#Wayne Munson/scott Clarke

[novacorpsrecruit]

Wrong Impressions (Repeat Mistakes)

Read full fic on Ao3 | T | wc 4,055 | 5 times trope

*1*

Steve didn’t mean to get off on the wrong foot with Eddie’s uncle.

It just … kept happening.

The first time was shortly after they closed the gates to the Upside Down.

Eddie was hurt bad. Steve had to revive him, give him CPR, begging him to stay awake, to stay talking. It wasn’t until they were able to get him to a hospital and transferred into a gurney did Steve finally feel himself relax.

Which finally allowed the pain to set in.

Steve fainted in the hospital lobby.

His bites weren’t properly cleaned and ended up infected. He was in and out of consciousness. He remembered Robin by his bedside. He remembered Eddie in the room, also fighting to stay conscious. Steve could remember Eddie mumbling, singing under his breath, and talking about hobbits.

For the next few days, both of them were in a state of delirium.

Steve could’ve swore he heard Jim Hopper. Hushed voices talking about Russian soldiers. The sound of an acoustic guitar being plucked. Whispers like secrets were being told, gossiping about him as he slowly woke up.

“His parents haven’t stopped by,” one voice whispered.

“You don’t know that,” another voice huffed, a little deeper than the first.

“It’s been days,” the first voice said. The sound of a chair being pushed back, dragging on the linoleum. “You’d think that Robin girl would’ve called them.”

“Sweetheart,” the second voice hushed. “What are you doing?”

Sweetheart.

Steve felt a gentle touch on the back of his hand, softly rubbing circles into his skin.

Steve slowly lifted his eyelids, heavy as could be. His eyelashes fluttered as he tried to bring his consciousness forward.

“How are you feeling, Stevie?”

Stevie.

Steve’s vision started to clear. Pulled up in the chair where Robin normally sits, was Mr. Clarke, his former middle school science teacher.

God.

Steve had the hots for him in middle school.

By the way the second voice barked out a laugh, Steve wondered if he said that out loud. “Guess he’s still feelin’ that morphine.”

“‘m really feeling it,” Steve mumbled, closing his eyes. He hasn’t felt this disconnected from his body since Starcourt. “Imagining my gay awakening by my bedside. Crazy.”

Steve felt his hand gently squeezed before the touch pulled away. “Go back to sleep, Stevie.”

*2*

Steve was discharged from the hospital after a few days, once the infection started to clear up. A few weeks later, Eddie was able to go home.

Steve found himself hanging out with Eddie more and more. Sometimes, it was him, Robin, and Eddie. Other times, it was just him and Eddie. Some evenings they would talk on the phone for hours, others they stayed the night, sharing a bed too small for the both of them so Eddie could sleep easier in the trailer.

And the more he spent time with Eddie, the further he was falling in love.

Eddie listened to Steve. He listened to his interests, listen to him talk about his day at Family Video or whatever the kids were up to that day. In return, Eddie told Steve about his interests, about metal music and Dungeons and Dragons, and Lord of the Rings. Eddie told Steve about Ozzy Osbourne and yes, he still thinks Steve is metal, too. Eddie never talked down to Steve, explaining things that Steve didn’t know or maybe he should know.

Eddie was touchy and Steve craved his touch. His hand on Steve’s forearm or his bicep when he wanted his attention. The way he ran his fingers through Steve’s hair (even against Steve’s pseudo-protest). The way he’ll gently kick Steve’s shoe under the table or the way he would sit down next to Steve, thigh to thigh, knee to knee.

Eddie was intoxicating.

And maybe he was reading it wrong, but he thought Eddie felt the same way. Robin thought he wasn’t wrong.

Steve wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

He was a romantic at heart. And he was gonna woo the socks off of Eddie.

So here he stood, outside of Eddie’s trailer a half dozen roses in hand. ‘Dinner and a movie?’ he’d ask. No. ‘Go out with me?’ or should he be brunt about it, ‘you, me, dinner at the diner and make out in the back of the theater.’ He was still deciding when he raised his fist to knock on the door.

There was some shuffling behind the door as it opened —

To Mr. Clarke?

“Steve?” Mr. Clarke asked. “What are you doing here?”

Steve’s jaw dropped open. This was Eddie’s trailer. Eddie’s home. So why is Mr. Clarke here?

“Are you feeling better?” Mr. Clarke asked when Steve didn’t answer. He took a step towards Steve, slowly looking him up and down kindly. “You looked pretty rough in the hospital a few weeks ago. You look better.”

Oh fuck.

The memories flooded in, recalling Mr. Clarke by his bedside in the hospital and Steve admitting his childhood gay crushon him.

Shit!

Steve shoved the roses in Mr. Clarke’s hands and took off back to his car, skipping the porch step as he jumped in the Beemer. He should’ve realized Eddie’s van wasn’t parked out front. Shit. He pulled out of the trailer park, speeding off.

What the fuck just happened?

“My uncle said you stopped by last night,” Eddie said between the joint on his lips. They were laying in the grassy field of Weathertop, smoking and listening to Eddie’s mixtape on low. “Said you were weird.”

“Your uncle?” Steve asked, pushing himself up onto his elbows to look at Eddie.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, exhaling. He passed the joint to Steve. “I live with him, you know.”

“You live with your uncle,” Steve said, holding the joint exactly how Eddie past it.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “You didn’t know that?”

“No,” Steve said. “I didn’t.”

“He said you were acting weird,” Eddie laughed, leaning forward to smoke the joint from Steve’s fingers. His lips gently brushed Steve’s finger tips. Steve was going insane. “And he practically raised me, so it says something if he thinks someone is acting weird.”

Steve could brush it off. Pretend nothing happened.

Or he could do exactly what he was planning that night.

“Well,” Steve started, bringing the joint to his lips to take an hit of courage. He let out the smoke in a steady stream. “I went over to see you. I wanted to bring you flowers —“

“Aw,” Eddie said with a smirk. “You got a crush on me?” Then, as his own words hit him, his expression softened. “You got a crush on me?”

“Yes,” Steve breathed. “Yeah, I do.”

Steve was unsure who leaned first, or who exactly made the first move, but their lips met in the middle in a heated kiss.

When they broke for a quick breath, Eddie let out a soft laugh. “What happen to the flowers?”

“I gave them to your uncle,” Steve admitted, resting his head against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s whole body shook as he laughed. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist as he pulled him to the ground.

“I wondered — I thought that — gave him — oh fuck —“ Eddie laughed, grabbing his side, tears forming in his eyes. Steve held Eddie as his laughter died down, wincing at the pain in his side. “Sorry. I wondered where they came from. They’re beautiful.”

“I was trying to be romantic,” Steve groaned. He leaned back in the grass, reaching back to pick a dandelion. He brought it back down, handing it to Eddie. “Will you —“

“Yes,” Eddie deadpanned. “I want a whole traditional wedding —“

“Shut up,” Steve said, hoping to fight back the blush to his cheeks as a brief thought of marrying Eddie passed through his mind. “Go out with me? Dinner and a movie.”

“Yes,” Eddie grinned, leaning forward to steal a chaste kiss. “Wait, which movie?”

“Alien,” Steve said.

“Sweetheart, you know me well,” Eddie laughed. “For the record, I have band practice on Thursdays.”

*3*

The last few weeks have been amazing.

Steve and Eddie clicked as friends, even better as boyfriends. In reality, not much has changed except their touches have lasted longer, pet names have increased, and sometimes, they spent their evening making out in Eddie’s van.

Okay, maybe a lot of times.

They started exploring each other bodies. They started slow. This was Steve’s first time with a guy and this was Eddie’s first time … well, ever. At first, it was heavy petting. Then it moved to dry humping. Then skin to skin, hand to dick, mouth to dick.

Eddie mentioned interest in moving forward. Having more. And Steve could’ve jumped his bones right then and there.

But they needed to be safe. Plus, easy clean up.

So here Steve stood, in the family planning aisle of the pharmacy. He knew what kind he normally grabbed — but he was hesitant. Did he need to get some for Eddie as well? Would Eddie like this brand? Should he asked Eddie what he wanted? Should he get the ribbed ones?

Jesus Christ.

This is too much pressure.

He just wanted Eddie’s first time to be good. Steve grabbed a box of his usual brand, and the brand next to it before quickly turning on his heels and —

Ran chest first into Mr. Clarke, dropping the condoms on the ground.

“Whoops!” Mr. Clarke said, bending down to pick up Steve’s items to hand back. “Sorry son!”

“Mr. Clarke, hi!” Steve said, running a nervous hand through his hair and taking the boxes back. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Came to pick up Eddie’s medication,” Mr. Clarke said, nodding towards the pharmacy in the back. “Said he had a big date tonight, so he wasn’t sure if he’d make it here before they closed.”

Mr. Clarke winked at him knowingly. Eddie said he was going to tell his uncle about them. Steve knew that. Eddie said he was safe. Just like Robin was. But he could feel the condoms burning his palms. Eddie said his uncle was practically like his father. What would he think if he knew Steve planned on deflowering his son tonight?

And just like clockwork, Mr. Clarke’s eyes darted to the condoms in Steve’s hands. “Big night planned?”

“These are for a friend,” Steve said, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.

Mr. Clarke snorted. “Of course they are.”

“Not like that,” Steve said, a little too fast. Mr. Clarke’s eyebrows raised. “I mean — Eddie and I are — no, I don’t mean — well — we are safe — I mean we will be safe — Oh my god!”

Mr. Clarke let out a soft laugh, squeezing Steve’s shoulder as he walked past him. “Have fun tonight, Steve. Just — not too much fun.”

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned, grabbing an ice pack off the shelf next to it for his bruised ego and cold medicine from the aisle’s end cap to fluff his purchase, before going to the front checkout.

He’s never gonna live this down if Eddie finds out.

Read the rest on Ao3

#Steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #Eddie Munson #Wayne Munson #scott clarke #Wayne Munson/scott Clarke #pstpstpst here’s your old man yaoi for the day

[flowercrowngods]

hi dio i have a clarkson first sentence for you because ofc i gotta make you write about the old men again 🙃

It was around 2am when Wayne found himself smiling like a lovesick teenager at the contents of his lunchbox: hidden among a whole array of delicious, freshly prepared sandwiches was a note that read "I hope you'll like my hummus-cucumber sandwiches as much as I like you."

anna!!! clarkson!!! how wonderful to see you both 🥰🤍 thank you for this, i hope this is a vibe, my friend 🤍🌷

It was around 2am when Wayne found himself smiling like a lovesick teenager at the contents of his lunchbox: hidden among a whole array of delicious, freshly prepared sandwiches was a note that read "I hope you'll like my hummus-cucumber sandwiches as much as I like you."

He couldn’t help the smile that immediately came over him — a smile that turned into a happy little hum the longer he looked at the words written in Scott’s neat handwriting —, and he reached for the pen in his breast pocket like he always did, writing his own little note in much more scrawny letters: Still like you more :-)

The smiley face felt a little much, but so did the smile on his face and the way his heart fluttered in his chest — it’s all a little much, and still not enough, and just perfect. Eddie always said it had to be a little ridiculous to be worthwhile; and worthwhile it was.

He dove in, humming at the deliciousness of Scott’s hummus-cucumber sandwiches, already looking forward to the end of his shift in a few hours, when he could drive home and have breakfast with his favourite men before driving Scott to school, basking in the way he would talk about the sunrise in wonderment — he always did, and Wayne couldn’t even imagine ever getting tired of it.

As he enjoyed his late-night lunch, thinking about his sweetheart rambling on and on about sunsets and morning dew and his favourite students and his least favourite parents and the way they’re inevitably linked most of the time, Wayne could feel his thoughts drifting off to the ring in a little blue box sitting at the bottom of his sock drawer, and the smile stayed on his lips until the end of his shift and beyond.

send me an ask with the first sentence of a fic and i’ll write the next five 🌷 continuation welcome

#clarkson #wayne munson #scott clarke #wayne munson/scott clarke #wayne munson x scott clarke #listen i’m sorry but i can’t write these man as anything but happy and sappy and besotted because honestly it’s what they deserve #god it’s been a while since i’ve written anything in past tense hdhd sorry if it’s clunky

[unclewaynemunson]

After Eddie and Max were brought into the hospital, the waiting room was packed with people. But as time passed by, it got quieter. One by one, worried parents came by to pick up their kids.

“Are you sure you don't wanna come with me?” Robin asked Steve when her mother arrived.

Steve nodded. “Go home, Rob, it's okay. Just wanna make sure Max's mom and Eddie's uncle get here.”

She shot him a worried look, but she knew him well enough to recognize when she wouldn't be able to persuade him – and Steve in turn knew that there was no way Mrs. Buckley would leave the hospital without Robin, after all that had happened that night.

So Steve stayed and waited with Lucas in Max's room for Mrs. Mayfield. When she arrived, he decided to give them some privacy and wandered over to Eddie's room a couple of doors down the hall.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if Eddie would already have returned from the operation room – and if so, if it would be good or bad news waiting for him on the other side of the door.

He swallowed. Waiting motionlessly in the corridor wouldn't change what he'd find. So he raised his hand and slowly pushed the door open.

Eddie was inside, leaning against a pillow in his bed. He was as white as the sheets around him and he had large stitches in one of his cheeks, but other than that, he looked – alive.

“Eddie,” Steve breathed out while an overwhelming wave of relief washed over him.

It was only then that he noticed the other people in the room and stopped in his tracks.

Eddie's uncle was sitting at his bedside, wearing sweatpants and only an undershirt underneath his denim jacket. He looked exhausted, but just as relieved as Steve felt.

But that wasn't what had sparked Steve's surprise. No, the thing that Steve couldn't make sense of, was the man who was sat in the chair next to Wayne Munson. It was Steve's old middle school science teacher, Scott Clarke. He was dressed in a plaid flannel that seemed more Mr. Munson's style than his own, buttoned askew on top of a pair of striped pajama pants.

“Mr. Clarke? What are you doing here?” The question tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Who are you?” Mr. Munson asked Steve before Mr. Clarke could say anything. It sounded defensive on the verge of being aggressive, but Steve couldn't really blame him for that, considering what the majority of Hawkins currently thought about Eddie.

“Steve Harrington,” he said, holding out his hand.

The lines on Mr. Munson's forehead deepened.

“He's my friend,” Eddie said. His voice sounded hoarse and weak, but Steve still felt a rush of warmth course through his whole body because of the words he said. “He saved my life.”

“Oh.” Mr. Munson's eyes widened slightly and he finally took Steve's hand. “Wayne Munson. Eddie's uncle. Pleased meetin' ya.”

“It's good to see you again, Steve,” Mr. Clarke remarked. “You've grown a lot since the last time I saw you.”

“I didn't expect to see you here, Mr. Clarke,” Steve noted, still trying to make sense of what exactly his old science teacher was doing in this room.

“Uncle Scott is also my uncle,” Eddie explained.

Steve looked back and forth between Mr. Munson and Mr. Clarke, trying to find any kind of resemblance between the two of them.

“You're brothers?” he couldn't help but ask, unable to keep the astonishment out of his voice. He would never have guessed that those two men were related to each other.

“Steve, no...” Eddie's voice was almost a whisper and had an undertone of something that sounded an awful lot like exasperation. Steve knew that tone all too well; he had never been good at restraining himself from asking stupid questions, after all.

He noticed how the two men exchanged some kind of meaningful glance with each other.

“Um, I think we should go get some coffee, Wayne,” Mr. Clarke said. “Leave the boys to catch up.”

Mr. Munson nodded, but before he got up, he looked at Eddie. "You'll be alright?" he asked, a worried frown on his face.

Eddie nodded. "It's fine, Uncle Wayne." He said it softly, like he was trying to reassure his uncle, and only after Eddie gave him another emphatic nod, Mr. Munson started following Mr. Clarke out of the room.

Just when Steve realized Mr. Clarke must be Eddie's uncle from his mom's side while Mr. Munson had to be his dad's brother, Wayne let his hand linger on the small of Mr. Clarke's back. It was a tiny moment, that only lasted a second right before they went through the door, easy to miss if one weren't paying close attention. But it was still enough for Steve to understand the exasperation in Eddie's voice and the unease on his uncles' faces. That one touch told Steve all he needed to know: there was this casual, easy kind of intimacy behind it that only long-term partners shared. He had seen his parents act like that, and Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair...

“No fucking way,” he breathed out at the moment the door quietly shut behind Mr. Munson. He turned back to Eddie with wide eyes and his jaw dropped.

“Your uncle is – and he's with Scott Clarke?”

Eddie's jaw clenched. “You got a problem with that?”

In his pure astonishment, Steve barely even registered Eddie's question.

“That's impossible!” he all but exclaimed. “Here – in Hawkins? How?!”

Eddie looked slightly past Steve's face, to the bare white wall behind him. “Jesus Christ, Steve,” he said. “You've seen dozens of hell monsters and walked through an alternate dimension to fight an evil sorcerer, and this is what you decide is impossible?”

“Well, it is,” Steve stubbornly said.

He remembered how he once felt about his teammate Thomas, back in his freshman year, remembered the ache in his chest exactly because of how impossible it was. He remembered Robin talking about Tammy Thompson in that bathroom stall filled with the scent of their puke. But Tammy Thompson is a girl, he had said, in his instinctive and perhaps naive confusion - not because he deemed it impossible for Robin to feel that way about a girl, but because up until that point, he had deemed it irrelevant. He knew better than anyone that those kind of feelings would flare up from time to time around certain people, but as far as he was concerned, it didn't matter. There was no way to act on it, no point in lingering on something that was impossible to have anyway.

“They've been together for over a decade,” Eddie said. His voice suddenly lacked its usual warmth; a warmth that Steve had gotten used to over the past few days; a warmth that left a weird feeling of loss behind in Steve's chest now that it wasn't there. “They make each other happy. They don't hurt anyone with it. So don't fucking tell me it's impossible, man. They love each other, and if you're gonna be a dick about that, I'm gonna have to kindly ask you to fuck the hell off.”

“Woah, woah, woah, wait,” Steve hurriedly sputtered. “I'm not – I didn't-” The words got stuck in his throat, somehow. He didn't quite know how to explain the storm that was raging inside of him, the many emotions he felt upon discovering that there were two men happily sharing their lives together, who lived in the same town as he did. Two men who were just like him, who had figured out a way to not hide away, who had somehow found their way to each other, and who had fallen in love without it being something they needed to repress.

“I didn't know – that it could be like that,” he finally managed to stutter. “I never even imagined a future like that for myself. I didn't know – I thought we were just supposed to pretend like those parts of ourselves don't exist and marry a woman. I never met anyone who did it differently.”

Finally, Eddie averted his gaze to look at him again. His eyes were a little bit wider and he was staring at him so intensely that Steve felt something stir deep in his stomach.

“Stevie,” he said, his voice quiet and so much warmer than before in a way that sent a shiver down Steve's spine. “Jesus, I'm sorry, I had no idea. I thought you were saying..." He cut himself off and inhaled deeply, slightly shaking his head. "Listen, man, there's always a choice. I'm not saying it's easy; my uncles have to hide a lot of what they mean to each other when they're in public. They're risking Scott's job, and maybe even a whole lot more if the wrong people find out about them... But there is always a choice. They're much happier together than they would've been if they had chosen to hide and marry a woman, or if they'd spent their whole lives alone.”

Steve had to take a moment to let Eddie's words sink in. Eddie merely kept looking at him, not making a single sound, patiently waiting for him to get his thoughts straight again.

“Are there more people like them, here in Hawkins?” Steve finally asked.

“Not many,” Eddie answered. “Most people who are different move to the bigger cities, where you're a bit more free to be yourself. But they're friends with this lesbian couple who lives a few streets over. And they know some people in Indy, but Wayne refuses to move there. He's too much of a small town boy, he says.” Eddie rolled his eyes at that last part, as if he could in no way comprehend the thought of preferring Hawkins over a big city like Indianapolis.

But Steve did comprehend it. Hawkins was his home. Even after everything that happened to him here, it was where he belonged. It was where everyone he cared about was. He wasn't naive, he knew that that was bound to change at some point, but he had never dared to dream about going someplace else himself. He had never even dared to dream about being someone else. Yet here he was, sitting at the bedside of a boy whose eyes he hadn't stopped thinking about for days.

Maybe it was about time to change his perception of what was possible and what wasn't.

“I know one person who's like – like me,” he admitted. He wanted to tell Eddie about Robin. He knew that there was nothing to worry about – but he also knew it wasn't up to him to share her secret. “I don't know if this is a weird idea," he continued, "but maybe we could all, like, get together sometime. Your uncle, mister Clarke, their lesbian friends...” The idea of it made him feel weirdly excited. He couldn't really imagine what it would be like, to spend a whole evening surrounded by people he had this one thing in common with.

“Not a weird idea,” Eddie told him, that soft look still shining in his big brown eyes. “Sounds awesome, actually.”

“If we do something like that...” Steve hesitated for a moment. “Would you be there too?”

Despite the stitches in his cheek, Eddie managed to smile, dimples and all. He raised a pale hand and pulled a strand of his hair across his face, like he was trying to hide something written on the skin around his lips. “I thought that was obvious,” he said with a chuckle.

Steve chuckled as well. “Just needed to be sure,” he admitted.

He stretched out his hand and put it on top of Eddie's, where it was resting on top of the sheets. It only took a few seconds: he gently squeezed Eddie's hand, then pulled back again, still nervous and not quite knowing what exactly they were headed towards. But no matter how short, the touch still sent sparks through his whole body.

“I'm glad you're alive,” he said, softly.

Eddie's smile became just a little bit wider, and a faint blush colored his pale cheeks. “Me too, big boy. Believe me, me too.”

(I wrote this bc this post by @boldlyvoid refused to leave my brain for literal months)

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #scott clarke #clarkson my beloved #stranger things #fruity ficlet

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemas Day 13: Snow Day (Winter Wednesday)

wc: 2.4k | Rated: T for flirtatious banter and a post-spicy-times premise | cw: A very brief (and mild) exchange alluding to Period-Typical Homophobia Tags: Stuck in Snow, Car Breakdown, Post-Coital, Getting Interrupted, Multiple/Switching POVs, Established Relationships

This is equal parts Steddie and Clarkson, so I'm tagging Queen of the Clarkson hive, @unclewaynemunson. Also thanks to @rocknrollsalad for not only indulging my Clarkson thoughts and cheerleading me on, but for also providing me with some Scott Clarke crumbs in the form of the Stranger Things comics.

Steve awakens to cold silence with a hand in his hair, fingers gently curling and relaxing in tandem with the steady breathing of the person beneath him.

Eddie. It’s Eddie. And it’s also Eddie’s winter coat, a kaki parka whose slippery material threatens to fall to the car floor as soon as he shifts a little.

He grimaces, aware now of the jeans pulled down to his mid-thigh that would expose his bare ass if it weren’t for the coat protecting his modesty. He is without a shirt too and quickly becomes aware of a tacky coldness sticking between him and his partner. Steve startles and props himself up on his elbow.

He grimaces because he is sticky. He feels sticky.

“Eds,” he mumbles, voice feeling – and sounding – like gravel.

He smacks his dry lips and gulps as he attempts to sit up in the cramped darkness of the backseat of his car.

“Mrmphf,” Eddie hums between another low snore, the hand occupied in Steve’s mussed hair now falling to his partner’s bare chest.

“Eddie, we fell asleep,” he continues, rubbing his eyes enough that he can make out the time on his watch.

He feels his eyes bulge out of their sockets.

“We’ve been out here for hours!”

“So?” Eddie stirs, argumentative despite still being half asleep.

Steve hikes up his pants and bites back a shudder (and a chilly shiver). That tackiness is a problem for Future Safe-At-Home Steve, he thinks as he searches for his shirt.

He’d tossed it off (hours ago, it seems), back when Eddie had pulled him into the back cab as music blared from the radio – a stupid alt station that falls in and out of frequency that Eddie insists is worth listening to. Then he remembers, Eddie situated him in his lap, as they tend to do when they make out in his car.

But the making out didn’t stop there and instead continued with Eddie unzipping his jeans, eagerly pushing them down and –

Well, his next thoughts explain his nakedness, his tackiness and the fact that they’d passed out moments after Dio had stopped screech-singing about…

Steve looks at the dashboard, practically diving into the driver’s seat to check the ignition. Eddie yelps behind him and Steve feels a rush of air that makes him think Eddie probably attempted – and failed – to kick at him.

“You almost kicked me in the balls!” Eddie hisses.

“And I’m freezing my balls off!” he shoots over his shoulder.

Eddie gasps at the thought and Steve can’t help but laugh for the split second it takes him to adjust into the driver’s seat properly and look at the Beemer’s ignition, right where his keys are dangling away.

Oh no.

“Eddie, we left the radio on!” he shrieks, his voice reverberating off the windows and creating a ringing in his ears.

“So?” Eddie says again, sounding like a goddamn parrot as makes a mountain of noise, palming around for some clothes.

“So!” Steve mocks back at his boyfriend, scrubbing his hand over the nearest window.

It’s snowing outside now, so much so that all he can see is white fog. He cranes his neck to get a look at the tires but soon gives up and instead settles for pinching his nose. He breathes in and out for a few moments, preparing himself for the inevitable disappointment of not starting the car.

And yeah, it does not work.

Eddie jumps into the front seat, jostling the whole front cab as he wrestles on his boots, distracted enough to not mention the barking yelp Steve gives.

“You fell asleep,” Eddie quips, shucking on his black crumpled long-sleeved shirt and coming back up with a wicked grin, “I rocked your world, baby, so you need your beauty sleep after that. Naturally, I followed suit because you’re just so warm and cosy and hairy.”

Steve turns to find Eddie making grabby hands at his still bare – and cold – chest. He half-heartedly slaps his hand away, earning a pout.

He’ll tease Eddie about the phrase, ‘Rock your world’ later.

“Maybe we can walk back to Johnny’s Gas Station?” he wonders aloud, the suggestion eliciting a groan of protest.

Wayne bolts upright at the sound of the ringing phone and, before he knows it, Scott is grumbling away next to him.

“You just elbowed me in the stomach!” he complains but all Wayne can focus on is the phone.

He jumps to action and glances at his alarm clock radio. It reads 3:46 am.

The cold air of the trailer hits his legs and he looks down to find himself in merely his boxers. He looks at Scott, who is now upright and rubbing sleep from his eyes. Their blanket falls away and Scott shivers from the exposure.

They make eye contact and his partner blushes, sending a flurry of their calm and quiet evening at home into Wayne’s tired noggin.

Eating dinner, watching TV all cuddled up impossibly close on the couch and then – 

Ring… Ring…

Wayne shakes his head and heads for the kitchen. Clothes (and those other recollections) can wait.

“Wayne Munson,” he answers, voice gruff to an almost comical level he’s sure Eddie would make a quip about.

“Hey, Uncle,” Eddie sighs on the other end, greeting him in the typical fashion he does when he has done something wrong.

“Are you safe?” he asks instantly, turning to find Scott dressed in a blue flannel set of pyjamas and holding the pair of sweatpants he had long discarded on the bedroom floor.

“Could you come get us?” Eddie asks.

His heart skips a beat. He looks at Scott, who mirrors his panic.

“ – My car!” Steve’s panicked voice cuts in, sounding close enough to the phone, the kid must be listening in.

Scott steps forward to hand over the sweats.

“Jeans,” Wayne mouths back.

In a flash, Scott has turned on his sock-covered heels and doubles back, grabbing his beige parka from the coat rack on his way.

“Huh?” Eddie grunts. There’s some incoherent bickering before the boy sighs, “And we need a tow… Steve’s car battery croaked it.”

Wayne sucks in a breath of relief but also bites his tongue and readjusts his grip on the phone.

“It was your fault!”

“No, it wasn’t, Stevie.”

Wayne rolls his eyes at the mischievous lilt in his nephew’s voice on that last one and moves to look out the kitchen window, only to be met with snowy darkness. He’s pretty sure he can tow Steve’s BMW in this weather. There’s no way he’d leave such an expensive car outside, nor would the boy let him.

“Alright,” he says, voice clipped, “Tell me where you boys are at.”

Whatever happened, Eddie and Steve are in for a lecture…

All Eddie can see when Wayne pulls over to the small clearing-come-makeout spot are trapper hats, his uncle’s scowl and Scott Clarke’s snow goggles. He groans and throws his head back, jostling his and Steve’s conjoined form.

“Eddie,” Steve warns, “I gotta unzip us.”

Eddie grumbles and drops his arms so his boyfriend can reach behind him and unzip the giant winter coat he had managed to coax himself into as well. He thinks they haven’t even been back at the car for all of five minutes but, as always, Wayne has come to his rescue quicker than he said he’d be.

But, as he watches his uncle open his car door and round to the back truck bed, Eddie can spot Wayne’s bristling shoulders a mile off – old Army jacket and snowy weather, or not.

He grits his chattering teeth as best he can, standing still with his hands in his pockets as Steve abandons him to give an endless torrent of apologies and offer his assistance.

“Eddie,” Scott nods.

Eddie rolls his eyes. Maybe he should chance it with his uncle, his inevitable grumpiness and Steve. Scott is all winter woollies and moustache as he removes a red tartan trapper hat, one that matches Wayne’s and is likely the one he used to give Eddie himself back before the old man ever owned anything kid-sized.

Scott offers the hat but Eddie shakes his head and gives a gloved, two-finger salute.

“Scotty,” he mumbles as politely as possible before catching Wayne’s eye.

“We’ll talk about this,” Wayne begins, waving the eyelet end of his tow rope (even with Steve close on his heel), “Later.”

Eddie looks at his partner and finds Steve nervously running a hand through his hair.

The pair turn in unison, Wayne pointing and offering instructions that Steve promptly follows and they once again leave Eddie standing with Scott, who rocks on his heels and very obviously ogles his uncle's ‘handiwork’.

He shudders and takes a step forward to block Scott’s adoration from his line of sight. But the man soon follows and Eddie huffs out a laboured breath, readying himself for an overly cheery chat.

How his uncle started dating a Chatty Cathy, he’ll never know.

“We were asleep, anyway,” Scott offers.

Eddie feels a blush creep up his neck to his snow-bitten cheeks, recalling how he and Steve had been peacefully sleeping away in the Beemer before this whole (admittedly embarrassing) situation started…

Or more, a situation they found themselves in the middle of.

They watch in silence as Wayne and Steve work in perfect sync, shovelling away the snow built up around the car’s tires, before attaching the hook, placing the Beemer into neutral and firing up the truck.

“I could have helped, you know,” Scott offers, still looking out the window, finally deciding to break the silence that has befallen the car.

Well, a silence that exists besides Steve Harrington’s snoring in the back seat, which started up a mere few minutes from the clearing the boys were stuck at on the outskirts of McMillan’s farm.

He glances at Wayne in an attempt to gauge just how gruff he is.

What type of gruff it is, too.

Wayne sighs and readjusts his hands on the steering wheel.

“Could have driven too,” he can’t help but add.

“No bother,” Wayne says before shooting a look in his rearview mirror.

“Might surprise you, but I was as silly and eager as they are too, once upon a time,” he chuckles, “I’m sure you were too.”

Wayne only grumbles.

Maybe that wasn’t the best point to make right now.

“What’s the matter?” Scott asks – even though he’s sleepy, he knows Wayne prefers to get straight to the point.

He reaches over the middle console to take the hand Wayne is now resting on his thigh. It probably isn’t the safest move considering the weather but, with Steve’s car in literal tow, they are moving at a snail’s pace.

“I worry about them,” Wayne replies, squeezing his hand, “Goin’ out and...” he trails off before changing the subject (so, if Scott knows his partner, he should consider it dropped, for now), “Besides, they interrupted our night.”

Scott smiles to himself as he continues to look out the window, watching a snow-drenched Hawkins pass them by.

He stays like that until they arrive back at the Munson’s. They stir the boys and reassure Steve that as soon as the weather passes, his car will be worked on. In the meantime, Wayne secures a tarp over the maroon Beemer and rouses the boys inside with zero promises of his famous hot cocoa.

And, just like that, Scott finds himself in bed with Wayne Munson once again, cuddling up to spoon his partner and hoping he won’t get an elbow to the ribs this time.

“No funny business,” Wayne whispers over his shoulder and Scott catches a flash of a smile.

“Not even a little more hanky-panky,” he teases, squeezing his middle.

He presses a kiss to Wayne’s pyjama-clad shoulder (a flannel set he’d gifted him at the beginning of winter).

“And you call me a dirty old man,” Wayne quips before sighing, “Don’t think we’ll get too much’a that now that the boys don’t have a car between ‘em.”

He shifts on the spot and readjusts his arm under his pillow.

“Is that what’s got you all grouchy?”

“We’ve only got so much time over the holidays, is all,” Wayne says with a hint of sadness that sounds more like he has to admit to being disappointed.

“What about you get the boys to work on the car together,” he smiles into his shoulder, “That’ll get them out of the house.”

Steve all but runs into Eddie as he exits the bathroom, finally warmed up and wearing his old Hawkins High sweater.

At least he intends to stay warm, an idea that begins to quickly fade considering Eddie won’t budge an inch as he munches from a bowl of Honeycombs – his go-to emergency snack in lieu of hot cocoa.

Eddie points his spoon in the direction of Wayne’s bedroom and glares as milk drips from the end of his utensil.

“You hear that?” he bites conspiratorially.

“What?” Steve asks, lightly pushing past his boyfriend to dump his towel and soiled clothes in the hallway hamper.

“They’re giggling,” Eddie recoils.

“They’re cute,” he chuckles, “Anyway, shove off! I’m gonna start freezing my balls off again.”

Eddie darts out of the way, his disgruntled frown turning serious.

“Yes, shoo!” he hisses, “Go get all toasty. I’m very concerned about what your balls have endured this cold dark winter night, Big Boy.”

He taps at his shoulder with the commanding spoon before jabbing him with it.

“You think Wayne’s really mad?” Steve can’t help but ask as he throws back the bed covers in Eddie’s room.

“Nah,” Eddie drawls, abandoning his bowl on the nightstand, “You’da seen that vein on the side of his head explode.”

He all but cackles at his joke and beats Steve to get under the covers first, twisting them all about as he flops down.

“And you think he’ll get me a good deal on the car?” Steve wonders, adjusting the covers as he slips under them too, “It’s more than just a cooked battery, it turns out.”

“Hell, he’ll probably get us to work on it,” Eddie gripes as the two of them snuggle in, limbs intertwining on instinct, “I’m sure there’s some lame lesson we are supposed to learn from tonight.”

“And what would that be?” he teases.

“Don’t make me say that screwing each other’s brains out in the back of your car is something we shouldn’t be doing,” Eddie whines.

“You mean, ‘rocking my world’,” he giggles into his boyfriend’s not-borrowed yellow sweater.

#i'll cross-post to ao3 when i finally think of a title 😅 #i miiight write a sequel to this that's the next morning #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #scott clarke #clarkson #have to incorporate them this month! #steddie fic #lily writes a fic #steve x eddie #steddiemas #clarkson ☕

[undreaming-fanfiction]

No Such Thing As Stupid Question

This one is for you, Anna! @unclewaynemunson! Congratulations on your academic progress, I'm so proud of you!

Also on Ao3 for your convenience :)

As someone who showed as little interest in romance as possible, Wayne Munson didn't really expect to be come a parental figure. Maybe he'd get a dog when he retired, some older mutt from a shelter, and they'd sit in front of the trailer in quiet company, perhaps a bark here and there as Wayne sipped his beer. Wayne could imagine that. But a kid, never.

But of course, life had a peculiar sense of humor and his younger brother hit a new low - sadly admirable, given that he was already at the very bottom, but someone brought a shovel with him. Grand theft auto, petty crimes all over, domestic disputes (to put it mildly)...Wayne breathed a sigh of relief when he found out he got locked up before he escalated even further. He didn't want to believe Danny had it in him to seriously hurt someone, but given the right or wrong circumstances, he couldn't guarantee there wouldn't be a casualty like a random witness, someone trying to protect their property...yeah, Danny was definitely better off where he ended up.

As for his son Eddie...Wayne couldn't guarantee the same, even though he vowed to try his damn hardest.

Eddie was a scrawny kid with an ugly buzz cut and dark eyes so large he seemed afraid of anything and everything. When Wayne met with the social worker and they talked over coffee, Wayne couldn't help but notice how Eddie grasped his milkshake, as if someone would take it from him the very next second. His twitchy fingers wrapped around the glass in a vice-like grip and even though Wayne was convinced he was listening to every word said, he kept stubbornly staring into the drink, refusing to meet anyone's eye. And even though the kid was barely in middle school, Wayne found the rigid focus all too familiar, painfully so. It was the first time he found himself truly and purely hating Danny, feeling a burning coal in his chest at what his so-called upbringing did to this boy.

In the end, Eddie was sent to live with him, only a bag with clothes too big, a few trinkets and a single book, worn from constant reading. The Hobbit.

The first day, the now joint Munson household was quiet. Eddie was chewing on an improvised pasta Wayne had made - on his own, thank you for asking, with all three ingredients - and looking anywhere but at his uncle. And Wayne was a quiet man himself so sure, they could stay in silence until Eddie graduated and moved somewhere else, but there was a part of Wayne that didn't want this for Eddie. He wanted at least one Munson to turn out alright.

"Hope it's edible. I...don't cook much," he tried, swallowing a lump of poorly mixed spices.

Eddie's eyes were fixed to his plate. He nodded, the movement almost indiscernible, and then returned to his pasta.

So Wayne tried again. "I saw that book you have," he mentioned and boy, was that a wrong move. Eddie almost curled into himself, his eyes darting to Wayne for the first time - but not with curiosity. With defiance and fear.

He didn't say anything, only stared at Wayne. As if he was daring him to say something, do something.

So Wayne did. "It looked interesting. The Hobbit? I've never heard of it. Is it any good?"

The slight relaxation in Eddie's shoulders seemed promising. "It's my favorite," he said, his eyes returning to the pasta, stabbing a few offending pieces with his fork. "It has an adventure in it. An unexpected one."

Wayne huffed a quiet laugh under his breath. "Ah. So somethin' like this?"

Eddie looked at him again with those large dark eyes. "...yeah."

And then it was quiet again, but this was less forced, less tense. Wayne thought that maybe this was how Eddie would be normally, a withdrawn soul just like himself, but just as he chewed on the last mouthful of less than ideally cooked pasta, Eddie broke the silence.

"Why'd you take me in?" Eddie blurted out and seemed to regret it immediately, biting in to his own lip. "It's...it's not like you knew me before and you could have refused, I...I would understand that. I think. But you agreed to let me stay and I'm grateful and all, but...I just don't get it. Why?" Pausing for a moment, he added "sorry if that's a stupid question. I just want to understand."

It might have taken Wayne a second longer than ideal to answer, but he didn't want to spit ketchup on the poor boy who already seemed flustered enough. He held his finger up and quickly washed down the food with a gulp of soda. "First rule of this house, son," he said and smiled at Eddie, actually smiled, although his facial muscles protested. "Ain't no such thing as stupid questions. Anything you want to ask, just ask. And if I know the answer, I will give it. Understood?"

Eddie was maintaining eye contact now and he nodded eagerly. Almost too eagerly. It made Wayne reconsider in that very second, because this wasn't a withdrawn soul like he'd suspected - this was a boy who wanted to open up to someone so, so badly. "Yes," he muttered and Wayne couldn't help himself, he reached out, slowly, and ruffled whatever hair remained on Eddie's head. And Eddie didn't move away, just watched his hand like a hawk and, when he ensured he wasn't in any danger, even leaned into it, giving Wayne a small smile.

Returning to his side of the table, Wayne leaned in. "Why'd I take you in? I could give you a bunch of reasons, none would fully cover it. Obligation, sure. You're family, that's another thing. But most of all, I just..." He trailed off, finding the correct words, the truthful words. Throughout all of it, Eddie was watching him, waiting. "I guess I just want to give you something better, Eddie. Danny and I, we didn't have the best family, not sure how much he told you. And there ain't much we can do to fix ourselves, but I look at you and I think...maybe I can make a difference right here. Because you seem like a bright kid to me and I just...I just want to do right by you. Even if I'm the only one."

Eddie swallowed thickly, fidgeting. "And...and if I turn out like him?" he mumbled, struggling to keep the eye contact. "What if you...you do that, but I still fail?"

Damn, Wayne Munson did not cry, but the fear, the insecurity in Eddie's voice tugged at something in his chest. He reached over again and grasped Eddie's bony shoulder. "Then you'll still have home here for as long as you want. All I want from you is to give it your best shot. That work for you?"

The boy smiled at him and nodded, wiping at his eyes. "Yeah."

"Good." They were grinning at each other over dirty plates, the smell of ketchup and cheap soda between them. "And I meant what I said. Anythin' you want to ask, go for it. No question is a stupid question."

Eddie smirked at him and Wayne might have detected a glint of mischief in his eyes. He thought he'd bend over backwards to keep it there, to give this frightened kid a bit of childhood back. "Anything, huh?" he asked.

"Yup. But count on me askin' a lot of stuff too. Like," he paused, rubbing his chin in deep thought.

It was ridiculous. But Wayne remembered what the doctors told him when he returned from Vietnam - sometimes to get moving, you need something unexpected, something to confuse the anxiety right out of your brain. So he dug deep and hard into his imaginative side and pointed at Eddie. "What is the single superior animal noise? No long thinking, go."

Eddie blinked at him, once, twice, and then he burst out laughing. He kicked his knee into the table and the dishes rattled around, but he couldn't stop himself. He was wheezing, grasping the side of the table and trying to breathe. And if that didn't make Wayne's heart swell. "You...you looked so serious!" gasped Eddie between snorts and giggles.

"It's a serious question. Now, Eddie, what's your answer?" Wayne tried to keep his face under control, but Eddie's grin was contagious.

The boy cleared his throat and leaned forwards, brow furrowing in concentration. "So many fine choices," he said in a contemplative voice that made Wayne nearly choke on his soda because it sounded like a poor imitation of a British TV celebrity. "I have to go with ribbit. Unique and well-balanced." Glancing at Wayne, he shot back. "The soup to beat all the soups!"

Wayne smirked and crossed his arms. "That's an easy one. Bean soup. And before you ask - not from a can."

"Knew it."

It gradually becomes their thing.

Whenever Eddie is lost in thought, when he comes back from school with a new bruise, Wayne shoots a ridiculous question at him, what is the best race in the Middle Earth for a basketball tournament, what is the ideal number of dried peas to have in your kitchen, and Eddie's smile is back, as radiant as ever.

When Wayne returns from the plant, grumbling about the stupid idiots from the previous shift making his job harder, he finds Eddie bouncing on his feet, waiting for him to come home to ask what is the ideal sole color for running shoes. "Not the shoe color, the sole, Wayne, what is the sole color that makes you just want to run? No thinking, go!"

Even years after Eddie's hair has grown into the thick wavy locks that Wayne isn't envious of, nope, not at all, they still randomly yell questions at each other across the trailer. Eddie hollers "WHAT'S THE FUNNIEST FRUIT IN THE WHOLE WORLD WAYNE?!" and Wayne shouts back "IT'S PEACH BECAUSE IT'S STUPIDLY HAIRY JUST LIKE A CERTAIN NEPHEW OF MINE AND STOP YELLING, BOY!". Wayne asks between quiet puffs of smoke outside "if you had to wear a hat for the rest of your life, what hat would that be?" and Eddie blows out a circle and snickers "a top hat." There's a joke there and Wayne smiles to himself, wondering if he should acknowledge it.

And eventually, when his boy is returned to him after the hell that was March of 1986, when Eddie slowly heals and the Harrington boy doesn't leave his side, Wayne has the perfect question but he bides his time, watching the two fools dance around each other like the foolish fools they are (has he mentioned they are fools? Because they absolutely are). He's hoping he won't need to ask the question, maybe it will be enough to just wait, but nope, he's had enough. Life is too short for people like him and Eddie. So he grabs a couple of beers, drags Eddie to the porch of their government-funded house and after a couple of cans, starts their favorite pasttime.

"What's the best pink thing to ever exist?"

"Plastic flamingos," responds Eddie and sips his beer. "The one piece of clothing humanity should have never invented?"

"Ties, who's supposed to learn to tie that thing...the best cat name?"

"Household or wild?"

"Wild."

"Fluffles. Imagine being eaten by that in the woods. You'd never live it down, even after dying. The most humiliating job ever?"

"TV weather guy. Must suck to be wrong all the time." He doesn't even pause, just continues in the disinterested, flat tone they always use for their late night rounds of no-stupid-question. "The best place to take Steve for a date?"

"Somewhere calm, I think a picnic, he doesn't do well with a lot of loud noises or people," replies Eddie immediately. He sips his beer and freezes, mid-gulp, when his mind finally catches up with his mouth.

Wayne just pats his shoulder reassuringly. "Sounds like a great plan to me." When Eddie doesn't answer or move, he adds "swallow, boy."

Eddie pours the rest of his beer into his mouth and chuckles at Wayne, breathless. "That sounds more like a second date idea. Uh, shit. Sorry. I mean..."

"I'll pretend I stopped listening at the picnic," says Wayne, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays his sternness. "Just stay safe, Eddie. But if I have to keep watchin' you and that pretty boy dance around each other for a week longer, I swear I'll have you two sit down and talk it out, kindergarten style. So you'd better ask him out before I give him the talk."

With the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie nodding, grasping the can for support. "Will do. Just...are you..." He bites his lip, turns to Wayne. "Does this change anything?"

"I sure hope it does!" Wayne flicks the ash off his cigarette. "For one, I'd expect your room to be much cleaner when you get a boyfriend."

They're both chuckling now, clinking their empty beer cans together. "Smart ass," says Eddie but it has no bite, no venom. "Thank you, dad," he says quietly, and Wayne can't help himself, he throws his arm over Eddie's shoulders and pulls him into a very uncomfortable sideways hug. It's the best hug in his life.

When Eddie throws open the door the next Friday and hollers "WHAT IS THE BEST CHAPSTICK FLAVOR FOR KISSING?" and Wayne answers, he gets corrected for the first time. "Wrong," says Eddie and wipes at his mouth, still grinning wildly. "It's cherry."

And Wayne gets proven right once more when, not even a year later, after rebuilding of Hawkins, practically adopting Steve into their small weird family, Eddie proves to him that he's not just scarily observant, but he learns the worst tricks in the book.

Because sure, Wayne might have buried his own needs and desires so deep they're practically at the Earth's core, but then there was a sympathetic man close to his age, maybe a bit younger, who approached Wayne and told him he's so happy for him that Eddie is back, that he taught Eddie in middle school and he never believed a single word about his involvement because that boy is incapable of harming anyone, that's what he said. And he invited Wayne for a beer because some people were still treating the name Munson as the plague itself and Wayne might be finding himself looking at Eddie and Steve, wishing that he was younger, he had more courage...

So he's still mostly lost in those thoughts when Eddie starts pestering him during one of Steve's shifts, meaning they're home alone and bored. It's late July, they're both sitting on the porch, sipping beer again, and Wayne has already answered questions about the mug to end all mugs, whether soccer would be more fun to watch with human-sized insects and who is the single person from all Hawkins to be sent to Mars to never return. And then Eddie asks "what's the best movie to take Scott Clarke for the first date?" and Wayne's brain short circuits.

When he comes to, Eddie is smirking at him sympathetically, offering him a new can of beer because Wayne dropped the old one. "Come on, did you think I wouldn't notice?" he asks and nudges his shoulder. "I can sense the "desperately in love" Munson eyes from a mile away. I've got them patented, you know. So. Your answer?"

Wayne coughs and stammers out that it would have to be something smart because Scott is smart. And that he isn't smart enough to figure out what he'd like, so it's not really a good question...

But Eddie just shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, producing two tickets to the Hawkins movie theatre. "Wrong, Wayne. Or not completely. Mr. Clarke - Scott, shit, that's difficult to get used to, he loves smart things, but he's also a massive nerd, as our lady Applejack loves to call him and everyone within a certain interest group. And I happen to know there's something called RoboCop playing tomorrow. I also happen to have two tickets right here, to know that Scott is free and that he'll be waiting for you 15 minutes before the movie starts."

Wayne gapes at him, mouth hanging open and speechless for the first time in his life. His eyes are traveling between the tickets and Eddie's smile while he's desperately trying to stomp out the flames of hope in his heart. "But...but what if he doesn't see me like that?" he asks and he hates how small and insecure he sounds, but Eddie needs to understand that things are different for people like him, for his age, his...whole person.

His nephew - no, son - throws his head back and laughs into the setting sun. "Look at that," he grins and shoves the two tickets into Wayne's hand. "That has to be the first stupid question I've ever heard from you. Let's see..." he taps on his chin, pretending to think. "Ask me again tomorrow after the movie, okay? If you still need to ask."

The next evening, Eddie leans next to the door when Wayne returns from the movie. "So..." he drawls, raising his eyebrows. "Do you still need me to answer?"

And Wayne huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. "Nah, no more stupid questions in this household."

#steddie fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #academic fairy godmother Aneta #clarkson #wayne munson #scott clarke #steddie drabble #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

[griefabyss69]

Gone Fishin'

Written for @steddiemicrofic!

[ AO3 ] [ Tip / Commissions post ]

‘HOLE’ wc: 404 | rated: G | cw: none there's only peace and love on planet earth, outsider POV, this is both a wayne x scott clark and a steddie fic

Wayne takes Scott fishing on a beautiful spring morning, and they make a little wager.

Sunshine crests at the horizon, kissing the far end of the lake with gold as it shoulders the pale blue of early morning.

Scott breathes deeply, the fresh air energizing as Wayne readies their little fishing boat. He sweeps his eyes over where his strong hands are working with the ropes at the dock, all of their gear inside waiting for them.

Wayne had promised to take him to the "fishin' hole" back in October, and now that it's spring, Scott finally gets to spend a peaceful morning alone on placid water with him.

He hadn't expected such a big body of water, but he's trusting that Wayne knows what he's doing. It certainly seems so, as he climbs in and gets the motor running, gesturing for Scott to come aboard.

"Easy," he says, his hands steady as solid ground when he guides Scott's way.

The ride to the middle of the lake is pleasant; Wayne kills the motor early and uses an oar to keep the momentum of the boat, so they don't scare all of the fish away. Scott tries not to get lost picturing the ripples of sound that would reverb through the area, and wonders what the fish think of their noise.

"How's this?" Wayne asks as they settle, bending to open the tackle box.

Scott has no idea if this is a good environment for fishing, but he's content. Wayne's wearing his fishing hat; a gift from Eddie. The ironic text embroidered on it reads:

Let any fish Who meets my gaze Learn the true meaning of fear For I am the harbinger of death

Truly a message fit for Eddie himself, but it kills Scott with fondness whenever Wayne wears it.

"It's nice," he answers, looking out at the distant trees. "We should invite the boys next time."

"If you survive actually catching somethin', yeah," Wayne teases, drawing Scott's eyes back to his expected smirk.

He's still getting used to how the teasing makes his heart-rate speed up, and he feels a blush coming on.

"I'll make you a bet," he says, straightening. "If they start dating before June, I'll clean a fish for you."

Wayne's eyes sparkle even under the shade of his cap.

"And if they don't?"

"Well, then I get to meddle."

Wayne laughs, shakes his head.

"For their sake let's hope they get their shit together soon," he says, picking up a fishing rod.

#griefabyss69 writing #clarkson fanfic #wayne munson x scott clark #now for a complete tonal shift from what I just posted LMAOO #literally the nicest thing I've written imo... it's just a nice day for them #NOW WITH THE FULL THING.... somehow I managed to just not copy and paste the first part #reblog this version please ;__;

[momotonescreaming]

This just a short Scott Clarke/Wayne Munson thing inspired by the writings of @unclewaynemunson and @flowercrowngods because this little ship has me in a choke hold. (2.2k)

“So, how was the date Pops?” Eddie asks, before Wayne even has a chance to close the front door. He’s lounging on the couch in an old pair of sweats and a - slightly too big for him - Hawkins High Swim Team hoodie, arm outstretched with remote in hand so he can turn down the volume of whatever show he was watching. Waiting for Wayne to come home, no doubt. Like a stray cat waiting for scraps to be thrown his way.

Wayne just sighed, making sure the door locked behind him as he stepped into the trailer. “You know it ain’t like that.”

He threw his keys next to Eddie’s on the small side table next to the door - the wobbly one that they balanced out with a wad of cardboard crammed under one leg - and removed his jacket to hang on the peg that hung above it.

Wayne didn’t say anything, and neither did Eddie, still laying on the couch and looking at him with a glint in his eye. He wasn’t going to let this go - Wayne knew exactly what his nephew looked like when he set his mind on something. Only normally it was a new DnD campaign, lyrics he was working on, that puppet song he was determined to learn to play - not his Uncle’s love life.

Sighing again, he took his time slowly toeing off his boots, pushing them to line the walls with Eddie’s sneakers.

“It weren’t a date, Eddie.” Wayne adds, breaking the silence under Eddie’s heavy gaze.

“But you’d like it to be.”

Neither Eddie or Wayne say anything. They both know the answer to that question is yes. He wasn’t trying to hide it from Eddie, but he wasn’t planning on shouting it from the rooftops either. They were just too good at picking apart each other’s moods, seeing past expressions, and pulling at words left unsaid. They were family and knew each other like no one else. So Eddie knew Wayne was growing mighty fond of his new friend Scott Clarke - the same way he knew when Eddie finally made a boyfriend of Steve Harrington - all without ever saying those words.

The Munson men were smitten.

He made his way to the kitchen, now socked feet cool on the linoleum floor as he opened the fridge. Wayne welcomed the brief shock of cold fridge air as he pulled out a couple of beers. As he returned to the living room, Eddie was uprighting himself into a sitting position - one leg tucked underneath him on the couch, the other brushing the floor. Wayne handed him one of the beers as he passed, before settling into his own armchair.

“So,” Eddie started, dragging out the sound. “How was your not-date?”

Wayne gave him a look before responding, cracking open his beer. “It was fine.”

It was a lot more than just fine, spending time with Scott, but Wayne wasn’t going to give Eddie the satisfaction of caving that early. They always did this song and dance, Eddie asking him about his time spent with Scott, not so subtly gathering information and prying for details.

“Come on Wayne!” Eddie exclaimed, gesturing with his beer bottle. “You gotta give me more than that.”

“I don’t ‘gotta’ give you anything,” Wayne replied, taking a sip of his thankfully cold beer.

“Wayne,” Eddie whined, melting down further into the couch cushions - absent mindedly making sure his beer bottle remained upright. “You’re no fun.”

“I just ain’t gossiping about a perfectly normal evenin’.”

“Can you tell me what you did at least?” Eddie said, only sort of begging and taking a swig of his own beer. “Set the scene. Walk me through it. Let your poor worried nephew know where you were all night.”

Wayne gave Eddie a look. He had heard Eddie call it his Dad Look once when Wayne was out of the room and he thought he was too far away to hear it. Wayne ended up standing outside the door, eyes misty, pretending it didn’t mean as much as it did. He may not be his father but Eddie was his boy.

They had leaned into it more, ever since the hospital, ever since they almost lost each other. He’d call Eddie Son, and in return Eddie would smile and call him Pops. They hadn’t talked about the dad thing yet. Wayne didn’t want to push, to take too much. He was willing to wait and take Eddie’s lead.

“You ain’t guilt tripping me when we both already know I’m home safe.”

“What if I guilt tripped you by mentioning how I’m a poor gay kid needing an older gay man as a role model to help me grow and develop and shit?” Eddie said with a shit eating grin. “Would that help you spill the beans?”

“Considerin’ you got a boyfriend all on your own,” Wayne started, gesturing to Steve’s hoodie that Eddie was wearing. The sleeves were starting to fray where Eddie had picked at the threads, but Steve liked it on Eddie too much to complain. “I’d say you’re doin’ just fine.”

"Well, what if I said I wanted to bond with my uncle whom I love so much?” Eddie said, a layer of sincerity coating his words as he leaned on the arm of the couch and looked over at his uncle with those wide eyes of his. Wayne looked back at Eddie, his gaze softening.

“Then I’d say me and Scott went bowling,” Wayne said, knowing he was going to give in to Eddie eventually.

As much as Eddie loved to joke and tease and play up the dramatics, he could tell this meant a lot to his boy. Knowing their trailer was a safe space where he could talk about boys - and he would encourage Wayne to talk about boys in kind. Knowing that they loved each other, and knowing that they wanted the other to be happy.

And Wayne is happy. His boy is alive, his boy is happy, and he’s met someone he likes spending time with.  And if all they ever are is friends - then he’ll be content with that. It’s safer to not want things too much when you’re a man like Wayne. When you’re poor. When you’re old. When you’re gay.

You take what you’re given and want for nothing.

Eddie didn’t subscribe to that train of thought. He was passion, and ambition, and wanting. He kept calling himself a coward but Wayne thought he was the bravest boy Wayne had ever met. He could list the reasons until the cows came home. Being himself in a world where that wasn’t encouraged. Standing up for the freaks and geeks at his own personal risk. Failing senior year twice and still going back because he was determined to graduate. Having a steady boyfriend in a small hateful town like Hawkins.

And then there was spring break. The week that almost took his boy from him.

But it was also the week that bought him back.

He wasn’t thankful for spring break, how could he, when Eddie was almost strung up for a murder he didn’t commit. When Wayne had to come home to his front door open and a broken cheerleader laying there on the floor.

But he had to look on the positive side of things or he’d go mad. He knew that about himself now. So he got to thinking. Eddie was home, he was safe, he was more sure of himself in a way he hadn’t been before. And Wayne had met Scott Clarke. As friends- or something adjacent. Not as parent and teacher.

Scott saw the news and saw a man in need of comfort, a companion. Not a man who’s son was a Satan worshipping murder. Not some trailer trash Hick with bad luck. So when the men from the plant looked at him with pity, when housewives gossiped as he passed them in the supermarket, when those fancy suit types took over his trailer while his neighbours looked through their windows - Scott asked Wayne how he was holding up. Offered him kind words and a warm presence. A casserole.

Eddie would say it was like him and Steve. Going through something traumatic together and coming out closer than you could have imagined otherwise. (Steve would say he’d like to think they’d be this close even without the week from Hell. They’d make it.)

Wayne was content to have a friend, after it all. Scott had held him when he cried, had hugged him when he heard Eddie was alive and safe, and then neither men were content to leave the other’s company now that they had it. They’d meet up for a coffee one morning, or a beer in the evening, and Wayne never complained that it messed up his sleep schedule working nights. Scott would invite him and Eddie over for a home made dinner (nothing fancy, he’d claim) and Wayne would politely decline until the desire to see the other man again won out.

And now they went out and did one of the only things there is to do in Hawkins - they went bowling. And Wayne wasn’t too shabby at it, if he said so himself. (Eddie would say he was fucking amazing at it, but that might have been because the boy was absolutely terrible.)

“You and Scott, huh?” Eddie teased, waggling his eyebrows and pursing his lips in a barely contained smile. “Already on a first name basis?”

Wayne looked at him with a half-hearted glare. “You don’t go bowling with a man, then turn around and call him ‘Mr Clarke’, Eddie.”

It was nice, bowling with Scott. They finally had an evening where Wayne didn’t have a shift at the plant, and Scott didn’t have any urgent papers to grade or after school activities to supervise. It had taken some scheduling, but both men were determined to make it work. (Wayne tried not to read into that too much, Scott making time for him).

Wayne had shown up too early (perhaps too nervous, perhaps too eager) and had resigned himself to lighting up a cigarette while he waited - awkwardly leaning against the worn paint of his truck while he waited for the other man. Only to shortly find Scott pulling into the parking lot - also awkwardly early. He tried not to read into that either.

“I don’t know, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie singsonged. “Seems awful familiar.”

“You’re just saying that because he was your teacher,” Wayne retorted, tone light.

Eddie relented. “Yeah probably. I called him Scott in class once you know?”

Wayne hummed in acknowledgement.

“It felt so weird, but it got a laugh from the class, which was the goal.” Eddie said. “He retaliated and called me Edward for the rest of the lesson. I thought it was funny.”

Eddie looked over at him, head tilted, eyes thoughtful. Peering through Wayne’s uncomfortable silence. He spoke, quieter this time. “It would be alright if you did like him, you know.”

Wayne dipped his head, taking a sip of his beer to avoid talking. It wasn’t always easy talking about these things. Even with Eddie, in the privacy of their own trailer. The weight of his words hanging over his head if he even thought about admitting liking men the way he did. He doesn’t want to risk anything going wrong. Not when he’s got Eddie. Not when he almost lost Eddie.

It was one thing to feel his stomach flutter, his heart clench when he saw him - it was another to admit out loud that Scott had him feeling all kinds of giddy. It was like he was a teen again, waiting for his crush to lock eyes with him across the classroom. Eager and nervous and keeping it all locked up inside.

So Wayne looked at Eddie, voice quiet. “Thank you, son”

If Eddie noticed that Wayne carefully didn’t admit to anything, he didn’t say a word.

“I Just want you to be happy, Wayne.” Eddie said, propping his chin in his hand.

“I know.” Wayne replies, fondly looking over at Eddie. “Who knew my boy was such a romantic under all that bluster.”

“What can I say,” Eddie says with a smile and a shrug of his shoulders. “Steve brings it out in me. He bought me a bouquet of roses one time and it was like, the romantic floodgates opened.”

Wayne snorted into his beer bottle, watching as Eddie waved his hands around as he talked.

“Seriously!” Eddie exclaimed. “He’s a total romantic and keeps like, reserving new movies that come through the store he thinks I’ll like, just for me. He made me a whole candlelit dinner once, suit and everything - because we can’t exactly go out to Enzo’s for it you know? Picnic’s by the lake and shit. And I thought that stuff was all cliché, and fads and crap - but now that I have Steve? I dream of kissing him under the moonlight and listen to his favourite bands just so I can surprise him.”

“I just love him a whole lot Wayne. I want that for you too.” Eddie said as put down his beer and flopped down onto the couch once more, hair falling into his face. “Like, if I can wind up with Steve Harrington, then you can win over my Middle School science teacher. With your southern charm and sick bowling skills.”

Wayne stuck one foot out and gently kicked at the side of the couch - jostling Eddie, who giggled. “Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Pops.”

#Eddie Munson #Wayne Munson #Scott Clarke #Stranger Things #Stranger Things Fic #Steddie #Clarkson #My Writing #this is my first time posting stranger things writing so uhhhhh #i hope it sounds in character #fhhdsfs im nervous

[puppy-steve]

valentines day is a ways away still, but i thought of this cute lil clarkson scenario

i like the idea that wayne starts sending flowers to scott's classroom at the beginning of February and leaves little compliments in the cards and scott asks the front office if they know who sent them but they only say the flower shop and the shop says it was anonymous. then as the days progress, wayne starts putting stuff about himself on the cards too and scott is intrigued by this person. i love the hc that eddie gets his theatrics from wayne, so on the 14th, on the very last bouqet, he tells scott where he can meet him, and they meet at benny's and have a cute lil meet up

maybe wayne was a year or two ahead of scott in school and they both had secret crushes on each other but obviously they couldn't do anything about them so they went through high school with only the occasional "hi" in the hallways and a rare question in class then scott was one of eddie's visitors while he was in the hospital and they got to know each other a little and that's what kickstarts the flowers the following year

#cj talks #i love these old men so much #meanwhile steve and eddie are trying to out-velentines the other and their wallets are screaming in agony #clarkeson #uncle wayne #scott clarke #wayne munson

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Based on this incredible post that inspired the worms. Sorry it's not exactly right @flowercrowngods I just finished this and went to find the post only to realise it went in a different direction, I'm so sorry darling!

I'm sorry in advance if this is rubbish, this is my first time writing clarkson I just hope I did our beloved Uncle Wayne proud 💖

It all started with Dustin Henderson. Didn't everything?

The kid stopped by, trying to bribe Eddie into doing something with the creatures in the campaign or something. Poor boy still hadn't worked out that the only way to bribe Eddie to do anything was through Robin; because since the day Steve Harrington, of all people, had stepped through his front door, the three of them had been as thick as thieves. Wayne didn't question it, just accepted it as one of the eccentricities of the universe, especially when he saw just how happy the ex jock made his boy.

So although Dustin was way off in trying to find the way to Eddie's heart; he'd easily found Wayne's, he'd do anything for good coffee and homemade baked goods.

Especially flavourful, rich coffee and mouthwatering baked goods. Bribery through fresh ground coffee beans and handmade delicacies would always win him over, even if it was a hit and a miss for the little genius. More for me, he'd thought gleefully to himself as he'd pilfered the treats, sneaking out the front door to sit in his rocking chair on the porch, enjoying watching the world go by and listening to his kids bicker with a satisfied smile plastered on his face.

Wayne was a man of simple pleasures. He'd always been happy with his store bought instant and the kind of pastries that pop out of a can, but the delicacies Dustin had brought by just wouldn't leave his mind. He was having cravings, zoning out at work just thinking about them. And then one morning as he was driving home from a long shift, Someone Like You blasting from the speakers, the slow beat easing the tension in his shoulders. The traffic lights switched from green to red as he rolled through town, not that he minded, the only thing waiting for him these days was his bed but as he slowed to a stop, tapping along to the beat on the sill of the rolled down window, he spotted the new bakery the kid had bought them from.

The lights flipped back, and suddenly he found he was pulling into an open parking spot outside Clarke's. He's pretty sure the building had been an ice cream parlour before the quake, but most of the buildings in town had been refurbished and reopened in the last few years; sometimes with the same business, sometimes with something new. The sign above the door was painted in red and white stripes, with Clarke's Bakery written in pretty maroon calligraphy. The notice in the window was flipped to Open, it surprised him, given how early it still was, most of the town was still in bed and there wasn't a soul to be seen when the little bell above the door jingled as he entered, he would've been worried that the building had been left open by accident if it wasn't for the luscious smell permeating the air and the "Be right with you," that someone called from the back room.

Waiting was fine with him, it gave him a chance to familiarise himself with the quaint, little place. The chalkboard price lists, the display cases were so shiny they were obviously brand new, and unfortunately disappointingly empty, but he supposed it wasn't surprising given how early it still was. The smell coming from the back more than made up for it though, it was making his mouth water, and he just knew whatever they were making was going to be delicious in the way that store bought anything just wasn't any more.

Behind the counter was one of those fancy coffee machines, the ones with all the buttons and the levers; Wayne had less to deal with at the plant, but the best thing of all was the array of cups sitting on top of the shiny machine. They were all different shapes, sizes, colours and characters; it reminded him of his old collection, the one he lost to the "quake" but honestly he couldn't be too sad about it, after weeks at Eddie's bedside he was just glad that was all he'd lost.

The whole place just felt really comfortable, the tables and chairs had all been picked for comfort rather than style, most of it was mismatched, but it was the type of furniture that invited you to sit, even the rug under the sofa in the back corner looked like the type you wanted to take your shoes and socks off and sink your toes into.

Homely was the word that came to mind, unlike the kids who'd called it cute, whatever that meant; how anything inanimate could be cute was beyond him. Puppies, you betcha, babies, absolutely; the man who'd just appeared behind the counter wearing a shirt and bow-tie under a flour covered apron, icing sugar splotches on his face and mischief dancing in his eyes, yep, 100%, definitely cute.

"Wayne! Hi," Scott greeted with a wide grin that slowly slipped from his face as Wayne's brain came up with nothing but static, "Scott Clarke, remember? I taught your Eddie. We were paired up together when little Will went missing," he continued, looking less and less sure of himself.

Wayne hated it. He knew all that, he knew Scott, of course he did, but it was like his brain wasn't connected to the rest of his body and all he could do was blink and breathe. It felt like it took a Herculean effort just to breathe out a dreamy "Hi."

Scott blushed and looked down at the counter, glancing up at Wayne through his lashes, a smile pulling at one side of his mouth as he drew delicate patterns on the notepad sitting beside the register that Wayne's pretty sure he recognised from attempting to help Eddie with his homework once upon a time.

"What can I getcha?" Scott asked, pen poised over the paper.

It was like the connection snapped back into place as he thought about the coffee and pastries Dustin had brought.

"Dustin," Wayne started, raising his hand to his shoulder, "curly hair, logo t-shirts," Wayne did his best to describe. Scott taught a lot of students, just because he remembered the class disrupters like Eddie didn't mean he remembered them all.

But Scott just chuckled jovially, "I know Dustin," he admitted fondly.

Wayne smiled softly, anybody who held any affection for one of his kids was good in his book, "He brought something over for Eddie last week, coffee and a-"

"An Americano and a Yum Yum," Scott finished for him with an affectionate smile, pushing himself off the counter to start filling components and pressing buttons before disappearing into the back.

Wayne sighed heavily, leaning bodily against the counter. He was glad for the breather, he didn't know what was wrong with him; an old man with butterflies and a lead tongue, cheeks flushing crimson as his mind played him a loop of his lovesick greeting. He scrubbed his hands roughly over his face, wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Finding a bloke attractive wasn't new to him, he'd been in a committed relationship before Eddie had been dropped on his doorstep by his deadbeat brother, but John had asked him to choose between them and hadn't liked that Wayne didn't even need to think about it, of course he would always choose Eddie.

What was new was being so obvious about it. 

Maybe he'd spent too much time around Steve and Eddie, they were careful in public, of course they were, but at home, with their loved ones, they were never ashamed to let their love and affection for one another shine through; no matter how much the kids would moan or mime gagging, they didn't care. Most of the time, the pair only had eyes for each other anyway. Maybe he was overtired. Or maybe he was just tired of putting up barriers. 

When he'd first met Scott, it was the excuse that he was Eddie's teacher. When they'd been paired to find Will, he'd admittedly enjoyed being with Scott, the man was pretty and smarter than half the town put together but searching the town for a potentially dead kid wasn't exactly conducive for romance. But now, he found he couldn't find an excuse, especially now that he knew Scott was the one behind those heavenly pastries and rich coffee.

Scott came out the back carrying two trays, one filled with glazed doughnuts and the other with the pastries he liked, and Wayne felt his mouth salivate. The smell alone was amazing, but they looked incredible too, and he was hungry enough he felt like he could easily eat everything on both trays and still have room for whatever was still baking. The trays were slid delicately into the display case, Scott's tongue poking adorably out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. Wayne couldn't stop himself from smiling, no matter how much he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, Scott looked up and caught his eye, the two men smiling gently at one another over the counter before Scott turned back to the coffee machine.

"Sorry about earlier," Wayne apologised sincerely, "I just pulled a double at the plant and all I've been able to think about for the past two hours have been your pastries," Wayne admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced up when Scott didn't reply immediately to find he still had his back turned to him, but that didn't mean Wayne couldn't see his beaming smile in all the shiny surfaces surrounding him, or the blush slowly creeping from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

Wayne finds himself wanting to witter endlessly like Eddie does when Steve makes him all shy and giggly. He wants to start talking about his day and the weather and how he can picture Scott in his rocking chair at home, maybe sharing the chair or maybe Wayne could picture building him his own, so they could sit together; eating pastries hand in hand, watching the world go by. He doesn't say anything though, just rocks on the balls of his feet ducking his head, unable to keep the smirk off his face at making a pretty boy blush.

"I guess that means you're taking this to go," Scott finally says over his shoulder, steam clouding around him and turning the icing sugar splotches sticky. Wayne could be mistaken, but he would say Scott sounds a little disappointed.

He doesn't trust himself to speak, the chances of something inappropriate, like "Marry me?", coming out of his mouth are far too high, he is a Munson after all; so he just hums affirmatively.

"I'd say it's a shame, but I have to get to work as soon as I've got the kids set up for the day," Scott admits, his whole ears are beat red, the blush spreading quickly up the back of his neck.

"Maybe we could continue this another time," Wayne says as Scott hands him a warm cardboard cup and a paper bag, their fingers brushing and sending sparks up his arms; it was supposed to be a question, but it didn't sound enough like one.

"I'd like that," Scott replied with a dazzling smile that Wayne can't help but mirror. He nods once, walking backwards towards the door, not quite wanting to break the connection and not really wanting to leave, but not wanting to overstay his welcome or make Scott late for his day either. "Bye," Scott chuckled as Wayne fumbled with the door handle letting himself out with a little paper bag filled wave, floating back to his truck on a cloud as Scott disappeared back into the back.

And that's how it goes for a while, Wayne stops in every morning on his way home from work, they chat about the kids or work or the latest article Wayne read in his copy of UFO. They chat a lot about the children's book Scott is writing, about six kids who all sound suspiciously like the ones Eddie and Steve have practically adopted. A genius with a floppy head of curls who recruits his friends into discovering the secrets of the universe that the adults have been hiding from them. A ginger haired girl with an attitude big enough to fight anyone who gets in their way. A sportsman and an artist who use their unique skills to their collective advantage, and a grumpy kid who always puts himself between his friends and any kind of danger. He nearly laughs when along the way, the little group meet a girl with dark, cropped hair who happens to have superpowers; she can move things with her mind, which she uses to help and protect them along their journey of discovery.

Wayne falls a little bit more in love with every detail, it's like Scott knows, but Wayne knows he doesn't, he's just heard what he'd assumed to be fantastical tales from the kids and pieced it all together with his brilliant imagination.

Then one day, Wayne pushes open the front door and there's no beautiful smells, there's just crashing and cursing coming from the back room then deadly silence other than the jingle of the bell, followed by a cautious "Wayne?"

"Yeah, it's just me," he calls back, flicking the lock on the front door, only noticing that the sign on the door was flipped to Closed when he goes to change it himself.

As he heads behind the counter, he can hear Scott dashing around, the overpowering smell of flour nearly choking him as he wanders into the back. The kitchen looks like a bomb has gone off, there's bowls and packaging and ingredients everywhere. Scott looks beyond stressed, darting between three different bowls and trying not to slip in the flour he's spilled all over the floor. He's not even wearing an apron, so his shirt is covered in flicks of batter; he'd look adorable if he didn't look so distressed.

"What happened?" Wayne asks, picking up the dropped bowl and finding the broom from the closet, sweeping up the flour, careful not to trip Scott up.

Scott sighs heavily, "Power cut killed my alarm clock," he mutters, beating the ingredients in the bowl he's holding, simultaneously pressing buttons and flicking switches on the ovens.

Wayne looks around a little bewildered, he hasn't baked anything other than a box cake since he and Al would stay over at their grans, but he isn't useless in the kitchen, especially with a little instruction.

"What can I do?" he asks, rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands thoroughly in the sink, he'd already washed up at the plant, but it wouldn't hurt to do it again, he doesn't want to give anyone food poisoning. Scott doesn't say anything but as Wayne turns around to find a drying towel, he finds it's because Scott is frozen in place gawking at him, Wayne can't keep the endeared grin from his face, "Scott?"

It seems to snap him out of it, he immediately begins stirring again, blush spreading over his cheeks, pulling the towel off of his shoulder to hand it to Wayne. He steps towards the island where most of the chaos lies and points to one of the bowls, "Could you stir that one? Just until the butter goes a creamy colour," he asks tiredly, flashing Wayne an appreciative smile when he picks up the wooden spoon and starts combining the ingredients.

Wayne glances at the clock above the ovens, Scott has to leave for school in the next hour and nothing is even close to being baked yet. The kids would help, sure it's early, but he knows they all adore Scott; Steve and Eddie have done nothing but talk fondly about him for weeks. And Wayne isn't stupid, he knows they've seen the array of coffee cups and paper bags that he's brought home recently, he just wishes they'd stop trying to goad him already.

"You got instructions for each of these?" Wayne asks, wandering around the room looking into each bowl with his bowl tucked under his arm. Scott just nods, counting to himself under his breath, grabbing a binder from the corner of the room and flicking it open on the one spare bit of counter space. It's filled with laminated pieces of paper, ingredient lists and instructions for each of the pastries that usually live in the display cabinets. "You got a phone?" Wayne asks next with an impish grin on his face.

One quick call to Steve's and twenty minutes later the kitchen is filled with the kids, each with their own bowl and recipe. Eddie's in the corner moaning about how early it is, Max is threatening Dustin for bumping into her for the sixth time in as many minutes, Steve and Mike are bickering, Steve hands on his pyjama clad hips as Mike wags his finger at him. It's loud and hectic, but everything is getting done and if they're lucky Scott might only be a few minutes late for work. 

It isn't anything like the peaceful mornings they're used to, chatting amicably as Scott potters, but as Wayne catches Scott's eye over the kids heads, he finds his own besotted smile mirrored back at him.

Dough is rolled and stretched and shaped and placed on baking trays. Robin's in charge of timings, perching herself on a stool with everyone's wristwatch in her lap, shouting out when a pastry is finished. Lucas and Steve are in charge of cooling, mainly because they're the least clumsy and Mike, Will and El are in charge of decoration, most of it only involves dipping the pastries in bowls of icing but the kids all quickly settled themselves into their preferred roles and who are Wayne and Scott to argue when they've collectively got the job done faster than they ever could've alone.

There's only four pastries to finish baking by the time Robin's yelling that they're going to be late. The kids who run the bakery during the day are already set up and dealing with customers, Wayne's agreed to stay behind and pull the remaining trays out of the oven, luckily nothing needs decorating, just cooling and taking to the display cabinets. There are implements piled high in the sink, even though Eddie and Dustin were supposed to be washing up. Wayne thinks they spent more time flicking bubbles at one another and joking around, but he doesn't mind; he's always found cleaning the dishes to be relaxing.

He finds he's exhausted as the adrenaline rush dissipates, but none of that matters as Scott dashes into the office to grab his briefcase and flies back into the kitchen, kissing Wayne quickly but firmly on the cheek, only seeming to realise what he's done after the fact. 

The kids all stop dead in their tracks, the kitchen going eerily silent for a second before Steve and Eddie start rounding up the kids, shooing them out the backdoor, dragging Robin along with them, leaving he and Scott alone in the suddenly quiet space. Scott flushes, panic flaring in his eyes, so Wayne just grabs him by the wrist and pulls him closer to plant a kiss on his flour covered cheek, dusting the ingredients off with his thumb as he wishes him a good day. Scott just grins vibrantly, heading for the exit, pausing briefly in the doorway, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Wayne isn't sure whether it's supposed to be a statement or a question, "Tomorrow," he promises with a nod. Scott's grin turns infectious then he's gone, disappearing into the alley, the door falling shut behind him, leaving Wayne alone for the first time since he left his truck. 

He pulls the first two trays out of the oven as the timer buzzes, letting the pastries cool on the rack. Then he makes a start on the dishes, letting the gentle buzz of the bakery and the warm soapy water sooth him, he hasn't felt this way since he was a teenager; sneaking kisses and sharing cigarettes with Tony behind the bleachers. 

He finds it isn't as terrible as he assumed it'd be, to fall in love again; to let someone into his life because it's easy with Scott, so, so easy. Even when they talk about what Scott calls his theories, Scott just gives him this look that almost says "God, it's a good job you're handsome" like Wayne can hear him projecting that thought into his head with his amused smile. Even when Scott lays out logical arguments that seem to prove to him that the supernatural doesn't exist, it's so easy to just give him a look of his own. They almost remind him of Eddie and Steve when they start up a discussion about sports or the game Eddie likes to play with the kids, each with their own look that says "I love you, but you're wrong" and the thought only makes him smile wider.

It doesn't take him long to finish up in the kitchen, and he feels a calm acceptance by the time the ovens are off, all the pastries cooled and on trays and all the implements clean and dry. He's always been able to do that, have his world shifted on its axis and within the hour just be able to understand within himself that that's his new normal now.

He feels almost content as he drops off the final trays out front, giving a cheerful wave to Claudia when she shouts his name from the line of people waiting for their chance to get their hands on Scott's pastries.

Seeing how busy it is out front, he turns to head out the back door, pausing as he passes the office with this overwhelming need to just leave something for Scott. He wanders in and sits down at the desk, pulling a piece of paper from the notebook on the tabletop; pen poised as he contemplates the soundness of his decision and throwing caution to the wind as he envisions Scott's smile as he'd left for work.

Wayne's never been much of a wordsmith, not like his Eddie, but he's been listening to a lot of his favourites lately, the cassettes in his truck switching regularly between Cash, Clapton and Williams. It'd been Williams this morning, and the lyrics had been circling in the back of his mind since he'd walked into the bakery's chaos. He puts the pen to the paper, hearing Don's voice in his mind as he writes, trying his hardest to make it legible.

Well I don't believe that heaven waits, for only those who congregate. I like to think of God as love, he's down below, he's up above. He's watching people everywhere, he knows who does and doesn't care. And I'm an ordinary man, sometimes I wonder who I am. But I believe in love. I believe in music. I believe in magic. And I believe in you. Pausing, he makes his choice and adds on, Love, Wayne.

#clarkson #coffee shop au #kinda? #maybe just post s4? #idk anymore #someone like you eric clapton #don williams i believe in you #scott clarke #wayne munson #wayne munson x scott clarke #background steddie #background platonic stobin #wayne's pov #aj writes

[shrimply-a-menace]

#henclair #byclair #wayne munson #scott clarke #buckingham st #chrissy stranger things #robin x chrissy #robin buckley #max mayfield #mike wheeler #gareth emerson #stranger things s4 #stranger things #rare pair #el hopper #jane hopper #andy x gareth #barb holland #nancy wheeler #will byers

[resident-gay-bitch]

Day Seven of @steddie-week - free space / free space / freedom

find the previous day here :)

Fifty years old, and Eddie was doing this. 

He didn’t think he’d ever do this. But here he was, doing this. 

He took a deep breath and willed away his goddamn tears, and he felt Dustin pat him on the shoulder as the music picked up and everyone stood. 

He looked down at himself, fixing the sleeves of his suit and making sure it was buttoned properly, sweeping the long greying hairs out of his face. 

He gave Wayne a very excited smile before turning to face everyone. 

He took another shaky breath, so fucking nervous. 

Down the aisle pranced a little girl, dressed in a pink fluffy princess dress, with her hair done in buns like Princess Laya’s because that’s what she insisted on. She was eight and a half years old, and Eddie couldn’t believe it. She skipped along in her sparkly red shoes - the ones she coaxed Eddie into buying because “they look just like Dorotheys, Daddy!”, and Eddie still didn’t know how to say no to her. She lit up at the sight of Eddie, bright and smiling, she waved at him very excitedly, almost bursting into a run to get to him. Eddie smiled at her and imitated throwing things out of a basket with a wry smile, and she gasped, stopping dead in her tracks. Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. She reached into her little basket and pulled out a handful of confetti and tossed it into the air, and she continued that as she did her fancy aisle walk towards Eddie. 

When she got to him, Eddie dropped to his knee and gave her a little kiss on the cheek, “Good job, Princess.” 

“Thanks, daddy.” She beamed, plucking out some confetti and tossed it in the air over Eddie, “Do you like the sparkles Auntie Nancy put on me?” 

“Hell yeah, kid, you look so cool.” 

She giggled and showed off her sparkly skin some more. Oh, Eddie remembered when they first got her, they were there in the delivery room. They got to name the beautiful girl and everything. Her name was Chrissy, and she channels every bit of the dancer Chrissy used to be. 

She closed her eyes, “Do you like my eyeshadow too, daddy?” She asked, flashing the bright blue that she’d picked that stood out strong against her dark skin, “I wanted to be like Robin.” 

“Looks beautiful, kiddo.” He winked at her, “Now, go stand over there, where we practised, remember?” 

She nodded and kissed Eddie on the cheek, leaving a glossy stain in her wake. She skipped over to where she was supposed to stand, and Nancy, who was in the front row, pointed her from where she’d decided to stand into the actual right place. Eddie chuckled softly. 

He stood just in time to see his other kid making their way down the aisle. They got Alice ten years ago, when adoption became a possibility for them. She was six when they got her, standing tall at sixteen now. She’d just buzzed their hair off the other week, after coming out to them as Gender Fluid. It took Steve and Eddie a little while to properly understand what it meant, but…. He was a cool kid, and they embraced it. They looked so cool in the suit he’d picked out for herself, green velvet with patterns she embroidered themself all over it. 

Eddie winked at him as she went to meet her sister on the other side of the altar. 

And then came Steve. He had his arm looped through Robins, who was giving him away in a lovely silk green dress. Steve looked as handsome as ever, if not more, if that was even possible, dressed in a sweet yellow suit. Eddie blushed very bright, he’d told Steve many years ago that it had quickly become his favourite colour after Steve had tossed that goddamned jumper at his face, and then was wearing that same colour when Eddie woke up in the hospital. Steve looked lovely in yellow, and it matched him so perfectly. It was such a happy colour, full of brightness and positivity, and that’s exactly what Steve had bought into his life. Steve’s wardrobe was primarily yellow these days. 

He smiled so brightly at Eddie, his hand reaching to find Robins to squeeze when their eyes fixed on eachother. Eddie had to wipe away a tear. They reached the altar, and Robin kissed Steve on the cheek and shot finger guns and a wink at Eddie before going over to stand with Chrissy and Alice. Steve stepped up to the altar and faced Eddie with a wet smile. 

They both couldn’t believe they were here, doing this. 

This life, the one they had now, seemed impossible all those years ago, but they stuck together anyway. They stuck together, and now Eddie could give Steve his dream. Now they could have normal, in the most unnormal way possible. 

They were so happy. 

Marriage for them only became legal two days ago, and in that time, Nancy, Steve, Robin, and their girls had worked double time to set up the perfect impromptu wedding. Eddie offered to help, but they all insisted he didn’t because he and Steve would just distract each other with sappy flirtation, and Chrissy insisted her dad had zero taste. Alice promised that if Eddie could find someone to marry them, he’d pull for some metal to play during the reception. 

Eddie asked Wayne… immediately. 

They both spent five hours sitting behind Steve's computer, trying to figure out how to get ordained online, because Alice said it was easy. It was not easy. Eddie was old, and Wayne was even older. They’d called Scott over to help at one point, because he was super smart and a scientist, but he couldn’t figure out the computer either. 

Alice ended up getting it done in ten minutes for them when she got home. 

He called them a bunch of “old fucks”, and the three of them went off on a tanget about “this damn younger generation, they think they know everything! I bet you don’t know how to use a VHS tape.” 

Alice didn’t give them a bar of it, the sassy kid they were. 

Wayne started his speech, and Eddie took his fiance's shaky hands. They had smiles pinned to their faces the whole time, because how could they not. 

“Now, do you have vowels?” Wayne asked. 

“I gave mine to Steve last night.” Eddie said, and Wayne pulled a very dissatisfied face, “Ew, no!” 

There was a laugh from the crowd. 

“I wrote him a song and performed it, you oaf.” 

Steve laughed, “It was very sweet.” 

Eddie smiled bashfully, still feeling like the twenty year old he was when Steve first swept him off his goddamn feet and carried him off into the sunset. 

“I’ve got some.” Steve muttered and squeezed Eddie’s hand’s as he cleared his throat, “Twenty five years ago to this day, you and I got ‘pretend’ married, as we called it.” 

Eddie sniffled as he laughed. 

“I gave a very long vow to you then, so… I’m gonna keep this one super short.” Eddie laughed again, oh how he loved this man. Steve smiled, croaky with wet eyes as he shrugged, “I told you, that night that you proposed, the same thing as I’d told Robin earlier in the day, that you couldn’t give me normal. That I’d gone my whole life with this dream of a wife and six kids- but then I met you, and ‘normal’ seemed like the worst fucking idea on the planet. You were… such a fucking weirdo, and you still are, and I love you so much for it, Ed’s.” Steve smiled and shook his head, “Why would I wan’t ‘normal’ when I can have every bizarre day with you? Every morning I wake up and wonder what weird shit was going to happen today, and everytime I am so delightfully surprised by it. I wanted you, and only you, and that’s all that mattered to me.” 

Eddie was ugly crying again, and Steve had to wipe away his goddamned tears that were tinted black from his eyeliner. 

“I was happy with it being just us, with our silly little fake marriage, for the rest of our lives- because it was real to us. It was more than enough for us.” He smiled, “But then we got Alice, and Chrissy, and we got more than I could have ever asked for… and now I’m here,” He sobbed a little too, “and were getting married for real. And I love you, from the moment you shoved me up against that boathouse wall with a bottle to my neck, to right now, to forever, I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Eddie sobbed, and they kissed, even though they weren’t supposed to yet. 

They heard Chrissy shout out, “Ew!” and it made them break away with a laugh, and it gave them a strong sense of deja vu to that time in the hospital, when Dustin woke up to the pair of them having a moment. 

It fits very nicely in this moment. 

“Getting a bit ahead of yourselves there, boys.” Wayne nodded.

They laughed. 

“Hey, kiddo.” Wayne looked over to Chrissy and winked, “You got somethin for ya dads?” 

Chrissy gasped and looked up at her big sibling who reached into their pocket to hand something to the little girl. She skipped over with the box and handed it to her grandpa with a bright smile, “Happy wedding, dad and daddy!” 

They loved this damn kid. 

She skipped back over to her spot, and Alice gave her a big hug and smiled up at their dads. 

Wayne held open the ring box, and Steve reached in to take the silver band, and Eddie took the gold one. The same bands Eddie had bought twenty seven years ago, they held too much meaning to switch up. Eddie slid the ring onto Steve's finger for a third time, and Steve slipped one onto Eddie’s, and they were holding hands again. 

“You already donnit, but ah… you may kiss the groom.” Wayne grinned, and gave Steve a little wink before stepping over beside Eddie’s groomsmen. 

Eddie didn’t hesitate before grabbing Steve and giving him the kiss of his life, dipping him just as he’d done at their non-official wedding all those years ago. Chrissy started gagging at the sight again, and Eddie started laughing into Steve's mouth, and they could both hear Alice trying to shut her up. 

And when they stood back up, they were married. For real. They had two beautiful kids, and the house Eddie had bought for Steve (which had rendered Steve in tears and then they had some of the best sex of their goddamned lives whilst breaking the place in) that had a garden, and an open kitchen, and four bedrooms, and a study, and the bed they shared every night. 

They still had their bad days; day’s Eddie felt so horrible in his skin that he couldn’t be touched, Steve still got migraines that could render him useless for days, and a lot of the time they fought, though, over little things like the dishes or laundry or what time the kids were supposed to be picked up that afternoon, and some days their fights were a little worse. But they were together, and they were happy, and they had a life and a family and a place of their own. They had a home with each other, and that’s all they needed. 

They could drag each other to Hell and back, Eddie didn’t care, just as long as they were together. 

**

thank you for joining me on this years steddie week! it is currently 10.30 in the morning and i have not slept because i've been writing the entirety of my steddie week all night. seriously don't know why i do this to myself, anyway.

if you'd like to read my other steddie week submissions you can find them here :)

\/ here's some dodgey art for you to look at \/

#steddie week 2023 #jay writes #Day Seven #steddie #steddie wedding #fluff #pure fluff #they're old men at this point #and they have two kids #and one of them is genderfluid because i said so #eddie and steve don't know what that means still but they respect thier kid and their pronouns so they just do what they can #they also admire their self expression #eddie can't work a computer #wayne is even older than eddie and definently can't work a computer #scott clarke also cannot work out how to use this specific function on the computer - he only knows word and powerpoint #robin buckley #dustin henderson #wayne munson #scott clarke #nancy wheeler #side ronance #side clarkson #happy ending! #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie pov #steve dressed in yellow is my religion #steddie week

[flowercrowngods]

in which i have the steddie&clarkson (wayne/mr clarke) brain worms and decided that teacher student steve should get some help from mr clarke. everyone is soft

🤍 also on ao3

Eddie grabs the massive mug Wayne just filled with coffee and leans against the counter beside him. 

“Have they made any progress at all?” 

Wayne just grunts and takes a sip of his coffee, neither of them taking their eyes off Steve and Scott at the dinner table. “Your boy’s stopped groaning. Guess that counts as progress.” 

Eddie snorts and smiles into his mug. “Oh, that’s definitely progress.” 

They watch as Steve despairs over turning the vague plan of his lesson into a detailed, fleshed out, all things considered version. He gets frequently gets lost in all the possible ways that things could go wrong that he loses track of the golden thread that Mr Clarke keeps reminding him is the most important thing.

“I’m an idiot,” Steve mumbles where he has face planted into the papers and books laid out on the table in front of him. 

“You’re not an idiot, Steve, and you never were. Being overwhelmed is the most natural thing, it happens to the best of us.” Mr Clarke has a hand on Steve’s back and talks in that kind, patient voice that everyone in this house loves so much. “Do you wanna play it through?” 

Steve perks up at that, lifting his head from the paper just barely to look at Mr Clarke. “How do you mean?” 

“Well, you seem to worry that nobody will understand the task. Or be able to follow you. So what do we do then?” 

A frown appears between Steve’s brows and he sits up straighter, looking down at the plan he’s already made. “Try again with different wording?” 

“Exactly!” Mr Clarke says. “Or we look at the way your task is phrased and see if we can already find alternatives, how ‘bout that? Baby steps, sure, but everything stands and falls with your questions and tasks. And when you have the right question, you also know what exactly it is that you want them to find out and tell you. So, for now, why don’t we start with that?” He smiles at Steve and reaches for one of the sheets of paper. “You’ll be an amazing teacher because you already care whether they’ll get it. Believe me, you’ve absolutely got this.” 

Seeing Mr Clarke be so supportive of Steve and never once making him feel stupid or ridiculous for getting overwhelmed warms Eddie’s heart time and time again. He even jokes with Steve that he only ever comes over to spend time with his uncle’s boyfriend instead of Eddie — and the other day he’s overheard the same jab from Wayne directed at Scott. 

“They’re kind of adorable, aren’t they?” Eddie mutters so only Wayne can hear him. When his uncle doesn’t answer, Eddie looks over to find the softest of smiles on his lips, and he can’t help but join. 

****

Two hours later, Steve finally has his lesson planned properly and he comes over to Eddie, burying himself in that warm embrace. 

“Hi, professor,” Eddie mumbles and Steve just pokes him in the side with a light chuckle. 

“Asshole.” Burying deeper into Eddie, he lets a beat pass before, “Hi.” 

“You all done?” He brushes kisses to Steve’s head and just holds him. 

“Really fucking done, yeah,” he sighs. “At this point I’m gonna owe Mr Clarke my entire teaching career.” 

“Not your dashing boyfriend and his sanity-saving hugs?” 

“Sure,” Steve laughs lightly. “That, too.” 

They stay there for another while, holding onto each other, an exhausted Steve recharging before he’s ready to resurface. 

****

In the living room area, Wayne places a mug of steaming coffee in front of Scott. “For your troubles.” 

Scott’s laugh is like music to his ears and his smile lights up the whole room as he gratefully reaches for the mug. It’s one of the greatest gifts, Wayne thinks, the way Scott reacts to his remarks. Delight where there should be wariness, gratitude where there should be offence. It’s a gift, really, the way he just lets Wayne be himself and learned to understand, to appreciate, to… to love. Maybe. 

“You’re an angel,” Scott says before taking a long sip of his coffee. “Though you probably shouldn’t support my caffeine addiction that much.” 

“Probably,” he shrugs, before pointedly finishing the rest of his own coffee. “But that’d make me a hypocrite.” 

“Oh, we don’t want that,” Scott nods sagely, smiling into his mug. Wayne can’t look away. His hair is a little rumpled from working with Eddie’s boy for hours, his bow-tie has come off and the first button on his white button-up shirt is undone. His eyes are closed, the mug of coffee right under his nose so he can inhale greedily. He looks like he’s right at home. 

It does something with Wayne that he never really expected to be feeling. But he does. What does one do with such emotions? 

He carefully places his hand in Scott’s hair and combs it into the right direction so it won’t stick out anymore. If Wayne’s breath hitches when Scott leans into his touch, then that’s his business alone. 

“You need anything else?” he asks quietly, because that’s one thing he can do. Words were never his playing field — it’s, quite frankly, a miracle that he and Eddie are related. But bringing Scott coffee, combing his hair, massaging his shoulders where they’re tense from sitting in the same position all evening? That he can do. Acts of service, Eddie calls it. 

“No, thank you, love,” Scott says quietly before plucking Wayne’s hand from his hair and pulling it to his lips. “I’m perfectly content.” 

@unclewaynemunson it aint much but it's honest work 🤍

#clarkson #wayne munson #scott clarke #wayne munson x scott clarke #steddie #dio words #idk what this is i just needed to project my lesson planning agony on steve and then for everyone to be soft

[unclewaynemunson]

It's October when the autumn chill officially dawns over Hawkins. Wayne wakes up to fogged-up windows, and his bones protest loudly when he stretches to get up and make himself some warm coffee. It's too early in the year to turn on the heating; if they start that now, they'll be bankrupt before it's even January. So while the coffee is brewing, he shrugs off the old shirt he uses as a pajama, and puts on as many layers as he'll need to keep himself warm: first an undershirt, then a soft flannel, and then a faded brown sweater that's been sitting uselessly in his closet all through the summer. It's patched up at the elbows to conceal the holes that have fallen into it, but still warm and comfortable, which is all Wayne can really ask for.

'Ed, got coffee for ya!' he calls out when he's changed into his jeans and the coffee is almost ready.

Some muffled noises sounding vaguely like 'lemmesleeeeeep' emerge from the other side of the thin wall.

Wayne chuckles as he turns on the gas, deciding he might as well make scrambled eggs for breakfast; a thinly-veiled excuse to heat up the trailer by using the stove.

'And eggs in a minute!'

Another string of muffled sounds emerges from Eddie's bedroom, 'stoocold' being the only semi-decipherable one.

For a moment, Wayne feels guilty. He knows, deep down, that this is nothing more than his Eddie being dramatic. But that doesn't change his wish that he could simply turn on the heat without giving it a second thought and make Eddie's Sunday morning just slightly more comfortable. He doesn't care about the chill in his own bones, he's had worse. He doesn't care about the condensation on the windows, that is now changing into thick droplets that are gliding down to the windowsill, leaving traces of soot in their wake. He's not even sure if he'd ever want to live in a real, proper house. But the one thing he does want, is to get his nephew through the season warm and comfortable without having to count every penny.

Eddie finally emerges from his bedroom, with only his head peeking out of the blanket he has wrapped himself in, and a sleepy look in his eyes. The phone starts ringing just as Wayne greets him, and Eddie, who's closer to it, shuffles towards it.

Almost immediately after he picks up, his eyes shed their drowsy look and light up in a way that Wayne has come to know all too well, while his mouth curves into a wicked grin.

'No, sir, he's not here,' Eddie says into the phone, his eyes wide and innocent. 'When he didn't come home last night, I assumed he'd be spending the night with you. I guess he must have a secret lover we both don't know about.'

Wayne abruptly turns off the gas and barges towards Eddie, who barks out a laugh while he jumps back as far as the phone cord allows him.

'Just joking, Mr. Clarke, he is here!' he calls out in an annoyingly triumphed tone. 'And he can't wait to talk to you, here he is!'

Wayne playfully shoves Eddie against the wall as he takes the phone from him.

'Sorry for my menace of a nephew, Scott,' he says.

He hears a chuckle on the other side of the line, slightly distorted through the horn. It's as if his hand has a will of its own, clenching around the phone and pressing it almost painfully close to his ear; like he'll be able to catch the sound of Scott's laughter better if he could only press himself tighter to his phone.

'Luckily I'm used to middle schoolers, nothing I can't handle here.'

Wayne snorts and turns towards Eddie, who is now shamelessly staring at him from above his blanket-cocoon a few steps away from him.

'Scott says you should stop behavin' like a damn middle schooler,' he grumbles.

'Yep, that sounds exactly like something sweet Scott Clarke would say,' Eddie remarks, that devilish grin still plastered on his face.

'What can I do for ya, Scott?'

'Well, I just came downstairs for breakfast, and when I looked outside, I realized this is our first proper fall day.'

Wayne directs his gaze to the wet kitchen window. He hadn't even thought to look through the droplets on the glass; but now that he does, he realizes Scott is right. The trees around Forest Hills are definitely showing more yellow and orange than they did yesterday, and some patches of fog are still lingering a few feet above the wilted grass and muddy roads. The skies are a light shade of gray, telling Wayne that even though it'll be cold, it won't likely start raining anytime soon.

'I was wondering if you have any plans for today?' Scott's continues in his ear. 'We could go for a walk in the forest, admire the colors, see if we can find some cool mushrooms... What do you think?'

Wayne wonders whether he's imagining the nervous edge to Scott's voice, merely hearing in there what he wants to hear.

'I'm free all day,' Wayne says. He clamps the phone between his ear and his shoulder, needing both his hands to fumble around in his chest pocket and find a cigarette and a lighter. 'You wanna come over after breakfast? I can make a thermos of coffee and we can head into the woods here, I know a nice path around Lov- around the lake.' He can feel Eddie's gaze burning on him, but he refuses to look at his nephew, instead closing his eyes as he places the cigarette between his lips and lights it.

Scott is kind enough to pretend like he didn't notice Wayne's unfortunate stutter.

'A walk around the lake sounds perfect,' he says instead, his voice still as chipper as ever. 'I'll be at yours in an hour. Enjoy your breakfast with Eddie.'

'Real smooth, Uncle Wayne.' Eddie's amused voice cuts through the silence as soon as Wayne has hung the phone back on the hook.

'Don't be ridiculous now, boy,' Wayne grumbles. 'He's my friend.'

'With whom you're gonna hang out at Lover's Lake. Like friends do.' The sarcasm is dripping from Eddie's voice.

'I liked you better when you were still asleep in your bed,' Wayne remarks.

Eddie laughs loudly. 'You shoulda thought about that before you made me come out of it to freeze to death.'

Wayne crosses his arms and shoots Eddie an unimpressed look. 'Are you gonna do anything today or just spending your whole day makin' fun of me?'

Eddie shrugs – or rather, that's what Wayne supposes is happening underneath the moving blanket. 'I'm gonna take the kids to the pumpkin farm with Steve.' He lowers his voice and leans closer towards Wayne, continuing in an conspiratorial voice, 'We call that a date. Maybe you and Mr. Clarke should stop being cowards and come join us. Make it a double date.'

Wayne doesn't say anything; he simply rolls his eyes and walks back to the stove, lighting the gas underneath the frying pan again so he can direct all his attention to his eggs.

---

An hour later, Eddie has left – with a pit stop at the Mayfields' trailer – to pick up Steve. Wayne has done the dishes, dried the windows and filled a thermos with fresh coffee. By the time Scott parks his car in the spot where Eddie's van had been earlier, most of the fog outside has disappeared. Wayne watches him get out of his car through the kitchen window, but he doesn't come outside just yet, afraid it'll make him seem too eager.

Scott knocks on the door and then lets himself in, like he's done many times over the summer that now lies behind them. He's wearing a woolen coat in a dark gray color, with a simple black scarf around his neck.

Wayne feels his hands twitch with the desire to wrap themselves around Scott's waist, to tug him close and bask in the warmth of his body. Would his scarf feel as soft as it looks? Would he smell like fresh autumn air? Would his touch be as warm as the quilt on his couch?

'Oof, it's chilly in here,' Scott remarks, rubbing his hands together.

'I don't get cold that fast.' It's only partly a lie.

'I like the sweater.'

The easy and earnest compliment catches Wayne off-balance; he doesn't know what to do, where to look, where to keep his hands. He wants to escape Scott's approving gaze and hide away somewhere no one can perceive him.

Instead, he clears his throat and thanks the heavens for the fact that Eddie has already left.

'Ready to go?' he asks.

They head into the woods and Wayne leads the way as they stray further from the trailer park. Their feet easily find a rhythm that feels natural to both of them, avoiding the bigger puddles on the path and stopping every now and then to admire toadstools, dewy cobwebs, and fallen leaves in beautiful colors.

As they make their way around Lover's Lake, Wayne ponders what exactly the difference is between what Eddie would call a hangout, and a date. He doesn't exactly have a lot of friends who he hangs out with. He has his colleagues at the plant, of course, who he'd always kept at a distance, which proved him right when they were all too ready to come for his Eddie last March. He has some neighbors he's friendly with; he helps them with a thing or two around their trailers and in return they share a beer or a smoke with him. But he wouldn't call that real friendship either. He has learned long ago how dangerous it can be to let people come too close. Some people only wanted certain things from him, others would judge him when they'd find out a thing too many about him. And the pain of losing a rare, true friend became all too clear to him back in Vietnam.

After that, he mainly stuck to himself. And then it became him and Eddie against the world. He never needed anyone else. He was good at being alone, after all. There was a certain level of comfort to be found in loneliness.

So this thing with Scott – whatever it is – is not something he can compare to anything else. The only thing he knows is that it's definitely not lonely. And that he doesn't want to mess it up and lose the only true friend he's had in decades.

'What's on your mind?' Scott asks when they sit down on a fallen tree at the edge of the lake to enjoy their coffee. 'You've been quiet.'

'I'm always quiet,' Wayne points out.

It makes Scott chuckle softly before he takes a sip of his coffee.

'Not as quiet as you think,' Scott says. 'Today, you're thinking loudly. I can almost hear your thoughts.'

Wayne carefully places his own mug on the tree, then grabs himself a cigarette and lights it, all to buy himself some time. But even after a long drag and another sip of coffee, he still doesn't quite know how to voice his thoughts.

'Was just admirin' the fall colors,' he decides to say instead, when the silence starts taking too long.

He can practically feel Scott's eyes on his face as he stubbornly stares over the water in front of them.

'It really is the perfect day to do that,' Scott finally says. Apparently he has decided he'll let Wayne get away with it this time. Or maybe it isn't like that. Maybe he decided that he'll allow Wayne the time he needs to sort out his thoughts before he can voice them. Maybe he understands that Wayne sometimes needs a while before he's ready to talk about things. Maybe he decided that he didn't want to intrude. Maybe he decided that he values spending time with Wayne, no matter if they're talking or sitting in silence. And maybe this fall will be a little less cold than the ones Wayne has gotten used to, because when he risks a glance towards his left, he sees Scott wearing a smile that's appreciative of the nature around them. It's a smile that warms Wayne from the inside, in a way that the heater in his trailer has never managed to do.

#it's been a while but look i'm back on my clarkson bullshit #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #clarkson my beloved #wayne munson #scott clarke #eddie munson #clarkson #wayne munson x scott clarke #stranger things #fruity ficlet

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Bringing someone home (Discord Drabble) @bowtieandflannel I fear I have a resurging case of Clarkson brainrot. Also yeah, sorry to the stwg but this is once again probably not a drabble.

Eddie shuffles into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and needing a caffeine hit (or three). He blinks hard and rubs his eyes, vision clearing enough to see a figure standing at the stove. His mouth waters at the smell of bacon, praying that his uncle has save him some.

"Hey, Wa-ay – AHHHH!"

He screams and claps a hand over his mouth at the sight of Scott Clarke, funky bowtie-wearing middle school teacher and all-around dork of a science nerd, standing in his kitchen making breakfast.

"Oh, gosh!" Scott says, dropping the egg slider in the pan as he jumps back and clutches his chest, "Wayne said you weren't home!"

"I am," he takes a moment to frown before going back to gawking to the point his eyes might fall out onto the cracked linoleum.

"He's um..." Scott looks out the front window.

"I need to..." Eddie thumbs to the door.

"Yeah!" Scott agrees with great enthusiasm.

Eddie whips around at break-neck speed to fling open the front door and the accompanying fly screen, thoroughly testing the hinges. He's sure he will receive a scalding from Wayne soon enough.

He braces himself, perhaps not nearly as much as he typically would because Scott cries out, "Oh golly, the toast!" as the fly screen smashes shut again, the metal frame rattling away.

"Oh, shit!" Wayne cusses, looking uncharacteristically spooked as they make eye contact.

See, it's things like this that are bolstering Eddie's growing assertion that Scott Clarke should one-thousand percent not be cooking in their kitchen in a pair of boxer shorts and one of his uncle's flannels, saying things like "gosh" and "golly".

Wayne meanwhile, looks as shocked as he oughta be, sitting on the edge of the second-hand couch they have out on the porch.

Eddie opens his mouth to speak but again, he has nothing.

"Boy," Wayne says, stern with a warning finger, "Don't you start!"

"Why is Scott Clarke in our kitchen!" he shrieks, promptly smacking his mouth shut when his uncle shushes him.

"You told me you wouldn't be home."

"I wasn't. But then... Steve... work... eh!"

He gives up on the whole speaking words thing and pinches his nose. Maybe if he applies enough pressure, his brain will explode and he won't have to think about his uncle waiting on bated breath for him to leave the house, giving him the all-clear to bring a goddamn date home.

A date...

He winces.

"Darn it, Eddie!" Wayne says as he rubs at the back of his neck, "I guess I should'a told ya. This whole thing is..."

He stops and nods, grumbling as he looks down at his worn grandpa-like slippers. Eddie's heart sinks. That's the same look he's seen on his uncle's face many times. And each and every time that look has had something to do with Wayne feeling like he screwed up as Eddie's parental figure.

"I just need..." he struggles.

"Time to think it all over?" Wayne asks.

He nods meekly, flopping down to sit with his uncle. Wayne pats him on the knee, neither of them saying anymore.

That is until the fly screen squeaks and they both look up to find Scott fully dressed and gesturing inside.

"Uh..." he hums and Eddie looks down, forgiving of his awkwardness - he feels like an asshole, now, "Breakfast is ready."

He hums to himself and looks towards Wayne's truck.

But Wayne stands and steps towards him.

"You're staying," he insists before turning back to Eddie, "And you're coming inside too."

"Can I um..." he really does feel like a goddamn kid again, "Can I eat in my room? I, uh... I just need to think about things."

"Thought is essential to our growth as human beings," Scott muses.

#eddie not being chill in any way #clarkson #scott clarke #wayne munson #eddie munson #lilys drabbles #stwgdailyprompt #clarkson ficlet #clarkson ☕

[wakeupthemembersofbylernation]

#byler #< target audience #stranger things #stranger things 5 #Holly wheeler #Scott Clarke #kali prasad #susan hargrove #ms. kelly #wayne munson #lonnie byers #Ted wheeler #tommy hagan #my polls

[asbealthgn]

older teens poll is still ongoing but here's another one

#stranger things #poll #joyce byers #jim hopper #murray bauman #wayne munson #claudia henderson #karen wheeler #scott clarke #dr brenner