#look at them goooo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alleiwentcrazy · 1 year

Text

Eddie Munson finds great joy in collecting strays. That’s obvious.

With people, it’s quite pronounced. He treats the word ��freak” like an acclaimed royal title, not some low insult. Eddie loves his freaks – he treats them with care, understanding and unmistakable devotion, always offering some sort of safe haven and an outlet for both their sadness and glee. Everyone who knows Eddie knows that.

It’s a bit less pronounced with other creatures. Although Eddie’s adventures with wild, sometimes even feral (or simply interdimensional) animals still present a sore spot for him, he’s never stopped caring about them and trusting them. Eddie has a whole clowder of half-domesticated cats wandering around the fields behind his trailer at all times, because he can’t seem to accept the fact that it’s impossible to efficiently help each and every one of them just like that. Sometimes their constant presence, walls-scratching and low mewling spawns some unwanted pictures and dreams in Eddie’s head, but he will never admit to that.

What’s even less obvious—even to Eddie himself, it seems—is that his relationship with all kinds of strays is, more or less, a two-way street.

Eddie takes after his strays more than he’s aware of. For example, he’s just a little more sarcastic when he’s back from hanging out with Max. He’s a little more excited about basketball when he picks up Lucas after his practice, even though he considers himself a sports’ sworn enemy. He’s a little more tentative and reflective when he gives El some advice about regrowing her hair, because he’s well-versed with how much of a pain in the ass it can be. And so on, and so forth.

It’s the same with his cats. He takes after them a lot.

Usually, it’s Steve who notices it first. He’s also the one who falls victim to Eddie’s cat-like habits.

The first time it happens, they’re “studying” for Eddie’s exams. He’s been forced to retake his senior year once again, but this time he’s doing everything in his power to get through it unscathed. Usually Nancy plays the role of his tutor, but Steve takes over when she can’t make it. He’s more like moral support than anything else, since Eddie studies best when he has someone to talk to, and Steve isn’t too confident about his academic skills to really tutor him, so he’s just happy to help and listen.

But it’s starting to get late, he had a morning shift and he’s finding it hard to fight off the drowsiness, especially because Eddie’s voice is deep, raspy and warm, and it makes him feel like he’s listening to some type of bedtime story.

“...so that’s why, I think, trig kinda sucks. But I’m getting the hang of it, I guess?”

He barely registers the meaning of the sentence. He’s so comfortable sitting under the blanket on Eddie’s bed everything loses importance. Moving his mouth seems to be an impossible task, so Steve just hums. When he cracks one eye open, Eddie’s looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“I’ll make some coffee,” he says, but Steve doesn’t even see him leave. He slides down and buries his face in the pillows.

He knows when Eddie comes back because the smell of coffee infiltrates his sleepy haze, but doesn’t motivate him enough to get up.

“Budge up,” he hears. Then a hand squeezes his shoulder, so he moves closer to the wall with a whine, squishing his cheek further into the pillow. Something warm settles beside him and he thinks, simply, that it’s really pleasant to be this cozy and comfortable before he drifts off for good.

When he opens his eyes in the morning, he’s welcomed by a very curious sight.

Eddie Munson sleeps like a cat.

He’s lying on his back, long hair only slightly tangled where it’s splayed over the pillow. When sunrays hit his face, he instinctively turns his head in the right direction and Steve almost expects him to make a noise—a noise that would most probably remind him of purring. Eddie’s limbs are spread out all over the bed and his whole body seems to be twisted to the side, but he still takes up a lot less space than anticipated. His left hip is pressed to Steve’s right, but it’s the only point of connection between them.

Steve has seen this sleeping position only once, when he met Robin’s cat, Biscuit. Biscuit supposedly hates Robin, but somehow trusts Steve, because he sleeps with his tummy out when Steve’s around. Just like Eddie.

Steve raises his brow and looks at Eddie’s sunlit face again. He’s peaceful and relaxed, unbothered by the noises coming from outside. When the sun moves again, Eddie moves with it, pressing his bony hip a little closer to Steve’s.

That’s curious indeed. Steve doesn’t want to dwell on how it makes him feel at the moment, so he just looks. It’s quite a sight.

Weeks pass, Eddie’s peculiar habits get more and more frequent—or maybe after that one night spent at the trailer Steve’s just more focused on taking note of them. His hypothesis that Eddie’s a lot like his animal companions of choice is being confirmed time and time again, mostly when Eddie falls asleep.

After some time, Steve notices that on top of preferring weird sleeping positions, Eddie also makes a habit of seeking other people’s warmth whenever he wants to take a nap. Steve honestly doesn’t think it’s anything personal; Eddie will fall asleep on anyone’s shoulder if they let him, but he seems to have a preference. The preference being Steve.

When Robin tries to comment on that, Steve silences her. Half because he doesn’t want to confront that yet, half because he enjoys it and doesn’t want to spook Eddie away. Sue him if he likes being needed, right?

The only time he kind of regrets letting Eddie cling to him is when they go to the beach with the kids.

It’s not even a real beach, but they’re set on enjoying it as much as they can. Eddie takes his van, Nancy takes the wagon, they pack everyone inside and get the hell out of Hawkins for a full day. The weather is perfect, the grass is green and soft, the lake is nothing like Lover’s Lake at home. If only because there are no horrible memories attached.

Steve’s off babysitting duties when Nancy announces lunch, everyone wolfs down their sandwiches and lounges lazily around the lake in the scorching afternoon sun.

There aren’t many things Steve enjoys more than good sunbathing. At home, he can’t really do that anymore. He can’t stand the pool and the chlorine, he can’t stand the sound of unnatural sloshing of the water. It all makes his head spin and before he knows it, he’s back inside, fully dressed and calling Robin to ease the panic.

It’s different here. He lays down on his fluffy towel and enjoys the sun, listening to Dustin’s happy squeals and Lucas’ joyful giggling.

Until he has to hiss, because glacially cold droplets of water hit his sternum and a shadow obscures the light. When he opens his eyes, Eddie Munson grins at him despite the glare he’s being welcomed with.

“Hiya,” he says, shaking his head like a dog. Steve scowls some more. “Move over, beauty queen.”

“Don’t you have your own towel?” he grumbles, but makes space nonetheless, all while desperately trying not to catch Robin’s eyes at the same time.

Eddie plops down beside him, immediately making himself comfortable in the sparse space Steve has left him. “Yeah, but yours is better. And you wouldn’t starve a man of his rightful summer afternoon nap, would you, Stevie?”

Steve closes his eyes, not letting go of the frown. “Stop yapping or I’ll throw you into the water again.”

“Will you carry me to the shore princess style this time? Because—Hey!” He finally shuts up when Steve elbows him.

When Robin wakes him up again, Eddie’s on his side, so close to Steve he can feel his steady breaths on his shoulder. Eddie’s both arms are thrown over Steve’s chest—because of course, even his side sleeping must be cat-like.

“Wake up, tiger,” she says, barely holding back a smirk. Steve knows this face too well.

“What are you…” Robin points at the sun and then at his chest. Steve’s brain is still a little hazy from his nap, so it takes him a while to understand what she means. When it hits him, his eyes get so big Robin can’t contain herself anymore. She lets out a loud cackle that soon transforms into a full laughing fit. Steve can’t even blame her for it.

Eddie stirs beside him. Slowly, he sits up and yawns. While he’s rubbing his eyes, Steve looks down at his chest in agony. It’s all red and scorched – all, aside from two pale stripes where Eddie’s arms were lying across his skin.

He sighs at it in disbelief while Robin cackles some more.

Overall, Steve quickly finds out that he really doesn’t mind the fact that Eddie includes him in his every nap when they’re together. In fact, he learns that he enjoys it so much he can’t imagine napping all by himself at this point.

But it’s all okay. And it’s not that unusual, right? They’ve all gotten really close since Vecna—even Nancy and Robin have some kind of secret proximity contract going on between them, it seems. It’s the magic of shared trauma and shared secrets that keeps them together and pulls them closer to each other every day.

At least that’s how Steve explains it to himself. That’s how he explains the comfort and sense of safety he gets every time Eddie’s back is pressed to his chest, when they’re breathing evenly and in sync. That’s how he sees it when he absent-mindedly reaches for Eddie’s hand when they’re falling asleep on the Munsons’ worn-out sofa. That’s how he feels when Eddie’s arms pull him closer.

Deep down, he knows it’s not usual at all. He’s had enough dates and romances to recognize when things cross the line, but he purposefully closes his eyes to that for the time being, letting himself enjoy the comfort and the safety of it all.

He learns the hard way that while both him and Eddie decide to stay oblivious, not everyone else does. And the fact that they never talk about it doesn’t help.

As per usual, when their monthly movie night with Nancy and Robin – the original Upside Down Bat Squad – comes, Steve and Eddie squeeze themselves into one loveseat. Eddie’s head drops to Steve’s shoulder almost immediately and he folds himself into a small human ball, pressing his side to Steve and going to sleep instantly.

Steve would love to take a nap himself, but the movie is just interesting enough to keep him in the half-dazed lethargy between sleep and consciousness. When he finally drifts off, it’s not for long.

He opens his eyes again when he registers the sudden lack of warmth beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie leave through the glass door in his living room. He wants to call after him, but before he does, he finally notices the muffled talk in the corridor. Nancy’s voice cuts through the silence first.

“...yes, but isn’t it kind of… Strange for them to be like that without acknowledging it in any way?”

It’s quiet for a bit, as if the conversation is being actively processed by both participants. “You mean the, uh… The closeness, or…?” Robin tries to keep her voice steady and neutral, but her cover blows a little bit more with every word.

“Yes! You clearly can’t be this intimate with someone if you don’t care about them deeply. There’s always a reason to be so close to each other, right? And you’re Steve’s platonic soulmate, so it’s definitely not like that between them.”

So many things come to Steve’s mind so suddenly he has to close his eyes—things concerning not only him and Eddie, but also Nancy and Robin. Things they were all too blind to notice.

“You mean, um,” Robin swallows so loudly even Steve can hear it. “To be as close to each other… As we are, sometimes?”

He gets up, then, deciding that he’s heard enough. Robin will tell him everything either way.

When he opens the glass door and catches the sight of Eddie, sitting on one of the lawn chairs and smoking, he realizes that they’re both going to have a lot to confess to each other at work tomorrow.

He sits down on the chair next to Eddie’s and lets the silence envelop them for a second. Eddie passes him the cigarette and he takes a prolonged drag.

“Robin and Nance woke me up with their babbling. Sorry for waking you up too,” Eddie says without looking at him.

Steve doesn’t really know how to approach it. It would be difficult enough if only one or two of them were having a revelation this evening, but since it’s all of them—well, that complicates things. He’s only a little bit surprised that his revelation doesn't hurt him at all, though. It’s not making his stomach churn or his eyes water. He still feels safe within it. When he glances at Eddie again, he can’t help but hope, even though their situation has more layers than either of them has had a chance to discover.

“It’s alright,” he reassures, passing down the cigarette. “I wasn’t really sleeping.”

Something sour flashes on Eddie’s face, but it’s only temporary. He smiles again, then, although his eyes stay dim. “Bet you don’t get good sleep at all when I’m all over you.”

“Actually,” Steve says, making sure to time it perfectly. When he reaches out to take the cigarette from Eddie, he lets their fingers stay pressed together for long enough to make some ash fall to the ground by itself. “It’s the other way around. I like it. I like when we do that.”

Eddie frowns, but his expression is as far from sour as possible. “You do?”

“Yeah. It’s just… It’s calming. I feel safe. Far away from the monsters and shit.”

Eddie smiles and huffs. He lets go of the cigarette gently. His fingers drag down along Steve’s skin. He’s not too willing to admit that, but this simple gesture gives Steve enough goosebumps to last him for life.

“Monsters and shit,” Eddie says, smiling. He turns and presses his knee to Steve’s.

“Yeah, exactly,” Steve presses back. “Monsters and shit.”

245 notes · View notes

dxppercxdxver · 1 year

Text

more of that collaboration with @chiropteracupola!!

all the days of our delights

Julien woke with the sun to the first warm spring day since the war ended.

Golden light spilled across the fine sheets of his bed, tucked deep in the heart of Teufort Manor, just now beginning to properly feel like home, and he rolled to his side to look out the window at the greening forest. Turning over revealed the empty space beside him, blankets creased with a recently departed presence, and the faint, comforting scent of pine sap lingering in the air and in the weave of the satin. Outside, the birds were just beginning to rouse themselves, gentle chirping drifting on the breeze.

For once, Julien felt no need to hurry, no urgency to his actions. Instead, he simply stretched his arms above his head, listening to the dull popping in his neck, and reached for his partner’s pillow, pressing it to his face. Duties would soon call his name, of course, but he decided morning could wait. Julien was owed this moment of quiet.

Unfortunately, before he could sink back into the bedding and let the drowsiness claim him once more, there came a knock at the door.

“Go away,” he murmured, although his words were muffled by the fabric enshrouding his face. To his surprise, a low laugh issued forth, and then the door creaked open.

“Good morning to you, too,” Samuel Mundy chuckled, voice roughened with the early hour, before padding over to the bed and sitting on the side, back to Julien’s, reaching for his hand. Twining their fingers together, Julien dragged Samuel’s knuckles to his lips while Samuel continued, “Sorry about your beauty sleep.”

“Mmm you know I do not need beauty sleep.” Julien smiled, looking up to meet Samuel’s serene gaze. In the dawn’s glow, the crags of his weathered face were softened, pleasant and tranquil.

He chuckled. “Right, because you’re always so handsome.”

“Of course I am.” With a grin, Julien reached up with his free hand, running his fingers through Samuel’s hair, blessedly free of snarls and mats, before lifting himself up for a kiss. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Pulling away slightly, Samuel raised an eyebrow. “You mean you don’t want this ugly mug starin’ down at ya?”

“Mind your tongue, cher,” Julien said, bumping his forehead against Samuel’s. “You know how I feel about your ugly mug.”

“I knew it.”

“Knew I love it? I should hope so.” In spite of Samuel’s scoff, Julien really did adore the way he looked, and kissed him again to prove it. “Now, what brings you here before sun-up?”

If Julien was not mistaken, it appeared that Samuel was blushing, and but a moment later, he idly pushed his hair out of his face, confirming Julien’s suspicions.

“Well,” Samuel said, rocking slightly in place, “I made you coffee, if you want it. It’s downstairs.”

“Oh…” It was such a simple thing, to be made coffee in the morning, but the fact that it was Samuel doing it—Samuel, who rarely stayed in bed past the first light, Samuel, whose every move was deliberate—and he was doing for him made Julien’s breath catch in his throat. He buried his head in the crook of Samuel’s neck, letting his stubble scratch at his forehead.

“I would like that,” Julien said, drawing Samuel into a hug. “Shall I get dressed?”

“Nah, no one else is up yet.” He held Julien close, words ghosting over Julien’s skin, before leaning back to take him all in. “‘Sides… I like you. Like this.”

“Well, I suppose I cannot argue with that,” Julien replied, but he felt heat rising to his cheeks all the same. “I will see you downstairs?”

“Yeah,” Samuel beamed. “Kitchen.” With that, he stood, pausing by the door. It was only then that Julien properly registered that he was wearing only his nightshirt, hair falling loose around his shoulders. He looked so at ease, so vulnerable, Julien almost wanted to avert his eyes, as if observing him so exposed was a violation of whatever privacy was still hovering between them. But then Samuel glanced over his shoulder, unmistakably smug, and said, “Don’t be late, love.”

As Samuel disappeared into the hallway, Julien could only stare, agape, before recalling where he was expected well enough to will himself out of the bed. Tossing on his own nightshirt was almost an afterthought in his haste to meet Samuel in the manor’s kitchen, and he even left his wig behind, fluffing his hair up in its place. The wood was cool on his feet as he wandered the halls, listening to the snoring that emanated from his friends’ bunks. Spring was coming, and they were alive, and what a wonder it was, to be laughing and living among such company.

Upon his arrival to the dining area, Julien caught a glimpse of Samuel bustling about the kitchen, and the distinct aroma of roasting coffee greeted him shortly afterward. A small table was set up in a nook by an eastern window, place settings haloed in gold.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Samuel called, holding up two china teacups. “Be out in a second, alright?”

“Oui,” Julien replied, trailing off upon examining the table more closely. Two plates were set out, heaped with strips of bacon and warm bread, slathered with butter. It was far from an elegant meal, but it was lovely all the same. Glasses of milk were placed in the center, with a tidy bouquet of flowers filling up a delicate-looking vase that served as the centerpiece. “Samuel,” he said, “is this for me?”

Apparently, Samuel had snuck up behind him, because it took but a breath for him to press a kiss to Julien’s cheek, setting the teacups on the table.

“‘Course,” he said, a subtle pride radiating off of him. “Is that… okay?”

Julien took his hand without a second thought. “It’s perfect.”

Enveloped in the near-idyllic springtime atmosphere, Samuel slowly guided Julien to his seat, pushing the chair in for him, before settling in across the way. For awhile, Julien could only watch as he tore off pieces of bread and sipped at his coffee. He knew the food was for him, too, but eating meant taking his eyes off of Samuel, and he wanted to commit this to his memory forever: the way the dappled sunlight gleamed in his hair, the nimble movements of his hands, the loose laces of his nightshirt that allowed him brief flashes of the ropy scars that crisscrossed his chest.

Samuel was, in no uncertain terms, beautiful and lovely.

When he caught sight of Julien staring, Samuel snorted, resting his palm against Julien’s neck. “You’re allowed to eat, love. I didn’t make you breakfast just for show.”

“I know,” Julien said, tapping Samuel’s wrist. “I will.”

“You better.”

Unfortunately for Julien’s constitution, Samuel was a talented cook, even if the food itself seemed unassuming. It had been so long since he had eaten fresh bread, even longer since their travels had afforded them time enough to cure and cook meat. Everything about the dishes spoke of a simple and honest devotion, an affection Julien felt wildly unprepared to process in its entirety. So, he ate, and he enjoyed it, and he was filled with the desire to supply Samuel with only the finest ingredients in the world so that he might continue to cook as he loved, for the people he loved.

“You should come to the market with me.” The words were out of his mouth before Julien had even had the chance to think about them, but upon recollection, he found he did not regret them. Samuel just blinked, swallowing the bite of his food.

“Are you sure?”

“Why would I not be?” All Julien wished was for Samuel to see just how much he meant, how much he was cherished, how Julien yearned to care for him in every way he could manage. He could not fathom why Samuel would hesitate now, when it was so clear Julien wanted to spend his time with his love in a way that would matter to both of them.

“Well…” Samuel said, ducking his head and picking at the hem of his nightshirt. “I mean, you’re you, and I’m…”

“Charming? Honorable? One of the better men I have had the pleasure of knowing?”

“Ugh, no.” Groaning, Samuel crossed his arms over his face. “You’re just… Put together, and you know how to talk to people, and your reputation means something to you, and I’m… me.”

“You…” Julien could only watch, baffled, as Samuel refused to look at him. “Do you really think that poorly of yourself? That you assume I would rather not be seen with you?”

“Well, wouldn’t you?” Samuel shrugged loosely, gesturing at nothing. “I’m just a random bloke who’d rather spend his days in a tree, and I don’t know how to dress, and we’ve both got bands but no wives to show for it. And you…”

“Have a great want of your company at the market today,” Julien finished, clutching at Samuel’s fingers. “My dear bushman, I am telling you I want you to come with me. I stopped caring about how I looked to the rest of the world a long time ago, and now I simply want to spend time with the man I love. Can you accept that?”

“But… the townsfolk—”

“Oh, let them gossip,” Julien said with a wave of his hand. “I highly doubt anyone will be giving us trouble, anyway. Not after Lady Helen’s death.”

With a reluctant snort, Samuel muttered, “Serves ‘em right.”

“Now you see.” Patting Samuel on the cheek, Julien stood, pulling Samuel to his feet. “If you truly wish to leave, we will go, no questions asked. I only ask that you come at all.”

Samuel seemed to turn this over in his mind, squeezing at Julien’s hand, before saying, “Okay.”

“Merci, my dear.” Kissing Samuel’s forehead, Julien began heading for the stairs to their room. “I suggest you get dressed, then, for as lovely as you look now, I doubt the people of Teufort would much appreciate it.”

“Y—Yeah. Sure.”

“I will meet you under the trellis in the garden, then,” Julien said with a wink. “Je t’aime, sweet.”

And with that, he left Samuel with the scraps of his breakfast, disappearing up the stairs.

It was true, that Julien took great pride in his appearance, and a day out in a sleepy little town in Pennsylvania was no exception, least of all considering that Samuel would be joining him. So, he chose his clothing with a critical eye: nothing too extravagent, of course, but something befitting the company he would be keeping. He settled on was a deep red coat and matching waistcoat, and tied his cravat in a neat knot, before adjusting the wig on his head. Grabbing his cane, Julien made his way down to the front of the manner.

“Mornin’, Jules,” Jeremiah yelled from his bedroom, followed by a cheerier, “Good morning, Mr. Laurent!” from Filomena.

“Bonjour to you both,” Julien fired back, deliberately not looking through the crack in the door, “and pass my regards on to the good doctor.”

“Can do!”

The rest of his trip being unimpeded, Julien found himself leaning against the trellis in very little time, studying the ivy that wound its way up the wood. He took a leaf between his gloved fingers; it surely would not be long until it began to bloom.

“Oi. Spook.”

When Julien looked up, Samuel was standing on the front porch, shifting his weight on his feet. While he must have been profoundly uncomfortable, Julien could not help but think he looked stunning, even though his clothing was relatively plain. Samuel only boasted a heavy brown coat over top of his usual garb, but his hair was neatly braided and his shoes had been polished to a slick gloss.

“Hello, cher,” Julien smiled, holding out a hand. “Shall we?”

“Eh.” Marching down the stairs with heavy footfalls, Samuel threaded his arm through the crook Julien’s elbow. “Might as well.”

The walk into town was spent in relative silence, save for the thud of Julien’s cane on the hardpacked dirt. However, it was far from unpleasant. Julien frankly adored watching Samuel study the terrain around them, unconsciously whistling back the birdcalls that reached them, and did not mind the lack of conversation. After all, it was important that Samuel start the day on a footing comfortable to him, and if he liked the quiet, Julien would happily oblige.

It was only when the far off clamor of voices began to filter through the trees that Samuel began to tense. He carefully slipped his arm from Julien’s grip, holding it behind his back.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Nervous.”

“It is alright, my dear,” Julien replied, nudging him slightly. “I will follow your lead. Whatever you want, it is yours.”

“No, I can’t ask you to—”

“It is only fair!” Julien said, patting the bag sitting on his hip. “You treat me so wonderfully, so I would like to return the favor.”

Frowning, Samuel eyed the purse with suspicion. “Yeah?”

“Anything you desire.”

And, at last, Samuel returned his smile, slipping his hand back into Julien’s. “Thanks.”

The pleasant hubbub of the market soon surrounded them both, and Samuel quickly brightened upon viewing the goods for sale. True to his word, Julien paid for every single thing, and they soon found themselves with a bag full of fresh cuts of meat, fine goat butter, colorful bunches of flowers, plenty of bulbs to start a proper garden, and a number of little trinkets Julien personally saw no value in but Samuel seemed to love. People smiled at them, waving and greeting them with as much politeness as was warranted for men they most definitely were not, but Julien certainly was not going to complain. The longer they walked, the closer Samuel drifted to him, until they were traversing the market shoulder to shoulder, Julien’s wig brushing Samuel’s cheek.

“Oh, would ya look at that…” Samuel pointed at a woman selling woven clothing. Her stall was filled to the brim with colorful fabrics stitched together in intricate patterns, and embroidery shimmered in the noonday sun.

Julien nodded approvingly. “You have good taste. Would you like something?”

“No, I— I couldn’t, spook, but thank you.”

“Nonsense.” Striding toward the stall, Julien said, “Anything you want, love.”

Hesitantly, Samuel came to join Julien, and while he struck up a conversation with the owner, Samuel ran his fingers over the sleeve of a woolen coat, lingering beside it no matter how many times he left and returned. It was clear he adored it, and for good reason—it suited him and his work, after all—but could not bring himself to commit to it. Eventually, Samuel drifted away, but Julien remained, pulling out his purse.

Coat secured few moments and many coins later, Julien slung it over his forearm and tracked Samuel down at the edge of the crowd.

“Oh, you bastard,” Samuel said upon eyeing the coat. “How much did that cost you?”

“It was nothing, cher.” Unfolding the coat, Julien draped it over Samuel’s shoulders. “Besides, it looks wonderful on you.”

For a few horrible moments, Samuel remained stock still, hand lingering over the collar, before he stepped forward and switftly yanked Julien into a hug, kissing his neck.

“You’re a fucking menace,” he said softly.

“And this is why you love me,” Julien whispered, paying no mind to the throngs of people that could undoubtedly see them.

“Yeah.” Samuel’s voice was hoarse, and Julien suspected he may have been fighting off tears. “I really do.”

And that was it, really. Samuel loved him, and he was holding him close in the town square of Teufort, thousands of miles from either of their homes that could not really be called homes anymore, and he did not care who saw. Now choking back tears of his own, Julien gripped Samuel tight, almost like a dare, a challenge for anyone to try to take him away. The chatter of the crowds faded to a dull buzz, and Julien could only smell conifers and gunsmoke.

“Come now, bushman,” he murmured, kissing Samuel’s cheek. “Let us return.”

With the scent of springtime in the air and Samuel’s skin on his as they returned to the manor, Julien could finally say to himself that maybe, just maybe, they were going to be okay.

#ngl this one gets clumsier as it goes but i cannot be bothered to edit rn so <3 #also i am still figuring out how to write just. straight up romance #anyway #look at them goooo #OH and title is from bitter water by the oh hellos :)#flintlock fortress #team fortress 2 #the spy: julien laurent #the sniper: samuel mundy #my writing #radio free junebug

15 notes · View notes