Prompt 53. "I'm flirting with you!" Part Two
A follow up to This Post
@happymediummm I promise the answer to your ask will be up soon in part three!!
Eddie stews in his room for three days following the incident at Steve's house.
Wayne attempts to coax him out with food and coffee, even opening up the pack of bacon they'd been saving in the freezer, anything to try and get Eddie to talk to him.
"I'm just worried s'all," he says softly from Eddie's doorway on the third day, his expression pinched in that way Eddie hates, "you should go out, do something, come on".
Wayne claps his hands together and disappears for a moment only to return with a tape case from the living room.
"Wayne, no--"
"It's overdue Eds, just bring it back for me would ya?"
Eddie groans into his hands at the triumphant expression on his uncle's face as he gets up from his bed and tugs on his leather jacket.
"Since your friends work there," Wayne says brightly, gesturing with the tape as he hands it over to Eddie, "you should see if they waive the late fee for us".
"I agreed to take it back, not talk to people," Eddie grumbles under his breath as Wayne shakes his head and gives his shoulder a squeeze.
"At least you won't be growing mold anymore, sitting there in the dark," Wayne says with a wink, ignoring the indignant scoff Eddie makes.
"Store closes in a half hour kid, you better hurry!"
Shit.
Eddie grumbless petulantly as he hurries out the door, ignoring the way Wayne compares his groans to a haunted house door.
He doesn't smile at the jib, and it doesn't make him laugh for the first time in days as he gets into the van, it doesn't!
The parking lot of Family Video is empty, but what did he really expect on a Wednesday at half past eight in the evening.
The Open sign is still on at least but the low lights in the building and the bright copper glare of the sunset make it so much more difficult to see who is working tonight.
He could just toss the tape into the return slot and wait out the late fees, he's sure another video store will eventually open up in Hawkins, they can take their business there.
Eddie sighs heavily as he shuts off the van and yanks out the key, "dammit Wayne," he mutters under his breath as he gets out and makes his way to the door.
Eddie winces at the sharp jingle of the bell above the door and looks around, his head on a swivel, looking for any sign of Steve and his big, stupid, hair.
Robin waves from the counter as Eddie spots her, she's grinning at him with a sly look on her face as she leans against the counter, the multiple buttons and pins on her vest clink against the glass surface.
"There he is," Robin crows, drumming the counter, "I was beginning to think Steve had kidnapped you or something, were you allowed out for good behavior?"
She seems to realize what she had just implied and winces, shaking her head as Eddie snorts mirthlessly.
"Uh, no, I just came to return this for my uncle," Eddie mumbles, keeping his eyes level with the counter rather than Robin's eyes.
She frowns at him, taking the tape he slides across the counter and scanning it without dropping her gaze.
"What's with you?" She says suspiciously.
Robin drums her fingers lightly against the counter, as the large computer beeps acknowledging the return.
"Nothing, tired," Eddie shrugs, he's not about to tell Robin about what happened, though it is weird that she doesn't already know?
Maybe she wasn't in on it, he can't imagine that Buckley would approve of a prank like that on another 'friend of Dorothy' but she was Steve's best friend first and foremost.
A song comes on over the small Family Video speakers, humming in the background.
'All I wanna do when I wake up in the morning is see your eyes
Rosanna, Rosanna…'
Robin wrinkles her nose, her eyes traveling towards one of the large speakers in the corner before looking back to Eddie, a large grin in place.
"God this sappy shit, I told Steve not to put this one on the tape, you must hate Toto".
Eddie shrugs again, glaring at the floor, wishing he could burn a hole into it that he could escape through.
"He did play it…didn't he?" Robin asks quietly, a small trace of anxiety in her voice as she leans away from the counter.
Eddie stops himself from rolling his eyes; if he was being honest, the tape was a nice touch --really sold the whole prank, honestly.
He looks back up to find Robin staring at him, and sighs heavily, thrusting his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah," he huffs, taking a step back towards the front door, Robin's eyes follow his path in confusion, "I wasn't much of a fan of the choices".
"But it's fine right," Eddie scoffs, "he can use his little tape on someone his shit will actually work on next time".
"What?" Robin says incredulously, her face scrunches into a frown as Eddie laughs.
"You know Buckley, I'm surprised you were on board with this?"
"Eddie, what the fuck are you talking about?" Robin hisses, shrill and loud, as she finally walks around the counter towards him.
"Oh don't give me that, he's your best friend, you're going to tell me he didn't tell you about his plan?" Eddie shakes his head as a high pitched laugh bubbles up out of his chest.
"I don't know what plan you're talking about Eddie," she says in a low voice, her eyes wide and angry, "the only thing Steve was going to do that night was tell you how he felt about you".
"Yeah right, Steve Harrington, wants me? And that's not a fucking joke?"
She sucks her teeth, letting her eyes roam over his face, "this was such a mistake, okay, get out".
Eddie sneers sharply, "a mistake?"
"Yeah, I never should have gotten his hopes up".
Robin crosses to the window behind the counter and shuts off the second neon open sign before breezing past Eddie to pull the cord on the other sign, nearly hard enough to yank it down.
No, no, no, no, it's not true, she's just saving face, she has to be…
Robin stands beside the door, a furious glare aimed at Eddie, "we're closed, get out, I need to go check on Steve".
Unbelievable, Eddie does roll his eyes at this and heads towards her for the door, he takes the push bar in his hands and leans on it to swing the exit open before turning to Robin one last time, he wants so badly to have the last word it hurts.
"Better go check on King-Steve, I'm sure he's devastated," Eddie snarls, the furious fire from before burns bright in his chest as he watches Robin stiffen in the doorway.
"I haven't talked to him since Sunday Munson, until just now, I thought he was with you!"
Robin reaches out to grab both doors in her hands.
"Asshole," she scoffs, her eyes never leaving his as she locks the doors in his face.
***
1980, Hawkins, Indiana
Eddie sniffles as he walks home, he can feel blood trickle down his chin from the split lip Paul gave him while his knee aches from where he hit the ground.
He's not even sure what he did.
Paul had been so nice recently, talking with Eddie almost every day, eventually taking him under his wing. Paul was a year above Eddie at their Middle school, and when he had told Eddie to meet him under the bleachers after school, how could Eddie say no?
It didn't help that Paul had soft blond hair, big hazel eyes that crinkled when he smiled, and the nicest laugh Eddie had ever heard.
What Eddie hadn't been expecting was Randy and David, also in Paul's grade, to be waiting for him.
He breathes out a wet sob and keeps walking, scrubbing his face harshly as their trailer in Forest Hills comes into view, almost home.
Eddie reaches into his pocket and winces when he realizes his keys are gone, alongside his backpack.
They must have fallen out of his pocket in the scuffle.
The backpack was a different story.
He limps up the steps of their porch, wincing as the fabric of his jeans pulls at the drying blood on his knee, and knocks on the front door.
"Comin," Wayne calls from inside, "coming, wasn't expectin' anyone-- Ed?"
Wayne's face goes through a series of expressions, from surprise, to anger, before settling on concern.
He leans down and brings his hands up to Eddie's face, turning it gently to see the damage.
"Who did this," Wayne says quietly, he stands up to his full height, looking around the trailer park behind Eddie while tucking him closer.
"It was at school," Eddie sniffles again, his voice growing tight, "I'm okay".
Wayne looks down at him for a moment before shaking his head and moving out of the door to pull Eddie inside.
"Hurt anywhere else?" Wayne asks as he walks Eddie to the kitchen, one arm around his shoulder as though afraid the fourteen year old will collapse at any moment.
"I fell, my knee hurts," Eddie mumbles as he sits at the kitchen table in the corner while Wayne crosses to the cabinets and busies himself with grabbing two clean wash clothes and peroxide from the cupboard above their stove.
It's quiet for a moment while Wayne wets one of the clothes at the sink and makes his way back to Eddie.
He kneels on the floor, balancing his weight on his good knee while the other remains bent at a more comfortable ninety degree angle. His joints creak slightly as he gets comfortable but he still smiles at Eddie all the same.
"Won't you be sore after this?" Eddie sighs, wishing Wayne would just let him go to the washroom now to clean himself up.
"You let me worry about that," Wayne grumbles as he reaches up to wipe the blood and dirt from Eddie's face with the wet cloth. It's warm from the water and Wayne's gentle hand.
"So, you gonna tell me what happened?" Wayne asks softly, as he reaches for the bottle of peroxide and tips it into the second cloth. He tilts Eddie's face to dab gently at the now dirt free cuts.
Eddie sucks his teeth at the sting and closes his eyes.
He doesn't even know where to really start.
Paul hadn't been the one to push him off his feet, that had been Randy, but that hadn't stopped Paul from laughing and calling Eddie a fairy.
David had been the one to take his bag, dumping everything out into the dirt and ripping it until the zipper broke.
Luckily all of his school books were still in his locker, but all of the campaign notes from his most recent D&D game had been in there, along with the worn copy of the Hobbit his mother had given him.
All of it was still sitting in the mud and grass by the bleachers, stomped into the ground by David's white sneakers.
Eddie shrugs as Wayne leans back slightly. He takes Eddie's leg and slowly bends the knee at the joint, his eyes search Eddies for any sign of strain. The only sting comes from the way the jean material pulls at the drying blood from his scrapes.
Wayne breathes out and scrubs a hand over his tired face, his fingers catch on the grey stubble as they slide down and drop into Wayne's lap.
"I'll make an appointment on Monday with the principal," Wayne says as he stands up with a stifled groan, turning away from Eddie who shakes his head like a wet dog.
"Wayne you can't--"
"Edward, what do you expect me to do? You come home lookin' like hell and you won't tell me what happened?"
Eddie bites his split lip hard enough for the faint taste of copper to stain his tongue once more, how could he tell Wayne just what those boys had yelled at him as he sat in the dirt cradling his head, wishing he'd just gone home.
Wayne sighs loudly as he raises his face towards the ceiling, his lips move slightly but Eddie can't make out what he's saying before he looks back at Eddie, his expression worn.
"Okay, okay," Wayne murmurs, walking back towards Eddie, he pulls one of the other mismatched chairs towards himself and sits down, "I won't call, but you have to meet me halfway, alright?"
Eddie hesitates, swallowing roughly, maybe there was a way to tell Wayne without telling him everything.
"There were some boys at school, um," Eddie picks at one of the holes in his blue jeans, pulling at the frayed thread absently, "I guess just, one at first but…".
His eyes burn suddenly as the words rip through him once again.
"He told me to come to the bleachers and then," Eddie's voice wobbles this time as his throat tightens, "there were more of them and they…called me--"
Eddie shakes his head, ducking it down to hide his shining eyes, he doesn't notice Wayne coming closer until he feels a hand in his hair and the dam finally breaks.
Six years later, Eddie can still remember what his uncle told him that day as he cried in his arms.
"People can be cruel, especially when they don't understand, and sometimes that means being careful of who you open yourself up to. But you can tell me anything Ed, and I'll love ya no matter what. You always have home to come back to".
Eddie knew people like Steve Harrington. He'd been around them his whole life.
Sometimes they went by Paul, sometimes by Jason, or Billy.
But that didn't make them any less dangerous, any less capable of inflicting hurt on people that were different.
So, Robin could say that Steve wasn't like that until she was blue in the face, because she was…wrong…
Wasn't she?
Taglist: @ihavekidneys @superchellerific @zerokrox-blog @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @croatoan-like-its-hot @messrs-weasley @samcoxramblings @warlordess @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @lostonceandneverfound @shunna @fairytalesreality
Part Three now up!
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I like the idea of Death the Kid having a walk-in closet full of pristine branded clothes (honestly a Special kind bc he values style and comfort). He’s rich and lives in a Mansion with multiple rooms. Suits are his casual attire and he’s just that type of person. He never needed a material thing that he couldn’t just get. He can buy that shit. If a dress shirt ceases being symmetrical? Ditch it. Buy a new one. His customized blazer got damaged? Replace it. Easy. No son of Death would wear anything less than perfect.
Meanwhile, Blackstar is the type to keep the same five pairs of clothes until they’re literally breaking down at each seam.
Tsubaki even has to beg him to buy new stuff, or gift it to him on birthdays (even those ones get worn down for years, too). He grew up under Sid’s care and i bet he never had the luxurious life Kid had. Maybe Sid bought him clothes out of his own salary as a teacher and Blackstar knew that, so he treasures the clothes he gets. Assassin clothes, hand wraps, tank tops, sleep attire, old hand-me-downs get cut up and recycled into bandages or wraps for training, etc. Maybe he knows how to sew because he wanted to keep wearing a specific star-filled tank top Sid got him for his 13th birthday, so he asked Nygus to teach him. He wasn’t good at it at first but hey, practice eventually makes perfect. When he goes to missions and fights, he repairs the damage in his clothes. He’ll keep wearing the same shit until it gives up on him and even then, he really doesn’t want to let it go. Shoes are his worst nightmare because all his running wears it down fast.
It’s easy to write him off as a slob. Blackstar wore nothing formal; he looked like shit when he tried, too, slobbering for food when he attended the Academy’s founding anniversary. The boy didn’t know class, or finesse, or elegance. Everything he did screamed fucking reckless and immature. Obnoxious. It showed in his clothes, tattered as they are—because why else would it be so worn down if he was a careful man?
Being friends doesn’t exactly erase the impression, but it opens a bridge to ask. When Kid finally asks Blackstar why he circles through the same two tank tops whenever the group hung out outside the school, he’d say he liked the star designs. It suits me, he’d brag, and Kid is just jealous of his great clothing sense. Typical. But Maka eventually, secretly, tells Kid it’s just a special top because he’s had it since the both of them were twelve (everyone knows Blackstar would rather eat dirt than admit to being attached to things). Sentimental and Blackstar didn’t feel like they belong in the same sentence, but that thought felt odd now that he knew. Especially after he sees him discreetly check the stitches after an intense basketball match.
Death the Kid would notice every new stitch on Blackstar’s uniform after a mission since then. From afar, you don’t see it because it’s hidden well, but up close (maybe when they’re sparring, or sitting next to each other, or that day when Blackstar carried him through Excalibur’s wretched cave—though he foolishly shrugged that off). He can see it if he paid attention long enough, if Blackstar doesn’t move around too much for a moment. Stitches on top of old fixes, or the odd bits of his tank top turning out to be patches he couldn’t really hide. When he points it out again, they’re alone together and Blackstar happily shows it off (“I’m the best at everything, including sewing! Marvel at my craft!”). Kid admits ti thinking he’s a slob, and then the man would proceed to poke and prod at him for his branded stuff. There’s a reason why everyone saw him as a spoiled brat, after all; on the walk home that day, he ponders if he really is. (Liz and Patty say yes.)
Maybe it only really hits Kid, how much he’s really changed, when he lends Blackstar some pajamas after a gnarly night fighting against kishin eggs. Blackstar refused until he shoved the soft, flawless cotton in the man’s hands—told him to shut up and What, so the great Blackstar can’t handle wearing neat pajamas? He’s only ever seen him in tank tops but the sleeves didn’t seem to be the source of Blackstar’s discomfort. Having a spontaneous sleepover with the others, having Patty cause chaos in the name of fun—their antics eventually result into a rip of threads that only Blackstar seemed to be startled by. He apologizes as he returns it the next day, early in the morning, as neatly folded and packed in a paperbag as he could. Maybe Tsubaki did the folding. Blackstar is shit at folding clothes or wearing stuff that weren’t creased to hell and back.
But by then, even if there’s a stitch on only one sleeve, Kid keeps it. Seeing it makes him smile. The damage was repaired with a star-shaped stitch—(how did he even do that?), but he doesn’t wear it yet. He tells himself it would drive him insane, knowing something is off, but he hangs it with his other clothes. He didn’t need to replace it this time; Blackstar fixed it, and it wasn’t ruined. It’s better.
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imagine homelander with a gf that gets really really clingy with him after watching sad movies where the one of the partners dies. obvi he’ll try to make it abt her, but really he’s touched that someone cares about him enough to worry about him..😭
This movie is... ridiculous.
Homelander's biting back a laugh through the emotional climax of the film, unable to empathize with the choices of these characters, when suddenly he hears you sniffle.
Looking down with his brows lifted, he catches the glint of tears rolling down your cheeks. "Whoa, hey, what?" He asks, sincerely baffled. Normally he can understand your responses to things decently well, but this catches him wholly off guard. You'd both been laughing about how silly the movie was not ten minutes ago. "What's with the waterworks?"
"I'm not crying," you answer stubbornly, pushing your cheek into the soft chest padding of his suit.
"Right, my mistake. Just leaking lacrimal fluids then," he says wryly. He expects you to retort, maybe give his thigh an ineffectual slap, but there's a flicker of concern amidst his bewildered amusement when you don't respond at all, pressed tight to his side, tears still falling.
"Babe," he calls, the word softly stressed. His brows knit together as he hooks a finger under your chin, forcing your eyes up to meet his. "C'mon, talk to me. No way that movie—
"It wasn't the movie," you admit finally, exasperation in your voice aimed not at him, but at yourself. "Not really, it was stupid, it just... I don't know. It got me thinking. I really don't know what I'd do if I lost you," you say, voice falling quieter and quieter with every word.
It doesn't matter to him, he hears every bit of it. Homelander's shoulders sag.
"You won't," he says, face still pinched. You're the fragile one, not him. It makes his chest feel wrung tight, uncomfortable in a way he can't make sense of.
You are his only vulnerability. You exist in his life as a precarious thing, a knife wedged in his heart that can be twisted and used to hurt him. A wicked part of him, the part that yearns for true invulnerable godhood, hates that about you. He swallows, mouth twitching. "You won't," he says again, needing it to be true as much as you do.
"I know," you say quietly, shifting up to press a kiss to his lips. In moments like this, you are so gentle with him, he almost feels fragile. It's as terrifying as it is indulgent. No one has ever worried about him the way you do. They've only ever cared about the damage he could do to others, but not to himself. Not about what could be done to him.
"But I love you. A lot. More than I've ever loved anyone. I think I would go nuclear, you know? Just... Burn it all down kind of crazy," you say, huffing a teary little laugh. "But that's what they say. Love makes us crazy."
Homelander kisses you fiercer than you're prepared for. He cups your face and holds you firm, soaking in your words, the salty smell of your tears, the tremble in your voice. All of it for him. "Say it again," he murmurs against your lips, voice tight.
"I love you," you say again, taking hold of his wrist. "I love you, I love you, I love y—" Your lips meet again with even more fervor. Homelander pulls you sideways into his lap, wrapping his arms around you as he sinks deeper into your touch, your lips, the warm sweetness of this vulnerable, unconditional love you have for him. He would kill for you without question, decimate a world that would see fit to take you from him.
Knowing you've thought the same sets him aflame. "I love you so fucking much," he rumbles, kissing his way down your throat.
"Show me how much," you rasp, tears drying in the wake of heat crawling through you, ignited by his touch.
In the background, the film continues to play, wholly forgotten. It may not have been a particularly good movie, but it does at least serve as the catalyst to a very, very good evening.
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