"your kids play dungeons and dragons? my boy eddie loves that game."

"my nephew plays guitar in a band. i bet he could play one of those songs you like, though it might not be his style."

he tells cute stories about eddie, updates steve on his life and eventually it must work because steve seems to gain an interest.

"so you said he was my age?"

"does eddie look like you? what's he look like?"

"you said he's in a band?"

until one day steve faux casually asks "is your nephew coming to visit anytime soon? i'd like to meet him, see what all the fuss is about."

wayne smirks.

"if that's okay! i wouldn't want to entrude on your visiting time!"

"of course it's okay. i'd love for you two to meet." so he invites eddie over.

it's just a shame he never mentioned steve to eddie. after he arrived and greeted his uncle he turned and was promptly met with the sight of a beautiful, daresay shy, stranger.

"hi, i'm steve," he said with a dorky wave. "it's nice to meet you i've heard a lot about you."

eddie was a little off balance. "for some reson i haven't heard a lot about you," he said, sending a pointed look to his uncle.

"but it's really nice to meet you. i'm eddie" and they shake hands and hang out with his uncle which is only a little strange but mostly nice.

steve leaves for the night to let them sleep and eddie confronts wayne as soon as the door is shut.

"so were you ever gonna tell me you met the love of my life?"

wayne laughs, he knew they'd get along.

“I’d put money on it.”

“$20 says he confesses after this.”

“Deal.”

She finished pinning part of your hair up, letting the rest gather in unruly waves down your back. Leaning her head on your shoulder, she declared, “Miss Persephone, you are the most beautiful queen of the night I’ve ever seen.”

“Shhh you’ll spoil the surprise.” You fixed the lace of your boot before standing up. “I’m gonna go hide in the corner now. See you soon! You better be ready.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

You snuck into the far back corner to sit and wait. Cameras were covered today so all you needed to do was sit and watch. You fiddled with your puffed sleeve as people started to file in. Bailey came up to you, smiling gently. “You look beautiful! Did Angela do your makeup?”

You smiled back, crinkling the small flowers that dotted the corners of your eyes. “She did. It’s amazing how she can focus when she really wants to.”

“It really is.” She clocked the nervous look on your face and squeezed your hand. “You’re gonna do a great job up there. She’ll be there the whole time.”

“I know, I just need to breathe I think.”

“Good call, generally people need to do that.”

—------

“Thank you everyone for donating so much! Since we’ve hit one of our goals, we are going to have a special performance coming up!” Trevor yelled as everyone cheered. Angela had slipped away to change into her overalls a few minutes ago, and you had started to tap your feet with anxiety. You saw her creep back through the stage doors as the rowdiness continued, giving you a quick thumbs-up. 

She grabbed the microphone from Trevor’s hand, quieting the crowd. “Please welcome, our Lady of the Underground, Persephone!” Everyone started to clap, jaws dropping as you made your way front and center. The sequins on your dress glittered under the set lights as you started to twirl, singing. Angela was a great backup singer, but also succeeded in calming your nerves as she took your hand to dance. You couldn’t help but laugh, sometimes missing the words as she spun you around. When the song ended, the two of you took a huge bow, and Angela almost tripped, making the two of you laugh even louder. People rushed over and started to hug you as the stream ended, and you felt lighter than a cloud, surrounded by those you loved. 

Meanwhile, Damien was frozen in place, stuck to the couch, hyperfocused on the ethereal girl spinning around in front of him. She had always been magnetic to him, pulling him away from his work and to her side during long nights at the office. Even on her “worst” days, she was glorious to him, with big hoodies bunched up around her elbows as she fixed something and huge cups of coffee threatening to spill on her desk as she animatedly bickered with Angela. He just liked to see her smile, opting to leave dad jokes on her computer screen instead of kissing her breathless in the middle of the office like he did in his wildest fantasies. 

But now, she looked really, truly, free. Her voice was beautiful, yes, but she was so happy and in her element up there, lights shining down on her, that he couldn’t look away. To look away would be a crime against the universe. He hoped that maybe he could see her like that all the time, spinning around in one of his t-shirts in his kitchen, cats dodging her dancing feet. He longed to pull her close, to never let her go. He needed it more than he had ever needed anything else.

“She feels the same, you know.” Angela’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“What?”

“She looks at you the same way you look at her.”

He went to protest, but then he caught her eye and watched her face morph into something softer, more reverent, like she was looking at the most precious thing in the world. “Oh.” He breathed it more than he said it. 

People started to filter out of the room, including Angela, who pulled her into a hug and then pushed her gently towards the couch. Damien stood up to meet her, brushing her hair out of her eyes softly. 

“You were amazing up there.”

“Thanks.” She blushed, but continued to meet his eyes. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Angela told me something funny.”

She giggled, “Doesn’t she always?”

“She said that we look at each other the same way.” She froze, eyes widening. His hand came up to cup her cheek. “Please tell me she’s right.” 

She searched his deep brown eyes for any hesitation, any semblance of something that may tell her that this was all a cruel joke played by fate, but she found none. Taking a deep breath, she said, “She’s right.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.”

The kiss felt like coming home, like something in the universe that had been out of balance had shifted back into place softly. 

And somewhere across the office, Angela could sense that the universe had put 20 extra dollars in her pocket. 

Henry beamed at the idea of teaching Spencer something. His godfather was so smart, he knew, and it wasn't everyday that Spencer told someone he didn't know something. Knowing just the place they'd start, he grabbed Spencer's hand and tugged him forward.

No words were exchanged as Henry was on a mission, but a look of amusement passed between Spencer and Will.

Spencer didn't have a clue what Henry had in mind first, but he never would've considered the refreshment table set off to one side. Across the banner, he read the school's name that Henry attended. Compared to the other booths set up nearby, he didn't spy any type of signage broadcasting prices.

Henry called out a name, but Spencer couldn't quite make it out over the noise echoing through the large space. He hadn't thought to ever forget the sounds of a gym, and he hadn't really. Just that the memories had managed to fade at the edges a bit.

All Spencer knew was one moment Henry was holding his hand, and the next, he's watching Henry tugging someone from the booth until they stood in front of Spencer. Until you stood in front of him. You wore the sweetest smile Spencer could remember anyone ever wearing. When it flashed towards him, he almost forgot how to breathe. You were breathtaking.

"So, you're the famous Uncle Spence we hear so much about," you said, holding out your hand while also introducing yourself. You retracted your hand just as quickly, but your face never lost its smile. Settling for a small wave, you asked, "Are you enjoying the craft fair, Dr. Reid?"

Spencer's brain refused to work. You had him off-kilter with the knowledge you've shown in the few moments of time you've shared with him. How did you know he didn't like to touch others, especially strangers? How did you know he went by doctor rather than mister?

As if guessing his thoughts, you leaned a bit closer but not too close and said only loud enough for him to hear, "Henry talks about you a lot. We hear about your adventures every week. You're quite impressive. Henry tells us you're a real-life hero."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Spencer stammered.

His cheeks warmed at Henry's praise of him, but more so, at the way you continued to look at him. He could make out the open curiosity you had for him, but he couldn't tell if it was genuine interest one feels for another or if you were merely being polite for a student's sake. A part, bigger than he'd ever admit aloud, of him wanted it to be the former, but his experience almost assured it was the latter.

"Hm, I wouldn't discount yourself too much," you rebutted softly, your eyes leaving his face to inspect the rest of him. He really hoped you wouldn't find him lacking, grateful Hotch and Morgan weren't standing next to him. Will was more than enough to make enough comparisons. You must've liked what you saw because your smile never faltered though your attention shifted to Henry. "Wanna grab your uncle one of the cookies I promised to save just for him?"

Henry nodded and dashed behind the booth's large table.

Spencer could make out the containers from the store you'd bought the cookies. One of them held a couple leftovers that weren't available to others. The others had been set out around the table in a display meant to entice fair-goers until the supply had been depleted.

Henry raced back with the plastic package, handing it to you.

You popped it open and motioned for Spencer to take the cookies. "Only hands that might've grazed them were mine, and I wore gloves after washing my hands thoroughly. Can't be too careful nowadays."

The way you hadn't made him feel weird for his germaphobia endeared you to him all the more. It was the reason he didn't hesitate in picking up the cookies while murmuring his thanks. As politeness dictated, he took a bite and followed it up with, "There are really good."

"They're the best store-bought ones you can find," your eyes sparked with mischief as you added, "but you should really try the ones I bake sometime."

The cookie he'd been chewing lodged itself, causing him to choke.

Will came to his rescue, thumping his back until he could take in normal breaths again.

You, the sweet temptress you were, held out a small cup of lemonade from the booth you manned for the school. Your face had contorted into something more akin to someone feeling shame or apologetic of their actions as you murmured, "I didn't mean for that to sound the way it did. I mean, I do bake some great treats, but I'm not trying to insinuate anything. We are surrounded by families and little ones after all."

Spencer quickly shook his head. Even if he'd only met you, he knew enough from what Henry had told him to know you spoke the truth. Everything about you screamed how much you adored the kids, calling out to the ones you recognized. It didn't matter you held a conversation with him or any other adults that happened along. You had kind words for everyone that passed and encouragement for the few students helping you run the booth.

As if realizing he'd been monopolizing your time, he took a step back.

"I should let you get back to it," he said, grabbing up Henry's hand, "but maybe we can stop by again. See if you have anything left before we head out."

Your smile glowed once more as you nodded. "I'd really like that. Maybe you could tell me what about the booths I can't see, too. I've heard some good things, but I won't really get the chance to explore today."

"It's all weekend, isn't it?" Will asked, surprising both you and Spencer as he hadn't really said anything up until then.

You nodded.

Will continued, "Are you working the booth tomorrow?"

You shook your head.

At your answer, Will's grin came out as he eyed Spencer for a moment before turning back to you, "Then, maybe you and Spencer here could explore the fair together. That is if Spencer here wouldn't mind coming back and seeing it a second time. What do ya say, Spence?"

"Oh, I couldn't ask that of you. That would be too much," you protested, but Spencer was already saying, "Um, yeah, I could do that."

Will clapped. "Great. Now that's settled. Henry, why don't we let them sort themselves out, then we can pick Uncle Spence back up in say another few minutes?"

Henry quickly agreed, taking off for a booth not too far away. It held a bunch of crocheted plush animals that might appeal to his younger brother.

Will followed after him after shooting Spencer a wink and saying, "Don't bungle it now."

When the two of you were alone, you risked touching Spencer's sleeve. His gaze dropped to where your warmth seeped through his thin shirt before you hastily took it away again. He missed it as soon as you did. That surprised him the most.

"Please, don't think I was fishing. I wouldn't want to impose on what's surely limited time to yourself. You don't have to come back tomorrow if you don't want to."

"But what if I want to," Spencer said over your rambling.

It was enough to have you snapping your mouth shut in brief shock. It was also enough to have Spencer wondering if he'd somehow overstepped or misread your earlier possible interest in him.

Only when your smile blossomed once more did he breathe out a soft sigh.

"I'd really like that but only if you really and truly want to."

Spencer allowed his own smile to come out as he said, "I really want to."

The two of you might've continued to smile at each other if one of your students hadn't called out to you.

"I better get back to it, but please, stop by before you leave. We can exchange numbers, then we can secure plans for tomorrow after I'm done for the day." You took a step back toward the booth behind you, but you didn't get far before you added, "I really am glad I got the chance to meet you, Dr. Reid."

Spencer offered his own sentiments, watching as you backed up until you bumped the booth. He bit his lip lest his smile grow wider at how cute you were.

It took another minute before he, too, moved away, intent on catching up with Will and Henry. After all, he had a new job to scope out the best booths to show you tomorrow. Maybe even spend a few minutes considering his options to prolong his time with you tomorrow, including possible dinner plans.

Spencer had known Henry had a special reason to ask him to his school's annual craft fair, but he hadn't counted on you being that reason. He definitely hadn't considered how much you would end up affecting him or the turn of events that took place.

But, he couldn't say he regretted them as he spared a final glance at you and your booth.

Nope, no regrets at all.

The moment Lucas felt the world spin beneath his feet, he knew something was very wrong. One second, he had been in his dad’s garage, tinkering with some old F1 tech Lando had insisted was too dangerous to touch, and the next?

He was here—standing in the middle of a high school hallway that smelled like sweat, cheap cologne, and regret.

Lucas stumbled, heart racing. The world had shifted—subtly, but undeniably. Everything around him was different. The posters on the walls advertised school dances from years ago. The fashion was outdated. The phones in students' hands were clunky.

His breath hitched.

This wasn’t just any high school.

This was your high school.

His parents had met here.

And from the way the students around him carried on, oblivious to the fact that a future-born kid had just dropped into their reality, it hit him.

He had traveled back in time.

And then he heard it.

A voice so familiar it made his stomach twist.

“Oi, Carlos, did you see that goal? Absolute beauty, mate!”

Lucas turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

There, leaning against the lockers, laughing with a group of friends, was Lando Norris.

Not Dad, the grown-up who nagged him about cleaning his room and told embarrassing stories to his friends. No, this was seventeen-year-old Lando—loud, confident, grinning like he owned the world.

Lucas nearly choked.

Holy shit. My dad is a dumbass teenager.

You always knew how to make yourself invisible. It was a skill you had mastered long ago—sitting in the farthest corner of the library, keeping your head down, never speaking unless necessary. It was safer that way.

High school had been unkind to you. The whispers, the taunts, the stolen lunch money—they had worn you down over time, molding you into someone small and quiet.

You thought you were alone.

Until a chair scraped across from you, and a boy you didn’t recognize sat down.

You stiffened, gripping your book tighter.

“Uh… do I know you?” you asked hesitantly.

The boy—Lucas, as he introduced himself—smiled, easy and relaxed. “Not yet.”

There was something strange about him. He didn’t feel like a normal teenager. His gaze was too sharp, too knowing. And yet… when he glanced at your book and casually remarked, “Pride and Prejudice? Classic,” you felt your heart stutter.

Nobody had ever paid attention to what you read.

“You’ve read it?” you asked, voice skeptical.

Lucas smirked. “More times than I can count.”

A flicker of warmth spread through your chest.

You hadn’t had a real conversation with someone in months.

And for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.

Lucas had a problem.

His dad was an idiot.

A lovesick idiot.

And not for the right girl.

Her name was Jessica. And she was, in Lucas’ professional opinion, the worst person on the planet.

She was the kind of girl who faked sweetness when people were watching but turned venomous the second they weren’t.

And seventeen-year-old Lando was eating right out of her perfectly manicured hand.

Lucas watched in horror as his father practically tripped over himself trying to impress her.

“She’s so obviously playing you,” Lucas muttered under his breath.

Carlos, standing nearby, gave him a weird look. “Do you know Lando?”

Lucas coughed. “Uh, no.”

Carlos shrugged. “Then why do you care?”

Lucas clenched his jaw. Because if my dad doesn’t stop being a dumbass, I might never be born.

He had to fix this.

The first time Lucas tried to break them up, it was simple.

He “accidentally” spilled his entire drink on Jessica’s very expensive designer bag.

“Oh my God!” she screeched, jumping back like she had been set on fire.

Lucas put on his best innocent face. “Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

Lando, ever the gentleman, immediately started panicking. “Jess, I’ll fix it, I swear—”

But Jessica was too busy throwing a tantrum about her ruined bag.

She stormed off.

Lucas grinned, satisfied. Problem solved.

Until the next day, when Lando was still mooning over her.

Lucas groaned. This is going to be harder than I thought.

Lucas wasn’t just here to make sure his parents fell in love.

He was here to protect you.

And it didn’t take long for him to see how much you needed it.

You never told him what was happening, but he saw it.

The girls whispering behind your back. The stolen lunch. The tripping in the hallways.

Lucas’ hands clenched into fists.

One day, he caught a group of girls sneering as you walked past.

“She’s so weird.”

“I heard she eats lunch alone every day.”

Lucas saw red.

“Funny,” he said loudly, making them freeze. “I was just thinking how weird you guys are.”

The leader, a blonde girl with too much makeup, scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“You spend all your time talking about someone who doesn’t even know you exist,” Lucas said, crossing his arms. “Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”

Their faces burned red before they stormed off.

Lucas smirked. That’s what I thought.

Later that day, you hesitated before looking at him. “Why did you do that?”

Lucas shrugged. “Because you don’t deserve it.”

You swallowed, blinking rapidly. “…Thank you.”

Lucas softened. “Anytime, Mum.”

You didn’t hear that last part.

Lucas had to be tactical.

He orchestrated run-ins between you and Lando.

He got you both paired as lab partners.

He even tripped Lando once just so he’d fall into your arms (which earned him a very suspicious glare from his dad).

And finally, finally, Lando started to notice you.

Lucas saw it—the way his dad’s eyes lingered too long, how he smiled softer around you.

It was working.

Until Jessica struck again.

She cornered Lando after school, batting her lashes. “Landooo, come to the party with me?”

Lucas froze.

If Lando went, he’d fall right back into her clutches.

Thinking fast, he jumped in. “Oh, he can’t.”

Lando blinked. “I can’t?”

Lucas clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Nope! He already has plans. With her.”

He pointed to you.

You turned scarlet. “W-what?”

Jessica scoffed. “Since when?”

Lucas grinned. “Since now.”

Lando looked at you, hesitant but intrigued.

“…I guess we have plans?”

You bit your lip. Then—shyly, hesitantly—you nodded.

“I guess we do.”

Jessica huffed and stormed off.

Lucas smirked. Checkmate bitch.

Days later, Lucas watched as Lando walked you home, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Lucas grinned.

His work here was done.

Now…

He just had to figure out how to get back home.

Thank you for reading!

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."