love when fanfic writers are like “I love this character” & proceed to put them through shit even God has blacklisted, baby the middle ages called they want to hear your ideas
Wayne grins when he opens the door Steve. He opens the door wide, waving him inside.
“Oh, no, I just came to drop off-” Steve tries.
“Nonsense, come on, come in!”
Steve reluctantly steps inside, holding the little tupperware box awkwardly. Wayne leads him further inside, with a hand on his back. He leads him to the kitchen, where Eddie is sat at the table, looking bored- but he perks up when Steve is led in.
“Steve! You spending eve with us?”
“Oh, uh-” Steve stutters, pausing when Wayne gently pulls the tupperware out his hands. He gives Steve a wink. “Yeah, I guess. I mean… if that’s alright with you?”
“Of course it is! More the merrier, right Wayne?”
“Exactly. Come on, sit down,” Wayne puts two plates down, one in front of Eddie and one in front of Steve. “You’ve got some good timing, son.”
Wayne is soon back a third plate for himself.
Steve looks between him and Eddie. “Wha- you planned this. How the hell did you plan this?”
“Don’t look at me,” Eddie throws his hands up. “I thought he was just making enough for leftovers.”
“Well… I’m sorry to say, son, you’re predictable.” Wayne pats his shoulder as he says it, trying to ease any sting. “Plus, I know you’d refuse any invitations to Christmas dinner so… we make do.”
Steve looks to Eddie, who shrugs. “Uh… well, um, thanks?”
“Don’t worry about it. Eat your food.”
Dinner isn’t quiet, but it’s not as lively as he’d expect. Eddie is almost subdued, matching Waynes softer vibe. For most of it, Steve feels like an observer. It’s oddly comforting.
“Help me with the dishes, will ya?” Wayne asks Steve. “Eddie still needs to clean the living room.”
Eddie complains, but goes without any real trouble. He tries to use Steve as an excuse to delay, but Steve is eager to help out in any way that he can.
They’re both quiet, for a moment. Wayne washes the dishes, Steve drying them.
“Have you asked him yet?” Wayne eventually asks in a hushed voice.
“What?”
“Eds. You asked him yet?”
“Asked him what?”
“Asked him out.”
“Oh- that- no- I don’t- uh- I mean- he’s…” Steve stutters, flushing when Wayne raises a brow at him. “It’s not like that.”
“Look, I’m trying to be patient with you boys, but eventually you’ll need to pull your heads out the sand. Soon. If I have to drag you both out by your ears, I will.”
“But, I mean… if it goes wrong…”
“Then it goes wrong. At least you gave it a go.”
Wayne hands him the next plate to dry. And, for the rest of the time they spend there, it’s silent. Wayne can see the gears turning in Steves head, can see him slowly coming to a resolution.
“Thanks for dinner,” Steve says. He sounds confident.
It makes Wayne smile. He pats him on the back, nudging him towards the living room. “You’re welcome any time.”
Pleased to finally share my contribution to the @historyinthemakingzine, a lil’ comic called “Mementos.” (Be sure to head to H.I.T.M.Z.’s tumblr to download the whole glorious zine!)
Note: I may have gotten a little caught up in the idea of dueling stories. Henry’s is in words. Alex, however, is a more visual person. 😂
Special thanks to @omgcmere whose beta read really brought out Henry and Alex’s voices, and to @argylefetish, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, and @fight-surrender for their final sweeps! EDIT: And @scone-lover for last minute Brit-picking! (Gosh, it’s been so long, I completely forgot what we all went through to make this thing! 😅)
“So, you can hate the heir to the throne all you want, write mean poems about him in your diary, but the minute you see a camera, you act like the sun shines out of his dick, and you make it convincing.”
