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three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat · 1 year

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presenting: time'ed universe, the one with four Times

Link lay on the ground with a groan, praying to every god he knew that his headache would go away. It was probably too much to hope for though, since most of his headaches seemed to come from gods (or hangovers, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t been drinking last night; he wished he was drinking now, though). Maybe Ravio had finally decided to just drug him and fake his death so he could take over his house.

…Nah, he probably wouldn’t do that.

A bush rustled near him, and he nearly decided then and there to just let whatever it was kill him, as long as it would get rid of this damned headache. Unfortunately, if he did that, Zelda would reanimate him and then kill him again for having the audacity to die. Then she would do it again and make him suffer through the headache (his sister was just nice like that).

So, with that clear and present threat in mind, he pulled himself to his feet, drew the dagger from his boot– and pointed it at a teenager who looked even worse than he felt.

“Din’s balls, kid, what happened to you?”

“What happened to you?” The kid shot back, but the impact was lessened by the way he swayed on his feet.

He snorted. “Were you run over by a horse or something?”

“It was a boar.” He frowned. “With swords.”

(Oh, so he was delirious. This was going to be a fun conversation.)

“A boar?” He raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Yeah, I think it–” his face paled rapidly. “I think it killed me.” And then he turned, heaving into the bushes.

Link walked over, patting his back as the kid threw up the meager contents of his stomach. Probably drunk, if he was seeing boars with swords.

“You okay?” He asked when he was done.

“No.” The kid wheezed, and pulled up the side of his tunic.

What Link had previously thought was just an overly baggy shirt turned out to be a large gash in the fabric, straight through the chainmail underneath. The hole exposed the kid’s side, and the massive scar on nearly his entire torso.

“The hell?” He asked, already knowing what he was seeing. “That should’ve been fatal.”

“It was.” The kid repeated. “He killed me.”

“The… boar?” Dread filled him. Maybe the kid wasn't delirious.

“Ganondorf.” He spat, utter malice in his voice.

He froze, thoughts running into each other like drunken rats, and that was when another teenager walked out of the brush (because his day couldn't get much worse), chewing on a mushroom Link was pretty sure was poisonous. He stared at them for a moment, wide-eyed, before turning and running back through the forest.

Hylia. He really needed a drink.

---

Link rubbed his temples, wincing at the harsh sunlight. Time travel again, with his luck. Waves lapped at the sand, washing over his boots, and he glared at a seagull, willing it to shut up.

It's a few minutes later, when he was considering shooting the damn thing, that he heard voices. He didn't do a thing, and just continued to stare at the blasted bird. It might have been mocking him.

The bushes rustled, and he turned, accepting that he would have to talk to whoever it was, or maybe stab it. Instead, he was met with the face of the teenager who had given him so many headaches not unlike the one he had now, most from an unnecessary amount of stress.

"Captain?" The sailor said, staring at him in shock.

He sighed, resting his head in his hands. "Goddammit."

---

They found Mask half-passed out further down the shore; he seemed to have the same horrible headache Link did, and had just resigned himself to a fate of becoming one with the sand.

"Please kill me." Mask signed, barely opening his eyes.

"Only if you kill me first." He agreed.

"This your fault?"

The sailor squinted at him suspiciously. "Yeah, is it?"

He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands. "Why would I do this?"

"Why do you pretend you actually have an ass?"

"My ass isn't flat, stop telling everyone that!"

"Heh." He pointed a finger at him. "That rhymed."

"I hate you."

"Not more than I hate myself."

"I worry about you." Link told him. He just gave him a thumbs up in response.

---

In five words, Link would describe his current experience as "I want to take a nap".

(Yes, that was six words, but "a" didn't have rights, no matter what Malon said.)

As the years went on, Link’s tolerance for bullshit slowly decreased, and his desire to take a nap and sleep his problems away increased.

It worked the first time, right? Surely if he just… fell asleep for seven years he could pretend he hadn't time traveled.

Again.

However, Link was nothing if not determined, and this time he was determined to beat up whatever caused this, go home, kiss his wife, and then take a nap.

Oh, a nap. Glorious, glorious sleep. He hadn't slept at all in Termina and his body was finally taking its revenge; he couldn't even find it in himself to be upset about it.

No! He slapped himself awake. Beat the shit out of whoever caused this first!

He reluctantly stood up, leaving his warm bed of leaves and rocks, and started walking towards the town in the distance.

The town turned out to be farther than he thought, and he was considering taking a midday nap in the middle of the road when he heard voices.

"Vio, get on Red's shoulders."

"No." Presumably Vio said. "I am not participating in your clownery."

"Get on his damn shoulders before I drop them on you."

"Have a heart, Vio, he's practically strangling the thing."

"Looks pretty comfortable to me, Green."

Intrigued, Link turned off the road to investigate. Perhaps these color themed strangers would know where the nearest inn was.

(Bad Link! His inner voice chided. You have shit-beating to do!)

The strangers were a little ways off the road, crowded around a tree. There were four of them, identical except for the color of their clothes (red, green, blue, and purple). The red, green, and blue clothed ones were standing on each other's shoulders, which made sense considering their short stature.

(Well, a lot of people were short to Link, but he thought they would have been short to others as well.)

The strangest thing, however, wasn't their apparent attempt at a totem pole, but rather what was in the tree; a man had fallen asleep, cuddling a hawk of all things.

"Fascinating." Link said.

The totem trio stumbled as the base blue one turned to face him in shock.

The purple one merely raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it? It's not distressed at all."

Link stepped closer, inspecting the bird. It did seem to be quite content in the man's arms.

"I still think we should move it." The red one said, crossing his arms. "I doubt he'll appreciate waking up with a hawk in his arms."

"Not my problem."

"Vio." The green one said sternly. "Get on Red's shoulders."

"No." He pointed at Link. "Ask him to do it."

"Sure." He shrugged. Maybe they knew the owner of the inn and could ask them to give him a discount for his good deed.

"Cool." The blue one said, and abruptly shoved the other two off his shoulders.

"Hate you." The green one groaned, face down in the grass.

"You are the entire circus." The purple one informed them.

"What's that even mean?"

Link ignored them, instead focusing on freeing the hawk. The man whined a little once it left, and he shoved part of his cape into his hands before turning to face the colored quartet.

"Shouldn't we wake bird boy over here up?" The blue one asked.

"Not my problem." The green and purple ones said in unison. Link wholeheartedly agreed.

---

As far as bad days went, Link thought this one was pretty high up on the list. First, he had woken up on top of a tower, which was a bad experience all around; when he got to the bottom, some freaky spider shaped beamos thing had tried to kill him using the power of big laser to the head. After that, he was ambushed by a scarred teenager with leaves in his hair who kept talking to himself.

That’s it. He decided as the teenager tried to ruffle his ears for the fourth time. I don’t care if he tries to shoot me, I can’t take it anymore.

He leapt away from him, transforming between one moment and the next. When he turned around, instead of the terror he expected, the teenager was just staring at him in fascination.

“Dog boy?” He asked.

“What? No.”

The teenager pulled the corners of his mouth back, baring his teeth. “Fangs. Dog boy.”

“I don’t have fangs.”

He nodded.

“No.”

“Yes.”

He probed his teeth with his tongue. “They’re just a little pointy.”

“No. Fangs.”

“I must agree.” A raspy voice said from behind him. “They are fangs.”

Link jumped around, yelping in a totally not dog like manner. “Shade?”

“Hello, young ones.”

“Hi.” The teenager waved, apparently not fazed by the talking skeleton either. His eyes flitted to the side, listening to something only he could hear. “You aren’t a ghost.”

“No.” Shade agreed, which was news to Link. “I am something else entirely.”

“You aren’t a Stalfos, either.” He said. “They don’t talk.”

“Perhaps you aren’t listening.”

The teenager considered his words. “Okay.”

“What are you doing here?” Link asked. “Didn’t you pass on?”

“I did, and then I woke up here.”

“Urbosa says once you move on you can’t come back.”

Shade nodded behind the teenager. Link felt like he was only getting half the conversation. “You are a wise woman. Indeed, I should not be here.”

“You can see her?” He asked. “I thought you weren’t dead.”

“I am dead. But I am not alive, either.” He laughed. “Yes, Master Rito, it is a skill that comes with age.”

“So, uh.” Link said, trying to steer the conversation back to something he could follow. “Do you know where we are?”

"Hm." Shade said, examining the landscape. "I don't know."

“Hyrule Field.” The teenager said.

“This isn’t Hyrule Field.”

“Perhaps not your Hyrule Field.” Shade gazed solemnly out at the ruins. “One far past your own.”

“What– you don’t mean time travel?” He asked incredulously.

“Exactly.” Shade nodded. “I’ve traversed the pathways of time often. The feeling of being brought here was not dissimilar.”

“Oh. Well. That’s… fun.”

“Sometimes.” He acknowledged. “I would imagine the reason we were brought here was far from pleasant, though.”

---

Honestly, as days went, this one wasn’t too bad. Shadow mused. He could talk to people, for one, something he couldn’t usually do (actually, he couldn’t usually do a lot of things except see and hear); not that he wanted to talk to those idiots. Of course, it would have been better if Vio was there, and maybe even those other three guys.

“For the last time, no.” The idiot who insisted his name was Dark Link said (Shadow thought Dink suited him and his stupid voice better). “I will not be buying your overpriced scam, no matter how many times you say it will let me get drunk.”

Dink was truly a shadow in ways he himself wasn’t, actually coming from the Hero of Time’s shadow rather than just being a recreation like Shadow was. How he knew that, he wasn’t sure, but what he did know was that their differences meant Shadow could get drunk and he couldn’t, something he was taking great delight in shoving in his face.

Shadow swung the bottle of cheap whiskey he’d bought off the merchant around. “Are you sure? This is some truly delightful drink.” It tasted like horse shit, and Ravio clearly knew it tasted like horse shit.

“Yes, it is, and I have many more bottles like it, along with other fantastic wares.” Ravio said, holding his coat open with a flourish. What it was supposed to do, Shadow had no idea.

“Do you have something that will make the Hero of Time fall on his own sword?” Dink asked hopefully.

“Ah, regrettably, no.”

“Disappointing.” He sighed. “I’ll take the potion.”

“An excellent choice, my good sir.”

#lu #linked universe #lu time #lu mask #god what do i even tag this with #mb's writing #time'ed universe

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stevebabey · 1 year

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no one asked but this is the post that inspired this! thank u immensely for the luv <3 number 1 comment was wondering what steve’s bids were & from his pov, so without further ado...enjoy — part one here!

—

Begrudgingly, Eddie has to admit that Robin might be right.

It’s impossible not to be looking for the bids since he brought them up to her. Even though Eddie was fully expecting to tell Robin to suck it, maybe even wager what little money he had against this working out, Eddie can’t help but watch for them in every interaction. And fuck, she’s right.

They’re little, but they’re there.

The first one Eddie would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. Actually, that’s a lie; Eddie does miss it, until Robin points it out, the nosy bitch. It’s minuscule and honestly, it just seems like Steve asking his opinion — which friends do all the time! It’s why Eddie brushes right over it.

“Okay, be honest,“ Steve had said, walking and talking as he entered the living room where Robin and Eddie were sprawled across the couches. They were both waiting on him, the three of them set on heading out to the drive-in to catch a film.

Eddie can’t fathom why Steve felt the need to change his outfit for it, but when he returns, he gets it. It’s not quite the usual polo Eddie had grown to like on Steve, this one hanging a little looser, the colour a bit darker than Steve’s usual choice, the sleeves a little shorter — almost midway to a muscle tee.

Steve’s fingers fiddle with the distressed collar of the shirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles and fussing over nothing. He swishes back his floppy hair with a flick of his head. “It’s a new shirt, I know it’s a little different - but what do we think?”

He says we but he’s looking at Eddie.

Eddie, who has taken to trying to reel in his gawp because what the fuck Steve? It’s like he’s well aware of what drives Eddie insane and has specifically leaned into it. Some evil goblin in Eddie’s brain whispers think how good he’d look in your shirt and he squashes it, giving a visible twitch to shut down that train of thought.

From the other couch, Robin clears her throat loudly and smiles sweetly at her best friend. “It looks great, Steve.”

It’s sincere and Steve’s mouth tugs up, nearly a smile but his gaze fast-tracks back to Eddie. Eddie nods in agreement, a bit sluggish from his distracting thoughts and god dammit, the extra exposed skin of Steve’s arms are so not helping. “Yeah, looks... looks good, man.”

Steve smiles, lips pressed together but his shoulders curl in just a bit, deflating just a tad. From where Steve can’t see her, Robin waves her hands wildly and catches Eddie’s attention. He watches as she gestures wildly and it takes a moment to realise what’s she mouthing — ‘A bid! That’s a bid, you idiot!’

Oh fuck, Eddie thinks. Cos it totally was; the question, the focus on Eddie. He doesn’t even think about the logistics of it, of the fact Robin was right, just jumps right into picking up the bid.

“You trying a new style?” Eddie asks and then thanks whatever god invented the whole fake-it-to-you-make-it schtick because he’s feeling so far from casual or confident. “Going metal on me, big boy?”

Eddie just manages to catch the grin that breaks across Steve’s face as he turns away, giving a scoff — it comes out too soft though, giving away his complete lack of annoyance. He pulls that usual Steve Harrington pose, hands sliding onto his hips, and screws his face into some melted smiley-grimace. “Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie grins and goads on the blush that’s beginning on Steve’s neck, a glorious tinged pink colour. “If this shirt is any indication, you’d pull it off just fine.”

Eddie watches the blush climb higher as Steve ignores the comment, his smile still giving him away. He grabs his coat and pats down his jeans — ridiculous tight acid wash jeans that Eddie hates he’s somehow become attracted to — ensuring he has his keys and wallet. Once assured, he looks up at his two friends again, brows raised, and says, “Ready to rock and roll?”

That comment alone has Eddie seriously reconsidering his type in men.

There’s only a brief moment to talk about it when Eddie and Robin cajole Steve into going and getting them both popcorn to get a moment alone. Steve had scoffed, face twitching in the way it did whenever he tried to hold back a bitchy comment, but he still stomped off in the direction of the snack stand.

The moment he’s out of earshot, both voices explode in the back of Eddie’s van.

“What did I say—”

“Jesus H Christ, you were right—”

“Literally how many times do I have—”

“Oh my god, you were right—”

“ —before you realise I’m always—”

“Robin.” He cuts her off, hands landing on her shoulders. Robin eyes them warily, lips still parted from how her rant had been cut off. “Robin, I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” Robin’s nose scrunches up. “What the hell are you—”

“Oh Christ, I can’t believe- how long have you noticed those bids?” Eddie’s aware he sounds a bit estranged, eyes probably wide and it doesn’t help when he softly shakes Robin back and forth. She lets herself be shaken, hair flying back in forth. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You are such a bad gay friend!”

Robin smacks his hands off her shoulders with a frown, her freckly face perturbed at Eddie’s outburst. “Dude, it’s not my fault! May I remind you that until very very recently you were seeing someone else? What difference would it have made?”

Eddie waves his hand, disregarding the point with a shake of his head. His unkempt curls cover his face and Eddie sweeps them back in one motion, “What difference would it have made? Oh my, Jesus—“

Whatever long-winded sentence Eddie was about to spit out is lost by the sound of Steve’s approaching footsteps, effectively shutting both of them up.

Eddie flings himself to the other side of the van, putting an unusual amount of distance between Robin and him like they were being caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Robin frowns at him and gestures wildly with her hands in a way that means what the fuck man? Eddie gestures back, though he’s not entirely sure what his fast hand motions are supposed to mean when Steve rounds the door.

He’s got two buckets of popcorn tucked under each arm and Eddie quickly crosses his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits like his stupid hand motions will somehow give him away.

Steve looks up, stopping just a way from the edge of the van, and looks at the pair of them. His eyes track from Robin still sitting on one of the old cushions and looking two seconds from burying her face in her hands, across to Eddie. He huffs a laugh and kneels on the edge of the van.

“I know he’s gross Robin,” He begins, tone light, as he holds out one of the buckets for Robin to take. “But c’mon, is the distance really necessary?”

Robin snickers as Eddie makes an appalled noise, both of which make Steve smirk. He holds out the other for Eddie to take and Eddie snatches it, glaring at him over the buttery rim for his comment. Then takes a handful and shovels it in because he can’t think of a witty comment to retaliate. Steve crawls into the van and plops himself between them with a content sigh.

“See? Gross.” He teases, shoving his hand into Eddie’s popcorn bucket to grab a handful. Eddie scowls and chews a little faster when the flavour on his tongue seems to register in his brain.

His eyes stare at the popcorn bucket as he chews, then swallows — up the front of the van, the radio that’s tuned into the correct frequency begins playing the opening credits song as the screen changes. Silence sweeps across the drive-in but despite the sudden hush, Eddie has no qualms about breaking it.

“Sweet n’ salty flavour?” He asks Steve, only half attempting a whisper. Robin shushes him instantly, her focus already on the movie that’s beginning. Steve smiles, looking a bit sheepish beneath the glow of the drive-in screen, but he nods.

“I know you like it.” He whispers with a small shrug of his shoulders. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Fuck, Eddie thinks again and hastily feeds himself another handful of popcorn before he says anything majorly stupid in response to that, like: Oh, amazing- have you noticed the big fat crush I have on you as well?

He doesn’t even need to look at Robin to know she’s smiling, smug as ever.

—

Steve, God bless his oblivious little heart, doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

Steve likes Eddie. Eddie is— god, Eddie is different but he’s good.

He’s this strange amalgamation of traits that Steve can’t comprehend how they fit together in one body or how Eddie manages to pull it all off completely charmingly.

He’s loud, he says rude things, he’s fucking dorky, and far too sweet on the kids — he likes to tease Steve, and yet somehow, when Eddie calls him ‘pretty boy’, Steve knows he’s not actually making fun of him.

Steve likes Eddie, likes his boyishly endearing charm, likes his touchiness towards Steve that no other boy his age is like, likes his messy curls and his ‘holier than thou’ attitude about metal music even though Steve doesn’t get it, like at all. And fuck, Steve really wants Eddie to like him.

It reminds him faintly of when he first started working alongside Robin at Scoops. That thought tickles in the back of his mind, something along the lines of how he had wanted Robin to like him for other reasons, but he doesn’t delve into it.

To Steve, it’s simple: he just wants Eddie to like him.

After the night at the drive-in, between Eddie acting strangely skittish and Robin giving more amused snorts than usual, Steve knows something is up.

He knows they must have discussed something when they sent him on popcorn duty, the bastards. He tries his best to not feel left out; god knows Robin and he have more than a dozen secrets they’ve sworn not to tell anyone but each other.

Besides, Steve trusts Robin to come and tell him if he really needs to know, even if it does worry him a bit. He bites down his anxious thoughts, even trying for a moment to see if there’s a pattern he’s been missing.

That train of thought gets derailed when Steve recalls instead Eddie’s delightful reaction to his new shirt — that Steve definitely hadn’t bought for that specific reason.

Even though Robin had given him that look when he’d first shown it to her — her bright eyes had narrowed, her smile turning a little more coy, and Steve had felt his ears get a little hotter. She hadn’t said anything though, just suggested that he should wear it tomorrow night when they were going out with Eddie.

God, he was glad she suggested it.

Rewinding over Eddie’s parted lips, the way his brown eyes had drank in the details as they trailed up his body and lingered on his arms— Steve had the sudden thought to flex the muscle, just to elicit some reaction, but it had gone out the window at Eddie’s original dismal reaction.

‘Yeah, looks... looks good, man’. Said all aloof, like he hadn’t really thought it. It was like bursting a balloon hidden behind Steve’s ribs, one he wasn’t even aware was there until it was deflating pathetically, making his shoulders sag.

Then— ‘You trying a new style? Going metal on me, big boy?’ And dammit, it’s like Eddie had clocked exactly what calling him ‘big boy’ had done the first time in the Winnebago.

Eddie had then grinned, done another once over of the new shirt, even as Steve pretended to search for his keys and wallet while saying something snarky to try to cover up the heat crawling up his neck. Yet, Steve found himself smiling too because, fuck yes, Eddie liked it too.

But, apparently, whatever Eddie and Robin had discussed wasn’t considered important enough because Robin never brought it up.

The thought and worry about it melt away in Steve’s mind until the memory of that night is about Eddie’s compliment, about his cat-like grin over the popcorn bucket, and how he had leaned over to whisper every bad joke into Steve’s ear all through the movie.

Some of them had been down-right filthy jokes which Eddie only seemed to enjoy more when Steve screwed his face up and nudged Eddie in the ribs, yet unable to hide his smile.

After the third vulgar joke and subsequent nudge, Steve had chided ‘dude’ with a poorly hidden grin. Eddie, smile all cheeky, had nudged him back with a ‘dude’ of his own.

Which, of course, ensued a nudge competition til Robin had given a shush that librarians all over the world would be jealous of. But Steve didn’t even care because he and Eddie were arm to arm, pressed close together and Eddie…didn’t move. Stayed close, like he wanted the closeness the same way Steve did.

Steve only remembers the strange drive-in moment when Robin brings it up finally, on one interesting Saturday night.

It’s not the usual routine; it’s not very often that the whole group gets together to share drinks and get rowdy.

But it was for Robin’s birthday and she’d been persuasive enough to get even the introverts, like Jonathan, to come along. Though, she was aware he’d probably spend the night on a pool lounger, stoned to high heaven. Whatever floats your boat, she’d said, happy for the company in any form.

There’s enough of them there that it almost resembles some sort of party— and makes Steve try not to think about the last small party he threw here. He can tell Nancy notices it too, eyeing the pool a bit too long in a way he’s very familiar with, then taking a swig of beer.

So, Steve heckles them inside — doing a fantastic mothering impression as he waves the group indoors with a promise of pizza, and that has both Jonathan and Argyle perking up and beginning a fast discussion on the best pizza toppings.

Eddie makes a fuss, because of course he does, and moans terribly when Steve tries to roll him off the pool lounger he’s on. He’s had a bit of a joint and some beer, and Steve’s learned that he gets adorably stubborn after some substances.

“Stevie, this is mean,” he had pouted, gripping the edges of the lounger and staring up at Steve with those big brown eyes. “You telling me I did all that bonding with you for nothing? Can’t even lounge by the pool! I’ve got a couch at homeeeee.”

Steve had sent him an amused look of disbelief, hands on his hips after his first round of flicks against Eddie’s arm were apparently fruitless to get him to move. “Really? Didn’t peg you for a gold-digger, Eds.”

Eddie had snorted at that, one hand coming to slap over his mouth. Steve couldn’t quite hear what he had said but the words pegging and anytime slipped through and Steve thinks he could get the gist of that.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Steve muttered, feeling the tips of his ears turn warm. He didn’t know how Eddie could be such a menace— or why he enjoyed it so much when he was. Steve waved a hand in the direction of the doors, ignoring Eddie’s delighted snickering. “If you go inside now, you can be on music, alright?”

And that had finally got them all indoors, Eddie whooping and skedaddling through the doors in an instant, with a call of ‘no take backsies!’ echoing behind him.

Inside was much cozier, the whole group a little more connected when squished up on the couches together. Eddie had taken Steve’s word and was jamming a cassette into one of the speakers when Steve made it back inside after scouting around the pool for leftover cans and butts to throw out.

He’s just been thinking about what playful jab he could make at Eddie’s music, like Eddie always did to him when Robin hollered at him from the kitchen.

“Steve!” She’d yelled excitedly and he come to find her quick, brows raised as he entered the kitchen. She was grinning, already a bit jumpy as she got when she had a bit of liquor — but apparently not enough because when Steve saw what she’d called him in for, she’d announced, “Tequila shots!”

Which lead to now. A hazy combination of beer, tequila, and a bit of weed, and Steve is feeling good. Robin had managed to hijack the music not too long ago, with a hiccup of ‘it’s my birthday’ that had Eddie surrendering with a pout.

She’d since put on a bit of everything: some Blondie for Nance, Talking Heads for Jonathan, and some Bowie, just so she and Steve could dance along to ‘Magic Dance’ and she could do all the silly little goblin voices that made them both cackle.

Steve realised at some point that Robin was playing their mixtape, the one she’d made for driving in the morning, and nearly tripped stumbling over to her in his excitement. He grabbed her shoulders, not too hard, and squeezed.

“Is it- is this our mixtape?” Steve asked, words slurring only a bit. Robin gleamed, hair bouncing with her excited nod.

“Yes!” She was already dancing, even though the tape was between songs — because she knew what song was coming. “It’s Springsteen time, Steve!”

Right as the drums to Born to Run filtered out the speaker.

And oh, Steve loves Robin so much. He loves having a best friend that knows his favourite song and gets jittery and excited because she knows it’s about to play— that she put it on this mix for him.

“You’re my best friend!” Steve says, the words bursting out like he can’t control them. He doesn’t even feel embarrassed, just happy, just drunk, and overwhelming happy to be able to have this.

And even though Robin knows this, she still beams, feet dancing along and just begins to sing along with the song, “In the days, we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream…”

It’s a brazen drunken performance from the both of them. Steve’s chest is heaving after just one chorus that he’s pretty sure he put his whole soul into and he’s so fucking happy —and it feels like pure instinct to seek out Eddie, his eyes scouring the room for him.

Eddie’s leaned up against the wall, hiding his smile behind a can and Steve doesn’t think twice about it— doesn’t think about why he’s so drawn to Eddie, why he wants to include him in this happiness — just extends his hand out and grins.

Eddie sees the bid coming this time.

Part Three.

—

yes i saw all ur lovely tags and MAYBE cried about it. but thats none of ur business.

@orangeandthefairroadkill @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @phantypurple @omg-elledubs-things @henderdads @farfaras @mixsethaddams @prismandblue @kerlypride @bushbees @legitcookie @temporalcoffin @callmesirkay @beautifully-useless @millyditty @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @ninjapirateunicorns @darkwitchoferie @vi-the-best-you-can @psychosnowfox @desert-fern @scarletzgo @cr0w-culture @softpink-candlelight @livingforfictionalcharacters @makewavesandwar @kozuuji @rhapsodyinalto @eddiethesexy @cassaloopa @lightwoodbanethings @qu33rcommunist @moonlitkilljoy @starkdusk @theysherobinbuckley @sanguineterrain @loganwright @sillysparrow @hotcocoaharrington @eddie-munson-is-my-wife @she-is-tim @steddiehearts @sideblogofthcentury @sidebarre @corrodedcoughin @stevieclaus

#OBLIVIOUS STEVE IS MY FAVOURITE!!!!#idiots in love #they're so important to me ur honour #on god am i gonna make them KISS #but steve's gotta figure it out first lol #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #i think i can call it a fic now lol each part is 3k+ i think #steddie fic #IF U WANTED TO BE TAGGED AND I DIDNT IM SORRY #lest i come off terribly egotistical i need direct instructions to tag lmao #even then i tagged sum people that just said 'can't wait for part 2!' which? isn't?#I DUNNO #i went off vibes someone said they were vibrating so i was like get over here the next part is here #one of these tags is just a steddie blog i love.... and they reblogged part 1 #corrodedcoughin <3 i love u hehe #the stobin bestie love SHINES in this #i love them so much they are BEST FRIENDS!!!#if u have any ideas... i do love reading the tags and seeing what people want to see next ! im fuckin making it up as i go lol

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