Billy shouted, words tearing their way out of his throat. It was too much, all at once. He wished he could suck the words right back in, keep them close along with everything else Steve told him and only him. They weren’t his secrets to share, but Steve had been missing for three days and to make everything worse he was meant to call Billy. “Steve’s been takin’ care of himself since he was eight. He’s been alone until he started coming to the cabin where he could actually feel like a fucking part of something, but you had to go rubbin’ that in his damn face too.”

“Kid,” Hopper groaned, that look on his face mirroring the one he’d given him at the hospital when Billy’d told him being knocked around was just what dads did to their sons, as if there wasn’t another option. It was the look that showed he was ready to protect someone, ready to fight Hell itself for a chance to save another sad sack kid. But he was too late for Steve, because it was July and at the end of the month he and Billy would be off to California after working for the road trip money all summer. They would make it. “I didn’t know any o’ that.”

“You shouldn’t have to. He’s...” Billy winced, still hearing that tiny voice in his head that sounded far too much like Neil saying weak, weak, weak anytime he thought about how badly he fell for Steve Harrington. “He’s important.” The unspoken I need him around hung in the air between them.

“He didn’t say much on the phone,” Hopper began to explain, that police chief voice coming in full as he began to work through the facts of the case. God, the case. “He sounded a little panicked, but the kid’s been so on edge lately that’s not unusual. We talked for maybe a minute before I hung up, that was...maybe 10 PM?”

Panicked. Steve was panicked the last time anyone had heard from him. Billy wanted to puke. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to scream until he didn’t have a voice and hit the wall until his knuckles were more blood than skin. He wanted to find Steve, alive and well and on whatever fucking bender Hopper was talking about before.

“Jane can find him. She tried to before I left,” Billy explained, and he recognized that look on Hopper’s face but there was no other choice.

“No, we’re doing this the right way,” Hopper forced out, clapping his hands and grabbing his hat. “I’ll go down to the mall, see if he missed any shifts at that ice cream shop. You see if any of the usual suspects’ve seen him.”

Billy nodded, beginning to follow Hopper out of his office, nails digging into the palms of his hands to center himself in the present, to keep his mind from wandering to the visions he’d been fighting off all day.

“Stay out of trouble,” Hopper warned, eyes serious.

“Sure thing, Hop,” Billy answered, giving a little two-finger salute before heading out to the Camaro.

There was no fucking way he was staying out of it.

The second Billy got back to the cabin, he was knocking on Jane’s door. He knew Hopper would hate it but he just had to know, he couldn’t go to bed tonight wondering if Steve was even still alive at this point. Jane could at least confirm that much for all of them.

Max answered, of fucking course she did.

It wasn’t that he hated her. In fact, their relationship had never been better since Neil got put away and they had some separation. She stayed with her mom and he stayed at the cabin, really only seeing each other when she was over with Jane. It was, it was good, actually, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t still an annoying dipshit.

“What do you want with El? We’re busy.”

He kind of hates her, in the way he thinks siblings are supposed to kind of hate each other sometimes. He also hates that everyone calls Jane by that fucking number the lab had given her like that was the only identity she had anymore. Jane said she didn’t care either way, but it still felt wrong on his lips, like he was still somehow giving Brenner permission to treat kids that way.

“Move it, shitbird,” Billy said instead, sliding past her into Jane’s bedroom. It was a little bigger than his but not quite as decorated. He’d had some things from the Cherry house that he could bring over, but Jane had had to start over entirely. He smirked a little at the Motley Crue poster up on the wall, the one he’d given her because her walls were too bare and he couldn’t stand the sight. She’d crinkled her nose at the music but still put it up, saying the people on it looked bitchin’. That was a win enough for Billy.

“Did you find Steve?” Jane asked the second he’d cleared the threshold, causing Max to spin around and get in his face, cheeks as bright as her hair.

“Steve’s missing? We have to tell everyone!” she shouted, arms flying about as she looked for the walkie Jane had.

“Hey, no we don’t,” Billy demanded, grabbing her arm only hard enough to stop her from looking any further. “We keep this between us, okay?”

“Why? The others can help us lo-”

“Because, Maxine, Hopper’s already gonna kill me for bringin’ you two into it and I don’t need to be babysitting all of your stupid friends. I’m not Steve.” The words hit harder than he’d meant them to, smacking harshly into his own chest. Because no, he wasn’t Steve and he’d never be Steve fucking Harrington. He didn’t like being around the kids and sure he wasn’t threatening them anymore but he’d never be their friend.

“I can find him,” Jane said again, giving Max a look that felt a little deeper than any old look. It reminded him of when he and Steve grew closer and they learned to tell each other things with simply a glance because it wasn’t fucking safe to do anything else. “I can do it.”

“I know you can,” Billy sighed, watching as Max immediately began setting up for the process. It would never get less weird, watching Max turn on the TV to only static and toss a literal blindfold at Jane, but whatever it took to find Steve he’d do.

He hated the entire thing. He hated sitting in silence, back against the wall and knees up and spread so he could throw his arms over them, scared to move in case it broke Jane’s concentration. He hated hearing her explain what she saw, the infinite darkness as she searched for the person Billy loved, the person he didn’t tell that to nearly enough, the person he’d never tell that to again if Jane couldn’t find him a—

“Steve?” Jane spoke quietly, head tilting a little in her confusion. Her fingers dug into the material on her knees, and Billy could see haphazardly done bright nail polish coating each nail. She’d been experimenting lately, learning all of the things that little girls grew up doing at sleepovers while she’d been doing whatever the fuck happened in that damn lab.

“Steve,” Jane repeated, more forceful now.

“What do you see?” Billy asked, ignoring the glare thrown his way by Max.

“He’s, he’s with a girl. He’s on the ground. ‘Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.’ He’s standing, he’s—” Jane cut herself off with a little gasp, one that made Billy’s fists clench at the thought of what could be happening.

“Steve.” Panic, fear. Billy sat up, clinging to her every word. At least she found him, at least he was alive. “Steve! Steve! No, no, no! No!”

“El, El, it’s okay,” Max was jumping in, hands on her friend's shoulders and shaking to break her out of it. A part of Billy wanted to yank her away, to tell Jane to keep going until they knew exactly how to save Steve from whatever caused such visceral screams from that girl. He knew better though, closed his eyes, and imagined that lab and that stupid fucking Dr. Brenner and the scared look Jane got when he hadn’t been thinking and crushed a Coke can in his hand.

“Hey, you’re safe, Jane,” Billy called out, not daring to touch her lest it panic her more. He knew how to get people out of these panic episodes, knew it because he’d had enough of them himself in those initial weeks after leaving the Cherry house. It was like his body had shut down. Dr. Owens had told him and Hopper it was because he was in survival mode for so long that his body didn’t know how to survive without it, that these would become less common but would never really go away after so much stress. “You’re at the cabin, nothin’ll hurt you here.”

Jane took the blindfold off, holding it in her lap and not picking her head up, just watching her fingers run over the fabric. Then, suddenly she snapped her head up, eyes glazed over with tears as she stared right at Billy. “Bad,” she told him, “something bad.”

“Where is he?” Billy asked, finally moving closer to her now that her panic was ebbing away. “What’s happening to him?”

“Not happening,” Jane answered even more cryptically, eyes not moving away from his face. “He’s doing something bad.”

And that, well. Billy had no idea what the fuck to do with that. He’d spent all this time thinking Steve was in danger, that someone had taken him. He’d never once imagined that maybe it was Steve’s choice to leave. But why? None of it made sense, not the disappearance, not the panicked phone call, and definitely not any of what Jane was telling him now.

“You said Steve’s with a girl,” Max piped up then, clearly in a better headspace to be thinking through the puzzle pieces than Billy. “Who was it?”

Jane’s face screwed up as she thought, trying to remember. “Sailor, ice cream. She is at Scoops Ahoy.”

“Fucking Hell,” Billy hissed, already standing up to grab his keys again. “That’s Robin Buckley, the band nerd Steve works with.”

He remembered when Steve came home after that first shift, flopping onto the lumpy couch at the cabin and moaning about the fact that he had to work with a total dork. Billy barely stopped himself from reminding the guy that all of his friends were certified geeks now, instead laughing and telling him to give her a chance, that Steve was good at taking in strays and making them best-in-show winners. After that, Steve started coming home with stories about the girl, laughing as he relayed her quick wit and dry humor. “You’d like her. Actually, no forget I said that. You two in the same room would be unbearable, I’d die.”

Billy had seen her the few times he’d visited Steve at the ice cream shop but had never really interacted with her too much. He wished he had now, wished he had anything more to go on beyond her name and that she worked the same shifts as Steve.

“Wait,” Billy said, spinning on his heel to look at Jane. “Were they wearing the sailor outfits?” Jane nodded. Billy cursed.

Hopper was headed there.

Billy practically stomped his way to the phone, not thrilled at having to admit that he’d brought Jane into it after all but knowing this was the best way to get information. Hopper picked up quickly, having already made it back to his office. “Was Steve at work?” Billy asked as soon as Hopper answered, not bothering with pleasantries when the situation just kept spiraling.

“I was about to call you,” Hopper huffed out sounding far too annoyed with Billy for his liking. “No, he wasn’t. He and his coworker didn’t show up for their shift today, Scoops Ahoy had to get cover.”

That wasn’t right, it couldn’t be right because Jane saw them in their stupid little sailor uniforms, the one with the shorts that were far too short and way too tight on Steve, the one with the little tie in the front that Billy loved to tug on. Jane had never been wrong before, not with her weird freaky powers that he still didn’t fully understand.

“Okay, fine, whatever. I’ll keep looking,” Billy forced out, practically pacing as he fought to get off the phone, itching to go find his fucking boyfriend.

“We’ll find him, kid,” Hopper told him, voice softening in the way it only ever really did for his family. Something in the way Billy fit under that umbrella made something stick in his throat, a lump that made it hard to force out any words. “We won’t stop until he’s back home.”

And Billy wished he could believe that, but things were weird and he knew what weird meant in Hawkins, knew that weird meant monsters and other dimensions and people getting trapped for weeks where they shouldn’t be. He knew that Steve had to fight all the weird before, knew that he was still scarred from it physically and mentally. Billy could still feel the raised scar on Steve’s temple from the plate he’d smashed over it that night at the Byers's house, the night Steve had been protecting the kids from more monsters than himself. He could count the deep scratches on the other guy’s arms, his torso, from all the times he’d pushed himself in front of the kids because that was what Steve Harrington did, he protected no matter what.

“I know,” Billy told Hopper, hanging up the phone before anyone could hear the thickness that gave away the tears building in his eyes. Because Steve was missing, and something bad weird was happening, and Steve had called for him and he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been there the one time Hawkins’ protector needed someone.

“Steve didn’t make it to Scoops today,” Billy informed Max and Jane, “neither did Band Nerd.”

“Where are they then?” Max asked, looking at Jane as if she could provide all the answers. It was a little annoying that the kids all seemed to assume Jane was like a god, like she could just solve everything with the snap of her fingers. Hell, maybe she could. They could use a little bit of that right now.

“I saw rusted metal. Big, empty building,” Jane explained.

It didn’t sound like anything Billy knew of immediately. He searched, closing his eyes and trying to run through his mental map of Hawkins. The town wasn’t that big and it really didn’t have that many abandoned places to choose from. Most of them were now used by the high schools to drink, smoke, or fuck. Sometimes all three if it was a good night. There was this building on the edge of town Tommy took him to once where th—

“Brimborn. He took Band Nerd to fucking Brimborn,” Billy hissed out, knowing nothing good ever happened out there. “Let’s go.”

“Where are you going?” Max called out as Billy grabbed his keys and took off to the front door.

“Weren’t you fucking listening? Brimborn. If you’re not in the car in 30 seconds I’m leaving without you little shits.” Billy didn’t have time to corral the kids, that had never been his job before. Steve always did it, even when he was forced to cart them around in the Camaro he always had Steve do the talking. He fucking missed Steve, alright?

The drive was unbearable. Jane was in the passenger seat, sitting way too fucking still and Max was in the back, moving way too fucking much. She was telling him to slow down, to be careful in the turns as if Steve wasn’t involved in some weird Hawkins shit. And then he was pulling up to Brimborn, and he felt his entire body grow stiff like rigor mortis.

Steve’s Beemer was parked outside it, smashed to bits. The front was caved in, and the windshield was completely smashed. What the fuck happened? Billy got out of the Camaro, pointing a finger in and telling the girls to sit, stay.

There was a phone booth outside of the building. The phone was off of the receiver, dangling uselessly and swaying a little in the wind. It made Billy want to hurl. Even worse, that terrible nail bat was laying just in front of the booth, abandoned and terrifyingly clean of any blood. Like Steve never even had the chance to use it.

Just as Billy was about to descend into full-on panic, the heavy metal doors were sliding open to reveal Steve, walking toward him in that fucking sailor suit sans the ridiculous hat that always messed up his hair. The other guy tilted his head, expression oddly blank as he considered him.

“Steve?” Billy called out, fighting his instinct to sprint over to him and shake him, ask where the hell he’d been for the last three days and didn’t he know how to use a fucking phone and what happened to his car?

Steve’s face erupted with recognition, an odd little smile taking over his face as he walked over to Billy. “Billy,” he called out, and there was something weird to it, something that set Billy on edge. He couldn’t explain what or why—Steve was right in front of him now, and there were cuts on his face likely from the shattered side window of the Beemer but he was fine, not beaten to a pulp at the bottom of the quarry—so why was Billy feeling like this?

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked. It sounded too stilted, too polite. Steve might have been the golden boy of Hawkins, but he wasn’t polite, not to Billy at least. They were rude to each other, and called each other names that more often than not led to a kiss but they weren’t whatever the hell this was.

“Tell me you’re joking, pretty boy,” Billy scoffed out, crossing his arms over his chest and raising a brow at him. When Steve didn’t answer, just fucking stared, Billy continued. “You dropped off the map for three days, Steve. You can’t do that shit without, without telling someone.”

“So what, I’m not allowed to do anything without you?” Steve asked, expression shuttering into something that resembled anger. It took Billy all the way back to that forsaken night in November when Billy and Steve had stood outside the Byers’s house and sized each other up, when they’d thrown punches and Billy left scars on Steve. It was hatred and coldness in those typically soft brown eyes now. Bad, something bad.

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Billy growled out, confusion building and mixing in with that anger, growing into something wild and dangerous. “You can’t completely disappear for three days. Not in Hawkins.”

Steve didn’t answer. Screw him and that slightly messed up hair.

“What’re you doing out here?” Billy pressed, determined to get answers because the weird was turning wrong far too quickly. “What the hell happened to your car?”

Steve was a careful driver. He used the kids as an excuse, but Billy knew better. He knew better after the one time Steve dinged the side of the Beemer—when his dad found out and made a surprise trip home. Billy hated that empty look in Steve’s eyes that lingered for days after his dad left, like the man had sucked the very soul out of him.

Billy reached up to wipe his thumb along one of the larger cuts on Steve’s face, just over his eyebrow. He’s sure it’ll scar up by now, especially since it needed stitches and Steve most certainly hadn’t gotten them. Honestly, it looked like he hadn’t cleaned up at all since whatever wreck happened—blood streaks still lingering across his face and arms, bruises and dirt littered around. If he looks closely, he thinks he can make out shiny pieces of glass still caught in that perfect hair.

Something was wrong.

It was confirmed when Steve’s hand shot up faster than Billy could blink, wrapping around Billy’s wrist tightly and preventing him from touching his face. Billy startled, body jolting back at the sudden movement, the roughness of Steve’s hold on his wrist. He’s sure it’ll bruise up later, perfect little imprints of Steve’s fingers now digging into his skin.

Steve never held him like this.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve roughed out, staring at Billy for only a moment before schooling his features into something that was supposed to be pleasant but only made Billy’s stomach churn. He dropped Billy’s arm, stepping back and brushing his hands over his bright blue shirt as if to flatten out the wrinkles. “You wanted time apart, right? I’m only giving you what you want, Billy.”

Then he was gone, walking to the Beemer and pulling away from the place while Billy stood rooted to the ground, incapable of doing anything but stare at the spot Steve had once been. He didn’t know how long he stood there, but eventually, Max was running up to him, grabbing his arm and shaking him until his mind snapped back to the present.

“What the hell was that?” Max yelled out, echoing his thoughts exactly. If he were a good older brother, he’d criticize her choice of language. But he was never that great and he didn’t feel like starting now, not when his wrist still throbbed and his heart ached from seeing this Not Steve in front of him. “Why’d you let him leave?”

“That’s not Steve,” Billy told her, voice sounding far away like it didn’t quite belong to him just like this version of Steve didn’t. “It’s...he’s wrong.”

“What do you mean that’s not Steve?”

“What d’you think I mean?” Billy snapped back, feeling more of himself rushing back the longer he was gone from Steve’s presence. “I mean that’s not Steve fucking Harrington. Not the one I know anyway.”

Max’s face morphed into one of pure terror then, looking over at Jane who had appeared at her side at some point. Jane shared the look, like they were in on some secret that Billy didn’t know of yet. Then, both girls looked right at him with pure seriousness.

“We have to call a code red. I think the Mind Flayer’s back.”

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #flayed!steve #au #stranger jays

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ramblingkat · 1 year

Text

Random bleach snippet time. These are ones that get posted to the Discord, now going to start tossing them here as well. So, enjoy. Likes and reblogs are love and I appreciate every one of them.

Bit One

“-about Urahara-san?”

Kisuke paused, outside the door as he heard his name. Yoruichi had dragged him out of the house to go get more drinks for the party that seemed to have sprung up at the Shoten for the end of the year. Then she promptly got lost somewhere. But that was fine. They had a tradition to keep, after all. A toast as the year ended and his birthday turned into her’s.

This was the most eventful birthday Kisuke had had for years, and it was surprisingly fun. Ichigo and all of his friends had descended and murdered all the alcohol that he had in the building. Thus the requirement to get more, though it had required prying Ichigo off. A good sign for something he had planned to ask Ichigo later.

Everyone felt happy and relaxed, even Tessai, who was off in the kitchen. The man delighted in playing host. He had been delighted when everyone had shown up.

Ichigo and his friends were in the open room just inside the shop, taking advantage of the space. All of them felt warm and happy and beyond tipsy.

So what were they asking about him?

“You can’t be sure that he can be trusted,” came Ishida’s voice. “According to Ryuuken. But my father doesn’t trust anyone.”

“He does seem sort of shady,” laughed Tatsuki, her tone a touch too loud. Well, he probably had come across as shady to Ichigo’s friends. The ones who didn’t know him.

“He can be,” was the next contribution. “He lies like breathing, and you have to find out important stuff from others. So you can’t really trust anything.”

That one hurt. Because that was Ichigo.

Though this explained why Yoruichi had been so gleeful that Ichigo had asked when Kisuke’s birthday was. Which had confused Kisuke, as Ichigo had asked him the same thing a week before.

He took several steps away, looking up as the snow fell, but not able to overhear. Ah, well, better to know the truth. But he would give them a few more minutes to talk. It seemed they were enjoying themselves.

Then he slipped to the front and brought the drinks in. He stole the best, the one he had bought for him and Yoruichi to share and saved it from the exuberant young adults.

It took a bit to untangle himself from Ichigo, who insisted that Kisuke should stay until midnight, which wasn’t so far away. Why Ichigo wanted him to stay, Kisuke had no idea. Surely he’d rather spend it with his friends.

Finally, he made his escape, and waited in the kitchen with Tessai. Yoruichi showed up a few minutes later, stealing a few treats off the tray as Tessai went to take it to the party.

“Didn’t expect you here,” she said. Kisuke just smiled as he poured for them.

“They don’t need me around,” he said calmly. “And I’m pretty sure it’ll be easier to toast here. Unless you want to listen to everyone screaming happy new year and happy birthday at you?”

The wrinkle of Yoruichi’s nose was a clear answer. “Thought you might try stealing a New Year’s kiss from Ichigo.”

Kisuke offered her a cup and an innocent smile.

It was fairly clear that was not going to happen. As much as Kisuke liked the idea, had considered it, he deserved more than to offer his affections to someone who didn’t trust him.

Maybe someday.

The increase of noise as the party started the countdown filled the air. Kisuke lifted his glass, and Yoruichi smiled.

“Happy birthday, Kisuke.”

There were yells as the new year passed. “Happy birthday to you as well, Yoruichi-san. I hope you have a happy new year.”

She smiled, touched her cup to his, and drank.

Kisuke copied her and hoped he would feel better come morning.

Why was the truth always so depressing?

Bit Two

Ichigo just stared at Kisuke. “What?” he asked, confused and uncertain.

“I do find you attractive,” Kisuke said calmly, as if he hadn’t just said no to Ichigo asking him out. “You are smart, you are clever, you know that those are two different things. You give your heart fully to those you care about, willing to do anything you can to help people. You chew on your pens when you are focused, but never on a pen you have borrowed. You smile when you read something that you like, you never take offense with small children staring at your hair. “

Kisuke smiled, soft and affectionate, and Ichigo sucked in a sharp breath. “You are an amazing person, and everyone who has spent time with you knows it. You deserve to have someone who makes you happy.”

Ichigo was even more confused, even as his cheeks burned with all the honest affection in Kisuke’s tone. “Then why…?”

Gray eyes were warm as they met Ichigo’s. “Because you need trust to be happy, Ichigo-san. And you don’t trust me.”

It was said so easily and calmly that Ichigo winced. Because he wanted to, but Kisuke proved over and over that he was willing to keep secrets, and Ichigo hated that.

“You didn’t trust me first,” he pointed out, stung.

“I do,” Kisuke said, and Ichigo winced again at the way he sounded so honest. Ichigo hoped that it was the truth. “I may not tell you everything, but that’s not because I don’t trust you. Secrets aren’t just about trust.”

He collected the tea pot and refilled Ichigo’s cup. ”Plus, I deserve to be happy as well, and if you can’t trust me, where would that leave us?”

#fanfiction #snipperts #Bleach #Kurosaki Ichigo #shihoin yoruichi #Urahara Kisuke

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queer-whatchamacallit · 2 years

Text

I wrote a post-Foyet Hotch fic with Penelope lecturing him on how he’s actually a pretty great person, and ppl seem to like it on ao3, so here ya go:

I Need You to Know

Summary: Garcia knows what Hotch must be thinking after Haley’s death because she knows him, and she knows that his brain is wrong about him. She needs Hotch to know that too.

Word Count: 1.6k

Penelope stood outside his door and thought that maybe she shouldn’t be doing this. She needed to, but not here or right now. She really should have waited and thought this whole plan through more, but it was a little late for that. She could turn back, but she was here, and it was right now.

“Penelope? What are you doing here?”

While he had a good bit of height on her, Hotch seemed so much smaller than she’d ever seen him. His eyes wore deep bags and weariness strong enough to crush both of them.

“Hello sir, I really should have told you I was coming, but I really should have come here before now, but I needed to take the mini tornado that’s been whirling super fast in my head whenever I thought about you and what happened and I needed to try and get the right words I needed out of that mess, but here goes-“

“Wait, come inside first; it’s cold out.”

“Oh yes, thank you sir.”

She wasn’t quite sure how, but she hadn’t expected this. Penelope had just planned on showing up, saying everything she needed to say, and making a break for it. If she were to be truly honest, the only part of this plan that she actually did plan was the words, but here she was, placing her umbrella and electric blue sneakers by the door.

“Sorry, I don’t have tea or anything. What’s going on?”

They sat down on either side of Hotch’s couch.

“Well, before I get into the whole thing, I’m sorry, I really should have called before I came over here.”

“It’s okay, Garcia. I didn’t exactly have much to do.”

“I… How’s Jack in all of this?”

Hotch hadn’t quite looked her in the eyes since she got here, but this brought his gaze to the coffee table in front of them.

“Just so you know, Jessica should be home with him pretty soon, but…he’s confused, and he misses her of course, but I” he paused for a second, likely considering if he wanted to get into this yet, “I still don’t know how much he knows or if he heard anything.”

“I really hope he didn’t, sir.”

“Me too,” he said just above a whisper.

He hazarded a glance in her direction, eye contact taking too much effort right now. His gaze soon fell on his hands, and her eyes followed. His right hand was in a cast and his left was balled in a fist so tight that even with his short nails, she was sure there would be little red crescents embedded in his palm.

“But um, I have a lot of thoughts and there’s a lot of things that I want you to know, so are you all ready to hear my many, many thoughts?”

“Go ahead.”

“I could tell you that it’ll hurt less and time will pass and someday you’ll be able to think about her and just miss her instead of not being able to think about her because what you feel when you do is so enormously bad and painful, but you don’t need to me tell you the future right now. I want to tell you about right here, right now.”

From the moment Hotch opened the door, she had seen the hurt in his eyes, but now, his brow furrowed in concentration and focus entered into the look in his eyes. His left thumb ran along his other fingers.

“I need you to know that the team loves you, and we care about you. I love you sir, and I know you’re going to blame yourself because I know how your brain works, and that’s just what your brain does when bad things happen, but it’s just plain wrong. You loved her to the edge of the Milky Way and back, and you did everything you could have possibly thought of to stop this, but we don’t know everything. It would make every single thing so much easier, but we don’t, and without knowing exactly what would happen ages before it happened, there’s no choice you could make there that would have saved her.”

He was shaking. Hotch looked down at his hands again and opened his fist. Each finger trembled, and color began returning to his white knuckles. He kept his palm down, not wanting to see the red crescents he was also sure were left there. He scrunched his eyes and blinked away the tears that were building.

“I also know your brain in that when you feel bad, you hate it when other people know, but we care about you, so we worry about you when something really extremely bad like this happens. That’s how it’s supposed to go, whether you like it or not. I need to know that you’re not going to go all distant on us. I actually want to know when you feel bad, so I can know what you need. Can you do that for me?”

He was crying now, face ashamedly angled toward the coffee table. Hotch crossed his arms tightly around his chest and did everything he could to stop his breath from hitching. It didn’t seem to be working very well.

“Sir, I think by now, you have the right to cry, but if you don’t feel comfortable crying in front of me, then that is A-OK… Would you like a hug, so I wouldn’t be seeing you cry? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He leaned over and embraced her. Penelope felt how much he was shaking. They stayed like that for at least a minute before Hotch’s breathing settled enough for him to talk.

“I don’t… I haven’t felt comfortable talking about this, but you said you wanted me to tell you when I felt bad. I know I need to talk about it, and I feel you would give me an honest response,” he murmured, arms still wrapped tight around her.

“Lay it on me.”

“It was warranted, and I needed to to save Jack from him, but… I lost control.”

“Sir, you don’t have to be strong all the-“

“No, that’s-that’s not what I mean,” he slipped away from her arms.

She scooted just far away enough to give him space. Penelope’s hands didn’t quite know what to do with themselves, so she spun each one her rings several times over.

She again noticed how small Hotch looked, elbows on his knees and shoulders curling around him. His lack of a suit jacket surely contributed, but that didn’t account for how stark the spike was in how much vulnerability (or weakness he’d call it when it came to himself) she’d seen from him.

“I did things that I didn’t have control over. I killed a man with my bare hands. I don’t even remember some of it. All I remember is being so angry and terrified, but what happened to her hadn’t set in yet. I just knew I needed to hurt him. I needed to keep him away from Jack, but it terrified me.”

She could tell from the look in his eyes alone.

“Sir, that sounds truly awful. I am so sorry you went through that, and also, I’m not letting you say it’s fine just because there isn’t much you could say after I say that. I’m just going to keep talking. Is that okay?”

“Go ahead.”

He closed his hand into a fist again but just tight enough to fidget with his fingers the way Penelope had been seeing him do for years now.

“Okay, here comes another thing I need you to know, and I need you to know these and believe them, not just like how people who say “I’m sorry for your loss” really do care, but sometimes it just kinda goes in one ear out the other. Okay sir?”

“I’m listening.”

“You are an amazing person. You do what this job, which can be really bad and icky sometimes, takes and more. You also put everything you can into trying to be there for Jack, and you used to do that for Haley. You take every teenie weenie ounce of effort you have to give, and you give it. Everyone who has ever known you knows that you try like super duper hard, and sometimes you don’t get anything back for how much you try, and it sucks like really bad, but you are a good person, and even the best people out there, which includes you fyi, lose themselves sometimes. But, you’re back, and I can only imagine how awful that whole thing must feel, but you did those things you couldn’t control to save your little angel of a son. I’d say that’s 100% worth it.”

“Aaron we’re home.”

“Daddy!”

Hotch’s posture straightened, and he brought Jack into his arms.

“Hello Ms. Penelope! I like your orange hair.”

“Hello Mr. Jack! Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome!”

“What did you do today?” Hotch asked him.

“We went to the park and I petted a dog that was this big!” He stretched his arms out as far as he could, “and then we went to the movies and watched Batman!”

Hotch talked to him and Jessica, his voice even and his shoulders held back. He looked even stronger than usual. He even smiled.

Penelope soon headed off with her umbrella as Hotch got Jack ready for bed. She really hoped he believed her. Hotch was a legend of a person, but heroes will fall and break, and it takes time to be put back together again.

Hotch would remember that conversation for the rest of his life. From then on, he tried to believe what she said, and he tried to be someone that deserved Penelope Garcia.

#criminal minds #cm #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #george foyet #penelope garcia #jack hotchner #jessica brooks #haley brooks #character dialogue #fan fic #the special interest half: criminal minds #i write things

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