Crowd Surfing

IDK WHY IM NERVOUS POSTING?? anyway this has been sitting in my wips for possibly… maybe 9 months so congratulate pls

I wish I could say it has a cool concept (beyond KAS!Eddie) but honestly its (in my mind) just one of Eddie’s nerdy wet dreams 

Almost dying could put your life into perspective. 

When Eddie awoke in his hospital bed with his uncle at his side and the late afternoon light shining through the window blinds, he was struck with the kind of death-bed revelation reserved for men sentenced to dangle from gallows or grit worn teeth down the muzzle of guns. He was alive, despite the assumed certainty of his death hours or days before. 

Eddie let Wayne hold him, despite how much it hurt because the pain reminded him he was alive, that he’d made it out on the other side. Without thought, Eddie told Wayne he loved him. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but he couldn’t remember the last time it’d happened. 

They were long past the first few tumultuous years when Eddie had moved in with Wayne. Where they’d tiptoed around each other and waited with bated breath for their shared peace to go wrong. Eddie hadn’t been used to living in a household where he didn’t have to walk on eggshells to get by and Wayne wasn’t used to looking after himself, let alone a kid. 

They’d since found their rhythm, but it wasn’t often either man voiced their affections. Wayne showed his love. He didn’t speak it. That was just the way he was. Eddie didn’t share the man’s reservations, not anymore. His adolescents was a wave that had long since crested, and all care for others’ opinions had been thrown out the window. He wasn’t shy with his love, but his proximity to death made him reckless with it. 

When Dustin appeared at his bedside not long after, looking as though he were staring down a spectre, Eddie knew he had to do something. He leaned over, ruffled Dustin’s hair and told the kid everything was going to be okay, that he loved him. 

When the whole mess had died down and Eddie was able to come out of hiding, he showed up in Gareth’s garage at the usual time for band rehearsal. He was bombarded by a mess of limbs and an earful of questions. He told them his well-practised lie then muttered how glad he was to be back, how much he loved those stupid sons of bitches, because he did and they should know it. He’d never told them that before. 

What Eddie hadn’t expected was to fall fast and hard for Steve Harrington. Eddie wasn’t one for fast affection or grand romantic ideals. He had his head firmly attached to his shoulders, thank you very much. He knew fast love was just infatuation. You were falling for the idea of a person, not the real deal.

He knew it was stupid and yet at seeing Steve sprawled out on the floor of his trailer, in front of their shitty Philips Color TV, his usually styled hair mussed, Eddie thought he loved him, which was a terrible thought because it meant Eddie had to tell him. 

December 1. “Stop trying to get me under the Mistletoe”

Ministry Galas were so dull. Draco always found himself longing for the drama of the Galas and Balls that belonged in Harlequin Romance novels but the reality couldn’t be further from the conception he’d had as a dewy-eyed teen.

Instead of being swept off his feet by a dashing rogue, Draco was more likely to be stuck talking to a stuffy, old man who either smelled like mulled wine or moth balls. Or in the case of Mr. Elseworth, both.

He was just trying to make his excuses to go and get a refill on the punch, when he heard quite a clatter from the hallway just off the ballroom.

His head wasn’t the only head turning as a voice, one that Draco would be able to pick out anywhere, started to shout. “For fuck’s sake, Millicent!” Harry Potter spluttered. “Stop trying to get me under the mistletoe.”

Harry emerged from the hallway, fists balled at his sides; tall, dark, and brooding and Draco’s heart turned over in his chest.

Millicent Bulstrode followed Harry out of the hallway, jogging a few steps to catch up.

Most people tried to make it appear that they weren’t listening to the drama unfolding but Draco gave no such pretense. “Excuse me, would you, Mr. Elseworth?”

He made his way toward the punch table, also conveniently toward Harry and Millicent, and made a show of filling up his punch while he listened.

“I’m not interested,” Harry growled, as he stacked too many cookies, crackers, and cheeses onto his tiny plate at the other end of the table.

“But maybe if you just gave it a try-”

“I’m gay!” Harry all but shouted and no one in the room was pretending not to listen anymore. “Alright? It’s not you, Millicent, you’re lovely,” he spat with more contempt than a compliment ought to have, “I am just very not interested in women.”

He gestured wildly toward the press corner with his plate, “Did you get that? I’m bent. Completely and irrevocably into men. Gayer than the most cheerful Christmas decoration.” His eyes landed on Draco, went soft around the edges, and Draco couldn’t help but smile back.

“You know what else?” Harry continued, tossing his plate onto the table before taking the half dozen steps to Draco’s side. “I’m completely head over arse for this man,” he said, taking Draco’s face in both hands and kissing him in front of the press and everyone else.

Draco’s glass slipped from his hands as his fingers fisted in Harry’s auror robes and he kissed him back.

He pulled back and whispered, “I’m gone on you, Draco Malfoy, and I don’t care who knows it.”

“Me too,” Draco managed to respond before the press seemed to find their tongues and there was a flurry of movement and pictures being taken.

Harry pulled himself away from their embrace, but kept Draco’s hand firmly in his own as he started answering questions. Draco stood at his side, certain that he’d find the pictures of his smug smile unbearable in the morning papers, but he just couldn’t help himself.

He glanced over and saw Millie standing at the end of the table, grinning. She raised a glass to him and he mouthed thank you.

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Day 03: Present | WC: 926 | Rated: T | Warnings: Swearing. | Tags: Pre-relationship; First meeting; Modern setting; No Upside Down; Sad Steve Harrington, but just for a while.

Steve knows he should have bought Robin’s present earlier, but he forgot, okay?

His father has been acting like a complete ass for the past months –more than usual, that is—, breathing down Steve’s neck and criticizing every single deal Steve closes at work, every single decision he makes, just for the sake of being an asshole.

And as if that isn’t stressful enough, Nancy thought now, one fucking week before Christmas, would be a great time to let Steve know that she couldn’t see a future with him anymore and that she wanted to break things off.

So, excuse him if Steve has been a little too preoccupied with other things to remember sooner that he still needs to buy a fucking Christmas present for his friend.

Jesus Christ, he’s not gonna cry in the middle of a store. He refuses.

When he parks the Jeep outside the loft, he sits there for a long moment, hands gripping the steering wheel until the faint tremor in his fingers calms. The sun is setting behind the building, the sky a smudged watercolor of gold and violet, and Stiles laughs quietly to himself because of course the universe would try to make this look cinematic.

Inside, the loft looks the same - industrial, quiet, lived in. It smells faintly of coffee, cedar, and something familiar and grounding. Derek’s scent.

“Hey,” Derek says from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, looking up with that small, cautious smile that still hits Stiles like a punch to the ribs. His hair’s longer now, a little curlier. There’s stubble on his jaw that Stiles wants to trace with his thumb.

“Hey,” Stiles echoes, his voice somehow both too quiet and too loud.

They talk about nothing at first. the drive, how school’s going, how the pack’s been. It’s easy, the way it always is once Stiles stops thinking too hard. Derek leans against the counter, arms crossed, eyes soft in that way that used to scare Stiles because he didn’t know what it meant. Now he does.

Finally, Stiles takes a step closer. His heart is hammering so hard it almost drowns out his voice. “I, um… there’s something I should’ve said before I left for school. Something I should’ve said a long time ago.”

Derek’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t move away.

“I missed you,” Stiles says. “Like, stupidly. Like, wake-up-thinking-about-you, dream-about-you, wish-you-were-there-for-everything kind of missed you. And I think it’s because - no, I know it’s because I love you. I’ve loved you for a while.”

The air seems to still. Derek blinks once, twice, his breath catching. Then, slowly, the tension melts off his shoulders. “You’re not the only one,” he murmurs, voice low and rough.

Stiles’ heart does an actual somersault. He grins, a little dazed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, stepping closer. “You really think I’d spend all those nights making sure you didn’t get yourself killed if I didn’t?”

Stiles laughs, the sound shaking, relieved, and then Derek kisses him.

It’s soft at first, hesitant, almost testing, but it deepens quickly. It feels like something they’ve both been building toward for years, slow and certain. Derek’s hand comes up to cradle the back of Stiles’ neck, thumb brushing his jaw. Stiles presses closer, fingers sliding down Derek’s chest, tracing the unfamiliar planes that have always felt untouchable, until they aren’t.

When his hands settle on Derek’s stomach, Derek flinches. Just barely, but enough.

That's the main plot.