You Can’t Bribe The Door On Your Way To The Sky

Then the crowd shifted. The chant changed - your name echoing up from the stands as you walked into view. He heard it, of course he did.

When you passed his garage, he caught your eye and smiled.

"Hey! Happy race weekend."

He went to reach for you, but seemed to second guess himself at the last minute.

You forced your smile. Forced normalcy. You had to for your own sanity.

"Hey Bucky. Welcome back."

An F1 official photographer almost barrelled you over in his hurry to get you to stop on your way to your own garage. “Hey! Hey! Can we get a picture of you guys? Teammates turned rivals?”

“It’s not… that’s not what this is,” you tried to tell him, but the noise from Bucky’s car firing up swallowed your voice.

“Don’t say that, man,” Bucky told him, far louder than you had, “it’s not like that.”

“Sure, whatever you say. Bit closer?” He pinched his fingers together and you found yourself stepping into the place that had always felt so familiar, so perfect. Tucked into Bucky’s right hand side. His hand dropped to your waist. After a few clicks of his camera, the photographer spotted his next victim and went sprinting down the pit lane.

Bucky squeezed a little tighter. “S’good to see you.”

“You too. You on the media sheet today?”

He scoffed. “Of course, first race back. Why wouldn’t I want to relive the crash that nearly killed me for a few soundbites?”

“You should tell Shostakov to hold questions on the crash.”

“He’s not gonna do that, babe,” your heart fluttered against your will at the old endearment. Something from a past life. When you’d been much closer to something than you were now.

“Sam would,” you said quietly.

Sam had spent the best part of a year shutting down every journalist who even thought about asking you about the crash, the aftermath, your relationship with Bucky then… your relationship with him now.

“Yeah, well,” he shifted on his feet, guilt crossing his face. “Get ready for us to be labeled mortal enemies from now on.”

“If the shoe fits,” you shrugged.

He clutched his heart dramatically. “You don’t mean that.”

“Maybe not. But I’m still gonna kick your ass.”

“Lookin’ forward to it, sweetheart.” He winked. Over his shoulder you could see his teammate, John Walker, scowling.

“You’d better go, looks like your new number 2 isn’t quite as amenable as I was.”

For a brief second, he looked guilty.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

You nodded and left him, standing in the lines of his pit box, his eyes following you to the next garage where your team, your car were waiting.

Avengers GP.

Your garage decked out in sleek black and papaya, kitted out and ready for the first Friday of the racing season. Music pumping through the speakers and engineers swarming around with huge smiles.

The warm Australian summer sun was slipping into something more autumnal and lit up the garage making everything feel shiny and new.

Whoever decided to put this as the first race of the calendar knew exactly what they were doing.

More relaxed and carefree than some of the other races, you were grateful for the laid-back attitude Melbourne brought.

The ideal first race back from a long break.

Your car - the AGP1 - sat waiting for you, idle for now but ready for the first of the three weekend free practice sessions. Your set-up would be fine tuned to give you ideal performance on track.

“Here she is!” Your teammate grinned, jumping down from the counter running along his side of the garage.

“Heyyy!” You laughed, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and swing you.

“Torres, put her down. Last thing I need is my best driver to get injured on the first weekend.”

Joaquin Torres did exactly as he was told and you turned your attention to your team principal, Sam Wilson.

“Hey boss,” you stepped in for a hug that he hadn’t quite been expecting. Publicly, yours was the epitome of a professional boss/employee relationship, but privately, the last year had changed you both.

He’d picked you up and put you back together when Bucky had pushed you away to focus on his rehabilitation. He’d carefully let you push yourself to the brink last season - your first as his number one driver.

He’d sanctioned the endless physical and mental training, the simulation time, allowed you to manage jetlag and the weight of everything that went into your car.

He paid the fines without a word when you neglected your press duties.

And he hadn’t said I told you so when it still hadn’t been enough.

And he hadn’t called you out for falling out of love with the sport by the end of the season.

All he asked was that this year, you trust him to do his job and leave you to race.

“You good?” He asked, his arms coming around you. You nodded into his chest.

“Yep, just needed a Sam Wilson special.” You held a little tighter.

“He looks shit in red,” Sam whispered. “And you’re gonna put him in the dirt.”

You laughed weakly, a little watery. “He’s still your best friend, Sam.”

“Sure, yours too,” he shrugged, “and I love him. But when we’re in the paddock, you’re my driver.”

You opened your mouth - some quip about team loyalty on the tip of your tongue - but his arms stayed firmly around you.

“I mean it,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.”

Next to the telemetry screens, Joaquin coughed. “What am I, huh? Nothin’?”

With a laugh, Sam let you go and squeezed his shoulder, “Torres, you ain’t nothin’ but a pain in my ass.”

“You don’t mean that,” you scolded, nudging Sam.

“I don’t mean that.” He agreed, looking Joaquin firmly in the eye keeping a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’m kidding, you’re the heartbeat, man. Without you, we’re nothing.”

Joaquin beamed and turned to you, “guess that makes you the heart attack, cariño.” He laughed, dodging the flick of your hand.

“I’ll give you a heart attack, guapo!”

“It's a better nickname than The Storm!” He teased. He blew you a kiss and ducked into his driver’s room for his helmet and gloves.

“Kam’s got your suit ready, go get kitted up. I want you in that car.” Sam told you. “Best way we show we don’t need him is on track.”

“You’re right,” you nodded firmly, determination setting in. “Let’s fuckin’ go.”

In your small driver’s room at the back of the garage, Kamala Khan, team support and all-round angel, had laid out your kit.

You toed off sneakers and peeled off your jeans, swapping for flame-resistant Nomex leggings tucked into socks, then you pulled on your long sleeved base layer - also fire-resistant and adorned in various sponsor logos.

Finally, you pushed your legs into your overalls. Black and papaya with the Avengers GP name printed down your leg.

You left the suit unzipped to your waist and gathered up your gloves, balaclava and helmet.

Joaquin was already stepping into his car when you entered the garage.

“Try not to make me look too slow, cielo, yeah?” He gave you a salute and slid down into the cockpit.

Giving him a wave, you carried on with the lengthy process of dressing for the track. On went the balaclava, carefully feeding through your earpieces.

Around you, an engineer checked for bare skin, making sure the wrists of your top were pulled right down. You slipped your arms into the suit and pulled the zip, panels covering the full length of it.

Your race boots tucked into the ankles of the suit, the rubber sole so thin it felt like your feet were bare. From behind you, your engineer passed you your helmet and started hooking up your HANS device - the plastic contraption designed to keep you from whiplash and worse in the event of a crash.

Your gloves, fitted with sensors ready to transmit your pulse and blood oxygen levels back to the teams, went on last.

You sat in the car, fingers curled tight around the wheel as the mechanics gave the final signal.

"Radio check," A voice crackled in your ear.

"Copy."

"Box out, track is green."

"Understood."

The roar of the engine swallowed everything else. Out of the pit lane, the world narrowed to the width of the track and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

When you glimpsed a flash of red in your mirrors - Bucky’s car - your jaw tightened. You pushed the throttle a little harder.

“Avenger 1, pace looks good,” Sam’s voice called. Calm and steady. "Let's keep it clean, we’re gonna run through the set up. Warm up two laps."

"Copy. Let me know sectors."

You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the pride. You were his driver now. His number one.

You pushed through the run plan, the car hummed beneath you like a living thing. A few flying laps, a few long-run laps, some data collection.

"We're seeing a bit of understeer, try a bit more front wing for me?”

“Copy. Trying a different line through turn 3.”

The car bent to your every whim, an extension of your body.

“She feels good, Sam, I’m happy.” You confirmed as you took the car up to 200kmph.

“Copy that. Box this lap, let’s look at the data.”

Back in the garage, you climbed out, unzipping your suit halfway as Kamala handed you water.

“You’re P1 on the timesheets,” she said brightly. “Sam’s waiting in the back room.”

“Thanks Kam,” you nodded. You heard the murmurs through the garage - Bucky’s name, his pace, Walker’s pace - but you didn’t look.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

The rest of your morning was a whirlwind. The first race of the season meant that everyone was under scrutiny. New teammates, old rivalries, and rookie racers all led to uncertainty.

You were one of the driver representatives for the interviews that day. Clearly chosen by F1 for your proximity to Bucky. His first race back after the crash, his first full race weekend with the Thunderbolts. No longer your teammate, publicly being referred to as your rival, all catalysts for a media wet dream.

"Don’t tell me you’re nervous," Joaquin teased, leaning in close enough for only you to hear as you lingered with a protein shake in the hospitality area.

You snorted. "Not about the car."

Sam raised a brow from across the garage, catching your eye. You knew he knew. Knew exactly what you meant.

The TV screens above the pit wall were already cycling through pre-race interviews with just about everyone in the paddock, showing highlights from Free Practice 1. You spotted the bright Thunderbolts red on one feed - Bucky, head bowed as he adjusted his cap, eyes darting away from the camera as he headed out of his garage.

Your chest went tight.

"Media pen in ten," a comms staffer called.

Torres squeezed your shoulder. "Knock ‘em dead."

"Always," you said, twisting your mouth into a grin. But the second you turned away, your fingers flexed, restless.

With a quick glance at the screen, F1TV was once again replaying footage from Bucky's crash with the ticker underneath reading “Bucky Barnes to discuss horror crash - - - Avengers GP tops timesheets in FP1.” Your stomach churned seeing yourself on screen, kneeling beside his unconscious body, screaming for help, and covered in blood. Bile rose in your throat and you turned away.

You'd never talked about it with him.

In over a year, neither of you had mentioned it.

You didn't know if he'd heard you pleading with him to live, or if he'd listened to the audio from either of your headsets. You’d chosen not to.

You hadn't even asked if he'd avoided the replays in the same way you had.

Over a year later and you’d seen nothing but the pale, shocked faces from the fans in the stands. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at his mangled car.

You hadn’t really been in the same room as him in almost a year. Not without Sam as a buffer or, like that morning, surrounded by colleagues and press.

After the race you'd stayed by his bedside until Sam had dragged you away. You'd been the one to escort him home.

A week in a Brazilian hospital and then a private jet back to the States and the finest medical services readily available.

As the team owner, Tony Stark had spared no expense or expertise.

With only three races to the end of the season, you hadn't slept between staying with him during the week, and racing every other weekend.

It had almost been a relief when John Walker had won the Championship, taking enough points in those last three races to just overtake Bucky in the standings. Bucky had slipped to second, and you’d taken third.

And then Bucky had started to isolate himself from you.

Not from Sam. Only you.

And you'd let him. You'd thrown yourself into preparing for the new season.

For being Sam's number one driver.

You stifled the guilt at leaving Bucky behind by doing everything in your power to take the fight to John Walker, trying to get back at him for taking the Championship from a man lying in a hospital bed.

And despite consuming your body, mind and heart, it hadn’t been enough.

The press room was a converted hospitality suite above the pit lane, glaringly bright under the LED lights. You could hear the muffled roar of fans below, the shrill trill of an engine doing pit stop practices.

They sat you side by side on the narrow stage, the sponsor backdrop behind you.

A journalist from Sky F1 leaned forward first, the microphone practically trembling in her hand.

"Bucky, welcome back. You’ve spoken before about your rehabilitation, but... The last time we saw you two together, it was, well - dramatic. You were both literally covered in blood. Can you talk us through how that’s affected your relationship now? Does it change the rivalry dynamic?"

A murmur of voices rippled through the room.

You could feel Bucky glance sideways at you. You kept your gaze forward, fingers tight on your water bottle.

He cleared his throat. "Well… I’m grateful to be here at all. To be alive. And she -" He stopped. You didn’t move. "She’s a big reason why I got through it."

Another reporter cut in immediately, eager for a viral soundbite.

"So no bad blood then? Even now that you're rivals on track?"

Your voice was flat, rehearsed. "I’ve always respected Bucky as a driver and a teammate. I plan to respect him as a rival, too."

He turned toward you slightly then, his leg bouncing restlessly. He searched your face, but you didn’t give him anything - not a smile, not a nod.

"And what about the emotional side? There were rumours you were romantically close before the accident. Some people even combined your nicknames to ‘The Winter Storm -"

"I don’t really read the headlines," you interrupted sharply. You heard Bucky exhale beside you. "We’re here to race. We've raced on different teams since we were kids. We’ve actually raced on different teams a lot longer than we were on the same team. That's it."

A silence hung in the room.

Then the PR handler forced a smile. "Next question, please."

A different journalist cleared his throat, eyes flicking between you and Bucky like he was hunting for a weak spot.

“Given everything you two have been through, do you think it’ll affect your approach on track? Are you worried about giving each other space? Any hesitation going wheel-to-wheel?”

Bucky leaned forward, his jaw tight. “I don’t plan on giving anyone space. Least of all her.”

You didn’t smile.

You adjusted your mic. “I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to win races.”

Someone else jumped in, smelling blood. “So it is personal, then?”

Your fingers curled around the bottle again. You felt the plastic start to buckle.

“Not at all,” you said, sharply. “It’s professional.”

“Bucky, did you ever consider returning to AGP? I know you’re close with Sam Wilson?”

“No. During my year out I realised it was time for me to move on.”

Beside you, he turned just slightly, his mouth parted like he might add something. But he stopped himself.

The attention turned back to you.

“You seem to get on very well with Joaquin Torres, how different is he as a teammate?”

At that, you did smile.

Pride laced your voice. “Joaquin is the best teammate. He's such a natural on track, and he's really had my back this last year.”

The journalist looked back at Bucky who frowned, “Bucky, looking a little pensive there. Sure there’s no regrets?”

“None.”

The press handler clapped their hands, cutting through the tension. “OK! We’ll wrap there - thank you both for your time.”

There was a polite murmur of applause along with the flurry of cameras clicking.

You could feel his stare burning into your back as you walked off the small stage, your water bottle clutched so tight your knuckles went white.

Outside the press room, you pressed into the narrow hallway that led to back down to the garages. You moved quickly, your head down.

“Hey -” His voice, low and rough, behind you.

You didn’t slow.

“Stop, please -” Bucky called again, closer now. You felt his fingers catch lightly at your arm - not enough to really stop you, just enough to make you feel it.

You wrenched free without turning. “Don’t.”

“Come on,” he hissed, low, his footsteps echoing behind you. “Can we just - can we talk for a second?”

You reached the steps, holding back to let a group of people up first.

“Please,” he tried again, softer now. “I just -”

“Not now, Bucky,” you sighed. “I've got to get ready for FP2.”

You skipped downstairs and out into the pit lane, heart hammering.

He waited. Like he might follow you to his old garage. But he didn’t.

You slipped in past your car and into your room. Pressing your forehead to the cool inner wall, your breath came in ragged pulls, your hand still crushing the bottle.

There wasn’t time enough to recover, to wallow. Kamala was already in the room laying out your race gear again for the next session on track.

“Wow, you OK? You look -”

“I’m OK. You know what press day is like, and it’s the first race. It’ll get better.” you muttered.

“Did they ask about the crash?”

“It’s pretty much all they asked about.”

Kamala watched you carefully, her fingers paused on the folded balaclava. “They really don’t know when to quit.”

You sank into the narrow bench, elbows on your knees. “They want blood,” you said quietly. “They always want blood. It’s why they replay crashes from every possible angle, over and over. They claim to hate the danger, but love everything it sells.”

Kamala hesitated. Then, softer, “Do you want me to shut the door? Tell them you need some time before FP2?”

You shook your head. “No. We don’t hide. We race.”

Kamala smiled, a small proud curve of her mouth. “That’s my girl.” She dropped a hand to your shoulder, squeezed. “I’ll give you a minute.”

When she left, the silence pressed in. Your fingers flexed restlessly in your lap. You thought about his hand on your waist earlier, his fingers curling like he didn’t want to let go. The look he’d given you when they’d asked about Joaquin - like he was trying to remember the reasons he left, rather then the ones that made him want to stay.

You slammed your palms down suddenly on the bench, the sound sharp in the small room. You couldn’t sit still.

Before you knew it, you were already out the door, down the paddock in the space between garages and team areas, weaving past team staff and crates of tyres.

By the time you reached the Thunderbolts motorhome, your breath was coming hard and your hands were shaking.

A young comms assistant tried to stop you at the steps. “Ma’am, he’s not -”

You didn’t even slow down, cameras flashed as you pulled open the door to the rival hospitality suite and marched through the public areas to the drivers rooms at the back.

You weren’t really sure where you were going, but you daren’t let anyone realise it.

Inside a narrow corridor you found a room with his name on the front. He was in the small lounge space, half into his fire suit, head in his hands.

He looked up sharply when you burst in, eyes wide.

You stopped just inside the door, chest heaving.

“You don’t get to do this,” you snapped.

He stood quickly, hands up like he could calm you. “Hey -”

“No,” you cut him off, voice rising. “You don’t get to act like we’re fine. Like I’m fine. You left me. You pushed me out when I was the only one who -”

His jaw clenched. “I was trying to protect you.”

“From what? From you?” You barked a laugh, bitter and sharp. “Newsflash, Bucky - I didn’t need protecting. I needed my teammate. My -” You stopped yourself just in time.

A tense silence yawned open between you.

His gaze softened, like he heard the word you didn’t say. “I know. I know I hurt you.”

You turned away, pressing your palms to your eyes. “You don’t know anything.”

A beat. His voice dropped, rough and low. “I missed you every single day.”

You let out a shaky breath, shoulders curling inward with your own guilt.

“Don’t,” you whispered.

"We’re still friends, right?" He asked, just as quietly. Desperately.

"Of course, Buck," you sighed. "And I tried to be around last year as much as I could -"

"I know, it’s OK. Look, maybe we both had a hand in this. You had to take the lead for Sam, and I used that as an excuse to push you away. You did the right thing."

"You didn’t have to move teams," you said bitterly, your voice cracking more than you liked.

"You couldn’t go back to being a number two driver, doll. You’re too good for that."

When you finally looked back at him, your eyes were glassy, your jaw set. “I have to get ready.”

You didn’t wait for an answer. You stepped back out the door, leaving him standing alone.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

He couldn’t bear it. Not being able to reach out and touch you.

You felt so far away and he laid the guilt for that at his own feet.

Sam had needed you for those last races after his accident, to protect the Constructors Championship - the one that gave him a decent budget for the year - and potentially to stop Walker from taking the Driver’s Championship.

He’d watched you work yourself into the ground, going from his bedside to circuits. Not even close to home, those last few races were half a world away.

Sam had let you stay by his side as late as possible each time, and then he’d switch on the TV and see you stalking through the paddock, dark glasses hiding the circles under your eyes, you’d go through the motions on track, and then leave again immediately to be back by his side by the Monday morning. For those last five weeks, it had exhausted you.

And then Walker had taken the Championship by a single point.

He watched you on the TV, blank faced on the last podium of the season. You’d stormed off before the champagne showers and thrust your trophy into Sam’s arms.

Then you’d returned to Bucky’s side and, thinking he was sleeping, cried for hours.

So he let you go.

Pushed you away towards the track where you could direct your anger and frustration and channel it into a language you both understood - racing.

Winning.

He hadn’t meant for it to be permanent.

When he let go, he thought he was making space for you to heal. For you to focus on what you loved.

But the space had turned into a chasm.

You'd filled the off-season with training, determined to get the title back from Walker.

Sam even told him as much, “she said it shoulda been yours, man, she wants it back - for you.”

So he watched you step into that new role with AGP - no longer his protege, no longer just covering for a few races, no longer shielding him from the worst of the politics and media. You were the tip of the spear now. You carried it so well it looked effortless, but he knew better.

He knew you.

He’d seen your hands tremble before going out for a wet weather qualifying session. He’d held your helmet steady for you when your fingers couldn’t. He’d memorised the tiny crease between your brows when you were still running race simulations in your head at midnight.

It was easier when you were both fighting the same enemy. Now? Now he wasn’t sure what he was fighting for anymore.

And he couldn't remember the crash.

He'd seen it afterwards, from every possible angle, but even then he didn't see himself, he watched you.

The fear in your eyes, the blood covering your race suit, your cheeks streaked with tears, sweat, and grime. He never wanted to see you like that again.

But that was then.

He couldn’t hold the crash in his mind before he was due to get out in the car again.

Twenty-four hours on from the free practice sessions, everything at Albert Park was louder, bigger and more electric.

It was qualifying day - his first real on-track confrontation since the crash.

The stakes were raised, the testing laps were over, no more simulations.

Just a chance to claim the front row and show everyone he was still the man to beat.

He couldn't get you out of his head. It may have felt like the first time he'd seen you, but in reality he'd followed your every move for the last year. Glued to every race, sent his congratulations via Sam after every win.

The season should have been yours.

Now, he was not only teammates with your biggest track rival - the man who'd won the last two seasons - he was also here to prove himself. To fight you for every point.

He wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

The garage felt too small, too loud. His heartbeat rattled in his ribs like a loose wheel nut.

John paced, getting himself psyched up.

“You're better than her, faster than her,” he spat, mostly to himself.

"One minute," Yelena's voice crackled in his ear.

Bucky flexed his fingers on the wheel.

You were already on track, your out-lap sector times lighting up green on the big screen in front of the engineers.

He couldn’t stop himself from watching.

You were so smooth - every micro correction in the steering, the millimetre-perfect lines through the last chicane. You made it look so easy.

His jaw locked.

"Alright, Bucky. Push push. Let’s get out there."

The lollipop man dropped the sign, and Bucky released the clutch, feeling the car surge forward, the bark of the engine echoing off the pit walls.

Out of the pit lane, up the hill. Tyres weaving, still slippery from lack of use. His brakes spiking red-hot as he made the car hop and twist to warm everything up.

He tried to clear his head.

Sector one: purple.

A memory of three years previously came to mind, you standing on the pegs at the back of his pushbike, hands on his shoulders as he rode around the track.

“Next year, you're drivin’,” he huffed.

Somewhere, in the noise between gears and the squeal of the brakes, he thought he heard you whisper his name. But he was already pushing past it, already lying to himself.

Sector two: green.

Two years ago, a run around the track.

“C'mon, it's only 5k. Let's blow off the jetlag,” you'd teased, the view of your short shorts just ahead of him pushing him through each kilometer.

Then Yelena’s voice pulling him into the present: "Good job, keep it tidy. She’s on a cool-down lap now, she'll be on a hot lap after. Focus on your own run."

As if he could.

Every apex he hit, he imagined your car’s nose in his mirrors. Every straight, he felt you closing in, even if you were no where near him on track.

Yelena was in his ear at each sector, giving him the delta to your previous fastest lap.

Across the line - provisional P1.

“Great job, Bucky! Still both AGP cars to come in, Torres is a fraction behind you.”

He didn't ask about you. He didn't need to.

The crowd roared above the pit straight.

Three corners into his cool-down lap Torres was confirmed in provisional P2.

Your time came in seconds later. P1. By a tenth of a second. It pushed him into P2 and Torres into P3.

He finished the lap, entered the pit lane and brought the car to a halt in front of the number 2 board.

You swept down the lane a minute later with Torres right behind, pulling up on his left in parc fermé.

He didn't rush to get out of the car, he fiddled with the steering wheel and his harness so he could watch you for a moment longer.

You climbed gracefully out of the car, stepping over the halo and onto the front of the car, one finger raised in the air, helmet still on.

The stands vibrated with noise, press shouted your name - barely heard.

Next to your car, Torres waited before putting an arm around your waist and lifting you down from the car.

You held his helmet in both hands and bumped the foreheads of carbon fibre together, both bouncing on the balls of your feet.

You got weighed and by the time the data had been recorded, Bucky had finally moved from his car.

You pulled off your helmet and balaclava, beaming at Sam who'd come to the barriers. You launched at him, hugging him tightly over the metal railing.

As he finally stepped away from his car, Sam caught his eye over the barriers and called his name.

Bucky forced a small smile, peeling off his gloves. He moved toward Sam, who clapped a big hand on his shoulder.

"Good run, man," Sam said, voice warm but careful. "Tomorrow's a new fight. You still got it."

Bucky nodded, eyes flicking past Sam to you. You were laughing, your arm still draped around Torres’s shoulders.

“Thanks buddy, it's good to see you.”

Then he felt your gaze snap to him, sudden and sharp as a blade.

For a split second, everything else faded - the pit noise, the mechanics, the cameras.

You stepped forward, stopping just shy of him.

"Nice lap," you said. Your voice was steady, but your eyes were burning, bright and unreadable.

He opened his mouth, but the words stuck so he nodded instead. His jaw clenched and he bit down on the inside of his cheek.

Before he could try again, you'd already turned, helmet swinging at your side as you followed Torres toward the interview pen.

He stood there for a moment, his own helmet hanging limply from his hand.

“Bucky!” Yelena called from the barrier, she shook Sam's hand warmly and then reached for him. “You did so good! We're so proud of you!”

Behind her, Alexei Shostakov towered over the gathered mechanics and engineers.

“Winter Soldier still has the balls!” He cried gleefully. “Biiiiig racing balls!”

Yelena wielded her iPad, “I've got the data coming through, debrief in thirty minutes, you'd better get to the interviews.”

He turned to follow you, catching up just as Torres slung his arm around your shoulder.

He may have been second on the grid, but he felt like he’d lost something much bigger than a pole position.

Tomorrow, your car would be by his side, but unlike old times, one of you would have to break first. He just hoped it wouldn't be him.

He took his place on your left side for the qualifying photographs, his hand slotting around your waist.

Heat radiated from you, your hair was damp with sweat under the team baseball cap.

“How did that feel?” Ted Kravitz called out from the press pack.

“So great! The car feels good, Joaquin did a fantastic job setting me up for the hot lap. Perfect start to the season.” You grinned infectiously.

“Not sure I'm gonna like being sandwiched between two AGP's tomorrow, but I'm happy with how close I got to pole,” Bucky added.

“We gotta be sharp tomorrow, I'm sure Barnes is gonna be ready to hit that first corner, and I'm gonna have Walker right behind me,” Torres said diplomatically. “Can't get ahead of ourselves yet.”

Finally, he was dismissed. He watched you dart down the paddock laughing with Torres.

The Thunderbolts garage was buzzing at their P2 and P4 qualifications, but it wasn't all with excitement.

Bucky could feel the frustration radiating from Walker's side of the garage. His teammate brooded in a corner, only half listening to Ava Starr’s patient analysis.

“Here comes my man! P2! Almost there!” Alexei hollered. “You were slower than the little AGP mouse, but we will catch her, da?" His big bear hug nearly knocked Bucky off balance.

“Alright, back room, let’s go,” Yelena called juggling her iPad and headset.

Walker dragged himself away from the TV feed with a scowl, muttering under his breath.

In the cramped briefing room, they squeezed around the small conference table, the air thick with adrenaline.

“Walker, I’ve got your hot lap compared to Torres -” Bob started.

“I want to see hers,” Walker cut in sharply. “Put me up against her.”

“There’s no point,” Yelena snapped, barely glancing up. “You lost too much on sector one exit. You pulled it back, but it’s closer to Torres than to her.”

“This how you're gonna treat your number one driver?” Walker bristled, leaning forward. “Let’s not forget who’s won the last two seasons, huh?”

“Maybe if you weren’t such an ass -” Yelena started under her breath.

Alexei’s palm slammed the table, rattling water bottles.

“Enough! We are team. We are family,” he barked. Then, more quietly, he added, “We welcome Bucky to our family.”

Walker slumped back, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before he folded his arms tight to his chest.

“Bob, show data,” Alexei ordered.

Walker’s lap filled the left screen, Torres’s on the right. Bucky watched carefully, quietly clocking where Walker hesitated. In his mind, he was already planning where he'd have to defend from Torres on track.

“You can stay on the throttle longer there,” he pointed, tapping the screen where Walker eased off too soon.

“Yeah? Doesn’t feel like it,” Walker muttered, elbows on his knees, chin down.

“No, trust me. Nudge it to 220, maybe 230. Car can take it.”

“Aha! Big balls! I tell you, he has big balls!” Alexei roared, beaming. “Listen to him. Now we see your lap, my friend.”

Bob switched screens, bringing up Bucky’s own lap. For a heartbeat, Bucky looked at the wrong feed.

The familiar AGP cockpit pulled his eyes, but it was your gloves on the wheel. He realised too late he was watching your onboard, seeing the track through your eyes.

"She’s always quick off the line," he muttered, low, almost to himself, unable to look away as your car nosed ahead of his.

He watched the subtle twitch of your wrists, your line through the last corner. Something deep and tight stirred in his chest, something that wasn’t just envy.

It was the precision, the attention to detail, the fearless commitment that made you untouchable on track - and that tightened something hotter and darker deep in his gut.

He’d memorised your race data. The subtle shifts in your body language before you did something you knew was risky, the way you used every inch of the track. But there was a different set of stats he craved - how your breath would hitch if he kissed your throat, the arch of your back under his hands, the exact moment your voice broke as you moaned his name.

Those were the data points he didn’t have.

The ones he wanted most.

“Alright,” Yelena’s voice cut through. “Turn one entry, you were three kph down from your last sim. Good chicane, but you lost time on the exit.”

He tried to focus, he really did. But behind his eyes, all he could see was you: bumping helmets with Torres, one arm lifted, bright smiling eyes behind your visor.

And the deepest cut of all was knowing that he wouldn’t be the one to catch you fresh from the car anymore, high on adrenaline and laughter, close enough to touch.

His hands balled into fists, his newer Vibranium arm ached to the point of painful. The stress testing hadn’t been enough.

“Sector two was good, but you lost time here,” she pointed, “and again here.”

Bucky heard her, but in his head, all he could see was you celebrating on top of your car, your joy ringing out of parc fermé.

When Yelena asked a question, he switched his attention to her half a second too late.

“Understeer. Or over. I'm sorry, I -”

“Next time, you get her! Or we accidentally loosen a wheel nut, da?” Alexei grinned, saving him.

As the footage on screen came to an end, familiar voices on the radio filled the small room.

“That's P1, baby!” Sam sounded jubilant.

“Woooooo!” You cheered. “Amazing lap guys, thank you!”

“Proud of you, what'd I tell you?”

“Love you, Sammy,” your voice quivered with emotion and something hit him like a wave.

It sounded so familiar. The tone was wrong, but there was something so real about the words.

Bucky stood abruptly to leave, only Yelena’s gentle hand on his arm stopping him.

"Focus on your run, solnyshko. We'll get her tomorrow."

"Don't worry, soldier boy, I’ll keep her off your back.” Walker cut in sharply. Bucky felt his jaw tense.

“Yeah, how you gonna do that from three places back, Johnny?” He bit.

A mistake. The relationship was too new, too fresh for him to retaliate like that.

He swallowed down anything more.

Yelena scowled at Walker, he held up his hands in false apology and slipped back to the garage.

She turned back to Bucky. "Hey, your data is strong, OK? We’ll sharpen it overnight and you’ll fight tomorrow."

His smile didn't feel entirely fake, but he wasn't sure it was honest either.

Surrounded by voices he only half recognised, unfamiliar data, and in-jokes he had yet to learn, he couldn’t stop thinking of Mexico, of your smile, of how close everything had been to changing.

He was so close to having a family again but he wasn't sure he was ready to reach for it because it would put him another step further away from you.

Alexei left the briefing room rambling on about dinner plans and whether there was enough vodka if they won.

The garage noise swelled around Bucky.

He needed to be somewhere quieter.

In his personal motorhome, he could be alone.

And in the quiet, he heard your voice again.

I love you.

It came to him like a whisper, like a breath of wind against his visor. He heard it so clearly it made his chest ache, his hands curl into fists.

He replayed your final lap over and over in his mind. Every corner you nailed, every fraction of a second you stole back. And again, the way you’d looked when you climbed out of the car - untouchable, vibrant.

You used to look at him like that. Before Mexico. Before Brazil. Before he woke up in a hospital bed and realised he’d lost more than just blood and bone.

People had described the crash to him: how his corner entry had been too aggressive, the sudden snap of oversteer, the other car clipping his rear wing.

How he’d rolled the car once, twice in the air and hit the barrier, the impact so violent it tore the nose clean off and ripped open the monocoque like paper, the impact dragging him from what was left of the cockpit.

Splintered carbon, the weightlessness of being airborne, the smell of iron and burning fuel.

He remembered nothing. Just flashes of scorched rubber. The cold bite of gravel against his neck. The Brazilian humidity.

But this wasn't the first time he'd had these incomplete flashbacks. Sometimes, in the dead quiet of the night, or alone in the car with his visor down, today, waiting for the lights to go out - he heard you.

Felt you.

Your hands on his face, warm with blood and shaking.

Your voice, low and pleading, close enough to feel your breath against his ear.

Cracking with emotion, with fear.

I love you.

He dragged a hand over his face, tried to brush the delusion away.

Tomorrow, he’d fight for every inch. He always did. It was the only way he knew how to live - head down, foot flat, no room for doubt. Nothing else but you and him and the track.

And he’d make damn sure he was the last one to break.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

He woke before his alarm, the adrenaline already crackling under his skin like static and pulsing through his veins.

The early sun hit the paddock, glinting off the huge team hospitality suites and lighting up the central boulevard. Engineers and mechanics were already moving like ants around the garages.

As he headed out of his motorhome, he could hear Alexei’s booming laugh echoing from the main hospitality suite, Yelena arguing with a mechanic in rapid Russian, Walker talking to the press.

A small smirk tugged at his lips.

One more fight. One more chance to remind everyone - especially her - exactly who he was.

The journalist interviewing John called out as he passed them, “Bucky! A word from you? Walker is eager to get out there, how about you?”

“I’m feelin’ good, hope Johnny’s ready to give up that title -”

“Ha! You wish pal!”

They teased out the teammate rivalry, the journalist lapping it up.

“Safe racing, guys, thanks!” They beamed before running to catch one of the midfield drivers on the way to their garage.

They lined up for the track parade, perched on the back of a vintage flatbed truck as it crawled past the packed grandstands, fans screaming their names from both sides.

He spotted you the second he climbed up - near the front, already waving to the stands.

For a second, he hesitated. Two years ago he'd have slung an arm around your shoulder without thinking. This year however...

But when you turned and saw him, he felt that spark ignite. The same one that had always burned between you, whether you admitted it or not.

He grinned, sharp and sure, and called out, "ready to get your ass kicked today?"

Your eyes went wide - surprised and thrown off balance for a heartbeat. And God, he loved that.

"Big talk for a man starting behind me," you shot back, chin tilting up. “How’s the view back there?”

He laughed, that easy, dangerous sound echoing through his ribs. The kind of laugh that used to make you roll your eyes and shove him away - only to pull him back in closer later.

"Give it a few laps," he teased, stepping a little nearer, close enough to feel the heat rise in your cheeks. "You know I always catch you eventually."

The hitch in your breath - he saw it. Felt it. And in that moment, something inside him snapped back into place.

The part of him that believed. The part that didn’t question whether he belonged out here, whether he was fast enough, brave enough.

He leaned in, voice low enough only you could hear over the roar of the crowd.

"You look good up there, by the way. Almost makes me want to let you keep P1… almost."

Your surprised laughter, that soft edge of flustered he’d always chased - sent a thrill through his veins sharper than any adrenaline rush.

When your eyes locked with his, he saw it: the way you wanted to look away but couldn’t.

For the first time since the crash, he felt fully alive. Not just a driver, but your equal again.

It was still there.

The spark he’d missed so much, the one he thought he’d pushed too far away, it was still there.

He wondered if you ever thought about Mexico.

By the time the truck pulled back into the pit lane, his heart was hammering, but not from fear.

No.

Today, he was going to make damn sure you felt him in every corner, every mirror check, every heartbeat.

Having neighbouring garages was not ideal.

He’d come too damn close to following you to AGP all weekend, having to consciously make sure he followed the red signage and livery.

It had its benefits though, when the engines idled and the music died down, he could hear you. Catch glimpses of you. Most of the times you left the pit-lane it was past his garage.

“OK team, let’s get lined up,” Ava called from the central line of the garage. “See you on the grid.”

Bucky finished strapping into his race suit almost automatically. Every tug on the zip, every adjustment to his gloves felt like coming home - a ritual he knew better than his own reflection.

Today wasn't about ghosts or old wounds. Today was about taking back what he knew he could still claim.

It was facing the fear of getting back out onto the track surrounded by the rest of the field.

He rolled his shoulder, a morning of intense physio loosening the join between flesh and metal.

He led the way out of the garages with Walker pulling out behind him. Your car waited at the exit of the pit-lane, waiting for the green light to get out onto the track.

He raised his hand in a wave which you didn’t return.

On track, the cars fell into their grid position order. Torres right behind him, Walker behind Torres, and then the rest of the pack.

You moved the car steadily through each turn, waving to the crowds occasionally, and then you stopped on P1 with Torres directly behind you in P3.

Bucky stopped smoothly at the line for P2.

He hated this bit.

The waiting.

It was the only bit of racing he hadn’t missed.

It wasn’t quiet, there was the restless noise of the crowds, the roar when they spotted someone they liked. The fly past of the Roulettes which shook the sky. The national anthem. Countless camera crews and celebrities mingling with the team staff.

After the national anthem, he headed back to the car. His eyes flicked to watch you slid into your own car alongside him. On the big screen, he could see the footage from the camera that hovered over your shoulder. You fiddled with your steering wheel impatiently until your engineer, Peter Parker shooed them away.

“Radio check, Buck,” Bob’s voice came through his earpiece clearly.

“All good, Bob. Car feels tight.”

“Copy that. Just clearing the grid for formation. Stay behind AGP1 please.”

He maneuvered through the formation lap, weaving and braking, gently bringing the car to life. By the time they’d made it round to the grid again, the circus of engineers and staff had rushed back to the garages leaving the track clear and ready to race.

Every nerve ending screamed for release, anticipating lights out.

He took up his place next to you again, tyres feeling warmer.

He didn’t think about the drivers behind, just you next to him.

Nothing else mattered. Not the crash, the headlines, the ghost of your touch against his jaw in Mexico.

Above his head, five red lights lit up.

He took a deep breath.

Lights out.

He launched the car down the track and towards the first corner.

You were just ahead, pulling across to cover the inside. Aggressive and fearless.

He dove for the space you’d left behind but you closed the door at the last millisecond, inches from contact.

Bucky’s heart slammed in his ribs, but underneath the visor his grin was feral.

“Nearly, sweetheart,” he muttered.

Lap after lap blurred, his left arm burned. Every muscle and tendon in his shoulder screamed.

Sweat dripped down his neck, down his back, but you stayed in his sights.

He couldn’t let you slip away.

“Gap to AGP1 is point-seven. Push with DRS. Zone coming up now.”

I am pushing. He clenched his jaw and nudged the throttle, his eyes fixed on your rear wing.

You swung the car so fiercely into turn nine he thought you’d lost it, the rear of the car swinging out too close to him.

Then he realised you’d meant it.

Mexico flashed in his mind, the determination in your eyes as they’d glanced at his mouth.

He had no doubt of the determination in your eyes today.

On the straight, he climbed along your inside line, forcing you further around him and off the racing line.

He could smell the burning rubber, feel the heat of the track.

“AGP1 is boxing. We stay out.”

He watched you veer into the pit-lane but stayed on track. Behind him, he saw the red of Walker’s car follow you in.

“Walker’s box first?”

“He’s on plan B.” Yelena told him curtly.

He led the race. It felt like flying. The seconds built up from Torres.

“What’s Walker’s position?” He asked, wondering whether the two of you had clashed coming out of the pits.

“P6. AGP1 is P7.”

“Looking strong, John,” he grimaced, feeling the tyres starting to yield too much. “Box box. Tyres are done.”

“Next lap. Keep Torres behind.”

“Copy.”

The tyres fought him through every corner. Every minuscule turn of the steering wheel jolting the car more than he liked.

He kept Torres in his mirrors, holding the line as long as possible before finally peeling into the pit lane with a bone-deep exhale.

He glided to the pit box. Mechanics swarmed the wheel guns shaking the car, the crew a blur of red overalls and slick, well practiced movement. His pulse hammered in his ears, it felt louder than the wheel gun whines.

The front jack moved out of the way and he watched the lollipop man to clear him.

Go go go.

He surged back out onto the track, merging behind you.

You were all over Walker like a rash, snapping at his rear wing.

He caught your overtake on one of the track-side big screens as he barreled down the straight. Late on the brakes, two wheels on the painted curb. You were ruthless. Beautiful.

His throat went dry. Atta girl.

He could see Walker fighting you, trying to force you into the apex of the corner but you shoved him wide and he had to concede.

By the next sector, your gap to Walker grew, Bucky could just see your rear lights. Three seconds ahead, he guessed.

He swallowed, punching up the engine mode. But the seconds were gone.

“Gap to P2 is two-point-three,” Bob’s voice crackled. “Torres one-point-one behind.”

He wrung the car, but the front tyres were fading, steering heavy with compensating and the car was feeling sluggish under his hands.

He saw the final boards: 2 laps to go.

Walker was inching away too, clean air finally on his nose, but Bucky kept him close.

He crossed the line in P3.

Head back, eyes shut, lungs heaving against the belts.

You’d won. Walker in second, he’d kept Torres behind him.

And as he pulled into parc fermé, his heart still thundering, he knew you’d felt him breathing down your neck all race long.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

You could barely hear a thing as you pulled the car up. Your own pulse was loud, but the crowd was louder than anything you’d ever heard.

Your hands shook as you unbuckled, but the adrenaline held you up and made you feel invincible.

You balanced on the halo, fist pumping in the air, your screams of joy echoing through your helmet, then you jumped from the car and into Sam’s arms.

He caught you in a bone-crushing hug, feet off the ground, his voice a blur in your ear.

You turned, ready for Walker’s sportsmanlike handshake - but then you saw him.

Bucky.

Helmet in hand, hair slicked back, chest still rising and falling like he’d sprinted the entire race on foot.

His eyes were on you. Like he’d never seen anything else worth looking at in his life.

Before you could stop yourself, you launched at him, jumping at the last minute to pin your knees to his hips.

He caught you instantly, strong arms tight around your waist, gloves digging into the small of your back.

For a second it felt like home. Like it was only you and him, heartbeats pressed together, the whole paddock noise drowning under the roar of your blood.

You were grateful you’d kept your helmet on, your eyes hidden from the cameras. You thumped his shoulder once, twice, too hard. He didn’t let go right away. You didn’t want him to.

When your feet hit the ground again, you pulled your helmet off in a frantic tug. Hair stuck to your forehead, your breath still ragged.

“Good fight,” you managed, your voice raw, still shaking.

“Yeah?” His grin was sharp, eyes dark, pupils blown wide even in daylight, not just the adrenaline, the fight. Something else. “Almost had you, sweetheart.”

A laugh ripped out of you, wild and bright. “In your dreams, Barnes.”

On the podium, it hit you again.

You lifted the trophy, tossing it into the air as though it were weightless.

Then champagne sprayed like rain against your suit, sweet and sticky on your lips.

Walker shook the bottle and ran across the podium, angling the spray down at his team.

But all you could see through the spray and noise and photographers - was him.

He looked up at you like he wanted to devour you whole. Like he knew every part of you already.

When you turned, you aimed the champagne at his face on purpose.

He flinched, spluttering, then burst out laughing - a sound so raw and rare it hit you low in your stomach.

God, he was beautiful like this. Alive. Hungry. Untouchable and yet right there within reach.

You wanted to kiss that grin off his face. You wanted to find out what he sounded like under your hands. You wanted every single piece of him you’d never dared to touch.

Your heart pounded. Your fingers ached to grab him again.

And for a dangerous, breathless second, you knew: it had never just been best friends.

You’d been lying to yourself for years. But today, on track with him again, you felt every truth clawing its way to the surface.

The leaderboard after Race 1 of the season:

The shared initial elation at it appearing is gone and now it just looms like an uncertain entity in your fragile bubble, the edges of it crackling silently like hot oil only a few feet away.

So you fit yourself under his arm as he struggles to push himself up on unsteady legs, the weight of him making your breath hitch.

He's solid.

Heavy.

Tangible.

The material of his sleeve rubs against a patch of skin on your neck.

He's really fucking here.

He stumbles on the first step, too overzealous in his movements and you both sway while he lets out a nervous laugh, so you stop, let him stamp his foot to try to kill the tremor in it, then try again.

One step, two step, three.

He doesn't smell like the cold anymore, instead as you make your limping shuffle across the room his last cigarette is carried with you; his detergent, the deodorant he put on after his shower this morning, it's all amplified by the heat of his skin. All the way, until he falls heavily onto the couch.

He heaves a breath, skin a little pale and clammy, dark hair splayed over the green upholstery like snaking roots, then his eyes widen and you spare a glance in the direction and your breath shudders.

It's gone.

“Fuck. Has it?” Eddie's body sways as you let your hand fall from his grip and you take a stumbling step back.

You flinch as it comes back into view, stomach knotting. “It's still there.” Your not sure decide if it's relief or disappointment that's causes it, but Eddies face drops to match yours as you meet his eyes, maybe he feels the same.

“We just can't see it from behind.” You say, wearily watching as it fades out of view the further forward you step.

He shivers, brow creasing as he looks to where it should be “Like a mirror at a police station.” Another shudder overtakes him making him wince and worry falls heavily back into the center of you as you crouch in front of him.

Fuck.

Your hands shake as they come up to touch his arms, eyes flicking over his face. “Do you hurt? Feel dizzy? I can get something for you if you need-.”

“Hey.” His hand comes up to your cheek. “I'm fine.” He has that look he gives you sometimes when you're stressed, eyes a little wide and head tilted but it's not the same, here it makes your throat go thick.

It's like you've been watching him through frosted glass, all those times you've seen him in the planes or through a tiny gap in reality in that wall.

Here he's real.

“Eddie,” you warn, feeling the tremor in his own hand.

“Just a bit… jet lagged is all." His smile is lopsided but drops a little as he takes a sweeping look around the room and it makes your heart clench.

“You're really here aren't you.”He turns back to you slouching into the couch cushions behind him and giving you weak jazz hands.

There's a lump in your throat.

“You idiot.”

He yelps as you wack him with a throw pillow.

“What the hell? ”

“You could have died.”

“Well… yeah…” There's a cheeky come back on the tip of his tongue, you can hear it in his tone but it dies as he takes you in. Your eyes are starting to blur a little.

“Hey I didn't though.” his hand finds your wrist, tugging you towards him and pulling you up so you're on the couch next to him.

“This could have been so bad Eddie.”

“But it's not. I'm alright. I found you.”

Your laugh is wet and he grins.

You let him kiss you, let him pull you deeper into the couch, the softness of him and the pillows smoothing the frayed edges and rendering you speechless until you need air.

“What would have happened?” you ask against his mouth and he shakes his head.

“I'm sorry.” He pushes his forehead against yours like a cat vying for attention and you roll your eyes.

“No you're not.”

You feel him grin and then he kisses you again. “Nah I'm not.”

He pouts as you pull away squinting at him, “I thought we agreed no more running through doors?”

“Not technically a door.” he quips and you hit him lightly again only for him to dramatically go limp.

You prop yourself up over him and for a moment your eyes drift over to the portal again, you realise it's still subtly there if you concentrate hard enough, the place it sits along the scar shimmering like heat coming up from asphalt on a hot day.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, breaking your stare and you look down at him, he gives you a goofy smile with eyes wide open and it makes your own smile split you down the center as you dissolve into a giddy laugh.

You don't need to linger on how he got here.

You don't need to dwell on what could have happened.

You don't need to pretend.

“Yeah I'm good.”

You let him drag you down horizontal, happiness blotting out the worry and leaving you both caught in the moment.

Somehow you're both here, frozen for now, like two flies caught in amber as the sun slowly moves over the room.

He thought he was a goner, only for a minute but fuck.

The way his body froze and went limp once he passed through, like gravity had seized and rejected him all at once, he could feel his heartbeat in his teeth.

He was sure that was it.

Life lost to being an impulsive fuck.

Realistically nobody would be surprised.

Well maybe a little, if they ever found his body.

Christ.

At least the shakes have long gone, his muscles are still aching, joints a little stiff, but he's not about to tell you that. Especially not now your worried look has faded into a half lidded smile that's inches away from his own.

He hums a content sound as your nails scratch his head, cramped up on the couch with you, skin clammy, mouth a little swollen from kissing, needy hands tucked around you awkwardly as you both try not to slip off.

If he was to die this is probably a good way to go.

“I could get a key cut," he says, eyes drifting shut, “could see you whenever.”

“And if you get caught we won't be seeing each other at all.”

He lets out a disgruntled hum. “Spoil sport.” The words rasp a little against his dry throat.

“You okay?” you ask for the hundredth time somewhere beyond the darkness of his closed lids and he sighs.

“Yeah.” The word comes out as another rasp and he feels you stiffen a little as he coughs to clear it. “I'm fine."

His eyes open and your frown is back. “I'll get you some water.”

“No, no, no.” He tangles his legs around yours as you go to sit up so you can't escape, “I need you to stay… Here… With me…And kiss me more.” you roll your eyes but give in so easily, lips finding his and he gets to lose himself in the feeling of you again, until his traitorous stomach growls.

You lean up, away and raise an eyebrow. “I'll get some food too”

He whines as you crawl out from his hold, immediately missing the weight of you, the space that you left beside him feeling cold as he rolls onto his stomach to watch you.

You smile back at him but your feet falter as you reach the hazy blur where he knows the portal sits, eyes lingering on it for a moment. The kitchen entrance sits at the back of it.

“All good?”

“Yeah, just weird.” you say, arm waving out over where it should be.

It is fucking weird, his head unable to really conceive that this part of the apartment back home doesn't exist and instead is snatched up by the molding wall next door.

You step into the kitchen and he feels his heart lurch as you seem to almost trip, hand reaching out to steady yourself on the counter, eyes closing as you shake your head.

“What happened?” He leans up on his arms ready to run over but you wave him off.

“It's fine. Just, stood up too quick. Probably need some food too.”

He watches you cautiously not wholly convinced as you gather a selection of packets, a couple of bottles of water then turn back, giving him a smile as you step back towards him.

This time you fully stumble, the bottles and food dropping to the ground with you and he scrambles to stand, “Shit, fuck.” Weak legs buckle beneath him sending him to his knees and he curses, crawling over to you.

“Just a headrush, I'm alright.” you say cutting off the questions ready to pour from him. “You alright?”

He huffs, “Am I alright? You just.” He sighs, slapping at his knee. “Fucking legs.”

Your hand comes up to his face and he sags pulling you into a hug. “Of course there were going to be boobytraps.” he mumbles into the side of your head, his voice is still scratchy and he feels you reach out blindly in his hold, suddenly pulling back and pressing a bottle of water into his hand.

“Drink.”

He doesn't argue, the bottle crinkling in his grasp as he chugs, water escaping and sliding down his chin. You're smiling smugly when he finally gasps for air “Better?”

“Yeah.”

He lets himself fall back against the carpet, staring up at the ceiling and he frowns “Holy shit.” Above him cracked plaster and gnarled protrusions look back at him. “That really is a mess.”

“You just noticed.” You laugh coming to lay down beside him and he smiles as his head turns towards you.

“Kinda been preoccupied.”

You give him a small shove to the shoulder then there is the rustle of a packet. “Cookie?”

He makes an approving sound as you hand him one and pushes almost the entire thing in his mouth. “Oh fuck these are good.” He says around the mouth full and you grin through your own bite.

“The future.” you say waving your hands out over towards the sky and he grins.

The future.

You lie in comfortable silence for a little while after that, sharing the pack of cookies back and forth until the last is snapped in half, a smug smile sliding onto his face when you kiss his cheek as he gives you the bigger side.

The sugar seems to calm his nerves, the tension in his muscles loosening and he takes a mental note to eat a good meal next time he does this. You seem to catch his train of thought following his absent gaze and leaning up to look at the portal, then back at him.

Shit. He knows that look.

“We should probably, you know check it out?” He gives you a deadpan stare and you chew the skin on the side of your nail, “I can just go if you don't want to go back through it's okay.”

“Fuck that.” he says quickly, wincing as his knees crack while he stands. “We need to see if we can get back through that's all. Kind of intrigued as to what the apartment looks like on your side too.” you say stepping up towards it.

The idea makes him smile, but as he comes round to face the looming room it doesn't reach his eyes “Maybe start small.” he says, bumping his shoulder against yours “You're not exactly walking straight into my place.”

Your face drops a little in his peripheral, a small “Oh right” falling from you as he reaches his hand out.

Bracing for the feeling of switching realities he winces, imagining the tug on his skin, the static in his bones but there's nothing and his hand drifts through like it's an open doorway.

“Guess I broke whatever was… there” he says gesturing outwards. You take an audible breath and take a step forward, “Okay.”

"Woah." He holds his arm out. “Maybe I'll go through first. Did say we were done running through doors, right?”

“I thought it wasn't technically a door.”

He bites his cheek as you squint at him. You're not winning this one, not until he's sure. “Just let me go first lay?”

You look like you want to argue but let him go anyway. He holds a breath all the way until his feet land on the dusty floor but again nothing happens. It's just the room exactly the way he left it.

It is darker here though, the clouds heavier and subduing the light through the small window, air heavy with the ever present dejavu and you're there, bathed in light on the other side.

He doesn't want you to come through here where it's dark and cold, but you're already moving, his hand shooting out to hold yours as you step gingerly through.

You shake your head. “Oh fuck.”

“You okay? This was a stupid idea you shouldn't”

“I'm good, I'm good just.”

“Dejavu?”

“Yeah, oh my god.” you each for your head like you somehow get the feeling out your head and he can't help the way he laughs in relief.

“You get used to it.”

“Do you feel like this through there” you say motioning back towards your front room.

“Nah it's just, trippy. You sure you feel okay though? ” he moves forward to squeeze your arms and you smile.

“I'm fine its-”your eyes widen as you turn and are faced with the disintegrating wall. “Shit. That's messed up.”He laughs again.

“Yup”

“It was worse if you can believe it." he chuckles.

“Jesus and I thought my side was messed up”

You go quiet and he feels the weight of you settling into his side, warm and real, and he curls his arm around you to bring you in closer letting you look around.

“Youve been sitting in here.. to see me?” your eyes are trailing over where the dust on the floor is disturbed, evidence of where he'd shuffled across the room all day and he shrugs.

“How else was I gonna do it?”

You turn fully to face him and watch him for a second, giving him that goddamn look that makes him melt every time, then you kiss him.

He swallows the surprise, hand coming up to the side of your face. “What was that for?” he asks, voice a little pinched when you move away.

You're still smiling up at him eyes bright and adoring, “Because I can. ”

And fuck if that doesn't just make him want to fucking combust on the spot.

He can feel himself turning pink so he pulls you in for another kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck and he sighs against you.

He doesn't know if he will ever get used to this.

He's not sure he wants to.

The longer you kiss the more his nerves start to fray though. He doesn't want you in here, hell he doesn't want to be in here.

“You know I do feel a bit dizzy.” He pulls away and a fraction and your eyes widen.

“Yeah?” There's worry laced deep into the word, your brow pinching but it relaxes as he pushes his nose into the side of yours.

“Mmhmm.” he says, starting to walk you backwards as he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Think we should probably lay down again” he steps you through to your side and you quirk your brows at him.

“Oh is that right?”

“Uh huh”

Another kiss, a little stumble and you laugh into him as you move backwards.

His watch beeps.

It cuts through the laughter and you both freeze to stare down at it as his fingers click against the small button on the side.

The sound’s gone, but the silence it leaves behind is loud and fragile.

“Work,” he says, breaking it.

Fucking reality.

“Yeah.

You've loosened your grip on him, arms that were slung around his shoulders now resting against his chest and his eyes drop to yours as the silence drags out.

You give him a tight smile that he returns before you both look back through to where the world splits from warm and soft to cold and abandoned.

Just ask me to stay, ask me to stay.

“Eddie”

Your tone sends a bolt of adrenaline through his center, “Sweetheart.”

Your hand drifts, soft movements soothing over his shirt and his stomach sinks.

“You can always come back later. If you want?”

His mouth twists, swallowing an argument. Coming home to you. A pipe dream he's been fantasising of for months, now it feels like a punishment.

He just got here.

“Hey, I don't want you to leave.” you say like you heard him and you pull slightly on the front of his shirt as he looks down at you.

Then tell me to stay, tell me to stay.

“But we need to be smart, yeah? You, you still need to pay rent and.”

“Smart. Yeah, cool.” He can't help the bite in his voice as he cuts you off, leaning down to grab his boots from the ground. What did he think? That he was just going to move in.

Stupid.

“I'll stay up. Keep the radios on so it's open.” you say standing over him as he pulls them onto his feet.

Hes starting to feel like a fucking bobble head, sat there nodding his head limply like an asshole, he looks through again and frowns as he remembers the presence he'd felt.

You catch the worry, you always do. “I'll be fine.”

“Yeah.” it's clipped again, but he can't trust himself with more than a few words as he stands, rooted to the spot he avoids your eyes and tries his best to smile.

Don't be needy, it will drive you away.

Clingy.

That's what Annie used to call him.

He turns to step through feet almost on the other side when he feels you grab his hand, pulling him back and into you.

Your hug crushes his resolve a little as he breathes you in. “I'll see you when you get home.” you whisper into his neck.

Home.

The word makes him swallow and pull away, looking at you and then into the apartment, as he imagines for a moment all his own belongings filling in the gaps.

He learnt a long time ago home wasn't a place, not really.

But fuck hell be damned if he didn't wish it was.

He nods again.

If he doesn't leave now he's not going to.

He lets go of your hand and throws a thumb over his shoulder. “I'll be back round in a second.” And then he walks out, through the crumbling room and into the hallway, down to his front door.

“Eddie?” your voice calls out, ricocheting off the walls and then disappearing into the air around him as the door clicks closed behind.

His chest aches as he turns and he slumps back against the door, hand coming up to swipe over his face as he looks into the empty apartment

“Hey.”

It's pouring out now, the outside world a blur of warped reflections as rain forces itself loudly against the windows with every gust of wind.

The weather turned as soon as the sun fully set and it's only got heavier the longer he's been gone.

5 hours and 12 minutes.

But who's counting.

You definately are.

You can hear it on his side too, battering against that tiny window as you stand in your bedroom doorway, toothbrush hanging from your mouth, while you watch his side, you hope he's not caught in it somewhere

You imagine walking straight through for the hundredth time tonight; finding the bar he works at, watching him do a double take as you order a drink, waiting until the bar closes, streetlights reflected back in the sidewalk as you try to escape the rain.

Coming home with him.

But it's too dark through there without the sunlight, no light reaching beyond it from your side. It leaves it looking like a hole, carved out and left empty with only the sound of the rain and your regret for company.

You're not brave enough to go into it alone.

Somewhere he is caught in the downpour, a lifetime away the rain is trickling down the back of his neck as he rushes down the street to the bus stop.

If he'd just asked to stay, pushed a little, told you he didn't care if he lost all his shitty jobs then maybe? A car passes, blinding him from the shining ground up and he winces as it hits a puddle soaking the side of his jeans.

But you didn't ask him too, said you didn't want him to leave, but didn't say you wanted him to stay.

He makes it just in time, just like every week the driver acknowledging him with a nod as he skids up to the doors.

He takes up a spot half way down groaning as tired feet and damp clothes grind at his last nerve. If he thought most weekends were a blur of missing you and wanting to get home then this was torture, muscle memory working overtime while he stumbled through the night.

He’d spiralled through most emotions at a speed which even by his own standards was pretty impressive. Irritation and general moping were the most present though.

He was pissed when he arrived, a little damp from the start of the rain and still reeling from the quiet of his apartment, the idea of being here when he could be home with you.

He knew you were right though, sort of, he got it.

He needed to keep the apartment, keep himself above water, just needed to suck it up for a few hours, but it's easier said than done.

That's when the moping came in.

He relived the whole day again and again, mind fully seated at the threshold of a world that wasn't quite his, and then the irritation came back. Pissy customers, spilt drinks and coworkers that slacked off and left him to pick up the shit as always caught the brunt of it.

But now he just wants to get home, rain streaking against the bus window as he hears someone chuck their gut up at the back of the bus.

He wishes you'd asked him to stay.

At home you're wishing it too as the alarm you set for 2am goes off, originally set in case you fell asleep, not wanting Eddie to arrive home to you passed out on the couch and drooling into the pillow, but it seems a little pointless now, because in reality you watch it go off.

Eyes scratchy from scrolling aimlessly you've watched the last hour tick by, marked with regular intervals of staring at the portal.

You decided somewhere between realising you couldn't get in your kitchen and midnight that it freaked you out less if you could see it. So, you dragged your couch across the room, far enough that it was now in sight but not so far that you were staring into it, then rearranged the tv and sat at the furthest end of the couch.

You could be curled up together right now, in bed together, asleep or still awake, it didn't matter. Why the hell did you send him away?

He wanted to stay.

But he would regret it, maybe not today but later down the line, you couldn't let him do that for you.

It's the same loop you've been on all night.

Minutes carry on ticking by and the worry starts to creep in as 2:30 comes and goes.

What if something happened?

Would you ever know? Or would you just be waiting forever for footsteps on the other side.

Thankfully you're not imagining them this time.

He checks the door is locked about a dozen times after he walks into the apartment. The idea of him somehow letting in Charlie or any other person enough to force him back and forth across the room.

You're rigid and upright listening to the trailing footsteps approach then retreat.

What if it's not him.

Should you get a weapon?

Fuck what if it's Charlie, but what would Charlie be doing here at this time and what weapon would you even have.

You don't want to fight Charlie and besides all your knives are all in your fucking kitchen.

A hand comes out the portal, keys jingling and you jump almost slipping off the couch.

Then the sight of silver rings on the fingers make you sigh in relief, legs quickly carrying you into frame as he looks through.

“Didn't have my bell.”

He's obscured by the shadows but it's him.

You let out a breathy laugh and press your lips together “I'll have to get one here, or you can fetch it round some time.”

"Yeah." he chuckles eyes looking around the rim of the portal.

Why does this feel awkward?

“Can I?” he nods towards you and you cringe.

“Oh shit, yeah yeah.” you say stepping out the way and watching as he steps fully through, you brace yourself a little just incase he falls again but your worries change as the room illuminates him.

“You're soaked.”

He nods looking down at himself, hair dripping wet, odd strands sticking to his cheeks, jeans a patchwork of water marks forcing the fabric a darker blue.

Jacket shining as it drips and slowly dries.

“Yeah, looks like our weather synced up”

You feel fucking awful “Just wait there.” You rush off, leaving him to stand and look around your apartment as you grab a towel and a dry shirt that might fit him.

It's more familiar to him at night but the shadows are softer, the lamps casting an orange glow over the walls and when you appear back he realises he's seen those mismatched pyjamas before.

His mind slips back to you laughing in the planes and it itches at a place in his chest. He's wanted this for so long.

“Here.” you motion for his jacket and he slips it off exchanging it for a towel and squeezing the water from his hair.

You hang it up over the back of a chair, droplets running down the wood and seeping into the carpet and then turn to face him fingers fidgeting before you blurt out “I'm sorry I sent you to work.”

Your eyes are tracking over him face solemn as you take him in.

“You didn't.” he rubs a towel over his face and sags. “It’s okay.”

“Is it?” You step towards him cautiously like you're about to spook him away and tug gently on the damp patches of his shirt.

He looks tired, he thinks you do too.

His face softens, any residual anger melting away “Yeah.”

“ I didn't want you to get in trouble for me.”

That makes him laugh, and he lets his head tilt as he pulls at a wet spot on the front of your sweater “I've been in worse. Besides, you're worth it.”

You pull a face and dip your head to look away, then grab his hand.

“Come on,” You lead him over to the couch and he cringes as he pulls the wet shirt over his head.

You try not to stare and fail miserably, which he obviously catches, grinning at you as your eyes flick up to his face once he's dressed again.

"You suit it." you say, smiling at the way it rides up a little high and he huffs a laugh looking over himself.

“So, how was work?” you tuck your legs under yourself and leaning into the back of the couch, watching as he lets himself slump back too with a groan.

He turns his head to face you and pretends to think about it for a second. “it was, shit.”

You pout at him, brushing the wet strands of hair off his face.

“How was your night?”

“Shit.” You say too without missing a beat and he barks a laugh as you smile.

“But, better now?” he asks and you nod reaching over for his hand and playing with his rings.

“Yeah.”

You talk a little more but the yawns and heavy blinks start to creep in as 3am crawls in.

You don't want him to leave.

“You think you can sleep here.” His sleepy eyes go wide at the question and you feel your face heat as he grins, you slap his chest, “Seriously.”

His eyes drift over your face as he chews at his bottom lip and he shrugs. “One way to find out I guess.”

“You sure, we don't know what-”

“Sweetheart I'm not going anywhere.” His face is serious and a little pleading as he says it.

He doesn't want to go back.

You don't protest, only pull him up off the couch and turn off the TV, your palm warm in his own as you head to the bedroom.

“I've got a spare toothbrush.” you say as the door closes behind you and he nods looking around “I'll let you.”

He peaks into the bathroom wincing as the light turns on. “Jesus. No wonder you had nightmares.” he says with a grimace and you laugh as he shuts the door, leaving you standing aimlessly in the middle of your bedroom.

Should you wait until he comes back out?

You turn in place and realise you can't remember the last time someone came to sleep in a bed with you, not while you were actually awake anyways .

You shake your head and get into bed, fluffing the pillows like that's something you've ever done before, should you sit up or lay down?

This is so fucking stupid, before you have anymore time to overthink it though the door opens and a smile spreads across your face.

Eddie in a pair of old boxers and your slightly too short shirt steps out, “Would have brought something over if I'd known.” He says as he sheepishly steps towards the bed and you smile.

“I like it.” A bubble of a laughs comes out of him and Déjà vu hits you. It's not like next door, it's not overwhelming, but something about him climbing beneath the sheets with that lopsided grin sends a foreign recognition into you.

He's like a dream you can't place.

“Hey”

“Hi.” he says as his head hits the pillow, eyes wide and you grin at him.

You push your face into your pillow watching him.

“This is so weird.”

“Freaky as shit.”

“Good freaky though. ”

“Oh yeah.” he pulls you in and you squeak with surprise as he laughs, a yawn cutting in half way and making his eyelids flutter.

You brush the hair from his face letting your fingers trail down his cheek as he settles. “You should get some sleep.”

“Nah, I'm good, I'll wait up.” he says, knocking his forehead gently against yours and making you squint at him.

“You've been at work.”

His grip tightens on you, furrowed brow slipping beneath his bangs, “But it's already late-"

“I can wait. It's Sunday tomorrow… we can sleep in.” He lets out a resigned hum and you smile softly at him as a calloused thumb brushes over the skin under your shirt and he leans in. The kiss he gives you is long and breathy, both your faces partially covered beneath the shroud of blankets.

He agrees but fights sleep for as long as he can, mumbling jokes and rambling about his night, every now again closing his eyes for a long few seconds only to force them open as soon as he realised he was drifting.

A futile fight against the fatigue that you eventually cut off when he wakes himself up with the start of a quiet snore.

“Sleep.”

He groans, pulls you in further to him and wraps a leg over yours so you're tucked in as far as you could be then you hear him swallow. It's a nervous sound, and suddenly his hold on you feels a little more desperate and it pulls at something in your chest. “I'm here.”

Finally his breathing evens out, fanning over your face while the arm around you turns heavy, his face going a little slack.

You want to just lie and watch him, safe in the knowledge that you're exactly where you want to be. Safe in the confines of this creaky bed in this slightly broken apartment.

You can only fight your own rapidly approaching unconsciousness for so long though, the rhythm of his breath is too much.

Falling deeper into the pillow you finally relent, “Promise you'll be here when I wake up," you request into the quiet of the room.

Sebastian Stan:

Talentless by @piggyjeans – Sebastian Stan x Teen!Reader, Sebastian Stan x Costar!Reader

Request Description/ Summary: So, a Sebastian Stan x Teen!Reader, where they are really close, and he helps them a lot. They are in a few movies together. In one interview or online or something some accuses the reader of riding their career off of Sebastian’s and Seb assures them that it is not the case.

The Exchange by @youlightmeupfinn – Sebastian Stan x Model!Reader (Ongoing)

Series Summary: You and Sebastian Stan were once a power couple that dominated headlines. After a messy breakup , you two became the worst of enemies. However, to engage popularity, you two are brought together yet again for a publicity stunt. Hollywood’s Hottest Back Together. It’s a tale of fame, fortune and money all while trying to force back those feelings you once had for your lover. Can you make it six months of fake dating your once real boyfriends? (Includes NSFW)

Harper by @falcqns – Ex!Sebastian Stan x reader

Summary: Your ex and baby Daddy Sebastian comes to your apartment in the middle of the night in need of some loving

Love, Theoretically by @mypoisonedvine – Sebastian Stan x Reader (Complete)

Series Summary: Having lost your husband, sister and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. You were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repair man – even though the two of you don’t speak the same language. (Includes NSFW)

You love me not by @holylulusworld – Sebastian Stan x Reader, Chris Evans x Reader (Platonic) (Complete)

Series Summary: A friendship gets in between you and Sebastian. Includes a lot of angst, NSFW, pregnant reader. (description of request on the post).

The Best Thing I Never Had by @wintersoldier1989 – Sebastian Stan x Fem!Reader (Complete)

Series Summary: You run into your ex, Sebastian at a charity benefit. Passions reignite but will you ever again be able to trust the man who broke your heart? (Includes NSFW)

Bucky Barnes:

His Everything by @likeahorribledream – Bucky Barnes x Avengers!Reader

Summary: Bucky has trouble talking about his feelings and ends up pushing away the person he needs the most

Pierced through and through by @angrythingstarlight

Summary: Going on vacation can be fun. Bucky has a surprise that could make it even better. (Includes NSFW)

Sweeter Than Sugar by @angrythingstarlight – Chubby Baker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: She broke his heart but you’re not going to let her won. Bucky deserves the best and you’re going to give it to him. (Includes NSFW)

It Never Ends by @chouettedubois – College!AU Bucky x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: Bucky and Y/N are fourth-year undergrads with the same major. They’ve always had a crush on each other but were too reserved to so anything about it. One horrendous night pushes them together and they’re forced to navigate the fallout, for better or worse. (Contains mature themes. 18+ only)

Don’t you forget about me by @spidey-babe-parker – Bucky Barnes x OC!Sloane Baker (complete)

Series Summary: Five Seniors spend a Saturday in detention and do a lot of soul searching and learning they aren’t as alone as they once thought they were.

Ocean deep by @lily-of-the-valley-writes – 40’s!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an attempt to achieve a picture perfect life, you and Bucky lose touch and spark until outside forces (and inner) interfere.

Solace by @winterdrag0n – Bucky Barnes x Reader (Complete)

Series Summary: After years of living abroad, you’re finally back in New York with a failed marriage and a flashy new job at Art Gallery. In your cousin Steve’s wedding, you meet Bucky again. Your relationship with Bucky had been complicated, to day the least. He had been your childhood enemy, friend with benefits, and drinking buddy. But this time, with new circumstances, the two of you might find solace in each other. (Includes NSFW).

5 Years Later by @annabellehoran – Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Your first time with Bucky after he returns from the blip is very emotional. (Includes NSFW)

Looped by @softlybarnes – Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You are inadvertently trapped in a time loop without any memory of the last five years, including your relationship with Bucky. But Bucky would stay in the loop forever, explain everything again each day, if it meant getting to stay by your side.

Lee Bodecker:

Drinking Buddies by @overrwritten – Lee Bodecker x Younger!Reader

CHAPTER 23

You were gripping the pillow below your head tightly, biting your bottom lip with a pleasured smile as you groaned into your throat.

Your back arched as the sun beams entered from the windows, the clock signaling 10:39 AM, and you had awakened just a few minutes ago. This was your new favorite way of waking up, and you didn’t think you could let go of it that easily. Your mind was filled with the drowsiness of just waking up, mixing with the lust and the overstimulation from yesterday as well. 

You gasped when you felt yourself clench tightly around large fingers, your orgasm exploding from you as your clit was sucked on, and the movements never stopped. You trembled as your back arched and arched, and you were helped to ride the orgasm out, slowly, until you weren’t clenching any longer and your back hit the mattress beneath you once more.

You were breathing heavily, a dopey relaxed smile on your lips, your eyes closed, and you whimpered a bit through it all as the fingers were pulled out from you. You looked down, and then, crawling up towards you and popping his head out from the blanket, Eddie appeared with a smirk on his face, your juices all over his mouth and chin.

“God, I love having breakfast first thing in the morning.” He joked and you snorted, your hands flying to your face in shame while you laughed. You heard his chuckle as he moved over you, giving a kiss to your stomach before he got the blanket and sheets off the both of you so he could get up. You dropped your hands to finally look at him as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re insatiable.”

“Oh come on. As if you don’t fucking like it, Peach.” You couldn’t help the giggle that fell from your lips as you also got up from the bed, grabbing onto Eddie’s tank top, putting it on over you, and then you grabbed your panties and gym shorts. He was pulling some new boxers on himself as well as some sweatpants, pushing his hair away from his face, and now, you would go to the bathroom to clean yourself and then, you would have breakfast.

The new dynamic. A domestic one. The one you two have been having for two weeks now. You stayed, he stayed, and you had breakfast, then lunch, then spend the day, maybe a fuck in there or not, and then you two would leave. This new arrangement just made the two of you spend more and more time with one another and you couldn’t be happier. He now stays on weekdays too, not the weekends only anymore. 

You two got up and got ready for work, maybe even have a coffee together before either you headed out from his house before Gareth popped up, because Jeff already knew, or him leaving your apartment first before you left yourself to your office. Well, sometimes not even just coffee… You woke Eddie up the other day with a blowjob, or sometimes the two of you would just simply find each other as soon as the alarms set off. You have been in an amazing mood for the past weeks, and you had Eddie to thank for that.

Today, he woke you up with kisses on your chest, then your stomach, and when you could fully grasp the situation, he started eating you out. You were amazed that this man was so starved for you in that way, to the point of wanting to do it to you just because. He told you he loved it, and by the hard ons he got each time he ate you out, you could be sure of that. 

You walked to the door of the bedroom, ready to head to the bathroom, but you felt your ass being slapped as you passed by Eddie, who you glared at. He shrugged with a grin and he continued to rummage his drawers for pants. Your heart beat loudly in your chest as you left the room and headed to finally clean yourself down there because, even if you were kinky like that with Eddie, you are not that kinky to be walking around with your juices and his saliva between your legs.

Your stomach never let those butterflies die. You could feel them still as wild as the day they first hatched from their cocoon. You wondered if at any point you would be able to tell him about your feelings. Should you at this point? Maybe not. You bit the side of your thumb nail nervously. The signs were there, right? You could see them and feel them, but what if it was all in your head? Why were you not confident with this? It was so unlike you.

You always went head first with your feelings, you were honest, and you would also be more cautious with this. Before, you would have left the person you started having feelings for after confronting them about it and they rejected you. Now, you couldn’t even confront Eddie with them, therefore, you didn’t know if he would reject you or not. But the thought of him possibly doing so… frightened you.

It was the first time you felt like this. More than Henry. Or maybe because you never truly went through it like this before. Henry, you both knew it was more than just a fling. It was years of pent up tension and feelings, fucking idiotic to say it now, but it was. Then Billy, he confronted you first with his feelings, so he was the one with the fear of rejection, even if you were barely coming to terms with your own feelings at that time.

But with Eddie, you were doubtful and you didn’t know why exactly. Maybe it was because you knew how… well, how much of a manwhore Eddie was before. When you two didn’t speak with one another, you would know about how many girls he fucked in a single weekend against your own accord. It was because Robin was always shocked. She told you that Eddie once fucked five girls in a single weekend. 

That memory made your belly turn uncomfortably. That was the reason you were skeptical about it all. It was hard to believe that out of fucking five girls in a single weekend, he would settle to just fuck you. Just you. But then it also begs the question if you were indeed special to him, or maybe, you were the only one who let him hit it raw. 

Now that the aftermath, the bliss of finally becoming exclusive with him passed, you could see a little clearer. He could be just doing this because he goes raw and you knew it feels ten times better for a dick. You couldn’t help your brain from being mean to you. Sometimes you wished you could just shut it off, but it always happened. It would turn on at a random time of the day, with Eddie or not, and it would start fucking up your mind. 

You sighed as you cleaned yourself, putting the panties and then the gym shorts on. You looked into the mirror and you saw the hickey on your collarbone, making you roll your eyes but deep inside you felt owned. You felt like he was marking you because he wanted that little bruise to sneak out in front of someone, maybe when you leaned down and your shirt would fall a bit, open up, and for it to show. 

Or maybe he was too horny and he didn’t notice he did it.

See? The fucking brain being mean to you once again. You washed your hands as well as your face, trying to center yourself back to earth. You opened the mirror cabinet and got your hand lotion out, the vial in there almost empty now, and the curiosity picked up again. What was that? The liquid was sort of purple, and you had never seen anything like that. His name was on it, so it was prescribed. 

Were you in a position to ask him about it? There was another word under his name though… You grabbed the little vial, but it only had the letters ‘SUPP.’. Supplement maybe? Probably some vitamin he had to inject himself with?

You wondered why he never spoke of any illness before with you. You couldn’t help but wonder if Steve knew, or if anyone else did. You didn’t dare to ask the others in case they did not know, and you would just throw Eddie under the bus if you asked. If he didn’t talk to you about it, it’s either too personal, or something he wanted to ignore… yet your curiosity was eating you away. 

You put the vial back, and picked up the lotion to put a bit on your palms and then smear them, putting the tube back and closing the cabinet. One of the few things that made you believe you had a chance, was the fact that Eddie had let you leave a few things of your own around his house. 

The lotion in the cabinet was one, then there were some scrunchies in the drawer of the night table on the right, the side you always slept in. Then he would always keep diet coke in his fridge knowing you drink that religiously, and then you had your toothbrush. You knew almost no one went to the bathroom upstairs, Eddie had told you so. There was no issue with you leaving some of your stuff around his house, as well as he left his.

You still had one of his hair creams for his curls in your shower, then you also had his toothbrush there, and when asked, you always told them it was Jeff’s. You still didn’t know how you were handling that lie so well. You didn’t know for how long it would stay that way though, so that’s why you were starting to put pressure on confessing your feelings to Eddie.

If Robin were to find out you had been lying to her for months, you knew she wouldn’t forgive you. She would be so mad. But, sooner or later you would have to tell her the truth, more so if you take the leap and confess. Robin needed to know the person behind either your happiness or your heartbreak. You hoped it was happiness, but you couldn’t be sure and that was slowly eating your confidence away. 

You brushed your teeth later on, brushing your hair with the brush that Eddie had there for himself. You couldn’t believe you felt giddy by the fact his hairs were mixed with yours in this stupid brush. You had to get a hold of yourself. You are literally fucking this man, and you were acting like a schoolgirl being giddy over the fact her crush said ‘hello’ to her. You shook your head, wiping your hands away with the hand towel, before walking out of the bathroom. 

Eddie walked out from the room now, his hair on a low ponytail, and he gave you a smile, nodding towards the stairs to signal you to go have breakfast. You squinted your eyes at him, an eyebrow of his rising in question.

“Didn’t you have breakfast already?” You asked and he chuckled, beginning to walk forward, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I ain’t full yet.” You smiled, biting your bottom lip and you immediately slapped his ass this time. He jumped at the slap, his head turning to look at you with a squint. You raised your hands in feigned innocence.

“You had a mosquito.” He rolled his eyes, smiling as he walked down the stairs, you following right behind him like a puppy.

“Yeah, sure. You are obsessed with my ass, and you know it.” He commented as he walked to the kitchen. You followed and turned to the fridge instantly, opening it as if you owned the house and Eddie did not mind a bit. He never did. Another thing that made you think that you were extra special to him. You hummed as you looked at the contents inside the fridge.

“Look who’s talking.” You spoke and you grabbed some juice, looking at what else you two could eat for today. Eddie was in fact obsessed with your ass, or at least the position. He loved the ass up only position, and you weren’t complaining, you loved it too. He felt deep and he hit your g-spot perfectly each fucking time. 

“I never denied that.” You heard him chuckle as two glasses clinked when he put them on the counter. You hummed as you also grabbed some frozen eggos from his freezer. 

“Who the fuck buys Eggos nowadays?”

“They’re delicious and quick to make if you’re in a hurry, or simply don’t want to cook… like now.” He grinned as he took the box of frozen waffles and walked back to his toaster. You scrunched your nose once more and you slowly put the juice back, turning your head to peek over your shoulder to see if Eddie was still turned around. You licked the corner of your lip and reached out for a can of coke. He always nagged at you about drinking coke at so early in the morning, but you couldn’t help it. Your throat was dry and you didn’t want coffee like this.

You closed the fridge, walking towards the stool and sitting down, looking at Eddie’s back as he whistled. You heard the click of the toaster and you took the opportunity to open your can, the ‘psst, clack’ sound louder than the click. Your face turned into a wince as you saw Eddie straighten up, slowly turning around with a murderous look on his eyes.

“You sneaky shit.” You smiled innocently and slowly took a sip of your coke with a loud slurp. He sighed, rolling his eyes at you, going towards the fridge to grab the syrups and a can of coke himself.

“Ha!” You exclaimed and he glared at you, closing the fridge with his elbow, putting the bottles of chocolate and strawberry syrup on the table. He opened his own can and took a long sip, before he let out a sigh of relief.

“You are a bad influence. I never drank coke in the fucking morning, and you come along and do this to me… I should cut you off, start anew, return to my good healthy ways–” You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head.

“You have a cigarette at 8 AM sometimes. That is actually worse.”

“Digestive. And also, not doing that anymore since you started being a bad and horrible influence.” You raised your eyebrows at him and nodded, taking a sip of your can as you turned away from him.

“Fine. I’ll leave after having an Eggo, and you won’t see me again, Munson. Return to your old ways, to your morning cigarette. Cannot believe you prefer that over a blow–” You squealed and giggled when strong arms engulfed you from behind, almost throwing you off your stool. He blew a raspberry on your neck, tickling you, making the butterflies in your belly dance and fly.

“You know I don’t mean it, Peach, come on~” He cooed and you pretended to think and act offended.

“Oh, I don’t know… Calling me a bad influence, that hurt.” You snorted a bit at your silliness, his arms hugging you over your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest. He rolled his eyes, blowing another raspberry against your neck, making you giggle and wiggle under his arms. He was smiling against you, and you wondered what he was thinking right now. What was he feeling?

“Don’t be a wuss.” 

“I should leave–” At your words he gave you a soft bite on the shoulder, making you squeal with a giggle, your legs kicking a bit from the shiver that he sent through your body.

“Nuh uh.” He went silent after that, but his embrace didn’t leave you. You flushed all over, fearing he would feel the erratic beating of your heart in your chest, under his arms. You got nervous, yet you were happy, but you didn’t know why he went silent.

“You good, Munson?”

“You got anything to do… today? Tomorrow?” It was a sunday tomorrow. You blinked a few times before shaking your head as you grabbed onto his forearms gently.

“No… I wasn’t… Didn’t plan anything at all. The group didn’t talk either on the group chat, so…” You softly spoke and you felt him nod against the crook of your neck. You licked your lips as you anticipated his question. You hoped he would ask what you thought he was going to ask. You could feel him hesitate, and you just didn’t know whether to talk or not, your heart crumbling the more he doubted, the more he considered it–

“Would you like to stay for another night?”

The whole weekend. You two would have spent the whole weekend together and– You felt giddy. You felt so happy. You felt like you could reach and touch the sky, pass your hand through a cloud and be able to feel it. Your heart clenched with joy, your belly turned as your butterflies fluttered all around, but you had to appear normal. You had to appear as if you weren’t falling more and more for Eddie Munson.

“I think someone is getting a little obsessed with me–” Another raspberry being blown on your skin, his head shaking a bit to cause even more tickles on you thanks to his stubble, laughter escaping your lips as you almost get thrown off your stool. “Okay! Okay– Okay, I’ll stay…”

“Yeah?” He whispered into your neck, and you closed your eyes, feeling his breath hitting your skin. You felt as if you two were all alone in the world right now. The idea of being with him, in his house, for three days, caused you to feel so wanted. So needed. And you hoped that was the case. 

“Yeah…” You softly whispered, no jokes this time. You should try to be more direct with your true feelings, stop the little bantering to pretend to be friends and nothing more. You wanted to make him nervous, just like he made you feel. With or without realizing it, you didn’t know. You heard what sounded like a sigh of relief coming from his nose, and then he pressed a soft kiss on your neck before the Eggos flew out of the toaster, signaling they were ready. You two jumped at the sound, to then giggle a bit as Eddie separated from you. 

You didn’t notice how badly your heart was racing. You put a hand over your chest to try to calm your breathing, your panting almost as you watched his back, working on getting the waffles out of the toaster. You saw him wince and shake his hand whenever he burnt himself trying to get the damn thing out and on the plate, making you giggle. 

You bit your bottom lip as you took deep breaths in to calm yourself down. You put your hand down from your chest when you saw him turn and put the plate of waffles in the middle. He walked around the kitchen island counter and sat on the stool next to you. Not in front of you like he did before. You hummed in approval as you reached over for a waffle and then the chocolate syrup. 

“What are we thinking for lunch?” He asked as he grabbed a waffle and the strawberry syrup for himself. You were pouring some chocolate on yours, then putting it down, Eddie instantly grabbing it to pour chocolate over the strawberry on his waffle. You winced at the sweetness of it, but you got used to him having an extreme sweet tooth.

“Uhm… I was thinking of a creampie.” He choked on the bite of his waffle, giving you a warning look as he tried to push the food down his throat, his fist over his mouth as he coughed. You giggled and patted his back a few times. He let a breath out of his lips once he could swallow and he turned to look at you with a glare.

“Trying to kill me here woman?” You raised your eyebrows at him, taking a bite out of your own waffle and shrugging.

“So you had a special breakfast, and I can’t have a special lunch? This is pure injustice.” He chuckled, shaking his head at you, but his hand squeezed your thigh, making your entire body set aflame.

“Keep being a menace, and you’ll get no creampies at all.” You whined at his threat, but you both knew it was all a joke. Before, it would have been actual flirting, an actual proposition of what you wanted later on to happen, but now, it was just a joke. 

“You’re no fun.” You giggled as you kept eating, both of you talking about anything at all and you couldn’t believe just how easy it was. How smooth it all felt with him. You didn’t know you could be this comfortable with someone again. With Billy you didn’t feel a hundred percent relaxed because of many aspects you didn’t quite enjoyed of him. Like his friends, his suspicious attitude around yours, his little anger outbursts… You felt comfortable with Henry, but it wasn’t even like this.

You couldn’t describe it, maybe it was because of your history with Eddie. You had hated him and he had hated you. You two started from scratch, you became friends, even best friends, and there was always this sense of comfort. It was like the sun coming out after the heavy storm and the hurricane. You take that sun for granted when you have it all the time, but you learnt to bask in its warmth when it appeared for the first time after having tornados all the time with Eddie.

It was natural. It was magnetizing. You couldn’t quite comprehend how he managed to sneak under your skin the way he did, but you weren’t complaining. The fear of rejection was still there, but you could worry about it later. You could worry about it on monday. For now, you wanted to enjoy this full weekend with him. To be in his arms, to kiss him, to do stuff together. 

After washing the dishes, you somehow found the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies in his cupboards and fridge. Eddie put on music from his TV as he watched you cook in his kitchen. You heard him shuffle beside you, watching your every move, asking what you were doing. You giggled as you explained the steps to him, and you could hear him salivating next to you. 

You were pouring the chocolate chips and you saw him point at the bowl, making you look at him with an eyebrow raised and then you gave an ‘Ah’ sound of realization, and without him telling you, you started pouring more chips inside. 

You didn’t notice how he turned his head to look at you at the action. You minded yourself with mixing it all together with the spatula, your tongue peeking out of your lips as you grunted from how thick the batter now was. He chuckled, trying to grab the bowl and the spatula from you, but you pouted, moving away from him.

“I can do it. I am an independent woman.” You stated as you kept mixing and he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. He waited for you, but eventually you mixed it all together. He could have done it in a minute but you took three to make sure everything was nicely put together. You hummed as you walked towards the fridge, putting the bowl inside for the batter to cool down and solidify a bit.

“What’s that for?”

“Hmm?”

“Putting the batter in the fridge, why?” He asked, actually curious as you washed your hands and then the counter with a rag.

“So that it’s easier to put on the tray in small pieces and the batter isn’t as sticky.” You explained and he hummed, checking his phone. You didn't feel that worry of him talking to other girls anymore. You didn't have to wonder if he was planning something else or if he was checking someone else's profile. 

“No signs of the group. Nancy and Robin must be together. Steve and Jonathan too. Argyle and Eden…” 

“Oh, yeah, probably a couple's night.” You didn’t process your words until you said them. You stopped for a second as you felt a cold sweat invading your entire body and Eddie stayed silent. 

Shit. You and Eddie. You two are alone as well, and before, if the circumstances would have just stayed as ‘friends only’, you wouldn’t be as embarrassed and scared as you were now. You two are also, kind of, almost, in a couple’s night. You two are having sex, having the meals of the day, spending time together, talking, laughing, and then just sleeping while holding one another.

How the fuck were you supposed to save this one? You thought about it but, if you were going to be brave, you should let these kinds of things sink in. You had to do these little hints and comments for him to maybe, probably, realize your feelings for him. So you stayed silent and resumed your cleaning as if what you had just said still hadn’t processed in your brain. You heard Eddie clear his throat before he looked down at his phone while his other hand scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah. I guess.” You then felt his presence leave your side and your heart plummeted. You watched him go to the toilet and you had to hold yourself against the counter, looking down at the sink with worry. 

He looked troubled. Fuck, he looked troubled by the word ‘Couple’. He might have been a little scared, that’s all, it didn’t mean yet that he didn’t want you that way. It– But fuck, he clearly didn’t like the sound of that, did he? He immediately ripped himself away from you and left your side, probably uncomfortable now. 

You fucked up the entire day, hadn't you? Was this going to be awkward now? Was he going to come up with an excuse and make you leave? You felt your bottom lip quivering slightly and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in and shaking your head. No. You had to snap out. You knew that it could be a yes or a no, and for now, there wasn’t a complete answer. 

You dried your hands on the kitchen cloth that was hanging from the oven and licked your lips. You turned to look at the door of the bathroom and you took a deep breath in, walking towards the couch, but you spotted something underneath the TV, right in the crevice of the rack that held all the games for the console. It looked like a photo album. You turned your head to look at the bathroom door again and then back at the album. 

You walked towards it, grabbing it from there and then looked at the cover. It was plain green. You sat down on the couch again as you opened it, looking at the very first picture. You tilted your head as you saw a woman, smiling. Hair wild like Eddie’s, but her eyes were blue. She looked beautiful in that white sundress, and thanks to the wind blowing to the side, you saw the pregnant belly being hugged by the dress.

“My mom.” 

You jumped in your place as you turned your head to look up at Eddie. He was tilting his head, looking down at you and then at the album. You stuttered a bit and moved to close it.

“I’m– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop, it was– It just caught my attention, it was in between all the game cases and–”

“It’s okay Peach.” He rounded the couch and sat down, his legs spread. His couch was very wide and it had depth. It was almost the size of a single bed mattress. He patted the space between his legs and you felt your heart burst in your chest as you moved, sitting down there, and you knew this was not in a sexual manner. He was not giving you the green light for anything like that. His hands came to wrap around your waist, while his chin rested on your right shoulder. You were nervous by the intimate position. You cleared your throat a bit before talking again.

“Can I…?”

“Mhm.” You felt your belly turn at the acceptance, at the way he was letting you walk inside his world a little bit more. You opened the page again, looking down at his mom, pregnant with him.

“She was beautiful.” He smiled, nodding against you.

“Now you know where I got my good looks.” You rolled your eyes a bit, but a smile spread on your lips. You turned the pages and it was more pictures of her, then, the picture of a man. Your smile fell as you remembered Eddie’s past, the man in the picture making venom rise in your throat.

“Your father.” You didn’t even try to hide the anger behind your tone. He had hurt Eddie and his mother for years, and the bastard dared to take a picture, smiling, next to Eddie’s mother who wasn’t. He nodded again, and you felt his jaw clench a bit against you.

“I keep that picture just because my mom is in there. It’s the only picture I have of my father.” You nodded in understanding, not wanting to even give the advice that he can simply cut his father out of the picture because if he kept it that way, it was for something. You turned the page again, and now, you saw Eddie’s mom, holding a baby in a hospital bed. Eddie. Your heart warmed at the sight, your fingers slowly brushing over the picture.

“It’s you.” You softly spoke and he let out a breath, and you could even hear the smile from it.

“Yeah. That’s little me.” 

“Who took these pictures?” You asked and he moved to grip the corner of the page, turning it, only for you to see a much younger Wayne, looking down at baby Eddie. You felt your eyes building up with tears, the lump forming in your throat, and you tried to swallow it down, nodding slowly. “Mmm… Makes sense.”

“The only pictures I have of my childhood were always taken by my mom and Wayne.” You took a deep breath in to hold back from crying, turning the pages slowly as you inspected them. You laughed when there was a picture of Eddie at three years old falling off his first bicycle. The moment was captured perfectly, and then a picture of him crying into the camera holding his knee. 

He laughed with you, pointing at certain pictures and explaining the backstory from them, and you didn’t notice how time was passing between the two of you. He let you in. He let you dig into his past a little further, and in a very intimate manner. You both finally reached Eddie at his eleven years old. His head was shaved completely, his smile gone. 

“What happened here?” He remained silent for a few seconds, and you felt his Adam's apple bob in his throat.

“My mother died.” You closed your eyes, feeling your gut clench in pain, not even beginning to understand or comprehend the loss of a mother. You didn’t even want to think about that of your own mom. “My father didn’t like me growing my hair out… so he made me get a buzz cut every six months.”

You clenched your jaw and you saw how the pictures were time skipping a lot. Not many pictures of Eddie in his eleven to thirteen years old. He lived with his father at that time, and he explained that he didn’t let Wayne visit much, nor he let Eddie visit Wayne back in Hawkins. 

Then, a picture of Eddie giving a big smile, his hair a little more grown, and you could see it was Christmas, assuming it from the small tree filled with lights at the corner of the trailer. You saw what Eddie had on his lap, the very same electric guitar he had in the corner of this room. You raised your head and turned to look at it. It was as if it were brand new, but it was actually from thirteen years ago. 

“Wayne had saved up. This was three months after I came to live with him after my father got locked up. He had saved up all the money from the presents he didn’t get to buy me in those three years I lived with my father.” You couldn’t help but tear up again, now realizing just how important Wayne is in Eddie’s life. And he was sick. You turned to look at him, not even helping yourself as you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in.

You knew he was hurting while showing you this, and you wanted him to know that you knew. You wanted him to know that you two could stop at any minute that he wanted. That you two could just close the photo album and move on. Instead, he smiled as he opened his eyes to look at you and then back down at the album.

You followed, moving on and on with the pictures, until they stopped for a while when Eddie hit sixteen. Not a single one from that age. You didn’t dare to ask, but then you moved on to seventeen, and Eddie was completely different. He looked masculine, older than what he was supposed to be. His hair reached his shoulders, and you wondered how it could be. You were about to ask, but he kept moving on with the pages. You realized that he didn’t want to talk about these ages, so you let your curiosity die down. You then saw a picture of him, Gareth, Jeff and another guy, posing with their instruments at what looked like a bar. 

“Corroded Coffin?” You asked and he whistled, smiling at you.

“Good memory. Yes.” You couldn’t help the proud smile on your face, and then you kept moving the pictures until– You snorted, loudly, to then start cracking up. Eddie only grunted at what you were looking at, wanting to rip the album away from you.

“Okay– Okay, what the hell is this!?” You moved the album away as you kept looking at the picture. A very punk ass Eddie Munson, arms crossed towards the camera, next to a very grumpy Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley flipping the middle finger… the three of them in comical blue sailor outfits.

“I needed money, and– I didn’t know I had to wear a sailor’s outfit, okay? The pay was good and I didn’t even let the interviewer finish his explanation that I took the job at that ice cream shop.” You could hear him sigh as you kept giggling, your feet kicking a bit with giddiness. “I met Steve and Robin there.” 

“Really?” You asked, with an eyebrow raised. “I thought you all went to the same school?”

“Just because we went to the same school, doesn’t mean we were all friends while we attended.” He explained and you nodded in understanding, looking down at the picture again. You kept moving, and you saw Eddie sitting at a big table, a game board in the middle of it, and then there was Gareth, Jeff, that other guy from his band, and some younger teens. You pointed at a particular one, wearing a funky looking cap.

“That’s… Dustin, right? I know Mike and Will because of Nance and Johnny…” He nodded, smiling again.

“My old club. Mike and Will are cool, but well… Dustin is kind of like a little brother.” You hummed with a smile at the endearment. You kept moving and finally you reached graduation. A picture of him, Robin and Nancy with diplomas in hand. Eddie was 20 at this time, while Nance and Robs were 18. Steve had already graduated, but he was still in the picture in his casual outfit. 

That was the last picture. You closed the album and you didn’t notice the twinge of sadness that invaded you. You had friends in school, but the only one that stayed had been Camila… You had no childhood friends, nor school friends… You had no friends from your past that decided to stay by your side. 

“Hey…” You snapped out, turning your head to look at him. His head was no longer on your shoulder, but looking at you. “You have us, you know that.”

How did he know? You blinked at him, trying to wipe your tears away, make them go back into your eye sockets, because it was stupid to cry about something like that. You nodded slowly, clearing your throat.

“I know.” You smiled at him and he huffed with a small little grin on his lips, and he leaned to place a kiss on yours. You took a deep breath in through your nose at the caring gesture, your hand moving to the back of his head to hold onto him. Your neck was straining a bit but you didn’t really care. 

He pulled away after a few seconds and you licked your lips, your eyes connecting to his. The silence was trying to make the two of you speak to each other, but the timer on your phone decided to interrupt, cutting the both of you off and snap from the trance you were put in. You sighed as you grabbed it from the coffee table.

“Time to put those bad boys into the oven.” You said and he nodded, eagerly getting up from the couch, pulling you up with him with a squeal from your throat.

“Fuck yes, cookies.” You couldn’t help at the eagerness in his voice, how he moved you towards the kitchen once more to start preparing the cookies. You couldn’t help but marvel at how he looked, how he smiled with excitement and salivated while making little balls out of the dough and putting them on the pan. How he frowned whenever you caught him eating raw dough out of the bowl and you slapped it away. 

You were completely whipped. 

As you two waited for the cookies to be done, you had busied yourselves in playing games, and you even helped Eddie with some finances for his car shop. When you pulled out your laptop to check your work emails, which you did even on a saturday, he stayed next to you, asking about your job.

No one took the time to learn what you did. No one seemed interested in knowing what you did outside of a bedroom. But Eddie did. Eddie has. You cannot overlook something like that, even if to many it might seem simple, something that should be a given. He made amused noises whenever you showed articles that were made out of your own campaigns, amazed that you have helped a few models rise in status thanks to that. 

“So, you are basically rich.” He suddenly spat out and you snorted, shrugging. The smell of freshly baked cookies now filled the entire living room.

“I am not there yet, but if I wanted to rent a house, I could.” His eyebrows raised in surprise at you, only to then squint as he poked your side, making you squeal.

“Now, what is the fucking excuse of getting a new car?” You rolled your eyes at his question, holding back the snort in your throat as you closed your laptop on the coffee table.

“Emotional value.” You replied and in all honesty, it didn’t. You had bought a second hand car back when you lived with your mom in order to escape that city. Yet maybe it did hold some emotional value, knowing you used that car to start anew. To meet new friends. To have the job you’ve always wanted. To meet Eddie. This car led you to meet Eddie.

“Okay, if it holds too much emotional value, then just keep it in a garage and buy a new one.” You giggled and shrugged, biting your bottom lip as you thought. That car did lead you to Eddie… but, you could get a car Eddie picked himself for you.

“Will you help me pick the best car for me?” You turned to Eddie and his eyes lit up as he showed you a full on toothed grin, excitement all over his features. 

“Absolutely! Of course I’m not making you buy a race car, but I think that a nice BMW would look good on you. Or maybe a japanese car… those are nice.” His eyes were looking forward in thought as he kept mumbling options, and your gaze was still stuck on his entire profile. If he only looked at you, he would see how you were staring, how your eyes were shining with unspoken words of affection, of care. 

The timer went off on your phone, and Eddie instantly jumped from the couch and you gasped, following right after as if running after a child. You saw him instantly grab a kitchen towel and open the oven to then take the tray out. The cookies looked soft in the middle and crunchy around the edges. The chocolate looked like it melted correctly and after Eddie closed the oven’s door and turned the heat off, your eyes widened when you saw him immediately about to grab a cookie from the tray, just as you had predicted.

“They are fucking hot Edward! You need to wait!” You pushed him to the side using your hip and you grabbed the kitchen towel from his hands to lay it over the cookies to keep the moisture. He was glaring at you, a soft pout on his bottom lip.

“No they’re not. I can easily eat one–”

“You are not burning your taste buds. Not today. Sit down.” You glared back at him and you heard a huff coming from his part, and he walked back to the couch, plopping down with his arms crossed over his chest like a little kid. You had to hold your giggles in as you looked at his slumped form. He really had a sweet tooth.

You walked towards him, standing in front of his figure and you poked the top of his head.

“Are you mad?”

“Don’t talk to me.” He was acting, you knew it, but it was still funny and adorable seeing him like this. You hummed as you crossed your own arms over your chest, acting as if you were in thought.

“Well… then I guess I will just take the tray home, since you are not going to talk to me–” You were immediately grabbed and thrown forward, prompting you to straddle his lap, a giggle escaping your lips as he softly bit your neck before pulling away. His arms wrapped around you as he pouted with puppy dog eyes.

“I just don’t want to wait.”

“Well, but we have to, or else you’ll burn your taste buds and guess what, you won’t taste anything sweet for days.” He huffed at your words but a playful smile was still displayed on his lips. You wondered if he acted this childish before. You wondered if he was this goofy with someone else before. Did Steve even experience this side? 

“Fine… But I guess I’ll have to find something else to keep me preoccupied.” His eyes scanned your lips, to then land on your shoulder. Your body immediately lit up, your hips coming in contact with his, making you clench around absolutely nothing. His eyes returned to look into yours, the playfulness gone, replaced by lust and dilated pupils.

“Mmm… and what could that be?” You spoke softly. He hummed in thought, moving forward to place a kiss on your lips first, to then move down to your jaw. Your eyes closed as you held onto his biceps, your hips slowly starting to roll against his as if you were put in automatic.

“I think that I would like to see you bouncing a little. Can you do that, Peach?” You moaned at the prospect of riding him, your core already becoming wet the more you rubbed yourself on him, the more he went down with his kisses. You felt him pull the strap of the tank top you were wearing, his tank top, down your shoulder, his lips finding your exposed skin there.

“Yeah… Yeah, I can…” You could feel the bulge underneath your hips, his lips moving towards your neck now, his hands splayed on your back as he held you against him. Your heart was lighting up in flames as your nerves turned your belly in such a good way that you couldn’t help but smile and close your eyes as he sucked on your pulse point.

This was a new normal. You hoped this was his new normal. That he considered this ‘right’. That he considered that this was happiness, just like you did. Just like you believed this was meant to be. Like you believed that this is what you two should have been since the very beginning.

“Peach–”

And the front door was suddenly opened with force.

You froze at the same time Eddie did. Your heart stopped, your body immediately turned cold as your eyes snapped wide with plates. You didn’t dare to look to the side. You didn’t dare to see who was at the door, because you were so scared. 

You felt how Eddie slowly pulled the strap back on your shoulder, a small growl vibrating in his throat but it was almost too small to detect. You couldn’t help but wish that whoever was at the front door, was someone who wouldn’t react as wrongly as you thought they would… but that was just a wish. Because there was only one person in your whole friend group who had a spare key for Eddie’s house… and that wasn’t you.

Eddie pulled away from your neck, slowly turning his head to the right while you turned yours to the left and– Your heart got caught in your throat. It felt as if two atoms had suddenly collided with each other and your entire existence got wiped in just a millisecond. You felt your breathing turn heavy as you looked at the front door, and Eddie’s arms were not leaving your body, and that helped you not falling backwards because–

Not only was Steve Harrington standing there, his eyes wide in shock, but also Robin Buckley. 

Each of your best friends was just standing at the open door, the soft breeze from outside entering the home and your world felt numb suddenly, your ears were ringing and you could feel the dread slowly sinking in your bones. Eddie was frowning towards the door, his eyes also wide, and you four didn’t talk for a few seconds, until Steve finally broke the silence.

“Seriously…?” Your best friend then stuttered for a few seconds, a look of disappointment crossing her features.

“Are you– Are you cheating on Jeff? With his best friend? Why–” And you were frowning at Robin with pity, with sadness, realizing your friend was still not fully grasping the situation, but Steve… Steve’s face fell, replaced by one of anger. A look that made shivers run down your spine.

“Robin… I don’t think Jeff was ever a part of this.” The air around was tense, and you gulped when Robin turned her head to look at Steve.

“What–?” She then looked back towards you and Eddie, and you could see how her face slowly transformed as she put the puzzle together in her head. You could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest as the anxiety started eating you away, as you looked at how your best friend’s face was slowly turning into one of sadness, of anger. “I’ll wait for you in the car, Steve.” 

She turned and walked out of the open door, and you heard the metal steps clink and you couldn’t let her walk away. You ripped yourself from Eddie, quickly getting up and rushing towards the door, pushing past Steve. Eddie was about to follow right behind you, but Steve closed the door, making Eddie stop in his tracks.

“You and I are going to fucking talk, Munson.”

But you were oblivious to it. You only cared about your best friend, not even caring that you were without a bra, with very little clothing on, and it wasn’t that hot out. You were barefoot, wincing when you hit the floor at the bottom of the stairs, and you rounded the corner to finally catch Robin, getting hold of her arm.

“Robs–”

“Don’t call me that!” She snapped as she turned around, ripping her arm away from your grasp. Her eyes were wide, burning with incoming tears as she frowned with disappointment. You felt your own sobs threatening to come out, but your throat was dry. You shook your head slowly, your hands coming up towards her.

“I’m so sorry–”

“For what!? For what exactly!? For lying to me!? For not telling me that you have been fucking Eddie since–” Her eyes widened as she did the math and you could only wince as she let out a fake scoff. “Oh, that’s fucking rich. That’s so fucking rich–”

“Robin, I swear, I didn’t mean to hide it from you but–”

“But what!? I am your best friend! I never hid anything from you! Ever! No matter if it was something embarrassing or something that would not work out for me in the end, I never hid it from you!” You were breathing heavily as you listened to her, and you nodded in complete agreement, no fights coming from your part. “Fuck, I came here with Steve as fast as we could, because we saw Jeff kissing a girl at the diner we were at, and I thought he was cheating on you! We came to interrogate Eddie and probably beat his ass if he knew and he helped Jeff lead you on!”

Your heart could only break at that, knowing how much your best friend cared for you, and how Steve was fully willing to bust one of Eddie’s eyes sockets in for your honor. The lump in your throat grew and grew, but somehow, you managed to swallow it down each time.

“I’m so sorry– I know, I know, but I– I haven’t lied except for the name– I swear, I told you everything–”

“But the name!!! The name, the person you were with, the most crucial part of everything you told me was a lie!” You could hear the pain in her voice. You could hear it so clearly and it only made your heart clenched tightly. You nodded again, and you were now desperate, feeling as if you were losing Robin right in front of your eyes.

“I know, I know, but… Robin, we– I wanted to tell you and I was going to come clean soon–”

“It shouldn’t have gotten to that point. I shouldn’t have gotten to the point of you saying ‘I was going to tell you sooner or later’... Because you should have told me the truth from the very beginning.” 

You knew she was right… You knew it but… but–

“You don’t understand…” Her eyes squinted at you, a glare clearly hiding behind her pupils.

“What?”

“We didn’t start off like you and Nancy. Like Steve and Jonathan. Even like fucking Argyle and Eden. There were no feelings at all involved at the very beginning, and like I have told you, it was supposed to be one time.” Her eyes turned murderous as she stepped towards you, pointing up at Eddie’s house.

“It doesn’t fucking matter!”

“IT DOES!” Your voice was high, angry, sad, desperate, filled with fear. Robin just stood there staring at you, and you continued talking after you gulped. “It does because– Because we didn’t want anything to be awkward in the group because of the two of us. We– We didn’t want drama, problems, or for you guys to try to put us together like a couple when it wasn’t that idea.”

“But we wouldn’t–”

“You would have!” You finally accused and Robin took a step back, frowning your way. “You would have seen it as… as if we were supposed to be a couple when it wasn’t that… And it was going to be easier to call everything off and act as if nothing ever happened if you guys didn’t know about it.”

“But it wasn’t called off–” And you nodded at her words, feeling the tears slowly invade your eyes as you looked down.

“No. It didn’t… It started with us just… fooling around. And then…” 

Suddenly Robin’s face softened, a look of surprise and realization invading her features as she looked up at Eddie’s house and then back at you.

“Holy shit… you like Eddie.” You felt your heart turn into itself at finally hearing those words out, not having them be disguised for someone else. You gave her a slow nod, looking down towards the floor. You played with your fingers as you felt the gravel underneath your feet, your toes moving nervously.

“It didn’t start off like you and Nancy… But I– I developed feelings… It wasn’t in my plans, and much less with Eddie but– I…” You tried to hold your tears back, knowing this was not the time to cry, but to make your point come across, and probably save your friendship. “I ended up liking him… and whenever I decided to confess… I was going to tell you the truth.”

“Why not before…? Why?” And you slowly looked up at her, and you blinked away tears as you shrugged a bit.

“You live with Steve, Robs…”

“That doesn’t–”

“Robin… don’t lie to me.” And Robin closed her mouth. Even if you were her best friend, Steve was her soul mate. You knew Robin would not have kept her mouth closed, even if she tried. It was just in Robin’s nature, and you loved her even with that little flaw. But you knew how to work around that one thing, so sometimes you kept things to yourself until they finally concluded or finished, knowing she would blurt it out to Steve unconsciously at one point or the other.

“I guess… Eddie did the same.” You nodded at that, though, you wondered if there was more to why Eddie never told Steve. Sure, Steve might have told Robin as well about you two… but by Steve’s angry face, you couldn’t help but think there might be more to it. 

“I know I did wrong… Trust me, I know… But what was I supposed to do? Tell you guys and for you all to take sides if it fell apart? For you guys to go back to how the group was more than a year ago? Where you had to divide yourselves in the week to spend time with me as well as spend time with Eddie?” Robin only looked at you, her mouth closing as her jaw clenched in thought. Silence invaded the two of you and you rubbed your left arm thanks to a breeze brushing over you.

“You are a fucking idiot.”

“I know…”

“An absolute moron.”

“I know…”

It took a few moments of silence, and the air around you felt calm yet traitorous. You didn’t know what to expect from this, but you hoped that Robin understood you. That Robin could forgive you for lying like this to her. You heard her sigh, and then a step being taken towards you, making you look at her.

“You’ll do my projects for a month.” She declared and you let a small smile spread on your lips, shaking your head at her.

“I kind of do that already…” At your words, Robin smiled, finally moving forward to hug you, and you could finally let the breath you were holding in out. Your arms wrapped around her, finally letting yourself feel the compassion you needed, the understanding, and the relief that she knows the entire truth. 

After a few seconds, Robin pulled away, but kept herself close to you, a smile spreading on her lips as she jumped a bit up and down in her place.

“So this means, you are exclusive with Eddie and– and you are going to confess soon–” Your eyes widened and immediately shook your head at her, making her stop in her tracks, her face falling. 

“No– Not yet… I just… I need more courage, more signs…” Robin raised her eyebrow your way and looked at you as if you were the dumbest person in the entire planet.

“Seriously… You had told me everything he did, the fucking promise! I– Oh god… Oh fuck, I know about Eddie’s dick– Oh, fuck no–”

“Robin, focus.”

“Okay, sorry. The point is, Eddie clearly likes you! He– Oh my god, he had also stopped with the thirst traps but–” Her eyes lit up with glee as she grabbed your hands and whispered close to you. “Ohhhhh, I have intel on that!”

“What?”

“Well, Steve told me about Eddie going exclusive with someone…” Your eyes widened at that, and it had just occurred to you… Eddie had lied to Steve too. He lied about having met the friend of a client, and it hadn’t struck you that he might have still been lying about it… And Robin knew all of it…

“Go on, for fucks sake Robin!” You were now excited and insistent, excitement rushing all over your entire body. Robin nodded, whispering a bit more now.

“Eddie has been telling Steve about this girl that just drives him… wild. Steve told me that Eddie became exclusive and–” She frowned and straightened up, thinking about something as she scrunched up her nose. “Now, I might be the dumb one, because how the fuck did I not put two and two together? Eddie got exclusive, the same moment you did… Wow, Steve and I are idiots.”

“Well spotted.” You giggled and she rolled her eyes at you, another cheeky smile on her lips.

“Anyways, from what Steve said, Eddie seems… pretty hooked with this girl.” Your heart burst at the seams at that, the rapid beating almost not letting you breath as you felt a gleam of light engulf you with happiness and joy and everything that was good. If what Robin said was true, if Steve actually confessed that, it means Eddie might have said it like that. 

“Shit… Robs… Should I–”

“I don’t think right now… But maybe, let’s see if he talks about it first…” She winked at you, and you nodded, now feeling more hopeful than ever. You had a chance, and you couldn’t hold yourself back from feeling happy. Your body shivered as another gush of wind blew against you. “You should go back inside… Did you just arrive at Eddie’s?”

“No, I spent the night.” You replied, holding back a smile as she held onto your arm, walking the two of you around the corner and back to the stairs.

“Oh? So are you going back home soon? I want more details than ever now–” You turned your head with a cheeky smile and Robin’s mouth fell open, scoffing. “Spending a second night? The whole weekend together? Oh yeah, no chances at all of something else, my ass.” 

You giggled at that and hugged Robin tightly against you. You were so lucky to have someone like her in your life. You didn’t know what would have happened if Robin hadn't forgiven you before. You would have probably spiraled and gone crazy or something because you really cannot imagine your life now without Robin. 

You two walked up the stairs and you bit your lip, hearing some mumbling dying down as you opened the door. Your smile fell when you saw Eddie looking away from the door with what looked like… a lost gaze. Thoughtful… and then Steve turned around with a small glare. Your heart got caught in your throat as you realized, this conversation hadn’t gone as well as yours did with Robin.

Steve looked at Eddie one last time before he walked your way, Robin looking at him with a worried look on her face as her confusion was etched into her eyebrows as much as yours were.

“Let’s go Robin.” Without giving you a glance, Steve walked out and you were standing there, wondering what you had done to receive such a cold shoulder. Was he angry at you too? You two were friends as well but Robin was your best friend, not him… so why?

“I–” Robin looked back and forth between you, Steve and Eddie who was still looking away from all of you. She gave you a worried look which you only could shrug at as you felt knots start forming in the pit of your stomach.

“Go…” Robin gulped and nodded, walking after Steve and giving you a last look before closing the door behind her, leaving Eddie and you by yourselves once again in his house… only, it wasn’t like before.

You felt cold. It didn’t feel as warm as it was a few minutes ago, nor the air around you felt relaxed, unbothered. It now felt tense, heavy and something that just made your heart beat with anxiety. You took a step inside, feeling your throat drying up because Eddie was still not looking your way and his face was not the same and you didn’t know why.

“Um… I am supposing Steve didn’t react… nicely?” You tried, and Eddie’s eyebrow flinched a bit, but gave you a small nod, not giving you another word as he walked towards the kitchen. Your body felt like shaking because you started to feel unwelcome thanks to his new body language. “Did something else–”

“He just talked to me about things I didn’t think about before.” 

That was a punch to your gut, to your head, to your throat, to your heart. That phrase was enough to throw any confidence you had, big or small, down a garbage disposal. You stood there, feeling as if you were about to crumble onto the ground because of how pained you felt. This was it. Steve made him see that he didn’t want a relationship at all. Steve made him realize that this was turning into something more and Eddie clearly was backing up from it.

Or maybe Steve told him about how– how you talked about Jeff to Robin… oh no… You could feel nausea bubbling up inside of your stomach, and you just felt like crying. You wanted to go home and cry. You wanted to leave because Eddie has his back your way and he was not going back from what he just said. 

The intention was obvious.

“I… I should… Should I go then?” 

Please. He has to stop you. He has to say no. He has to not let you go… but Eddie remained silent. He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, and silence for you means ‘yes’. You licked your lips, swallowing the big lump in your throat as you felt your eyes burning with incoming tears, but you weren’t going to lose more of your dignity. You weren’t going to crumble or beg for him, because– because it’s done. 

“Alright… I will um– go get my things and just– get a cab or something…” You didn’t even want to wait for his reaction, but as you walked off, you gave a glance, only to see him in the same position, which only made your heart shatter even more, pain engulfing your chest as you walked up the stairs.

You had to keep calm. You have to keep a straight face and then when you finally arrive home, you can cry as much as you want. For now, keep the poker face on. Keep it to simply appear normal, appear nonchalant, appear as if your feelings were small and innocent and that they were going to go away soon enough. But what a lie. 

You took deep breaths as you walked into his room, going towards your drawer to get your scrunchies out, already feeling like sobbing as you felt that you were ripping yourself from his world. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to leave this bubble, this little nest you built, this little relationship you grew to– 

Fuck you were such an idiot. You were so stupid. Your hands covered your face as you tried to calm your nerves down, holding your breaths in now. It was done. He gave you the answer you wanted and you didn’t even have to confess to him. He was told that this was heading to a more serious situation than just friends with benefits, and he got scared. He didn’t want it. That was fine.

That was fine.

But it wasn’t. You licked your lips as you walked towards the chair and grabbed your shirt and pants, throwing them on the bed. You didn’t want to part from his tank top, but– But you had to take all of your belongings with you. You could return his later on, some other time, some other week. Fuck, you also had to come up with excuses to not see him. You had to now pretend you were not in the mood because of something else. 

At least Robin now knew, and she could help you pivot around your friend group to not see Eddie… You wanted to cry. You really wanted to cry. You lost the guy you liked and also your best friend. You lost a best friend and all because of one horny night. The regret started building up in your chest but you cannot delve in it right now. You had to leave, because Eddie wanted you gone–

You gasped the moment you grabbed the hem of the tank top, ready to take it off, before two strong arms grabbed you by the shoulders and turned you around. Eddie’s eyes were gazing into yours, wild, his breathing heavy, and he just looked like he didn’t know what to say… until his eyes turned into a glare, a possessive gaze you saw every once in a while.

“You ain’t going anywhere, Peach.” You blinked a few times at his words, his arms coming to wrap around your waist and then hold the back of your neck. He embraced you close to him as he breathed puffs of air through his nose. You could see his nostrils flaring as you stood in his arms, completely confused, happy but– but you didn’t understand.

“But– But downstairs you said Steve made you realize–”

“Fuck Steve.” His lips came crashing down into yours, a surprised moan leaving you as he started dropping the both of you onto his bed, your arms wrapping around his shoulders for support. He laid the two of you down, your legs hanging from the edge as he kneeled over you, his lips leaving yours for a second. “I don’t care that he is mad.”

You were staring up at him, and you noticed there was still a certain conflict. Something had happened between him and Steve, and it had left Eddie a bit shaken up. He clearly does not want to speak to you about it… but Eddie does not want you to leave. He ran up the stairs to stop you from wiping yourself away from his apartment.

“Eddie–” His lips came towards your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck. Your heart started pumping up blood again, making it rush up into your head, feeling a little lightheaded at it. 

“Stay. You said you’ll stay…” He whispered and you wondered how he meant it. Did he mean tonight? Forever? With him? But even if those were all different questions, you had the same answer for all of them.

“Yeah…” 

And then, another dynamic changed. 

He didn’t go all in. He softly kissed you, caressed you, touched you, prepared you. He fingered you while kissing your skin, your lips, over and over again, swallowing your moans down and then, he hugged you while he entered you. He embraced you and it felt– It felt like making love. It felt as if Eddie was making sure that you knew he cared for you, and even if it was your own delusion, you believed it. You believed Eddie’s feelings were there.

He held you close afterwards, and you wanted to ask. You wanted to ask him what happened between him and Steve. You wanted to know what Steve had made him realize when you were talking to Robin. Whatever that was, Eddie didn’t care. Eddie didn’t even give it a second glance. 

You couldn’t help but smile into his chest as you traced his tattoos with your fingernails. He huffed at it, and you knew he was lost in his mind. You knew he was there yet he wasn’t. You assumed that in time, he would open up with you just a bit more, but what you did know was that Eddie didn’t want you far away from him. So, you settled for returning him back to earth with you, letting him know you ain’t going anywhere.

“You know… The cookies must be cold by now–”

“Oh, fuck, yeah!” And he didn’t even bother getting dressed, running out of the bed like a complete gremlin, and rushing outside with his ass out. Your eyes were wide as you sat on the bed, and you smiled, your heart warm at the events of today, despite knowing that things would start getting complicated from here on out, more tense, but you at least know that they’re headed forward. To a future.

And you hoped that you shared that future with Eddie.

God, you’re really fucked… aren’t you?

end of chapter 23

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