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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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I saw you're taking prompts and tagged it as Clarkson so ngl i immediately went feral bc i love your writing so much!!! Anything clarkson would make me sooo happy, but i especially love the way you write more introspective scenes so maybe something with soft vibes, maybe some hurt/comfort or healing from past trauma together? (I hope that's not too vague, if you were looking for actual scene prompts I'd be happy to come up with something more specific) i hope you'l have a good weekend ❤️❤️

thank you so much for the prompt darling! here’s some clarkson hurt/comfort for you with just a dash of steddie because i particularly love these four together 🥰🤍 this kinda ran away from me and it’s probably all over the place

in which wayne has a flashback nightmare and scott calls eddie and steve for help

🤍 also on ao3

It’s a whimper that wakes Scott, and it takes him a moment to realise where he is — but the dark shadow of Wayne sitting up in bed beside him reassures him for a moment. A dream, surely. His dream woke him, even though he doesn’t remember anything.

But then there’s another whimper, followed by what can only be described as a sniffle. It breaks something inside Scott even before he realises what’s happening. As his eyes adjust to the dark, he makes out Wayne’s form where he’s hunched over, the blanket still around him like a protective shield, his face hidden in his hands. His breathing is unsteady, more like little gasps, suppressed in the pale shadow of a breathing exercise.

He’s never seen Wayne like this. He gets nightmares quite frequently, but he usually gets up for some fresh air and a cigarette, maybe a coffee if he decides to give up on the night. But never before has Scott witnessed him in such a state that screams of heartache and badly suppressed panic.

It’s a lonely vision that tears apart his insides, and it’s what makes him reach out before he can think better of it. Wayne flinches away from him and gasps as another wave of years seems to come over him.

“You’re safe,” is the first thing Scott says, the first thing that comes to mind, the first thing Wayne needs him to say sometimes.

Tonight, though, it only elicits another whimper.

“What do you need?“ he whispers. Not What’s wrong? Not Talk to me.

It takes Wayne a few attempts and Scott watches, panic threatening to rise inside him and join Wayne if only so he won’t have to be alone — as little sense as that makes. The last thing Wayne needs right now is a frantic Scott. So he breathes. Watches as Wayne struggles through his words and the lump in his throat.

“Eddie,” he gasps eventually. “Ed, tell me… Where’s Eddie? I should have— He didn’t do it. He didn’t kill the girl. I should have been there, I should have… I’m sorry, Ed.”

It tears Scott apart to see him like this, lost and stuck somewhere between the nightmare in his head and the nightmares of the past, and there’s nothing Scott can do about it. He remembers it well, though he has the privilege of being oblivious to everything, the privilege of no nightmares, the privilege of staying present and alert when a light flickers or a police car drives past.

“He’s okay, Wayne. It was a nightmare, my dear. Eddie is fine. Your nephew is at Steve’s. Steve Harrington. It’s been a year, Wayne, beloved. It’s been a year, he is doing great. Come back to me, darling. It’s fine, there’s no nightmare here, just me. Just me, Wayne. It’s safe, everyone’s safe. I promise.”

Another whimper and then Wayne hunches over even more. Helplessness spreads inside Scott, feeling like surely this is his nightmare now. Grief and guilt and panic and sadness are coming off Wayne in waves, and it chokes him up. He’s not good at this, placating people, talking them down. He never quite knows what to say, what to do, what to make with his voice.

An idea comes to him then, and he hopes that the boys will forgive him for calling at… 3:28 a.m.

He gets out of bed and whispers, “Don’t leave again, my love, I’ll be right back. It’s safe, I promise, it’s safe.”

Wayne doesn’t react and Scott has to physically keep himself from reaching for him again. His pulse is quicker than it should be, his thoughts are racing, and he really is beginning to be quite frantic. Taking a deep breath, he goes out into the living are, making sure to leave the door open so Wayne can hear him — and so he can hear him.

“Steve here,” comes a very familiar voice through the phone after just one ring, and Scott breathes a sigh of relief.

“Steve, it’s Scott. I’m terrible sorry to wake you, but—“

“You didn’t, we’re awake. What’s wrong?”

Scott closes his eyes and wills his heart to calm down. Everything’s going to be fine. “It’s Wayne, he’s… He had a nightmare, I think. About Eddie. Thinks it’s ‘86 again and Eddie is missing, presumed dead, and I can’t get him… I can’t get through to him.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end and then there’s another voice talking to him. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes, Mr Clarke.”

“Ten.” That’s Steve in the background.

“Ten minutes,” Eddie amends, and Scott kind of wants to cry. It doesn’t make sense. But neither does anything that happened to these people, so he’ll cut himself some slack. “Do you… Can you, uh, can you put on some music? Quiet, just to, uh, to bring him back? There’s this tape, Aftermath by the Stones. Rolling Stones. It’s black with blue writing and all their faces, it should be there somewhere. We used to listen to it every night after… everything. It should be enough until we’re there, okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, already looking around for a black tape. “Yeah, I’ll find it. Thanks, boys, I don’t— I didn’t know what to do.”

More shuffling, then Steve is back again. “You did right, calling us. We’ll be there. Oh, and can you make coffee?”

He frowns. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for him to—“

“Oh, the coffee is for us. It’s gonna be a long night. Already has been.” He sounds weary and tired and Scott has to remind himself that the boy is only twenty and shouldn’t sound like that.

“Alright, coffee coming right up.”

“Thanks. We’ll, uh, we’ll leave now.” Steve says, sounding rushed. “Eddie, babe, I’m gonna need you to be calm, okay? Everyone’s safe, it’s gonna be fi—“

And then the line dies. Scott takes a second to listen to the incessant peep of the dial tone, gathering himself, before going on the mission of finding the tape and making coffee before returning into the bedroom just to be there even though he feels useless.

Eight minutes later, a car pulls up outside and Scott sighs in relief. Wayne is leaning against him now, still not talking, still crying silently, absently, but he’s coming back.

Within moments, another shadow appears in the doorway to the bedroom and Scott looks up to see a rather crazed looking Eddie. He can empathise.

“Hey, uncle Wayne,” the kid says in so gentle a voice that it makes Scott feel out of place. “Guess who it is, your favourite nephew in the whole wide world, who is very alive and extremely safe.” It’s said with a smile, but the teasing falls flat right along with Eddie’s heart, obvious in the way his voice wavers. There’s a shaky smile on Eddie’s face as he sits on the bed, taking Scott’s place, who takes this moment to leave the Munson men alone. Eddie’s pressing his forehead to Wayne’s, cradling his cheeks and speaking softly, gently, tenderly.

Scott almost flees the room. He’s too out of place in their moment.

He closes the bedroom door gently and a silently as he can, and is met with The Rolling Stones and Steve, cup of coffee already in his hand. They share a glance and it occurs to Scott that this is the closest he’s ever come to whatever trauma lies behind this boy’s eyes, the one that is reflected in Eddie’s and in the shadow that overcomes Wayne’s face sometimes.

“Hello,” he says at last, because what do you even say to someone who’s seen horrors unimaginable, leaning against the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee like that’s just life catching up around 4am.

Steve smiles and hands over the coffee he already prepared for Scott — black, two sugars. Oddly enough, that’s what does it for him. The alienation and obliviousness on the one hand, juxtaposed by and met with a gesture so simple as a cup of coffee just the way he likes it.

His shoulders fall and he joins Steve, who shuffles over a bit to make space for him.

“It’s been a year,” Steve says.

Scott looks at him, waiting for him to continue — something he’s learned around these three. They’ll continue or they won’t, but questions don’t really work. Not with this thing.

“Since… Since Chrissy. Few days later, Eddie almost died. Was presumed dead. It’s. It’s been a year, today. Tonight.” The boy sighs and Scott finds his insides torn apart once more.

“Is that why you were awake? The anniversary keep you up?”

Steve nods, his eyes somewhere far away as he takes another sip of his coffee. Into his mug he mutters something Scott is sure isn’t meant for his ears, but he can’t help but overhear something that will haunt him for a while.

“It’s always some kind of anniversary ‘round here.”

The thing is, Steve told him. Well, he and Eddie did, but the Munson boy’s mind had shut off from the conversation quickly, and Steve is the only one who can tell the story from the beginning. And Scott is not sure if he can believe it. He wants to, and emotionally, he does. But he has to treat it as a story, otherwise his mind would quickly join those lost.

“I’m really sorry.” He doesn’t know what for. For calling. For the horrors they’ve seen. For the nightmares everyone gets. For the faraway stare in Steve’s eyes. For the waver in Eddie’s voice.

Steve looks at him for a moment, then nods towards the front door. “Let’s go outside for a moment, yeah?”

Scott hesitates, looking back toward the still closed bedroom door, before giving in with a sigh. Nothing he can do. Eddie is better at this than him anyway.

The fresh air helps and he breathes a little easier. Steve smiles when he notices, leaning against the wall behind him. He’s always been a smart one, that boy, much better at the matters of heart than those of science, unfortunately, but Scott appreciates it now.

“Listen, half of Hawkins calls me in the middle of the night sometimes,” Steve continues. “Tonight it’s Wayne, last week it was Dustin. Woke up from a nightmare, needing to talk to Eddie. Robin spends every other night at my house because when she wakes, she won’t remember immediately if I’m still there.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head, meeting Scott’s eyes with an almost helpless look. Resignation, he thinks. The aftermath of terrible things are still terrible things.

“You call, okay? Whatever it is, whatever you or Wayne need. Whatever the clock says, whatever… Call. Like you did tonight. Sometimes that’s all we can do. You did the right thing.”

It doesn’t feel like the right thing when it makes the circles under Steve’s eyes so dark or his shoulders slump so much.

“You shouldn’t have to do that.”

The boy scoffs, looking up at the night sky. “Yeah, well, it’s a bit late for that. Besides, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this man.” Their eyes meet again. “He’ll be fine.”

They talk more and Steve asks him a lot of questions, wanting to know how Scott’s doing with all this, with the trauma, the nightmares, this thing that haunts everyone but him.

“I don’t understand it,” he admits at some point. “How could I? But I understand the implications, I see the way the three of you and some kids at school behave, I see the haunted looks, and all I can do is be here. So I’m here.”

Steve hums. “Yeah, that’s what we do.”

Scott anticipates more questions or some kind of reaction; but then the front door opens and a tired, teary-eyed Eddie steps outside. He immediately goes to wrap himself around Steve, leaning against him, trusting that the wall will hold both of them.

Steve doesn’t move, just wraps his arms around Eddie, carefully balancing the coffee behind his back.

“You okay?” he whispers.

Eddie shakes his head, burrowing into him further, and Steve brushes fluttering kisses all over the side of his face. Scott doesn’t mean to watch them, but seeing them so affectionate, so comforting, it wakes an ache inside him. Something that’s buried deep inside him, because as much as he loves to hold Wayne or brush a kiss to his lips, his cheek, his forehead, he’s never felt quite brave enough to do just that. Only that. The way Steve and Eddie are doing right now.

There are too many years behind him, the weight on his chest too heavy, his feet never as stable and steady as he wishes for them to be. Being affectionate with a man, with Wayne, is something that still leaves him reeling sometimes. Wrong-footed, with nowhere to find out, no one to ask.

But watching the boys, it makes him brave. Gives him something to mirror, something to copy, something to learn and teach himself.

Swallowing, he heads back inside, needing to look out for Wayne, to see if he’s fine, to reassure himself that everything is as alright as it can be.

In the living room, Wayne looks up immediately and his face crumbles a little at whatever he sees on Scott’s face, his arms lifting as if asking for a hug. It’s not a gesture he’d ever have connected with Wayne, but that doesn’t matter when it’s past four in the morning and the kitchen smells like coffee and nightmares.

He hugs his man tightly, cradling the back of his head gently.

“Don’t apologise,” he whispers into Wayne’s neck. “Just don’t.”

“Okay,” his love whispers back. “I will tomorrow, though.”

“That’s fine,” Scott says, smiling and feeling his eyes begin to sting. He holds Wayne a bit tighter. “Are you feeling okay?”

After hesitating a moment too long, Wayne shakes his head no. “Better though. Don’t, uh. Don’t let go?”

“Never.”

Moments of silence pass like that, just standing there, holding each other. Bravery in the early morning hours.

“Thanks for calling my boys,” Wayne breaks the silence after a while.

“Of course,” Scott whispers, daring to brush a kiss to Wayne’s brow. Remembering the way Steve held Eddie and showered him in affection, Scott dares. He dares to follow that kiss up with another, to his temple this time, and another to his forehead. They’re nothing like the quick butterfly kisses he just witnessed, no. They’re slow. Hesitant in their approach and determined in their message.

I’m here. You’re here. We’re safe.

Wayne doesn’t move, but Scott can feel his breath hitch a little. It makes him smile. He pulls back a little, pressing their foreheads together.

“Thank you,” Wayne whispers.

“For what?”

“Bein’ here. Staying. Everything.”

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

And he means it. Through the nightmares, through the haunted silences, through spontaneous trips to see Eddie, through late night phone calls to make sure the present is unchanged. Through it all, he will stay. He will learn how to make Wayne smile after a nightmare just like he’ll learn how to make his coffee after work. He’ll learn about his relationship with Eddie just like he’ll learn about the way he prefers his sandwiches or his favourite songs and movies.

He’ll learn. It’s the thing he does best. And he’ll be patient, he’ll grow braver by the day.

Right now, though, he only holds his man and dares to move his thumb along his cheek in a gentle caress, feeling the stubble under his fingertips like his own personal reminder that everything will be just fine.

Steve and Eddie stay the night, Eddie sharing the bed with Wayne while Scott takes the couch and Steve stays awake. Scott wants to protest but Steve shuts him off with a smile and the promise that he’ll wake him if anything changes.

It must be another terrible thing, the way this boy puts himself last — but that’s something Scott can learn another day. Right now, he listens for the gentle laughter coming from the bedroom, the door cracked open, and smiles when Wayne lets out an exasperated, “Fredward Munson, it’s five o’clock in the morning, for the love of God, shut the fuck up and let me sleep.”

Eddie cackles and answers something Scott can’t quite make out. Soon after, silence settles over the trailer and Scott falls asleep, feeling oddly safe with Steve watching over them, as though it’s his personal mission to fend off the nightmares himself.

He makes a mental note to make the boy more coffee in the morning.

#clarkson #steddie #scott clarke #wayne munson #wayne munson x scott clarke #scott clarke x wayne munson #god this probably doesn’t make sense and it’s not even soft?? only just remembered you wanted soft vibes whoops?? sorry my friend 😬🤍#but uh i tried #first story on my new phone eyooo #dio words

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