Besties. We Know Bruce's Adoption Streak Could Outshine The Sun, But Have We Considered:

(Not a Battinson post but) Brucie Wayne is such a solid cover story. I’m convinced that even if Batman was unmasked in public, Gotham would just be like “Oh no! Poor Brucie Wayne thought he could be his favorite hero for a day! Now, the Joker is going to hurt him D: Where is the real Batman so he can save the day?!” The JL would have a laughing fit in the watchtower, but deep down, they’d respect the fuck out of Bruce for developing such a good cover story.

I’m crying like a baby

after dealing with the tunnels, steve takes all the kids back to the byers house to wait for any news about will or el or the lab. he's finally crashing from the adrenaline rush, and the concussion is making itself known now full force.

he's pretty much dead to the world and collapsed on the couch. dustin and lucas are sticking close by, worried he's gonna just up and die on them when hopper finally makes it back.

steve is only hearing every other word when he finally gets jostled to sit up, and he feels rough hands on his face, trying to open his eyelid.

"look alive, harrington. you know where you are?"

steve grumbles, annoyed that he's being woken up like this, "yeah, yeah. i'm at the byers."

his head was gently placed back on the couch, "heard you got your bell rung by that hargrove prick."

steve sighed, deep and heavy, already feeling himself slipping away to dreamland, "better me than the kids. take a plate to the dome, any day. "

there was a snort somewhere in front of him and he felt a hand ruffle his hair, firm yet careful, "good boy, don't do it again."

it took a moment for the words to settle in his rattled brain, but as soon as hopper was walking away, steve was suddenly feeling very awake. a heat crept up his neck as a mortifying wave of arousal swam in his gut.

"good boy."

"good boy."

"good boy."

oh no.

--

years later, after starcourt and russians and dual confessions of being not-so-heterosexual, steve and robin became friends.

months after, when they sat around steve's empty mansion, drinking his dad's expensive liquor, robin had to ask, "how did you find out?"

"hmm?"

"how did you find out you were, y'know...whatever you are. swing for both teams and such?"

steve snorted, " 'and such' she says. i think we both need to be drunker for that conversation."

robin poked steve's side, "come oon, i told you my crush. throw me a bone here, steve-o."

he relented because, of course he would. he may have only known robin for less than a year, but it was scary just how much he was willing to show his true self to her so quickly.

"this stays in the room. you tell absolutely no one, or you'll wish you were sucked up by the giant flesh monster when you had the chance. "

she does some complicated hand sign to convey her loyalty and waits.

".........hopper said i was a good boy for protecting the kids, and i got a boner."

silence.

steve kept his eyes shut as the moment grew longer when he flinched at the slightest intake of breath from his best friend and prepared for the worst.

"man, the daddy issues run deep, huh?"

steve choked on saliva and hit her with a pillow, "THAT'S all you have to say!?"

robin was in tears, weakly defending herself against the pillow assault, "i'm sorry! mercy! it's just that it makes soooo much sense!"

steve didn't stop hitting her until they were both out of breath, laying next to each other and panting.

"i'm sorry your first man crush died."

steve hit her face with a pillow.

".......joyce is actually kind of hot so i get it--"

"SHUT UP!"

--

the very next year, after the murder of innocent teens, a manhunt, and the final battle won against the upside down, found steve sitting in eddie's lap.

after weeks of dancing around each other, cautiously flirting and yearning from afar, steve and eddie got their act together.

eddie dragged a hand up steve's neck and into his hair, his fingernails scraping softly against his scalp. it sent shivers down steve's spine, causing him to moan and let eddie slip through and suck on his tongue. steve bucked his hips up against eddie's in pleasure.

they separated, a string of saliva still attached to their lips that only broke when steve leaned forward and let his body sag completely onto eddie's. they stayed like that for a while, just listening to the other breathe, not wanting their little bubble to pop, and for reality to reach them.

eddie adjusted steve a bit, so he sat properly in his lap. steve, pliant and malleable, let it happen. it made eddie huff in amusement, nosing steve's temple and kissing his cheek, "you're such a good boy for me, aren't you."

steve immediately tensed and then let out a bark of laughter, "oh, thank god!"

eddie, rightfully confused, just blinked, "uhhh. mind sharing with the class what the fuck that was, harrington?"

steve just beamed, "i don't have daddy issues!"

"........WHAT?"

--

(after steve forced himself to explain his queer awakening, now embarrassed for speaking with no impulse control, eddie snickered uncontrollably into steve's chest. much to his chagrin.

once he calmed down, his smile turned devious and asked, "does this mean i'm gonna have to fight the chief for your affection? not sure i'm strong enough to do it, princess, i might have to forfeit."

steve struggled to suffocate him with a pillow, mostly because they were both laughing so hard.)

"Why don't the people of Gotham just move?"

Because it's a massive East Coast city but the property values are probably like $200 a month for a three bedroom apartment, and most Gothamites are like, "Hey, Bane never swore to break my back."

And here's the thing: you're not just moving out of Gotham City. You're moving into the rest of the DC universe. And it has hero-based power scaling.

Oh, Metropolis looks fucking great. But it gets invaded by aliens and robots and demigods, because Superman is there.

Wonder Woman's tangling with gods.

You go to Central City, and some Reverse-Flash motherfucker runs backwards from an alternate future and kicks your balls off at the speed of light.

You could move to the West Coast, and oh, an entire city just gets exploded by Cyborg Superman or some shit.

How about you move to Indianapolis, or Cleveland? Haha, no. They have no protector during the alien invasions, and you're in Cleveland

So stay in Gotham. Sure, you have lunatics, but you know that if you had a gun, you at least have a chance against the Joker or Riddler. Mongo of War-World would crush you. But Gotham just has creeps, and you know you have a chance. Even Bane, R'as Al-Ghul, Killer Croc, and Mr. Freeze are just slightly altered dudes. Oh no, Poison Ivy is going to kiss me to death! Who gives a shit, you kinda wanted to go out that way anyway.

There are super-intelligent telepathic gorilla warlords in Africa and the Greek titans are real and chained in the abyss

modern asoiaf aus are interesting to me bc seeing how they reckon with cersei and jaime’s whole…. thing….. is like a delightful little window into authorial intent and the story they want to write like. ive seen some people who go full hog with it – jaime and cersei have a long term sexual relationship with incest babies and all – and some people dodge it entirely – their sibling relationship is normal, or they’re not siblings at all. I think its kind of a betrayal of the source material though to pretend NOTHING is wrong there, bc like its so essential to both of their characters that they have a weird thing going on with each other that is actively affecting their lives in a major way. I can understand not wanting to write incest but imo the characters dont make sense without SOMETHING. when i wrote that bit i just posted i was trying to figure out where in the middle i wanted to fall, and i landed on a weird unconsumated too-close-for-comfort sibling relationship, which i think is a good middle ground. saw these tags on a fanfic that were like “no incest bc jaime and cersei’s relationship is fucked up enough without it” which i also think is a graceful way to handle the issue

au where Steve is a famous Disney kid and Eddie is a teenaged singer-songwriter. They get pushed together at events because they're close in age, but they just quietly dislike each other.

Steve's got a new show starting, a spinoff of the one that made him a household name. They hire a newcomer, Robin Buckley, to play his best friend and the two quickly become BFF in real life.

The show runs for two seasons but when it comes time to renegotiate contracts, neither star is interested. They're older now, ready to live life on their terms and not the company's, or in Steve's case, his parents.

As soon as the finale airs, Robin and Steve celebrate by going to a gay club. A few weeks later, an interview is released where Steve comes out as bi and talks about how his parents mistreated him; how they worked with the network to pressure him to be a perfect "all-American" kid even off screen.

Meanwhile, Eddie's an impossible level of famous. He's had number-one hits, won a Grammy, headlined an arena tour, achieved every dream he had for himself as a kid growing up in a trailer park in Indiana. He's not shocked by the news that Steve is leaving Hollywood, but he's flabbergasted that the guy isn't straight. When Eddie reads the interview, he gets this weird pang in his chest, almost like regret. But he never even liked Steve.

Steve isn't in the news again and Eddie doesn't think of him for a long time.

Steve goes to college. He loves it. Not because he's great in his classes, or anything, but because he's free to be himself for the first time. He makes friends and goes to parties and relaxes. He and Robin share an apartment.

After a few semesters, Steve decides to take a couple of theater classes, and is quickly cast in campus productions. In the vague anonymity of college theater he rediscovers his love of acting. No one has expectations of him, no one forces him to perform. He graduates and slowly starts appearing in small roles in Indie films, gathering critical acclaim. He feels good. Happy. Hopeful.

Eddie is blissfully unaware of Steve's career resurgence, experiencing his own musical highpoints, until the day where he's scrolling Twitter, sees a Variety headline that's getting a bunch of attention, "Steve Harrington in talks to star in Max Mayfield's first film." Eddie's livid.

"Maxine, what the fuck?" He growls when she answers his call.

They grew up together in the same Indiana trailer park. When she moved to Hollywood to start a career as a screenwriter, Eddie was by her side. And when her first script wound up on the Black List, his involvement on the soundtrack and original songs sealed her production deal.

She gives a long suffering sigh. "Munson," she grumbles. "I know you have a weird history with this guy, but I swear he's the right choice."

"He's a stuck up rich boy who's never been in trouble in his life."

"He's changed."

"Doubtful," Eddie sneers.

"Look. I'll set-up a meeting. Come hang out and you'll see what I mean." Before she hangs up she adds, "Call me Maxine again and I'll end you."

They invite Harrington to Eddie's recording studio. His hopes are not high for this meeting, so he's already a little thrown when Steve Harrington walks in, all grown up. He's in a crimson sweater, tight jeans, hair grown long so that it flops around his face in tousled waves that actually look genuine, windswept and golden. Eddie's eyes instinctively trace the scatter of moles on Harrington's face and neck, a pang of something hitting deep in his gut. Fuck, this dude is beautiful.

"Harrington," he greets, sticks out his hand. Eddie barely hears the answering, "Munson," because instead of a handshake, Harrington pulls Eddie in for a hug. Muscles bunch under the sleeves of the sweater, against Eddie's chest, and he's assaulted by the scent of cedar and sunshine and Steve. Eddie's not prepared for any of this.

They make small talk, Harrington sharing about going to college, falling in love with theater, Robin Buckley who he calls his soulmate. Eddie's head rings with how wrong he was about this guy; the pretty kid he grew up alongside who seemed to have the world in his hands. Max was right, he's perfect. Except.

"Let's get down to it, Harrington," Eddie says. Can't bring himself to call him Steve yet, feels that will somehow change everything and he's not ready. "I'll admit that Mayfield had the right idea about you, but can you sing? Play guitar? You have to perform my music, dude. That's not a small ask."

Harrington smirks, asks for a guitar. He gets it settled across his lap before he speaks. "I started taking piano lessons when I was 4. Voice and guitar at 7."

Eddie belatedly recalls that Harrington's parents were the worst kind of stage-parents, pushing their cute kid to perform even as he sobbed about wanting to play soccer with his friends instead of going to auditions. He has a moment of shame that he forgets as the other man begins to play. It's one of Eddie's biggest hits, a ballad about a teenaged broken heart from a kid whose name he can't even remember.

Harrington's hair flops in a swoop over his forehead, his fingers move across the strings with ease, skill. His voice is a rasp, close mimic to Eddie's own, but not quite deep enough. Goosebumps spread across Eddie's arms, his neck, and warmth pools low in his gut.

Steve finishes the song, looks up, cheeks glowing pink, honey eyes bright. Eddie's fucking gone for this guy. He wants so badly he might choke on it.

"Good?" Steve asks.

Eddie's embarrassed suddenly. Unsure. He tugs at his hair. "Yeah," he laughs. "Good."

He reaches out to take the guitar, the one Steve's already handing to him, and their hands brush. Eddie flushes. Their eyes meet and Steve smiles. Eddie's thoughts are consumed with the desire to kiss his plush pink mouth.

"You wanna get dinner? Just you and me?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, Steve," he laughs. "I'd love to."

🎬🎸🎬🎸

Fifteen Months Later

"Former Teen Heartthrobs Make Love Connection?"

Fans of musician Eddie Munson and former child star, Steve Harrington, were in for the surprise of their lives last night as the men arrived together for the premier of Harrington's new movie, Small Town Sins, written by up-and-coming screenwriter Max Mayfield, featuring original music by Munson. While Harrington's performance and the movie itself are garnering quite a bit of positive buzz, it's being overshadowed by gossip about Harrington and Munson's budding romance. They walked the red carpet together, pausing for photos as a duo, holding hands and flirting. When asked for confirmation of their relationship, Munson answered, 'we're bros,' before winking and pulling Harrington close.

There's a TikTok video embedded below the article, showing the men being interviewed on the red carpet. Their arms are loosely around each others' waists, and when their eyes meet they catch and hang for a beat.

"So, longtime fans of both of yours are going feral online right now because of the rumors that you two used to hate each other. Is there any truth to that?" An off-camera voice asks.

The men laugh. "We've always been great friends," Eddie answers.

"Eddie thought I was stuck up," Steve giggles.

"I did not." Eddie slaps at Steve, who gives him an affectionate smile.

"Liar," Steve answers.

Eddie leans into the camera like he's telling a secret. "Harrington here was afraid of me."

"Fuck off, I was not." They wrestle around for a couple of seconds.

Steve shrugs Eddie off, straightening his suit jacket. "Okay, maybe I was a little intimidated back then, but then this morning you found a pretty rock and cried about it."

Eddie shrieks, swatting at Steve until someone in a black suit and name tag shoos them down the red carpet.

Eddie walks off first, so he misses Steve withdrawing a hand from his pocket and saying, "Still have the rock, though." He flashes the red, grey, blue striped stone at the camera.

His gaze drifts away, landing somewhere in the distance, hazel eyes soft and heart-wrenchingly fond.