Archive of Our Own ^beta

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It had been a long fucking week to be Eddie Munson. Another long week in a series of weeks, if he was honest, and it was starting to wear on him more than he wanted to admit. Certainly more than he was going to admit to his bandmates, or worse, their management. Not yet anyway. Not before he had some sort of plan. The label said Hellfire still owed them one more album, specifically one more successful album, and failing to deliver would put them in breach of contract.

It wasn’t that Eddie didn’t have lawyers at his disposal, but they were all connected to the record label in one way or another, as were most of his finances. He had a guy for that, because Eddie was shit at keeping track of everything and even worse at investments with weird names. Thing was, the label had recommended him, too. As far as Eddie knew, every string in the giant cat’s cradle of his life wound back around to them, and the last thing he wanted to do was pull on one and tighten all the rest.

Running on no sleep, Eddie hadn't seen the point in going to bed once he realized what time it was and what time he was supposed to be awake. Hellfire was giving a series of interviews bright and early, one right after the other in a gigantic building downtown. The media conglomerate that owned the skyscraper had crammed no less than eleven radio stations within it, digital and satellite, along with several podcast and music recording studios. A twenty-four hour news station took up the three lowest floors, and as the band dodged frantic interns and couriers, one of them nearly knocked Gareth to the ground.

Eddie detoured to the lobby coffee shop, grabbing a triple red eye for himself and a caramel mocha with extra whip cream for Gareth to make up for it. Even at 29, offering Gareth that much sugar was a lot like giving crack to a squirrel, but Eddie figured the DJs could deal with the result. It might even be funny.

At least, Eddie thought it had been funny. The rest of the day was far less amusing, and by his fifth interview, Eddie was done. Absolutely, 110 percent, over it, finished, done. Unfortunately, they still had one interview left, and if he sort of, kind of, maybe sabotaged it a little, well -- could you blame him? Eddie didn’t think you could blame him, not really.

Jeff disagreed, and while Frankie was in his corner, Gareth - the traitor - took Jeff’s side. Deciding for once to let discretion be the better part of valor or whatever, Eddie threw up his hands and jammed the button for the elevator before anyone’s fangs could come out. Jamming the Close Door button to shut out Gareth’s annoyed face with a fake smile, Eddie rode the elevator down and stalked through the atrium, eyes on the marble tile. It was somewhere vaguely around the lunch hour, which Eddie only knew because someone brought them sandwiches after his empty stomach started eating itself, and things seemed to have settled since the early morning rush. No one ran into him, at least, which Eddie had to admit was an improvement.

Striking out in a random direction, Eddie let his feet carry him through the city. His scent patch itched, and he scratched idly at his neck, feeling it peel a bit at the edges. It didn't matter, not really, not out here in the great melee of the metropolis where scents flowed around him in a never ending stream. He couldn't exactly stink up a major traffic artery all on his own.

Eddie did wish he’d thought to wear a hat this morning, even an ugly baseball cap - just something to hide his face. He'd worn jeans and a soft t-shirt for being stuck in small rooms with uncomfortable chairs, but even without the typical Munson fashion, he knew he was still recognizable enough. Taking a few turns here and there, glancing in the reflective glass of shop windows as though considering the merchandise, Eddie clocked his pursuer. Just some hack with a camera, but an awfully persistent one to follow him this far. Eddie knew some paparazzi would stalk their prey to the ends of the earth if they had to for that one perfect shot, even if they had to set it up themselves.

Not today, Satan, Eddie thought to himself, darting across the busy street at the end of the Walk signal countdown. Only halfway through when it switched to red, Eddie jogged the rest of the way to a chorus of blaring horns. Turning right, he picked up the pace to put more distance between himself and the photographer, eyeing potential businesses for cover. A small green awning caught his attention farther down, a blackboard sign out front with something drawn in brightly colored chalk. It was just past a busy coffee house and a dim sum restaurant, both of which seemed like better places to hide, so Eddie passed them by in an attempt at subterfuge. Green awning it was.

Pushing open the thick glass door, a tiny set of wind chimes overhead announced his presence with an ethereal sound. Eddie stopped just inside and gazed around the shop in wonder. It had an unearthly sort of beauty to it, the space small and the counters well worn, but absolutely covered by flowers in brilliant hues. Most were fresh, but some were dried and hanging from the rafters in bundles, along with what looked like a few fragrant herbs. A sign on the back wall declared it to be under the ownership of Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley, Proprietors. Taking it all in, Eddie spotted something pink on the floor and reached for it, realizing it was a phone case with squishy silicone cherry blossoms on the back. Cute.

The room smelled heavenly, Arcadian even, and Eddie drew in a deep breath as he glanced around. Premade bouquets wrapped in brightly colored tissue paper sat in wooden buckets arranged by price, taller vases and jars held groupings of a single type, while vines of ivy trailed around the walls. There were examples of boutonnieres and corsages, and an entire section on the wall dedicated to silk flower crowns, the ribbons wound through them dangling below. Large refrigerators along the back wall hummed quietly, keeping their delicate charges cool as they waited for just the right customer.

The last time Eddie had bought flowers for someone, he’d been taking them to the cemetery. The time before that, they’d been dumped out the window into the gutter, where he was told his apology could go with them. Yeah, it was a great time to be Eddie fucking Munson.

“We’re closed.” The annoyed voice from the back of the shop made Eddie flinch with the suddenness of the sound, disrupting his own mental pity party. That was the only explanation he could think of for the next words out of his mouth.

“Not for me, baby,” Eddie called back, his voice smooth when it dropped into a lower register as though speaking to a lover. It was like flipping a switch, the persona clicking into place without his permission. After twelve years in the business, Eddie hated how easy it was.

“Can’t you fucking read?” The voice had risen a notch from annoyed to angry. That must be Steve, he thought. Or possibly Robin. Or maybe just an irritable employee, who knew.

Glancing back at the door, Eddie realized that he was in fact staring at a beautifully hand-lettered OPEN sign, meaning the reverse was facing the street. The light streaming in through the large windows at the front provided enough illumination that he hadn’t even noticed the overhead lights were turned off. Well, shit.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie called out with a wince, his nose twitching at the commingled scents in the room. “Your door was open, I just needed a place to – to duck in for a second —”

“Get off my property, right now, or I’m calling the cops!” The voice now bordered on furious, which was perfectly reasonable all things considered, but it held a certain wobble to it that spoke of fear.

Leaving was probably the wisest course of action, Eddie knew. He should apologize again, turn around, and march right out of the angry florist’s shop before he caused any more trouble than he already had. He'd probably shaken the photographer by now, hopefully searching the restaurant next door or the alley behind it or just fucking off to wherever paparazzi went when they weren't stalking celebrities like starving wolves. Of course, because this was Eddie's life, that wasn’t what happened at all.

A scent caught his attention, filtering out through the roses and carnations and all the other brilliant blossoms Eddie could only guess at. The smell was acrid, eye-wateringly so, with a sour stench beneath it. It wasn’t the sharp burst of surprise, or the rising smoke of annoyance, no -- this had been building for some time to permeate the space the way it did. He should be leaving, but when Eddie’s hand found the door it was to turn the lock as quietly as he could manage. Whoever the voice belonged to was deeply in distress, and while Eddie wasn’t nearly as skilled at calming someone down as your average beta, something about the scent sparked an unthinking sense of urgency beneath his skin.

“Hey, um,” he called out hesitantly, and wasn’t that just a brilliant opener? “Are you all right back there? I’m really sorry for barging in and all, but it kind of seems like you might need some help, and ---”

“I’m fine, jesus!” Now that Eddie was a bit closer, he could hear wet, ragged breathing beneath the words and it tore at something in his chest.

The scent turned once he reached the swinging door in the counter, threaded through with mouldering rot, and Eddie was suddenly very sure that there was an omega back there just moments away from a drop. He knew absofuckinglutely nothing about what drops were like for omegas, only had the barest inkling for what they could be like for alphas, but Eddie’s blood pulsed and thrummed with the need to reach this stranger and do something.

“I don’t think you’re fine, sweetheart,” he said, moving past the refrigerators to find a door propped open, leading into what looked like a preparation space. A rectangular island took up most of the center, its light wooden top stained from use. Varnished countertops lined the sides of the room with dark green cabinets arranged above and below. The room was neatly organized, but the remnants of what might have been a bouquet lay scattered across the table, dried purple petals scattered at the feet of the most beautiful man Eddie had ever seen. Perched on a stool, his elbows rested on the wooden surface, one hand mussing up his hair. His eyes were red and puffy from crying, cheeks flushed, and he stared at Eddie in blatant disbelief.

“The hell?” he questioned, his mouth dropping open and closing a few times before finding speech again. “What is actually wrong with you?”

“Probably a lot,” Eddie admitted with a small smile, one hand on the back of his neck.

“You think?” the omega questioned with a twist to his lips, and Eddie’s smile fell away.

Still, the man’s head was tilted, nostrils flaring just a bit as if he was scenting the air. Eddie realized his instincts had taken over and pushed out his own scent a bit, a grassy sort of woodland haze preceding him into the room. He hoped it wouldn’t have the opposite effect; he was always being told it was too strong, too herbal, too weird.

“Okay, so I know we’ve never met, and this is presumptuous as all hell,” Eddie started, holding his hands out in front of him.

“Agreed,” the omega said. “Weren’t you leaving?”

“Please,” Eddie said, hearing a pathetic note of desperation in his voice. “I just want to help in whatever way I can. Unless, um, there’s someone else you want me to call?”

The man looked down at a squashed yellow blossom between his fingers, shaking his head. He mumbled a couple of other names and something that sounded like “in class” and “other job” before slumping forward over the table. Eddie took an involuntary step forward before catching himself. Slow, he reminded himself. Don't make this worse for him.

“You want to talk about it?” Eddie asked, and the omega glanced up, venom in his expression. “Look, you wanna know why I came back here instead of just leaving when you very reasonably asked me to please stop trespassing?”

Rolling his eyes, the omega gestured vaguely with one hand as if to say go ahead.

“Because I thought there was somebody back here about five minutes away from a drop, maybe less, and I couldn't let that happen. Especially if they were alone.”

Eddie watched as the man's expression slowly changed, annoyance shifting into a wary sort of disbelief. “A drop,” he echoed.

“Yeah,” Eddie said with a nod, feeling a bit foolish. Maybe the guy knew all about this sort of thing. Maybe he'd been through one before, maybe Eddie was way off base and about to get the cops called on him and wouldn't that be fun to explain to their manager?

“Fuck,” the man said, glancing back down at the table and starting to tear the petals off the flower in his hand. “That kind of makes sense, I guess. How'd you know, anyway?”

“The smell,” Eddie said, and the omega wrinkled his nose, his cheeks flushing even worse. “Sorry, that was rude,” Eddie fumbled. “I just meant it was different from the flowers.” A little lie couldn't hurt, right?

The man nodded. “I, um. I just got a pretty bad phone call, so.” He squeezed his eyes shut, wiping irritably at the tear that dropped down onto his cheek. “Probably broke the damn thing.”

Suddenly remembering the phone he'd jammed in his pocket earlier, Eddie pulled it out. “This one?” he asked, holding it out when the omega leaned forward to reach for it, turning it on and running his thumb along it for cracks. Eddie was intimately familiar with the routine, having thrown any number of phones in his life. Most hadn't survived his temper tantrums.

“I'm Eddie, by the way,” he threw in, hoping the unnecessary introduction might make the guy laugh.

“Steve,” he said, the response distracted, automatic. That answered that. “The case is, ah,” he stammered, looking a bit embarrassed. “It's just sort of a joke, y’know. That stuck.”

“Pretty sure it saved your screen,” Eddie said. “Anything that can do that when you fling it hard enough earns points from me.”

The guy gave a bitter laugh. “Guess so,” he said. “So tell me, Eddie, is breaking and entering a hobby of yours?”

“Breaking and -- what?” Eddie said, unable to keep the offense from his tone. “The door was open!”

“Well, the sign said closed!” Steve retorted.

“And I didn't see it!” Eddie said. “I was being followed, I just needed to shake the guy, all right?”

“Followed?” Steve said, his dark green apron tugging awkwardly along his torso as he sat up straight. His gaze turned suspicious, which Eddie supposed he deserved at this point.

“Just a photographer. Those guys are like sharks, I swear.” He shrugged, giving Steve an apologetic smile.

Steve's eyes ran the length of him and back up, lingering at his ink-covered arms. Eddie knew what he looked like, okay, especially after the morning he'd had, on zero sleep the night before. His t-shirt was probably wrinkled, there was a hole in the right knee of his jeans and sharpie doodles all over them from when he'd gotten bored during the interviews. The hastily knotted bun keeping his hair corralled was falling apart, and probably frizzy besides. With ears gauged in multiple places and tattoo sleeves ending in shadow-like wisps of flame across his forearms, Eddie probably seemed somewhat alarming to a clean cut guy like Steve.

He didn't really look the part of a world famous metal guitarist at the moment, and he knew it. Honestly, Eddie was glad for it. That kind of rough exterior might have gotten him sent packing the moment he poked his head in the door. Or the cops called, which miraculously still hadn't happened, now that he'd given Steve back his phone.

“What are you, like, some kind of famous tattoo artist or something?” Steve asked, eyes still narrowed, and all right, Eddie could take a joke.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes crinkling with a smile. “Or something.”

Steve's look in return was still confused, but the air in the room seemed a fraction lighter somehow, a bit less redolent of peat bog. He was clearly still shaky, his lips nearly blue, and with the death grip Steve had on his phone, he might just break it yet. Eddie knew if he walked out now, the omega was likely to spiral right back down.

“You, um, you wanna talk about it?” Eddie risked asking again. “I mean, if you really want me to leave, it's your place. It's just that you kind of look like you might pass out.”

“Oh, just a helpless little omega, right?” Steve snapped, a hint of fang peeking over his lower lip.

Shit, Eddie thought, that really shouldn't be hot. “No,” he said, holding up one hand. “That is definitely not what I meant, two of my best friends are ---”

“You really want to play the ‘I have omega friends’ card with me right now, alpha?” Steve questioned, rising from the stool as his words grew more heated. “You broke into my place of business, which this helpless little omega started on his own, by the way, and now you're – oh —” Steve's face paled as his knees buckled beneath him.

Eddie would never know how he reached Steve so quickly, or maneuvered them to the ground with any ounce of grace, but somehow he managed both. Leaning back against the solid body of the island, he tucked Steve close against his side, wrapping his arms lightly around the omega's shoulders. He didn't want Steve to feel trapped, but at the same time, Eddie wanted to make sure he felt safe. It was a peculiar dilemma.

Something tickled his neck, and Eddie realized that Steve's nose was brushing against the fraying edges of his scent patch, already peeled halfway. Reaching up slowly, Eddie tugged it off and stuck it onto his jeans for lack of anywhere else to put it. A pleased hum sounded from the omega, who proceeded to nuzzle against the crook of his neck, eyes closed. His scent was already beginning to shift, moving out of the realm of sour milk and more into something crisp and clean, something lightly floral that hadn't been present in the room before. Holding Steve brought a sense of calm to Eddie's nerves, one so deep that he drifted in and out, his heart keeping time with the rhythm of Steve's quiet breaths.

Until the omega roused himself from whatever stupor he'd fallen into, shoving hard at Eddie's chest.

“The fuck —” he managed, struggling to sit up.

Eddie pushed himself back against the island, lifting his hands free, though one arm was still stuck behind the omega. “You fell,” he explained, or tried to. “When you stood up, you just – and I got you, but we sort of ended up down here, and I —”

“Thanks,” Steve said, interrupting Eddie's fumbling. He held himself awkwardly apart, looking down at the linoleum as a pink flush rose high on his cheeks. “I kind of remember that, a little. And then, after.”

Eddie could feel his own cheeks heating in response, still feeling the way Steve had fit so perfectly against him, the way he'd kept nosing at Eddie's scent gland as if he couldn’t get enough. The way his heartbeat still echoed in Eddie's ears beside his own. Steve might be a complete stranger, but his base brain alpha seemed extremely interested in changing that.

Slumping back against the island, Steve raised his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them like a child. He stared out across the space, sneakers twitching up and down as if considering some deep philosophical quandary. Maybe he was. Eddie’s arm still rested behind him, and while he wasn't leaning into it, he wasn't exactly leaning away, either.

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into this time, Eddie wondered, lost in the details of the freckles scattered across Steve's cheeks. They were barely there, just a dusting, but Eddie could imagine himself counting them, one by one, as he fell asleep at night.

“It's my father,” Steve said unexpectedly, shaking Eddie from his daydream.

Eddie knew all about having a deadbeat asshole for a sperm donor, so he figured he could relate to what might be coming next. As it turned out, he was wrong. Completely, entirely wrong.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asked lightly. “What's he doing?”

“It's -- he's ---” Steve tried, hands gravitating to his hair as his head dropped down, elbows on his knees. Just as Eddie reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder, Steve struggled to his feet, pulling himself up by the edge of the island. Eddie looked up at him in confusion. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you with this,” he said, without so much as glancing down.

“I thought I was the one bothering you?” Eddie said, his tone gently teasing as he rose to his feet with a loud crack from one knee.

“Why do you even care?” Steve asked, turning to face him.

“Does it matter?” Eddie returned. “I do, okay? Look, can I go grab you some coffee, or some sort of ridiculously sugary pastry with a stupid name, something to make you feel better?”

Steve smiled at that, if a bit wryly. Eddie would still count it as a win. Biting his lip, Steve scuffed his sneaker against the floor, twisting it back and forth as if trying to decide.

“I've got a kettle in the break room,” he said eventually. “Make me some tea?”

“With a lot of sugar?” Eddie questioned. “Because seriously, you're really pale.”

“If I promise to eat some fruit, will it make you happy?” Steve asked with a sigh.

“It's a start,” Eddie said, still holding out.

Steve shook his head and brushed past Eddie on his way to the rear of the building, pulling his apron off over his head. Tying a yellow curtain back from a doorway, Steve gestured for Eddie to head inside to the small room beyond. Outfitted with a comfortable-looking couch in a terrible paisley pattern, a battered coffee table and two mismatched straight chairs by the window completed the look. A counter with a sink occupied the far wall, a well-loved coffee maker and electric kettle paired atop it. Below them lived a vintage style mini-fridge, covered in brightly hued magnetic letters.

“Jasmine oolong,” Steve directed with a nod toward the cabinets as he flopped down at one end of the couch and Eddie began rifling through the contents.

It didn't take long to find the tea Steve wanted and some orange pekoe for himself, along with two mugs, although Steve protested his use of the molded Snuffalupagus cup. Raising an eyebrow, Eddie dutifully put it back and selected a far less interesting vessel from the 2022 Society of American Florists’ Convention. Finding a couple of clementine oranges at the bottom of a ceramic bowl, Eddie foraged through three drawers until he found a reasonably sharp knife and split them in half. The water had boiled by the time he handed the oranges to Steve on two folded paper towels, and he turned back to finish up the tea. A glance in the fridge even scored him some milk, which he added to his mug, along with a couple of sugar packets he’d found in with the silverware. Setting the mugs gently on the table, he took a seat at the opposite end of the couch, despite something tugging at him to sit closer.

“What?” he asked at Steve's stare, lips slightly parted in an expression of confusion.

“You were really serious,” Steve said. “About the fruit, and everything.”

“The offer for a ridiculous pastry still stands,” Eddie said with all seriousness.

“You don't have to take care of me,” Steve said, a little of the former bite returning to his tone, and Eddie choked on the whine that rose up in his throat.

“I know,” he said. “But you weren't feeling well, and I'm here.” Eddie shrugged. “Look, sometimes when I'm really in it, writing or recording, I forget to eat, and my bestie will bring me something and make me eat before I pass out. Just think of it like that, okay? It's not some dumb knothead alpha thing, I swear.”

Steve's face softened a bit. “Okay,” he said, picking at one of the oranges. He managed two sections while Eddie settled into the cushions before speaking again with some hesitance. “What I said before, about my father. The reason I was so upset.”

Eddie nodded, tamping down in the urge to reach out and take Steve's hand. Inappropriate, he told the back of his brain. Stop. It.

“He, uh. Well. Saying that we're not on good terms is an understatement. Like, huge,” Steve said, shaking his head. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. “The short of it is that he thinks I have something he wants, which I don't. Not anymore, anyway, but he doesn't believe me. And now he's trying to take my daughter away so that I'll —”

Steve's breaths came short and ragged, his eyes once again squeezed tightly shut as his body telegraphed fear in every line. His scent went soursharp again, needling at Eddie's nose, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out to place one hand on Steve's knee. Steve's body shifted, turning ever so slightly toward his, and Eddie did the only thing he could think of in the moment.

“C'mere,” he said, trying to make it sound like more of a suggestion. Steve looked at him in confusion, so he held his arms out and repeated the offer. “C'mon, I'm not as soft as the couch, but I'm warmer.”

Steve scooched a bit closer, a gesture that Eddie matched, before awkwardly maneuvering them sideways, Steve's back to Eddie's chest. He was shivering, so Eddie wrapped one arm about Steve’s waist, hoping he wasn't overstepping. He probably was. He usually did.

“Oh,” Steve said, somewhat wonderingly as Eddie held him close, wishing he could warm Steve up through some as yet unrevealed magical talent. He still felt cold, and Eddie didn't have to be a doctor to know that wasn't great.

“This okay?” Eddie asked a bit nervously.

“Yeah,” Steve managed, the breath still shuddering out from his lungs. “Helps.”

“Tell me about her, your pup,” Eddie said, hoping to bring Steve out of his frozen terror.

The part of his brain not occupied with Steve's safety kept repeating a single refrain: Steve has a pup, Steve has a pup, over and over. He didn't wear a ring, and Eddie hadn't seen a mating mark. So he'd checked, sue him. Maybe he was a single dad, or mom, or whatever he went by. Maybe that was why he'd been so defensive.

“Violet,” Steve whispered, interrupting Eddie's spiraling thoughts. “She's everything, she's the reason I get up in the morning, the reason I work so hard to keep this place going. She's perfect, Eddie,” Steve said, the smile in his voice audible as it began to break through the fear. “She's so much smarter than me, and she's just seven, I can only imagine what she's going to be like when she's older. I won't be able to keep up. I've never met anyone that thinks the way she does, she gets fascinated with something and just learns everything there is to know about it and then remembers it all, like - how do you even do that?”

“I don't know,” Eddie said, trying to keep himself from stroking Steve's stomach with the tips of his fingers. “I mean, I can remember lyrics because they're set to music, and pretty much anything in a D&D manual, but school was hell for me, man.”

“You play the dice thing, with the little guys on the map?” Steve asked, turning his head halfway back with the beginnings of a curious smile. “These kids I used to babysit for – well, they're adults now, but they love that stuff.”

“Yeah?” Eddie said, practically grinning. “Very cool. You should try it sometime, it's fun.”

“Nah,” Steve said, flushing a bit. “I'm not that creative.”

“Because flower arranging isn't creative,” Eddie said with evident sarcasm. “Yeah, uh-huh. Sure.”

“You think so?” Steve said, his smile growing.

“Obviously,” Eddie said, because really, it was. “The flower crowns, those are all her though, aren't they?”

Steve laughed, small but genuine and Eddie gave himself a point. “She loves flowers in her hair, and refuses to get it cut, so I started learning how to braid them in there. It got kind of complicated, so we compromised on flower crowns for everyday wear.”

“That is absolutely adorable,” Eddie said. “I can't see you being in any danger of —” He cut himself off, literally biting down on his lip as he watched Steve shut down. Fuck.

“Thing is,” Steve said, turning back around. “He found her father. I don't know how, it's honestly kind of terrifying to me. It was just a one nighter, and we were careful, I was always careful but.” Steve shrugged. “I told him, just to do the right thing, y’know, but he said he didn't want anything to do with a pup. I did, so that was that.”

“But he didn't sign away his rights, did he?” Eddie asked quietly, feeling a cold lump of certainty settle in his stomach.

Steve shook his head. “No,” he said. “I didn't know he had to. He probably didn't either.”

“But if he didn't want a pup back then,” Eddie said. “Why change his mind?”

“Money,” Steve said bluntly. “Money that my father thinks I have, but he's wrong. My grandparents left me a trust fund that he could never touch, and I sank it all into this place. Sure, the business makes enough of a profit to stay afloat, but just barely. I have a little left over that I use as a backup for keeping us in a good home and Violet in a good school, but that's all.”

“You sound like a really good parent, Stevie,” Eddie said, the nickname falling easily from his lips.

He couldn't keep himself from nuzzling a bit at Steve's ear, pulling back once he realized what he was doing. The scent rising from Steve's skin this close made his head all muzzy. Sure, there was the cold, sharp bite of his fear, the sourness of despair, but both were lighter than they had been before, and beneath them, filtering through, Eddie could smell what he'd caught a hint of earlier. It smelled like an orchard in the spring, though what sort he couldn't have said, only that it held the same sort of crisp sweetness and riotous potential.

Surprisingly, Steve didn't pull away from the intimate gesture, only ducked his head. “What kind of a parent am I going to be when I have to let her go, just because some goddamn judge thinks an unmated omega isn't fit to raise her on his own?”

Anger and sadness warred in Steve's tone, and Eddie heard the growl as it left his throat, unable to stop it. Shit. Shit, fuck, goddamn and every other curse he'd ever hurled in his life.
He felt the sound echo through Steve's chest, felt the omega stiffen in his arms and did the only thing he could do - he panicked.

“I'm sorry,” Eddie said, once he trusted his mouth to speak. He pulled away, pressing back against the cushions and moving his hand to Steve's waist, unable to make himself break the contact completely. “I'm so sorry. I just got angry at the thought of some stranger deciding that, especially with whatever lies they'd tell in court. I know it’s not my place, and I swear I didn't mean to upset you, god, that's the last thing I'd ever want. I'm sorry. Do you want me to go?” Eddie caught the undercurrent of a whine beneath a few of the rambling words and winced a bit inside his own head. Smooth.

Steve slowly reached for his hand, pulling Eddie's arm back into place with a sigh that sounded almost like fondness, just in the wrong key. “Get back here, big, bad, alpha,” he murmured. After a pause while Eddie eagerly shuffled forward, he added, “You know, you sound a little like Robin when she fucks up.” There was a weariness in his voice that Eddie hated to hear.

“I saw Robin on the sign,” Eddie said with genuine curiosity, hoping to perk Steve up a little by asking. “Co-owner?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, a very real fondness now coloring his tone. “Not at first, she was in school for linguistics, then tried a few translator gigs, but wasn't loving it. Now she does small projects on the side while helping me run the place and keep the books, thus her name on the sign. And the tax documents.”

“And does she, ah, coparent as well?” Eddie fumbled around the ask, feeling his face heat. Steve wore a smug sort of amusement on his face when he rolled over to face Eddie, leaving his arm firmly about his waist.

“Subtle,” Steve said, tilting his head against the arm of the couch. Eddie's cheeks were hot enough to catch flame and certainly red as a cooked lobster, but he had to admit that the expression Steve wore was a damn sight better than tears. “We share an apartment, but Violet calls her Aunt Robin, if that answers your question.”

A sly purr lingered in the air for the briefest of moments after Steve's words, and Eddie's hind brain might as well have been shooting off fireworks. He wanted to reach out and cup Steve's cheek in his hand, wanted to press the softest of kisses to his lips, wanted to lick and nibble and taste him —

The look on Steve's face said I dare you, and Eddie had never been one to turn down a dare, so he did.

Leaning in slowly, in case he'd read the whole situation wrong, Eddie was pleasantly surprised to have Steve meet him in the middle, equally careful and hesitant. He followed Steve's lead, keeping the kiss light, gentle, more exploratory than anything, almost as if Steve had forgotten how it worked. Maybe he had. It might explain why he'd fallen so easily off the cliff into the territory of a drop, and started to recover from the most basic of human contact.

Eddie lost himself in the sweetness of it, the easy joining and parting of their lips, soft breathy sighs in between. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't aroused by it. Some part of him hoped Steve couldn't tell, not wanting him to think Eddie would ever rush him into anything he didn't want. He'd done his share of rushing, had his share of backstage quickies and dimly lit anonymity, and honestly it got old. Just lying here with Steve, feeling the spark each time their lips brushed and slid together before moving away again thrilled him more than anything had in ages. It was almost dangerous, the way his heart leapt, the way it pounded at his ribcage as if trying to escape.

Sliding his hand along Steve's cheek, Eddie tucked some errand strands behind his ear then moved up to card gently through his hair. Steve gave a pleased hum, deepening the kiss ever so slightly, and Eddie followed, holding back a groan. He licked at Steve's lips; he couldn't help it, he'd had a little taste and he wanted more. Steve's hand on the back of his neck tightened and he tilted his head, slotting them together at the perfect angle, until something beeped.

Steve jerked back, a look of shock crossing his face. Eddie was all set to apologize again, though he was quite certain Steve had been right there with him for every minute, hell, every second of that kiss. Kisses. Whatever that absolutely amazing moment between them had been.

Steve was scrambling up from the couch, a litany of inventive curses reaching Eddie's ears. He would have been impressed, if he wasn't feeling quite so verklempt. “I had no idea what time it was,” Steve said, banging his shin on the table with another curse. “I missed the 3:16 Northbound, now I've got to call the school, why the fuck didn't that go off earlier —”

Eddie slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position, yanking the tie out from his thoroughly mangled bun and putting it back in a half hearted ponytail. The world was spinning, just a little, and he couldn't quite form a sentence just yet. Steve met his lost expression while fumbling madly about in his pockets and paused.

“I take the bus to pick her up after school, there's a park we walk to between stops, or Robin picks us up for dinner, sometimes I end up back down here for a while.” Steve shrugged, taking in a hasty breath. “We work it out. But now she's going to be waiting there all by herself, not knowing where I am.”

Eddie placed a hand on Steve's arm to still him before he hyperventilated. Clearly, he wasn't the only one in the room prone to rambling when caught off guard. Violet, he thought. Right. Everything made much more sense now.

“I can fix this,” he said, pulling his phone out from his back pocket.

“By calling the school?” Steve asked with an utterly perplexed expression.

“How would I know where she goes?” Eddie asked, back to being confused.

“I don't know, but I was about to be really creeped out if you did,” Steve admitted.

Eddie made a face and pulled up a frequent contact, then googled the shop for the address in the hopes of getting extra points for being suave. After a brief conversation which he attempted to muffle by rising from the couch and walking toward the door, Eddie shoved the phone back in his pocket and rubbed his hands together. Turning back around, he saw Steve watching him, eyes narrowed in obvious suspicion.

“Grab your stuff,” Eddie advised with what he hoped was a mysterious smile. “I'm gonna get you there, I promise.”

“How?” Steve asked, suspicious but clearly intrigued.

Eddie heard the sound of keys rattling in the back door and jumped, instantly wary. A jumble of rustling and crinkling followed, followed by jingling and a female voice, out of breath.

“I'm sorry I'm late!” the voice rang out, alarmingly close, then lowered to a normal volume. “I don't even know if you're here, I don't know if anyone's here, you're probably on your way to the school right now ---” The speaker stopped cold in the doorway, frozen in the act of digging through a large purse, a plastic grocery bag swinging from one wrist. Dark wavy hair shot through with gray fell to her shoulders, and her expression would have been comical without her next words. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Hi Joyce,” Steve said, stepping out from around Eddie to greet her, and she instantly relaxed.

“Nearly gave me a heart attack, kiddo,” she said, ruffling Steve's hair while shoving past him to stick the grocery bag in the mini fridge. “New hire?” she asked, glancing back in Eddie’s direction. “You look kind of familiar, have you been in here before?”

Eddie blinked, waiting for the punchline. Maybe Joyce wasn't a music fan. Or didn’t own a TV. “Ah, no,” he fumbled. “That is, I'm —”

“Just a friend that stopped by,” Steve covered for him smoothly, heading back into the larger room. “Chrissy should be here in about an hour to help out,” he called back, and it took Eddie a moment to realize Steve wasn't speaking to him. “Schedule got really fucked today, sorry.”

“Shit happens,” Joyce replied with a wave of her hand, keyring jangling.

Eddie followed behind Steve like a puppy, watching as he retrieved his wallet from a locked drawer Eddie never would have noticed beneath a rack of ribbon spools. Turning the lights back on in the main shop, Steve flipped the sign back to open and unlocked the door, pressing one finger to his lips when he caught Eddie's eye. Eddie winked in response, gratified when Steve's secret little smile grew a bit wider.

Searching for a way to pass the time, Eddie asked questions about the flowers in the shop, their names, where they came from. Steve gladly supplied far more information than Eddie honestly ever wanted to know, which had been the idea in the first place. Still angling to distract Steve from his worries, Eddie stretched up on his toes to reach a dandelion crown and put it on.

“What do you think, is it my color?” he asked, hands out to the sides.

Steve hummed, considering. “I think maybe this one,” he said, choosing one Eddie never would have picked out for himself, made primarily from pink domes made up of smaller petals.

“Huh,” Eddie said, switching them out. “If you say so.” He gave Steve a sweeping bow just as Joyce walked out to man the register, giving him another once over.

“Suits you,” she said.

“So Steve tells me,” Eddie said, still slightly perplexed, but willing to go with it. He realized he was willing to go along with a lot of things for Steve. Checking his phone for the time, he meandered over toward the windows, looking out.

“So what's this super secret plan of yours?” Steve asked, joining him to lean against the door frame.

“If I told you, then it wouldn't be a secret, now would it?” Eddie said, leaning in with a stage whisper.

“Putting a lot of trust in you right now,” Steve reminded Eddie, nudging at him with his sneaker. “For some reason.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie allowed. “So it shouldn't really be a surprise that I – oh wait, there he is!” Eddie pushed the door open, gesturing for Steve to go through. Rolling his eyes, Steve did as Eddie directed, but he was still smiling. Score.

Waiting by the curb was a large dark gray sedan with tinted windows, flawlessly parallel parked. Eddie waved as his usual driver walked around to open the rear passenger door, standing to one side. “Heya, Dec,” he called out, receiving a stiff nod in return and a bit of an odd look. Oh, right. The flower crown.

Turning back to Steve, he realized the omega had stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk while traffic flowed around him. Plopping the crown on Steve's head before gently linking their arms together, Eddie steered him forward toward the car.

“Eddie,” Steve said, barely audible over the sounds of the city at mid-afternoon. “Eddie, that's a goddamn Bentley.”

“Yep,” Eddie said, positioning Steve in front of the door. “I figured Violet would like this one, it's got little TV screens on the back of the seats, and tables that pull down.”

“This one,” Steve said flatly.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “The other one's not actually mine, it's Jeff's so it's kinda flashy. Might draw attention.”

“Might draw - who's Jeff?” Steve's look of utter confusion left Eddie on unsteady ground. No. There was no way he didn't actually know. Was there?

“Holy shit,” Eddie heard from behind him, the voice young. “Do you think that's really him?”

“It's gotta be him, look at the tatts!” The second voice didn't sound much older. Damn and double damn. Of all the times to be recognized by some kids.

“Eddie!” the first voice shouted, and Steve's head snapped toward the sound, tilting the crown to one side. “Hey, Eddie! Can we get a pic?”

“Just a sec,” Eddie said weakly, holding up one hand to Steve before turning around. “Gotta be quick guys, my friend's on a tight schedule, okay?”

“Okay!” the kid agreed, a redhead in a shredded up Slayer t-shirt that couldn't be out of middle school. His buddy had dark braids down to his shoulders, rocking a Loathe shirt and a more cautious expression, but still bouncing a little on his toes.

Steve looked on, head tilted in disbelief while Eddie crowded in behind them and clowned for the boys’ selfie cams. He threw horns in one, but couldn't resist giving one of the kids bunny ears in another. They ran off all smiles after Eddie thanked them, genuinely, for being fans, and he took a deep breath before turning back around.

“Who are you?” Steve asked, shoving at his chest, having apparently closed the distance when Eddie wasn't looking.

“I swear to god, I thought you knew,” Eddie said, feeling unaccountably miserable.

“Knew what?” Steve asked, that tiny fang poking out again, and god, why did that make Eddie want to kiss him again so much it hurt?

“I'm no one important, really,” Eddie said, hands out to his sides. “I just play guitar in a band.”

“You have a Bentley. That someone drives for you. Eddie, you just got recognized by some kids on the street!”

“So it's kind of a famous band, okay?” Eddie said, twisting his fingers until one knuckle popped.

“Eddie —”

“Questions can wait,” Eddie dodged. “Violet can't.” He knew it was a dirty play, and he thoroughly earned the look Steve sent his way as he stepped back toward the open door. “Car's yours for the night,” Eddie said, spinning one of his rings nervously. “Declan will bring you home whenever you want. Dinner and dessert are on me, okay? Dec has the card, so don't you dare worry about it.”

“You're not coming?” Steve said, expression falling as he looked up at Eddie from the seat. The flower crown at last gave up the ghost and toppled onto the stitched red leather beside him.

“I don't want to intrude on your time together, y’know,” he said truthfully. “And I didn't know how she was with new people.”

Steve was nodding, looking up at Eddie with something even his lyricist's mind couldn't put into words. It was understanding, and gratitude, but something else besides. “Thank you,” he said, and maybe it was Eddie's imagination, but it sounded like more.

“Can I, um,” Eddie started, more nervous than he'd been to ask Paige Warner to the Junior Prom, and what a fiasco that had been. “Can I maybe give you my number? So then if you, I don't know, wanted to give me a call sometime, or throw me a text, it would be up to you.”

Steve handed over his phone without a word, that same expression on his face. Eddie took it, poking at the squishy silicone flowers to make Steve smile. Making a new contact, he took a quick, stupid picture before he could think better of the idea and shoved it back in Steve's hand.

“Okay, um, I'm gonna close the door and – and let you go,” Eddie said, feeling something in his chest tug uncomfortably at the idea.

“Okay,” Steve said, sounding as happy about it as Eddie did.

“Tell Violet you made a weird new friend,” Eddie said, forcing a smile.

Steve laughed. “I will,” he said.

“We really should be leaving,” Declan interrupted gently.

“Right, yeah, of course,” Eddie said. “I'll, um. Talk to you later, I hope.”

Steve nodded, and Eddie took a step back, letting Declan close the door. “I owe you big time, man,” Eddie said, giving Dec a low five which earned him a smile in return.

“You can reimburse me in single malt,” Declan said with a hint of a smirk, and Eddie made a mental note to do some shopping around.

The reality of the door between him and Steve hit Eddie square in the chest as Declan moved toward the driver's side. His eyes drifted half closed, hands curling up at his sides to close around nothing at all. An endless moment hung suspended in the air, the city seeming to pause around them before Eddie heard the quiet whisper of the engine, bringing the world back to life at speed. The car pulled away from the curb and Eddie forced himself to wave, not knowing if Steve was looking back or not.

Something growled deep in his chest, and Eddie had to glance around to make sure it hadn't been out loud. This wasn't right, the low, alpha voice admonished in his mind. Letting his omega just leave like that, it wasn't right.

Wait a minute. Steve wasn't his, that was ridiculous. He couldn't think that way after only knowing someone for a few hours, it was insane. Hell, he shouldn't think that way at all. It was exactly the sort of creepy, overbearing, possessive behavior that omegas had been fighting against for decades, if not centuries. It made Eddie's head spin.

Struggling to get his more primeval instincts under control, Eddie sorted through the thoughts and feelings that were left, and knew one thing for certain. He needed to see Steve again, needed to feel his touch, those soft, sweet lips against his own, if Steve would allow it. Something in Eddie had shifted during those few hours, something that felt, if not monumental, that maybe it could be, given time to grow.

Turning around, his only plan to continue wandering aimlessly until his manager tracked him down, a bright flash of color caught Eddie's eye. The chalkboard sign outside the shop featured a vividly drawn clutch of daisies bound with ribbon, hand-lettered text below it declaring spring to be the ‘perfect time for new beginnings!’

An idea began to take shape in Eddie's mind as his eyes flicked up to the name painted in a curving, old-fashioned script across the door. Mid-afternoon light cut between the buildings across the street, hitting the gold outlines around the green just right to make it glimmer and dance. Floriography.

Yeah, Eddie thought, jamming his hands in his back pockets. Yeah, all right. That might just work.

Eddie's phone made a slight buzz on the bedside table, blue light cycling around the edges of the glass. Despite the late hour, he hadn't slept a wink, unable to get his mind to disengage from the events of the day. Thoughts of the beautiful, sweet smelling omega wouldn't let him rest, had been running his mind and body ragged. He hoped Steve was sleeping soundly, resting well for what would probably be a busy Saturday morning at the shop. One of them at least deserved to get some sleep.

Declan had called around nine to let Eddie know that he had deposited “Mr. Harrington and his remarkably polite pup” safely back at their residence, tired but happy and well-fed. It soothed something in Eddie to know that he had provided for them, even in some small way, even for a pup that he hadn't even met. Was that crazy? Categorically, certifiably, yes. Did he care?

No, not really.

Rolling over, Eddie picked up the phone and blinked at the text notification from an unknown number. Sliding up the lock screen, he saw that it contained a single word. Well, a name. His name, to be specific.

     Eddie.

Steve? he sent back hopefully, holding his breath.

     “I just play guitar in a band” my ass

It seemed that across the city, someone else couldn't sleep either.

While some part of Eddie still held the line on wishing Steve was getting some rest after the stressful day he'd had, the rest of him might as well be wagging an imaginary tail at the idea of Steve lying awake, thinking of him. Because of who he was as a person, and possibly because it was three in the morning, Eddie decided impertinence was the right play.

What about your ass? 😏

     Eddie.

Steve.

     I found your band's insta. It makes you look insane.

Try this one, Eddie sent back, linking to his private account. Don't worry, you're cool enough to follow me.

     I wasn't worried

Eddie all but bit his nails waiting on a response from Steve once he approved the follow request, throwing back the covers and pacing around the room.. Hellfire's socials weren't even run by the band, not after one too many jokes the label didn't think were funny, leaked singles, rick rolls, and general shenanigans. Eddie had kept his priv since the early days, and it served as a record of how far he had come, from playing a six string on the porch of his uncle's trailer to an audience of possums and raccoons, to playing sold out arenas across the globe. It was full of candids he took when the guys weren't looking, shots of the scenery where they toured, and pics of Eddie where he actually looked like himself. Reels with parody songs, clips from his tabletop games, the occasional late night rant about something ridiculous and inconsequential – the usual bullshit, he supposed, but at least it was real.

Eddie wasn't sure how long he walked the floor, convincing himself that he'd scared Steve away forever with the glimpse at who he was off stage. Lost in an anxious spiral, he jumped when a ‘❤️’ notification came through on one of his posts, illuminating the screen. It was a video recorded in a hotel in Rome when just like now, he couldn't fucking sleep. A lonely little cover of The Ghost In You, played softly to an audience of no one in the stillness just before the break of day. It was also from three years ago.

I saw that, he texted immediately, glad Steve couldn't see the gleeful smirk on his face.

     Asshole.

You don't mean that. 🥺

     No, Steve texted back after leaving Eddie hanging for at least three interminable minutes. I don't.

Chapter Text

💐🎸

Steve almost didn't hear the knock at the door over the sounds of Sunday morning breakfast in progress, or at least the preparations for it. He glanced over his shoulder from his station at the stove to see Robin rise from the couch, ruffling Lettie's hair as she headed over to the entryway. They weren't expecting any deliveries until Monday, and those were coming to the shop downstairs. He hoped it wasn't anyone trying to sell them something, but if so, Steve knew Robin could out-talk them any day of the week.

“No, I'm not, but – yes, he is here, he's just busy —”

Steve caught snatches of Robin's conversation over the hiss and burble of pancake batter on the skillet. That didn't sound great. In fact, given his conversation with father of the year Dick Harrington on Friday, it sounded potentially nightmarish. His stomach churned at the thought of what sort of legal documents the asshole might be attempting to serve to him at home, on a weekend morning when he knew Violet would be present.

Goddamn it. Sunday was the only day he took entirely off, the only morning he allowed himself to sleep in later than five a.m. He loved making breakfast for himself and Lettie, Robin too if she'd ended up with a rare weekend morning free. They watched cartoons or light documentaries, wrapped up on the couch in a cuddle pile with extra pillows and blankets and a stuffed animal or two. It was more than just routine for them, it was sacred, and Steve didn't take kindly to what little pack time they had being interrupted.

Turning off the burner, Steve quietly headed into the living room, managing to sneak behind the couch and make it to the entryway without tearing his daughter's focus from Planet Earth. No need for her to know anything about this yet if he could help it. Rounding the corner, Steve reared back, ears ringing as Robin yelled his name in a completely unnecessary attempt at drawing his attention roughly three inches from his face.

“Yeah, I'm, ah - I'm right here, Robs,” he said, still wincing from the sound.

“Shit, sorry,” Robin said, cringing back. “But this guy has a delivery for you and apparently I'm not allowed to sign for it.” She rolled her eyes, inclining her head toward the courier in the front hall from – no. No way.

A bored looking teenager held a clipboard in one hand, shiny orange pen dangling from a beaded chain, and a small white box in the other. Emblazoned on his shirt was the unmistakable tigridia logo for Carver & Sons, a business rival from the early days before Steve had a permanent location. Back then, Steve would set up booths at street fairs and flea markets, anywhere he could to eke out a living and start to gain some recognition. The Carvers were always just a little bit bigger, their selection just a little bit wider than Steve's, and their sales that much higher.

Steve glared at the kid, who in his defense hadn't done anything but look surly and try to verify that his delivery was going to the right recipient. Sticking out his hand for the clipboard, Steve signed for whatever the hell it was. Who sent flowers to a florist, anyway?

Taking the rectangular package from the kid, Steve set it down lengthwise on the end table where he kept the dish for his keys. Robin locked the door back and leaned over his shoulder, watching curiously as Steve lifted the top half off from the box. Inside rested a posy made from three flowers cradled by a leafy green fern, all tied together with a gauzy pink ribbon. Steve blinked in confusion.

“The fuck?” he said, lifting the awkward combination from its box.

A small crown daisy, asymmetric egg-yolk center spreading out along wide white petals, shared space with a ruffled peach daffodil, a Delnashaugh if Steve wasn't mistaken. Looming over them both was an explosion of a camellia, its white center expanding out through delicate shades of pink at the edges. Each was beautiful individually, but smashed together they were a clusterfuck. The camellia was at least three times the size of the daisy, left peeking out timidly beneath its petticoats; the top-heavy daffodil leaned over the side as if ready to abandon ship, and the lone fern leaf curled in on itself as though trying to avoid the entire mess altogether.

“Wow,” Robin said, chin still on his shoulder.

“How do they still have any business, delivering things like this?” Steve asked, holding the bouquet out in front of him. It didn't matter which angle he tried, the grouping didn't look any better.

“Remember that lady who very specifically ordered an arrangement of asters?” Robin asked. “Then refused to pay when you gave it to her because she thought she was ordering alstroemeria?”

“I guess that could be it,” Steve said, wrinkling his nose at the mystery gift. “Most people don't know a camellia from a chrysanthemum. That still doesn't explain why.”

“Wait!” Robin said, bending down to retrieve something from beneath the table. “The little card fell out, it's right —”

Interrupting herself with a squeal, Robin shoved the small rectangle at him while deftly removing the flowers from his hands. Turning it over, where Steve expected to see a message from the sender, he saw only two letters: E. M. He stared down at it, brow wrinkling.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “So what I'm gleaning from this is that apparently Eddie has terrible taste?”

Robin snorted. “I mean, we know he's interested in you, so…”

Steve smacked her arm. “I'm serious!”

“I think it's kind of pretty,” Robin said, tilting her head to look for the daisy.

“But how do you end up with this?” Steve said, gently propping up the daffodil with one finger. “I mean he wouldn't have asked for one of each of these specifically.”

Robin blinked, slowly straightening back up. “What if he did,” she mused quietly, more like a hum, then louder. “Steve! What if he did?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, watching as she practically vibrated with an idea.

“Steve, what's the name on our door?” Robin asked, tugging on his sleeve excitedly.

“Flori - oh,” Steve said, catching on. “No way, Robs. No fucking way.”

It was the daisy, Steve thought, the wheels in his mind beginning to turn. Barb's artwork outside his own goddamn shop used the patron flora of new beginnings, all tied up with a bow. A crown daisy was a bit more interesting than standard stock, more modern art in a way. Its vivid splash of yellow for friendship and optimism set Eddie off to a good start, if Robin was actually right.

Could she be right?

Steve had chosen the name for his shop back when it was still just a booth at the farmer's market, something to catch and hold a potential customer's interest for just a few seconds longer than the cart across the street. It was charmingly vintage, a word you rarely heard anymore, but one your great-grandparents might have known. Steve sold far more flowers based on aesthetics than any secret messages they might carry, as the system was entirely dependent upon the recipient understanding your meaning and these days, no one did. No one needed to.

Historically, things had been different, particularly for omegas. In courts ripe with intrigue and danger, it could be difficult to send a message – or warning, if need be. An omega was never seen unaccompanied in public, and only the most liberal of households allowed them any private correspondence. Flowers, however, had long been incorporated into the thoroughly omegan world of hospitality and decor, meaning a few extras showing up from time to time wouldn't raise any eyebrows.

What was said to have started in Byzantium as a children's game spread through the pan-Hellenic world and continued, in one form or another, through the social turmoil of the first World War. The more control omegas had over their own lives, the less they needed a secret means of communicating with anyone, and the knowledge fell out of common use. The years between wars saw a return to flower symbology as a game between friends, a dare for that schoolyard crush, instead of the nuanced system full of layered meanings it once had been.

But all of that was omega-centric history Steve picked up from a formative documentary; it wasn't the sort of thing they bothered to teach in school, even now. Of course, flowers had always played a role in courting rituals, adding an entirely different lexicon of symbolism on top of their meaning as secret messengers, to those in the know. But that was neither here nor there, because while plenty of people still sent flowers for any and all occasions, no one actually courted anyone anymore.

Steve had always thought the idea was nice, if quaint and somewhat outdated in a world of speed dating and hookup apps. To have someone put in the effort of choosing gifts they felt suited you, things that were heartfelt, maybe even handmade, was terribly charming. It could be a bit one-sided if the person being courted gave nothing in return, but that seemed limited to the highest echelons of society. Well, and morality plays where the selfish courtee who greedily collected gifts found themselves turned into a sow.

There had always been those who flouted the rules – omegas courting other omegas, or even alphas, if they were brave enough. Steve had always sort of wished he wasn't attracted to alphas, that he could just leave the designation off his list of potential romantic companions altogether, but time and time again he ended up in the same place, mooning over some knothead who never texted back. Clearly that wasn't the case this time around, but Steve knew better than to get his hopes up, even if there was a camellia currently staring him in the face.

He wasn't being courted. He couldn't be, because Steve Harrington simply wasn't courted, wasn't courtable. At 33, he was no spring chicken, and a single mom besides. There was nothing about him desirable enough to bother going to all that effort, and anyway, who even knew that you sent a pink camellia to ask permission to —

No. It was ridiculous. Eddie meant to send a chrysanthemum, or a carnation, or hell, maybe even a calendula, though that would be a bit rude. Pink chrysanthemums were for affection, and that was as good a read as anything.

Moving along, there was the matter of the half-hearted attempt at greenery. Steve supposed that a single frond was more than enough for a posy, really, but you'd think the florist putting it together would at least have thrown in some gypsophila or eucalyptus. Unless the fern wasn't a filler at all, and was actually there by request.

Wasn't that a thought, Steve mused. Ferns could be used to signify fascination on the giver's part, and if the idea stirred up a bit of a flutter in Steve's chest, well, it was a quiet one at least.

That only left the Delnashaugh, and Steve supposed you couldn't win ‘em all. The narcissus was among the first to bloom and prosper after the chill of winter began to fade, and Steve had once even found a source suggesting three together represented hope. Nearly all the lore agreed, however, that a lone stalk brought into the home would prove only a harbinger of ill luck. Thankfully, Steve wasn't superstitious.

He had to admit it was a lovely variety, the delicate peach and white triangles folding around one another in a spiral. As for the color, peach in a bouquet added an element of appreciation for the recipient, and emphasized the sincerity of the other sentiments being expressed. Most people probably didn't even know there were daffodils in that shade. Okay, all right, fine, maybe Eddie didn't lose points for it after all.

Steve wished he didn't have to keep a tally in his head, not for things like success or failure at hidden botanical messages, but for larger, more important ones. He'd kept Robin up until the wee hours the night before, wearing a track in the carpet where he paced after getting Violet to bed and opening a bottle of wine. After the absolute emotional roller-coaster of the last 48 hours, Steve felt that he deserved a glass.

Robin had spent Friday night with her family after her managerial accounting lecture let out, leaving Steve to his own insomniac devices and ill-advised social media binges. He barely slept a wink before getting Lettie up and dressed, somehow managing to make breakfast without burning anything, including himself. They made it downstairs by eight, Violet happily ensconced in the break room with a coloring book, her tablet, and sturdy headphones. Steve had to admit he was envious as he tied on his apron and headed out front.

Robin had opened with Barb, and they'd been too busy for Steve to fill her in on anything until her shift was nearly over. He'd only managed to get about halfway through when she informed him that she was taking Lettie upstairs and there would be dinner waiting whenever he managed to get away. Then, he was going to tell her Every. Single. Detail. Possibly more than once.

“I can't believe you put fucking pink hydrangeas on his head,” Robin snickered from the sofa, two glasses deep.

“Yeah, well, I didn't really know what my emotions were doing, okay?” Steve said, hands out to his sides.

“I do,” Robin threw back. “You'd just been cuddling and making out with a guy you met like three hours before —”

“Just call me a slut, why don't you,” Steve said, sticking out his tongue.

“I'm just saying, that's not exactly like you, is it?” Robin asked.

“Of course it isn't,” Steve said. “I don't even remember the last time I had a date.”

“So,” Robin said, elongating the vowel. “Don't you think that might possibly, I don't know, mean something?”

“Robs, he was right about how fucked up I was, I threw the phone across the room.” Steve ran a hand through his hair in aggravation.

“Bet you're glad Lettie made you use that case now, aren't you?” Robin said, more than a little smug.

Steve gave a long suffering sigh. “Yeah, okay, whatever. Point is, I wasn't in a good headspace. I wasn't thinking right.”

“It sounds to me like Eddie did a pretty good job of getting you out of that headspace,” Robin countered. “If he hadn't been there, you would have been by yourself until Joyce showed up mid-afternoon and found you in a sad little omega ball on the floor.” It was all Steve could do to avoid a spit-take as she continued. “Then she would have called me, but I was in class, so it wouldn't have gone through unless she called from your phone, which you threw god only knew where, so really —”

“I get it, I get it,” Steve said, interrupting. “And I'm grateful he so courteously ignored the Closed sign on the door and the fact that the lights were off and the three times I asked him to get off my property.”

“Steve,” Robin said, one hand over her face. “I can't believe an absolute rock and roll god walks into our place of business and you threaten to call the cops.”

“I had literally never heard of the band, okay?” Steve said in his own defense. “You know what we listen to around here! I put on that lofi channel you found for me when I need to think. Lettie's still in a Baroque phase, it's been all Telemann and Corelli lately. I'm afraid she's discovered Joyce's love for 70's folk, so that may be next.”

“Okay, but you don't live under a rock,” Robin said. “I know you do in fact use the internet because you at least started the business socials.”

“Yeah, thank god Chrissy does those now,” Steve said with a sigh, and Robin shook her head. “Speaking of socials, did you look at their page?”

“Which one?” Robin said. “I mean, I've seen a lot of it before, in magazines and random internet binges.”

Steve threw up his hands. “They look like psychopaths! I can't reconcile that with the Eddie I met yesterday, the guy that said ‘here, take my fucking Bentley so you're not late to pick up your pup from school!’ And you didn't see him with those two kids who recognized him, he took pictures, and thanked them instead of the other way around.”

When he paused for air, Robin had a sly smile on her face.

“Okay, what?” Steve demanded.

“You do like him,” she said, stretching to poke him in the calf with her toe and nearly spilling her chardonnay.

“Does it matter?” Steve said, scuffing his foot across the carpet. “Not all of his fans are going to be like those kids yesterday. And he only came in the shop because he was trying to ditch a paparazzi stalker. I have to think about Lettie’s well being first.”

Something in Robin's face shifted, sobering up a bit. “You're a good mom, Steve. A really fucking good one. But you deserve to put yourself first sometimes.”

Steve shook his head. “Not right now I don't. Not with all this shit Richard’s trying to pull. The last thing I need is for them to haul out photos like that in court and say ‘Exhibit A, your honor: the defendant's irresponsible rock star boyfriend.’ Lettie would be gone in a heartbeat.”

“And if not her, then the business,” Robin finished, looking down as she swirled the remainder of the wine around in her glass.

“Exactly,” Steve said. “I don't think either of them actually wants a first-grader on their hands, but I can't rule out the possibility that Chance had a change of heart. Or will if he meets her.”

“And who wouldn't?” Robin mused. “That would certainly throw a wrench in Dick's plans.”

“I'd rather throw a wrench at his head,” Steve said.

“I'm pretty sure that goes for anyone who's ever met him,” Robin said.

“I wish my mom had better aim,” Steve said. “She threw a lot of things when she realized we'd lost everything.”

“I remember the scotch decanter,” Robin said. “I was there for that one.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, wishing he'd never brought up that time in their lives. It had been good for him to learn how to live without real estate money behind him, but it had been a system shock, and his parents’ divorce had been all sorts and shades of ugly.

“C'mon,” Robin said, reading him like a book as usual. Standing up from the couch, she reached out a hand. “We're not gonna solve this overnight. It's definitely gonna take more wine.”

Steve smiled. “Definitely.”

They curled up together in Steve's nest, as was their habit when one or the other needed comfort. It had become a routine since meeting at a horrible summer job and discovering the oddly shaped edges of their minds fit together perfectly. Their bond hadn’t formed overnight, but they were firmly established as pack by the end of August, and had only grown closer as the years went by. Steve didn't know what he would do without her; the thought alone was a gaping black hole of fear he was afraid to look down.

Unable to sleep, even with Robin lightly snoring beside him in the bed, Steve scrolled back through Eddie's real Instagram. Apparently, he thought, he just liked torturing himself, dangling what he couldn't have just out of his own reach. There was an old story about that, he thought. Some horse who starved because the carrots were always held too far ahead on the string.

God, Eddie was gorgeous. Steve wondered who snapped the photos of him sat beside a window with an acoustic guitar, his face backlit by the early morning sun, or smiling at some rooftop gathering, string lights behind him, a wide and genuine smile transforming his face. Eddie had pictures tagged with places all over the world, cities and countries Steve had only dreamed of seeing. He'd been to Paris and London when he was younger, but Steve's parents had never been very interested in finding things for him to do, so he'd mostly stayed inside.

Eddie's friends and bandmates seemed much less frightening in his personal photos, dressed in normal clothing with less leather and spikes, hardly anything shredded up at all. There were videos of childish pranks that made Steve laugh, even when he felt like he shouldn't, but there were also occasional photos of the four of them all curled up together in a puppy pile, dead asleep and oblivious to the world. They were clearly a well-established pack who cared deeply for one another. In their more private moments, they seemed cute, almost harmless, a 180° shift from their on-stage personas.

Steve wondered how that felt, being two different people, one for the world and one you kept for yourself. It couldn't be easy, especially for as long as they'd been doing it. He'd read up a little on the band when he couldn't sleep the night before, stunned and a bit terrified by the band's social media presence, and to his surprise it was actually kind of an interesting story.

They'd been going at it full speed ahead for over ten years, starting with small gigs anywhere that would take them until some kid with a camera caught them getting jeered by drunks at a local festival. They made up a song on the spot about the worst of the losers in the crowd, shaming him out of the venue, and had their 15 minutes of fame on YouTube. People started checking out their songs on something called bandcamp, including some guy from a tiny label called Vore, and before they knew it, they were signed. It didn't do a lot for them, from what Steve gleaned, but they went on a small tour and built up a following on streaming sites that were just coming into their own.

A festival circuit and some apparently hilarious podcast interviews followed, and Steve told himself he wasn't going to track any of those down, he wasn't. After a nasty legal battle with their first label they moved on to one called Sumerian, and seriously, what was with these names? That label apparently knew what it was doing, and after three more albums and two tours, things were definitely looking up. Clips from their high energy, pyrotechnic-enhanced shows started gaining a lot of traction online, leading to higher ticket sales, charting on Spotify – it went on and on as they apparently Hit It Big with radio play. Moving on to an industry giant which Steve had at least heard of, they were soon selling out tours at light speed.

Steve briefly wondered what it would be like to be on stage night after night in front of a crowd of thousands, singing your lyrics and chanting your name, to be recognized on the street. It certainly wasn't for him, he knew that, but it seemed to be working for the band.

And that was it, wasn't it? Steve's life was quiet, it was safe, it worked for him and Lettie and Robin and that was what mattered most. Eddie's life was anything but, and that had been his choice from the moment he set out on his path at twenty years old. He loved it; that life was everything he wanted and then some. Steve had seen it in his photos – Eddie was happy. A meeting of those two worlds just wasn't realistic, and wasn't likely to end in happiness for either of them.

Now, staring down at the posy in his hand, at the flowers he was mostly certain had been carefully, if clumsily chosen, Steve saw only heartache written there. Heading back into the kitchen, he pressed the lever with his foot to open the trash can, dumping the blossoms inside. Having followed behind, Robin made an indignant noise and pulled them out, one by one, rinsing off the coffee grounds and other assorted debris from their brief assignation as waste.

“You cannot be serious right now,” she said, sounding about as angry as Robin ever got with him.

“Robs, it would never wo–”

“I don't want to hear it, mister,” she said, poking him in the chest. “Eddie did his homework. He took the time to learn all this just to impress you. It's incredibly sweet, in fact I think it might be the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for you – oh wait, no, that's probably loaning you his car and driver to go get your pup and have a night out on the town – oh wait, no I think it was that time he didn't even know you but he stayed with you to keep you out of a drop.”

“You're not seeing the whole picture here,” Steve protested.

“What I'm seeing is something you'd be insane to let pass you by,” Robin said. “Now go text him and say thank you, or so help me I'll do it for you. In fact maybe I should.” Moving past him toward the living room, Robin made a beeline for the pink silicone monstrosity.

“Robin,” Steve hissed. “Robin Gertrude Buckley, don't you dare!”

Robin let out a scandalized gasp. “You know I hate that one!”

“That’s why I said it!” Steve retorted, knowing Robin was about to come back with an even worse name for him.

“I can't hear,” Violet complained, if politely.

“You know you have it all memorized by now,” Robin said, sticking out her tongue. Violet responded in kind, then giggled, reciting a few sentences of David Attenborough's commentary on the manta ray as though performing Shakespeare.

“See?” Robin said. “She's too smart for us, Steve.”

“Don't I know it,” Steve responded with a sigh.

“Do it or I will,” Robin said in a stage whisper, shoving the phone in his face until he took it with no small amount of reluctance. What the hell was he even supposed to say?

Flopping down on the couch next to Lettie, he stroked a hand through her long wavy hair. It was dark brown, a contrast to his more honeyed shade, and often had the parents at school looking around for her alpha or beta parent. Who they never found.

She turned her head into the touch, and he scratched lightly at her scalp, unlocking the phone. Words continued to elude him as he stared down at the text messages from early Saturday, eventually just closing his eyes.

“I will do it for you,” Robin threatened from the arm of the sofa to his right.

“Oh, I believe it,” Steve answered. “But what the heck am I supposed to say?”

“You might start off with thank you,” she suggested.

“Who was at the door?” Violet asked.

“A friend sent your mama flowers,” Robin answered, and Steve hissed at her. “What?” she whispered back.

“That’s silly,” Violet decided.

“I thought it was a nice thing to do,” Robin countered.

“Weren’t you just saying Lettie was the smart one in the room?” Steve said with a plastered-on smile.

Robin gently bopped the back of his head. “Don’t you use my own words against me. Now type.”

Chapter Text

💐🎸

Eddie carefully exited the car onto the sidewalk, cradling a vase in his hands. He'd found it in a dusty corner of an antique shop, a cylinder of wavy crown glass that resembled an old milk bottle, and tied a length of peach-colored ribbon in a bow to the left of center. Choosing wildflowers as his ambassador this time, the vase contained purple coneflowers for admiration, red anemones for affection and excitement, and a few sprigs of bluebells for constancy and lasting sentiment. The bouquet had been looking a little thin until Eddie came across a thicket of mint, which he remembered emphasized strength of feeling, and some stalks of Queen Anne's lace to round things out.

He was worried that the last element might read as a bit of a non-sequitur, having not been obtained on his very literal field trip outside the city, but Eddie decided to take the risk. A short spray of wisteria draped down over the side, delicate periwinkle blossoms falling like water. It was probably too much, too soon for a second courting gift, but if Eddie Munson could be counted on to be anything, it was Too Much. At least he was on brand.

Eddie had known better than to leave this one to some hack florist with a fancy website after what happened the last time. Eddie had called all over the city to find the wisteria, not to mention the time spent digging through his new (old) books on the subject, since the internet said completely different things for every site he checked. He hadn't slept in two days; once he convinced himself to try again after the less than enthusiastic reception his first gift had earned, his mind had gone full steam ahead on the idea.

Admittedly, he'd spent a solid three days moping after Steve's lackluster response over text. Eddie hadn't realized that florists had such heated rivalries, but now he knew, he certainly wouldn't be making that mistake again. Nor had he realized that flower meanings could be quite so nuanced, so deep as to include the number of blooms involved in a bouquet.

     Wishing me bad luck? Really?

Wait, what?

     Sending a single daffodil is practically a curse, you know.

I did not know that, but my intentions were light years away from a curse, I promise you.

     Well, if you had to send just one, at least you picked a good one - unlike your choice in florists. The Carvers are hacks. Delnashaugh on the other hand are beautiful.

Rather like the recipient. So, what do you think?

     About the er, bouquet?

About the question.

     Eddie, what question?

It was a courting gift, Steve.

Steve?

This time would be different, Eddie told himself. The presentation was better, the colors harmonized, the arrangement balanced. He had sought out the flowers himself and would bring it directly to Steve's doorstep, no middleman necessary. The card he attached left little doubt as to his intentions, so there could be no misunderstanding.

Telling Declan he'd only be a minute, Eddie made his way slowly around the corner, dodging groups of early morning joggers and dog walkers taking up more than their fair share of the sidewalk. Reaching the narrow doorway set between Mandu Maison and Floriography, he tried the handle, only to find it was locked.

Well. Shit. Eddie hadn't been planning on that. Attempting to brainstorm a solution, he was still holding onto the metal lever when it turned in his hand. Startled, he backed straight into a gaggle of tourists who looked far too lost for so early in the day. A massive dog exited through the doorway, looking Eddie up and down curiously before apparently judging him no threat to the tiny, elderly woman who held his leash.

Slipping into the small lobby behind them, Eddie climbed the stairs that led to the upper apartment instead of the basement. He raised one hand to knock on the door, planning to set down the flowers and flee for his life – when it opened instead. Frozen to the spot, his plan not having taken this possibility into account either, Eddie wasn't prepared for what barreled into him at speed.

“Lettie, come on, you're going to miss the —”

“Fuck!” Eddie exclaimed, his back hitting the railing behind him with a spine-rattling jolt. The vase slipped from his hands and fell to the concrete floor, shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces. Eddie watched the water pool in slow motion around jagged shards of glass, sparkling in the fluorescent light.

“Mama,” a voice echoed out from inside the apartment. “I can't find it!”

“Who the hell – Eddie?” Steve questioned, sounding harried and out of breath. “What are you doing here, what did – whoa, kiddo, stay inside for a minute, okay?”

“But you said we were gonna be late!”

“I know what I said, but —”

Eddie heard the conversation flowing around him as he bent to retrieve the now soggy flowers from the ground, wayward petals sticking to the pavement. It had looked nice, it really had. At least he'd taken a photo of it. Maybe he could show Steve the photo, or maybe he'd give Eddie a do-over —

“Alpha,” Steve said, snapping his fingers in front of Eddie's face. Reality began to swim back into focus as Steve gently lifted Eddie's chin up to meet his gaze. “Stop that, you're going to cut your hands to ribbons.”

“Calluses,” Eddie said, which seemed to take a moment to register before Steve gave a small laugh, shaking his head. Movement from behind Steve caught Eddie's eye, and he saw a long dark braid swing as its owner darted back, then peeked out again from behind Steve's legs. Eddie couldn't help but wink at the curious pup, no matter how shitty he felt over the ruined bouquet, and her answering giggle was worth it.

When he glanced back up, Steve had his hand extended toward him. Eddie dutifully placed what was left of the blossoms in his outstretched palm, pleased that the omega had decided to accept them anyway. He wasn't expecting Steve's look of fond exasperation, or for him to extend the other hand. Eddie hadn't brought another gift. He hadn't known he was supposed to.

“Up,” Steve said as though speaking to a child, waggling his fingers in the air, and Eddie finally understood. Allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, Eddie found he couldn't quite look Steve in the eye after a second failure.

“I, um,” he started, shifting his weight. “I thought I'd try again, but I made an even bigger mess of things the second time around, didn’t I?” Eddie gave an awkward laugh, despite absolutely no part of the situation being funny. “Don’t worry about it. Just go meet Violet's bus and I'll get this cleaned up. You’ll never even know I was here.”

“Don't you dare,” Steve said softly, brushing the petals of the wisteria with his thumb. “I'll bring a broom and pan from the shop when I come back. Stay here for me, all right?”

“You really want me to?” Eddie asked, making sure he'd heard correctly.

“Yeah, Eddie,” Steve said softly. “I do.”

Turning back to Violet, he guided her around the scattered pieces of glass while she stole glances at Eddie, who gave her a cheerful wave in return. Eddie managed not to pick up any of the glass while Steve was gone, not even the bigger ones, instead keeping himself occupied with more and more elaborate daydreams of what might happen when Steve returned. When he did make it back, however, Violet still clutched one of his hands, her face red, strands escaping from her carefully plaited hair.

“We missed it,” Steve explained, looking just as out of breath, a long-handled broom and dustpan in his other hand. Violet had been given charge of the flowers, which she cradled carefully in the crook of one arm.

Eddie felt his face fall at Steve's pronouncement. “It’s my fault, I'm so sorry.”

“Honestly? We probably would have missed it anyway,” Steve said. “My alarm didn't go off and I woke up twenty minutes late. I'll see if Joyce or Robin can take her in, she'll just get a tardy. Not the end of the world, really.”

“Psst,” Eddie whispered. “I have an idea, come here.” Steve looked suspicious, but intrigued despite himself, and took a step closer, leaning in. “What's Violet's favorite museum?”

Steve leaned back, a look of surprise replacing the suspicion. He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“C’mon,” Eddie wheedled. “It's one day, on me. More to learn there, anyway, I bet.”

Steve got a considering expression. “I mean, point. Hey, Lettie,” he said, turning around. “What do you think about playing hooky today?”

Violet ditched her blue and green plaid school uniform in favor of jeans with a soft striped cardigan, a t-shirt beneath with a capybara. A flower crown made from small, bright flowers in pink and yellow completed the outfit, and as she stretched out her elastic shoelaces to let them snap back into place, he asked what they were called.

“Lantana,” she answered at the same as Steve, followed by a chorus of “Jinx!” in stereo. Violet ran over to Steve and crooked her pinky, a gesture he mirrored, linking them together as she giggled. It was quite possibly the cutest thing Eddie had ever seen, and he ducked his head when Steve glanced over, jamming his hands in his pockets.

The bouquet was shaped up and mostly salvaged in a new vase, some of the wisteria crushed, which made Eddie wince. The coneflowers survived intact, and the anemones sprang back fairly quickly, so all was not lost. Still, it hurt to see the most important part of the message get mangled in the delivery.

Declan let Violet sit up front and pick the music, which delighted them both when she settled on Corelli’s Opus 2, No. 4. Steve cautioned Eddie in a low voice that while Violet usually did great in museums, sometimes crowds could overwhelm her, more likely as she grew tired.

“Well, that's something we have in common then,” Eddie offered, much to Steve's obvious surprise.

“But you're great with crowds,” he protested. “You're up there in front of them all the time! And you have to get mobbed by fans everywhere you go, right? Wait – I wasn't thinking, that's not going to happen today, is it?”

“Okay, in order of importance,” Eddie said, counting off on his fingers. “No, I don't think that will happen today, or I wouldn't have even suggested it. Our fans are actually pretty respectful, after this one thing happened in Rome with Frankie's wanna-be groupies going a little nuts when he and his lady were just trying to enjoy a nice day out. We literally threatened to quit, the more dedicated fans publicly shamed them, and things settled down, more like the old days.

“Two, I've got sleeves covering the ink today,” Eddie said, glad he'd thrown on a button down for the predawn chill. “And I was gonna offer to buy a hat in the gift shop just to make sure, if you were still worried. I shall endure hat hair for your peace of mind.” Steve swatted his arm, and Eddie grinned.

“Three, being on stage in front of a crowd is a lot different than being surrounded by one. Most of the time if I'm at a show myself and everybody's really into it, y’know feeling the music, it's different somehow than just being at some mall, or whatever. Getting mobbed by fans usually doesn't happen after we play because we have security to keep people orderly. They know we never mind signing stuff or answering questions unless it's been hours and we just want some sleep.”

“Hours?” Steve questioned, blinking in surprise. “You really do that?”

“Sure,” Eddie said with a shrug. “We'd still be playing bars in the middle of nowhere without the fanbase. I've always thought it was pretty important to show them some love back.”

“Okay,” Steve said with a mischievous look in his eyes, and Eddie knew he was in trouble. “What's the weirdest thing you've ever signed?”

“You mean aside from a few tits?” Eddie said, leaning in close so as not to scandalize the seven year old in the front seat. Steve barked out a laugh.

“Somehow I guessed that was on the list,” he said.

“Hmm, I think…the prosthetic leg was actually really cool, so, maybe the lawn gnome? Apparently the guy took it with him everywhere. Or the doll the girl swore was haunted. Jeff wouldn't touch it.”

“Smart man,” Steve said.

Declan knew all the shortcuts, and before long they were pulling up to the Field Museum. Violet all but skipped up the stairs, clutching Steve's hand tightly while still stealing shy glances in Eddie's direction. He'd been sure to ask her if it was all right if he spent the day with them, delighted when she said yes after asking if he'd been the one to send her mama the other flowers, too.

Apparently, Steve had liked them better than he'd let on, trimming their stems, mixing “that funny powder” in with the water that kept them pretty for longer, even if the narcissus did keep falling over. At Eddie's puzzled look, she informed him that narcissus was the scientific name, and she liked that word better because of the story. She smiled when he said the flower must just be admiring its reflection, and Eddie was thankful he knew the myth so as not to look foolish in front of a child.

Eddie ran out of steam long before Violet did, but soldiered on for her sake, saying hi to the dinosaurs, admiring the many gems, and unfortunately wandering through the hall of insects. He perked up a bit after lunch when they hit the Egyptian wing, and once she finally began to flag, he suggested moving on to the gift shop and then blessedly returning home. Violet happily clutched a stuffed tardigrade in the front seat while Steve took Eddie's hand in the back and whispered a quiet thank you for an amazing day.

It sent tingles along his arm, just touching Steve in the simplest of ways. Eddie knew his look in return said as much. As Violet hopped down from her seat, Steve leaned over to plant a soft kiss on Eddie's cheek. It nearly made him shiver, and if he hadn't known already just how far gone he was over this man, well, Eddie would have then.

“Walk you to your door?” Eddie asked, absurdly hopeful.

Steve smiled. “That would be nice of you.”

“Be right back, Dec,” he assured the driver, more for Steve's benefit than Declan's.

Steve didn't let go of his hand, giving Eddie a giddy thrill as they walked down the sidewalk to the outer door and up the stairs. Now, Eddie found himself grateful for the extra layer of security between the street and people he cared so much about. Letting Violet bounce her way happily into the apartment, Steve lingered at the door, leaning against the frame.

“You're too sweet, Eddie Munson,” he said. “Giving her a day like this.”

“Hey, it was a day for us too, you know,” Eddie said. “You've got a great pup, but don't go thinking it was entirely altruistic.” He winked, and a flush rose across Steve's cheeks. “Really, though. Thanks for wanting me to spend the day with you two. I know she's the most important thing in the world to you, and it means a lot.”

“It wasn't a test,” Steve said, “but if it had been, believe me, you would have passed. Okay, actually, it might have been a test on her part, you never know. I'm more than sure you passed that, though.”

“It was the waterbear,” Eddie said with a sage nod, and Steve shook his head.

“I don't think so,” he countered with a smile.

“So it sounds like maybe you liked those flowers after all, hmm?” Eddie couldn't keep the tiniest bit of smugness from his voice.

Steve looked away, clearly a bit embarrassed. “It was just that – I had convinced myself that being with you would be a danger for Lettie. Not because of you,” he said hastily when Eddie's face fell. “Because of everything around you. Your fame, your fans, the whole rock star package deal. But I kept looking at them. And the more I looked, the more I saw you in them, the effort behind them, the sincerity. So I took care of them while I worked up the nerve to apologize, which clearly I hadn't managed yet when you came by this morning. I'm sorry for that, too.”

“For ghosting me, or trying to knock me over the railing?” Eddie asked, his smile letting Steve know he was teasing.

“Both,” Steve said. “And for breaking the vase, and ruining your arrangement.”

“It wasn't ruined,” Eddie reminded him. “Just a little squished in places.”

Steve reached out, plucking at Eddie's button down, and he took a step closer. “The wisteria,” he said softly. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” Eddie said immediately. “I felt it the minute I held you, and when you kissed me, Steve, the world just stopped. That doesn't happen for me, okay? But it did, with you.”

“It stopped for me, too,” Steve whispered.

Eddie leaned in slowly, nuzzling at Steve's cheek. The sweet scent of apple blossoms rose around him, more intoxicating than anything he'd ever taken in pursuit of a lesser high. There were other notes, a hint of cinnamon, a bare whiff of orange, and Eddie could have spent forever parsing them out.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked, knowing he wouldn't want to stop once he started, but torturing himself anyway.

“Please,” Steve breathed out, wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck to pull him that much closer.

From the moment their lips met, Eddie felt it again – that lightning shock of connection, that heat in his blood that told him this was more than just interest, more than affection or even desire, this was fate. Steve melted against him with a soft oh, and despite Eddie's best intentions to keep the kiss light, it didn't stay that way long. Steve's mouth was hot against his as Eddie nibbled at his lips, parting easily for his tongue to slip inside.

Steve tasted amazing, and Eddie took advantage of the opportunity to explore. They fit together perfectly, mouths sliding hot and wet as Eddie's hands gripped Steve's waist and pulled him closer. A new, more immediate sweetness broke through the apple blossom haze and Eddie realized it was the scent of Steve's arousal just as a pleased squeal issued from the living room.

Drawing back with difficulty, Eddie rested against Steve's brow, catching his breath. “Busted,” he whispered, Steve's answering laughter muffled as he buried his face in Eddie's shoulder. Eddie carded one hand through Steve's hair, releasing his death grip at his waist, and held him there for a moment, letting them both calm down.

“How am I supposed to go make dinner for my child after a kiss like that?” Steve asked, drawing back.

“I'd say I'm sorry, but honestly I'm not,” Eddie admitted, still reeling a bit himself.

Steve shoved at him playfully. “I'd invite you to stay for dinosaur nuggets, but it's a school night, after all.”

Eddie read between the lines, lifting Steve's hand to press a soft kiss to the back. “I meant it when I said I wanted to court you. I know it's old fashioned, but I don't mind taking our time.”

“I appreciate it,” Steve said, his eyes moist. A crash sounded from inside the apartment followed by an “Oops!” Steve's head snapped toward the sound with a worried expression, and Eddie took a step back.

“I think that's my cue,” Eddie said regretfully. “Before she tries to make her own dinner.”

“Text me later?” Steve asked, halfway in the front hall, one hand on the door, clearly listening for any further accidents.

“Of course,” Eddie said, unable to resist giving Steve a sweeping bow before blowing him a kiss and all but bounding down the stairs. He whistled all the way to the car, the balmy spring evening lifting him along as though the sidewalk was made from clouds instead of concrete. Reaching the sidestreet where Declan parked, Eddie knocked on the front passenger side window and popped open the door once it unlocked.

“I trust all went well?” Declan asked, turning down the stereo. He took in Eddie's flushed face, mussed hair, and undoubtedly blissful expression with no small amount of amusement.

“Very well, my man,” Eddie said, leaning his head back against the leather. “Very, very well.”

Steve had accepted his courting gift at last - though it would seem that he had worked his way around to accepting the first one, too, he just hadn't bothered to tell Eddie that. It would have saved him several days of anxious pacing and mental disquietude to know, but that was all right; it had worked out in the end. He knew the wisteria had been worth the risk.

Still lying open on his coffee table with a notepad covered in furious scribbles, a heavy volume on floriographic history devoted a full chapter to bonds and their related blooms. Whether friendly, familial, or romantic, there were blossoms for each, alone or in combination with others. There were flowers for beginnings and flowers for endings, flowers for anniversaries and for renunciations. Other chapters held flowers for hope and possibility, blossoms that said I think this is the start of something, but near the end grew blooms for certainty, for that knowing deep inside your chest that sometimes hit without warning to shift your entire world on its axis.

Wisteria was one of these. It had been a risk, sure, to incorporate blooms from a vine that could live happily intertwined for over a thousand years. A species intimately associated with the particular closeness of alpha and omega bonds at the turn of the previous century, when this delicate cryptography was all the rage. Steve wasn't his promised bondmate, but Eddie's deepest instincts had recognized something in him at the moment he first caught Steve's true scent, and felt the perfect weight of him in his arms.

He'd never experienced anything like it before, and doubted he ever would again. It would have been far too soon to say anything of the sort even to a lover, were the circumstances different, and here he was telling a man he'd only kissed once that he thought they were perfect for each other. That they might have been made for each other, if you believed in that sort of destined match. Eddie never had, but here he was, all but declaring it aloud.

The fact that Steve seemed to agree, that he'd already trusted Eddie to get to know his pup spoke volumes, too. It was Steve's fears over losing her that brought them together in the first place. And as for Violet herself, wow. What an amazing kid. Eddie had always liked kids in an abstract sort of way, but never spent much time around them. Sometimes parents brought particularly cool pups to their shows, but it was usually an older group, like the kids he'd run into outside the shop. Kids Violet's age weren't always too fond of the volume level, or the plumes of fire, or the simulated lightning, or anything else they came up with to wow the crowds.

This pup? Eddie couldn't believe he might actually get the chance to know her. She was smart, and funny, and had so much love in her heart for her mama it shone out of her like a light. She'd been shy at first, but by the end of the day she'd treated him like any other friend and it warmed Eddie to his core. He'd had the urge to scent her before he left, which he of course had not done, but it was there, all the same. The thought of Steve and his pup carrying his scent with them, at least for the night, settled something in Eddie that he hadn't even known was restless.

Watching the city blur past as Declan expertly guided them home, the oranges and reds of sunset beginning to fade into a gentle dusk, Eddie leaned his head against the window, at peace with himself for the first time in what felt like years. Thoughts swirled around what had so occupied his mind that day when he'd first found the shop, when his feet had taken him somewhere, anywhere away from a life under someone else's thumb. He must have made a considering sound because Declan echoed it, not in mockery, but in question.

“Just thinking, Dec,” Eddie answered. “Just thinking.”

Barely a day went by over the next few weeks when the two weren't texting through most of it, calling in the evenings if Steve wasn't on a closing shift at the shop. They even managed a few dates when Robin or Ethel – the rather spry and extremely capable lady downstairs, Eddie came to find out – could keep an eye on Violet, as new sitters were out of the question. Eddie could understand that; he wouldn't really like being left with a stranger either if he was a pup.

True to his word, they were never mobbed, and only recognized once. Well, Eddie was recognized, at least. Thankfully Steve had only shown up in one teensy little insta post so far, which Eddie respectfully asked be taken down. Within a few hours, it was. The picture was still out there in the wild, of course, but Eddie never saw it again. The fan at the restaurant was a shy girl who only wanted to say hello and tell Eddie her favorite song, which Steve thought was sweet.

For his part, Steve had been keeping a secret for the better part of a week when they met up at a fancy new dessert joint in the Loop, followed up by a new film they'd both been wanting to catch that was decidedly not pup-friendly. He shyly presented Eddie with a red and black striped gift bag, stuffed full of yellow and orange tissue paper that looked for all the world like flames.

Eddie grinned. “Well, no one can say that you don't get me,” he quipped, absurdly pleased at the Hellfire inspired packaging. “But what's this?”

“It's a courting gift,” Steve explained. “You've given me such lovely, thoughtful things, and I've always thought it was silly for gifts to be one-sided.”

To say that Eddie was flabbergasted would be putting it mildly. He hadn't been expecting anything in return save Steve's company and said as much, to which Steve blushed. “But,” he said hurriedly, “I can't wait to see what's waiting for me in here.”

Steve smiled and gestured for him to open it, so he did. Inside the bag was a rectangular package wrapped in a few layers of dark red and gold tissue paper that Eddie carefully unwrapped at the taped edges. He supposed it wouldn’t do to tear into it like a pup on Christmas morning in the middle of a restaurant, no matter how tempting it was. Within were two notebooks, their covers made from the actual album sleeves to Black Sabbath's Paranoia and Judas Priest's Defenders of the Faith - he should know, as often as he had played his copies. The pages were lined, and heavy enough to not tear after multiple uses of an eraser. On the side of each was a small elastic loop to hold a pencil or pen. They were perfect.

"These are so cool!” he exclaimed, swiftly shushed by a nearby table. “I've never seen anything like them, with covers like these.”

“I made them,” Steve said shyly, and Eddie had to pick his jaw up off the floor. “I thought, y’know, you're always running out of comp books for writing lyrics, I'd make you some new ones.”

“Wait, seriously? You know how to do that? These are like, stitched and everything!” Eddie couldn't have held his awe back if his life depended on it. Steve made him lyric notebooks. Made them. For him.

“I took a class last year,” Steve explained. “Just a one day thing, notebooks aren't that hard, really. I'm glad you like them, though.”

“Dude, Stevie, I love them,” Eddie emphasized. “No one's ever even bought me anything like this, and you made them. That's - I want to kiss the hell out of you right now.”

“Save it for the movie theater, Romeo,” Steve said with an impish smile, and Eddie wondered how much of the film they would be watching, after all.

Eddie's suggestion for a trip to the newly restored Medieval gallery at the Museum of Art went extremely well, if he did say so himself, which of course he did. While not being a hands-on museum, Violet still seemed to enjoy the day, having no problem keeping quiet and reading up on each exhibit. When she didn't understand a word, she had two adults with smartphones handy, ready and willing to google.

They made a plan to come back and see the rest of the museum another time, grabbing take out at a diner that proved to be too loud for all of them after the blissful peace of the gallery. Once home, Violet raced to her room while Steve delivered a cheesesteak and tater tots to an extremely happy Aunt Robin, whose squeal of delight didn't quite cover the sounds issuing from down the short hallway.

“Lettie?” Steve called. “You okay in there?” His words were answered by a series of small crashes, and an “Oops!” followed by giggles. “She's fine,” he assured Eddie, who was looking in that direction with some concern.

The shop below took up the space of what had once been the lower floors of two eighteenth century row houses, the upstairs apartment occupying their joined upper stories in a slightly awkward arrangement of space. Steve had given Robin the master bedroom in favor of taking the smaller room across from Lettie's down a short hallway with a bathroom at the end. There was a curtain made from rainbow beads hung across the hallway entrance, Lettie's personal touch, though Steve usually kept it pulled back in the interest of not tearing it down out of sheer annoyance.

It was that hallway from which the sounds of rummaging suddenly ceased as Lettie reappeared, wearing a gauzy purple dress over her jeans and a sparkly tiara on her head, a flower crown with tiny purple roses somehow worked into it. In one hand she carried a glowing plastic sword that made fantastic clanging and swishing sounds when she swung it from side to side, and the other was held behind her back. Striking a regal pose, she motioned for Eddie to come closer.

“Kneel, Eduwardius Munson, servant of the crown,” she intoned, and of course he did, dropping to one knee and attempting to look serious. He wasn't entirely successful, but neither was she. “I hereby name you Sir Eddie, brave knight of the kingdom!” Tapping him once on each shoulder with the sword, Violet grinned.

“I am greatly honored, Princess Violet,” Eddie said with a bit of a kneeling bow. “I shall strive to always protect thee and bring honor to thy kingdom!”

Bringing her other hand out from behind her back, Violet plopped a flower crown on his head in shades of blue. “The ceremony is complete!’ she declared. “And now we depart for our feast.”

Eddie forgot to ask Steve what the flowers in the crown meant before he left that night, being that they were on his head and there was an incredibly handsome, fascinating man in front of him. Examining it later when he finally made it home, Eddie realized that it was doubtless handmade by Lettie herself. Delicate flowers in shades of blue from bold to pale, almost lavender decorated the slightly lopsided grapevine loop, that being the prickly material that had been poking Eddie's scalp, and he adored every part of it. If he cried just a little, with the heavy illustrated volume open on his lap to identify the blossoms, well, that was between him and the moon, now wasn't it?

Borage for strength and courage, qualities of any good knight. Hollyhocks for loyalty to one's own, one's family and pack. Both blossoms wore blue for a sense of calm and more importantly, trust. A single purple violet had been worked into the front, nearly missed until Eddie parted the petals of the others for a better look. That one needed no interpretation.

A beautiful, breezy afternoon saw them out for a walk near Eddie's apartment, the park trail taking them alongside a small pond with a family of mallards and gardens planted to attract local butterflies. It would have been a perfect day, if not for the anxiety eating away at Steve when Eddie picked him up, the cloud hanging over him nearly visible. Eddie had wrapped him up in his arms, holding him in the entryway for a long, quiet moment as Steve huddled against him.

When Steve texted early that morning to ask for a raincheck on their planned afternoon on the town, which he'd been so excited about the day before, Eddie called out of concern. Steve pleaded exhaustion, and Eddie would have left it at that with jokingly stern orders to get some rest, but something in Steve's tone kept him on the line. It wasn't long before Steve's worries came tumbling out.

Vaguely threatening texts and calls at all hours from unknown numbers he blocked, but that didn't stop new ones from popping up. The voicemail that kept Steve awake the night before, the contents of which he didn't seem eager to disclose, instead muttering about Dick and his same old bullshit. Eddie had been under the impression that Richard had finally given up, once satisfied that Steve truly didn't have the money the bastard wanted. Now he realized he wasn't getting the full story, and while some small part of Eddie grew angry at being deliberately walled out from a threat to Steve and Lettie's safety, the rest of him wanted to comfort and protect Steve in any way he could.

Thus, the trip to the park instead of lunch and a show, which suited Eddie just fine. Any day with Steve was a good one, no matter how they spent it. They fed the ducks, Steve enduring Eddie's horrible jokes and impressions, and Eddie watched with a hopeless rush of fond affection while Steve took pictures of the butterflies for Lettie. All in all, Steve's spirits seemed greatly improved, and Eddie breathed a sigh of relief as their loop took them back to his building.

The apartment honestly wasn't what most people thought of as rock star digs, decorated with a fairly cozy vibe. It was big enough for him, decent living space with a music room and a guest room, as Eddie was always trying to get his uncle to come visit more often. Eddie devoted a lot of wall space to bookshelves and his music collection, which only left room for a few signed art prints and photo collages of the people who mattered most - with a few recent additions. There were a few leafy plants by the windows, the sort that were hardy and difficult to kill by forgetting about them, and furnishings picked for comfort over style.

True to form, Steve had only ever made comments like “Of course you have a framed print of a dragon the length of your couch,” and “Do you actually need that many guitars, or is it like a fetish thing?” Eddie hadn’t subjected Steve to the full force of the band yet, but he had no doubt that once he did, Steve would hold his own just fine. The same went for his uncle, to whom he had babbled about Steve at length over the phone, and who he very much wanted Steve to meet.

Now, after pretending to drape himself over Steve in the entryway as though he simply couldn't support himself any longer, Eddie collapsed onto his overstuffed sofa, pleading physical exhaustion from such a brisk jog.

“It was more like aimless meandering and you know it,” Steve said with a grin, setting two glasses of water down on the coffee table.

“My aim was to enjoy a beautiful spring day with an even more beautiful man,” Eddie said, pressing a kiss to Steve's cheek. “Who, for some unknown reason, chooses to spend his time with a cave troll like me.”

“You can't be a cave troll,” Steve reminded him. “The sun was out today and you didn’t turn into a lawn ornament.”

Eddie gasped, clutching dramatically at his chest. “Steven Harrington, did you just make a Hobbit reference?”

“My child does read to me, you know,” Steve said, making Eddie choke on the sip of water he had unwisely just taken.

Setting the glass back down, Eddie tickled Steve's sides until he doubled over from laughter, flopping sideways onto the couch. Eddie followed, tickling and lightly pinching while pressing kisses to Steve's ear, his cheek, his neck. Steve's face had gone red, and he curled into a ball, trying to escape Eddie's torments. Eddie wasn't having it, nosing along Steve's jaw to blow lightly into the hollow beneath his ear.

A shiver ran through the omega's body at the sensation, and Eddie's fingers dragged slowly back across Steve's stomach where they had slipped beneath his shirt. Steve's head fell back against Eddie's shoulder as his tickles turned to teasing flicks of his tongue across the skin. Steve's scent was intoxicating, and Eddie drank it in, nosing at the small scent glands near his hairline, then drifting farther down.

Steve's mating gland had been patched when they left earlier, but the collar of his shirt had been rubbing uncomfortably against it, and must have fallen off. Eddie laved his tongue across it, swirling around the gland that seemed to swell beneath his attentions, the scent growing ever stronger. Steve let out a moan that brought Eddie back to himself just enough to focus his attentions somewhere safer for the time being.

Safer. Eddie wasn't feeling like being particularly safe, or taking anything slow, the way they had been until now. He'd managed to get Steve out of a bad headspace, for which there was a lot to be said, but Eddie wanted to take him further, get him a little higher, as long as Steve was on the same page. Eddie was determined not to ruin the best thing he'd ever had, but Steve needed more today, he could feel it.

Wiggling his arm where it had wound up trapped beneath Steve's side, Eddie gained enough movement for his fingers to gently pinch one nipple. Steve's answering gasp sent Eddie’s blood rushing south, and he toyed with it, bringing his thumb up from below the stiffening nub to brush across it through the fabric of his t-shirt. Steve squirmed, whining at the tease as Eddie's hand moved slowly lower on his abdomen, trailing his fingers along the skin. Placing his hand over Eddie's, he guided it farther south.

“Eddie, please,” he begged. “Touch me.”

“Gladly,” Eddie agreed, only fumbling a little with the button on Steve’s jeans before tugging down the zipper. He couldn't see much of Steve's underwear, a light powder blue made from soft material that Eddie soon found was very, very wet. The scent hit him, sweet orange blossom with the richness of honey, and Eddie wanted to drown in it.

Slipping two fingers beneath the elastic, Eddie felt a thick growth of hair and smiled. It was obviously anyone's choice how to groom their own pussy, but Eddie liked a good bush. Tugging lightly on a few bits of hair here and there, just to tease by taking his time, Eddie got his fingers good and slick. Splitting his index and middle to run them down the labia and back up, Eddie felt Steve roll his hips up against his hand, desperate for sensation where he needed it most.

Taking Steve's clit between his thumb and two fingers, Eddie wished he could get a good look. It was on the long side for an omega, and thick, the firm tip swollen and round. It felt amazing in Eddie's hand, and he knew it was gorgeous. It had to be, just like every other part of this glorious creature that he'd somehow convinced to give him the time of day. He stroked along its length, giving the end a light flick every so often, turning his wrist from side to side for a bit of a twist. Steve writhed beneath his touch, hips bucking into it as his breathing shortened into wet, ragged little gasps.

“Don't stop,” he begged. “So close, Eddie, so close, feels so good.”

“I won't stop, baby, not til you come for me,” Eddie promised, speeding up his strokes as he attempted to coordinate stroking farther down with his other two fingers. He got his pinky where he wanted it, just barely brushing against Steve's entrance, and felt his clit throb hard as Steve cried out.

A fresh rush of slick pulsed out as Steve rode out the orgasm, hips stuttering and head thrown back, neck unintentionally bared. At least, Eddie figured it was unintentional. He resisted leaning in to give Steve's mating gland another lick, figuring he had probably pushed that limit enough for one day. He gently withdrew his hand from Steve's pants instead, bringing his fingers to his lips and tasting the slick that coated them. It was divine. If Eddie had thought Steve smelled good when he was wet - which he very much did - now he knew just how amazing he tasted, too. Like a sweet clementine orange with a hint of the fanciest honey, the kind you got in specialty shops where they could tell you the name of the bee that made it and its favorite flower. Eddie was addicted from the first sweet taste.

He planted a line of kisses along Steve's jaw, moving up to his cheek, gratified when Steve turned his head to press his lips to Eddie's. He hummed in pleasure or surprise to taste himself on Eddie's tongue, too blissed out to notice Eddie's little taste test. The kiss was fierce and deep, his hand coming up to wrap firmly around the back of Eddie's neck, and it was Eddie who opened to his insistent tongue.

As always, Eddie marveled at just how well they fit together, the way their mouths seemed made to slot against one another in a harmony he simply hadn't found with anyone else. It seemed almost silly, so he hadn't said it aloud - he was sure Steve had plenty of kisses in his past that matched up just fine. All of Eddie's past entanglements paled in comparison to this, slightly out of tune, strings he always replaced before they were so damaged they snapped. Here for a good time, not a long time, right?

It was funny, Eddie thought, that in all those years of chasing the next thrill, what he really wanted most was a moment's peace.

“Eddie,” Steve murmured against his lips when he at last pulled away. “That was amazing.”

“I think you needed it,” Eddie said. Nuzzling against Steve's nose. “Think we both did.”

Steve nodded, still sharing Eddie's breath. “Take a little nap with me before I need to go?” he asked. “Oh, unless - I didn't do anything for you, I should -”

“You're fine, sweetheart,” Eddie assured him. “Believe me, hearing the sounds you made, the way you smelled, the way you taste - that was more than enough for me right now. I mean, I'm horny as hell, but I'm also an adult, and a nap with you sounds wonderful.”

Steve laughed, burying his head in Eddie's chest. It wouldn't be the first time one or both of them had gotten worked up while what started as cuddling while watching a movie or simply enjoying some downtime turned into something more, and decided to cool off rather than take things any further. It was just another thing that set them apart from anything else Eddie had ever known, and he valued it, the time they were taking to truly get to know one another, because for the first time in a long time, it mattered. Besides, they were frequently on a seven year old's schedule, and that meant very little hanky panky.

Eddie loaned Steve some boxers and tossed his slick-soaked clothes in the wash with a couple of his shirts, setting an alarm so they could dry before he had to send Steve back on his way. Lettie had spent the afternoon with the Hopper-Byers clan, and while he'd only met Joyce so far, he figured if the rest of them were like her, they had to be pretty great. It was rare that he'd met many people in the lives of his past flings because they were usually just that - flings. Eddie wanted to know everyone Steve cared about, everyone important, if Steve would let him. Curling up with the omega he wanted so desperately to belong to, Eddie held him close and dreamed of flowers.

It took Eddie a while to find the next courting gift he wanted for Steve, having not yet exhausted cryptographic bouquets of flowers, but wanting something a bit different. Enlisting Robin's aid, he sneaked into the apartment one morning while Steve was at work downstairs and Violet was at school. Placing the glazed ceramic planter in shades of purple on the kitchen table where it wasn't likely to be knocked off, Eddie made sure the stalks of the orchids were arranged just the way he wanted them on their clear supports, allowing the blossoms to fall just so. He had never been a perfectionist until courting Steve brought it out in him.

The lighter red moth orchids stood a bit taller than the cattleya below, their ruffled petals a deeper shade that drifted into purple near the ends. Eddie hoped they would convey his feelings properly; he hoped that Steve liked orchids to begin with, otherwise the entire enterprise was a bit fucked. Placing a square purple box at the base of the planter, Eddie took one last look to satisfy himself before turning to find Robin watching him with a curious expression. She had been difficult to win over at first, but Eddie liked to think that he had been making progress. Swallowing hard, he stuck his hands in his pockets, rocking back a little on the heels of his sneakers.

“Do you think he'll like it?” Eddie asked, unable to keep the nerves from his voice.

Robin smiled. “He's going to love it, dingus. You're giving it to him.” Eddie felt his face heat, and he found himself suddenly fascinated by the checkerboard pattern in the linoleum. “But what's behind it, what it will mean to him - yeah, Eddie. You knocked it out of the park with this one. Y'know,” she said, leaning against the door frame while Eddie scuffed his shoe against the floor like an anxious child. “No one's ever asked to court him before, not since high school anyway, and since he's had Vivi - well, you know the way people are.”

Eddie felt his jaw drop and struggled to close it. “You're kidding me. No one - but, Steve? Are we talking about the same person, because he's amazing. Not that I have to tell you that, you're basically in his brain, but - no one? Really?”

Robin shook her head, looking at Eddie with a hint of fondness. “No one's ever put this much effort into making him happy, Eddie. That means more than I think you know, to all of us. Don't break his heart,” she advised, her eyes narrowing. “I'm sneaky and I know where you live.”

“Don't forget clever,” Eddie said, slightly unsettled despite himself.

Robin's smile in response was anything but reassuring as she led the way out of the apartment, keys jangling. He had no plans for breaking Steve's heart, of course, but he had no doubt Robin would come for him if he did. Eddie took one last look at the table, making sure everything was as perfect as it could possibly be before following her out and leaving it for Steve to judge.

Beauty and resilience in the petals, both qualities Steve possessed in abundance. True affection, admiration, and respect in their vermilion tones - all things Eddie felt intensely for him. He hoped the flowers would whisper his message softly to their recipient, letting Steve know just how deeply he was valued - and loved.

It was after ten p.m. that night when he got a text from Steve with a pic of the small necklace sitting perfectly below his throat, the opal at the center flashing its colors for the camera. It was another orchid, a phalaenopsis, wing-like petals spread out against his skin in silver. It wasn't the work of a fancy designer, wasn't some one of a kind piece that Eddie had sunk a small fortune into. He knew Steve wouldn't be swayed by a name on a box or an exorbitant price tag. He worked with his hands and had confessed a tendency to lose things, even nice things, which Eddie understood all too well.

     you made me cry in front of my kid, asshole

good evening to you too, Steven

     it's gorgeous, Eddie, I don't ever want to take it off. where did you even find orchids this color in chicago? wait don't tell me, i'll get jealous.

I'm glad you like the gift ❤️

     love it, Ed, I love everything. thank you. 💗💖

It was quiet the next day around noon when Eddie slipped in through the back of the shop, earning a raised eyebrow from Barb, busy arranging a red vase full of daisies, sunflowers, and tulips. A speckled mylar balloon bounced up near the rafters, ribbons dangling all the way to the table. It didn't take much to convince her to take an extra long lunch on his dime once it was finished, grabbing a bag so covered in enamel pins Eddie almost couldn't see the fabric. She gave him a sly wink over her shoulder as she breezed through the door into the main part of the shop, telling Steve she'd be back.

Raising up on his toes to see through the small glass windows at the top of the door, Eddie made sure the coast was clear. Slowly making his way through without letting the door squeak on its hinges, he wrapped his arms around Steve from behind. Steve leaned back against him, bringing one arm back to gently cup Eddie's neck in his palm.

“Can't surprise you, I guess,” Eddie murmured against his ear, pressing a soft kiss to the shell.

“I could smell vetiver and oak moss when Barb opened the door,” Steve explained. “Since I don't stock either…”

“Guess it had to be me,” Eddie said, nuzzling at Steve's cheek. Running his finger along the delicate silver chain around Steve's neck, he touched the pendant hanging at the center. “It looks good on you.”

“You can't even see from back there,” Steve said with a small laugh.

“Then maybe you should turn around and give me a better look,” Eddie suggested, lightly nibbling at his earlobe.

“If I turn around, I'm going to kiss you, and I won't even notice if any customers come in.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Eddie said, a bit smugly. “I know how to fix that, though.”

“Oh, do you?” Steve asked, and Eddie could hear the raised eyebrows in his voice.

“Yep,” Eddie said, reluctantly leaving Steve at the counter to flip the Open sign to Closed and lock the door. “You're closed for lunch.”

“Eddie,” Steve said reproachfully. “That is not how you run a business.”

“But I had an idea,” Eddie said, giving Steve his best puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, did you?” Steve asked. “The sort of idea that involves my employee leaving for lunch when she brings a sandwich every day?”

“Exactly that kind of idea,” Eddie said.

Steve dug around under the counter and produced a thin plastic clock face with the words ‘We'll Return At’ above it, adjusting the hands. Eddie moved the minute hand a bit farther over, making Steve roll his eyes before sticking it in the window. Turning back to face him, Steve crossed his arms over his chest with an expectant look.

“Well? Let's hear it.”

Eddie lifted Steve's hand to his lips and kissed it before taking it in his own and gently tugging him toward the back of the shop. Making sure the door closed behind them, Eddie urged Steve to turn around before untying his apron and lifting it over his head. Folding it neatly, Eddie set it on the table before walking back around to his front. Taking Steve's face gently in his hands, he pulled him in for a soft, sweet kiss.

Steve made a pleased sound, hooking his fingers through Eddie's belt loops as their lips met and parted, gentle and almost chaste, the way he knew Steve liked things to start out. It was a delightful tease, not simply jumping into things headfirst, full steam ahead, though there was a time and a place for that, to be sure. Eddie lingered in that space for a few minutes, turning Steve's head for just the right angle to deepen the kiss before pulling back to press one to his nose, then dropping down to his knees.

Looking up at Steve, one hand on the button at his waist, Eddie silently asked for permission. Steve's lips curved up in a smile and he ran his hand through Eddie's hair, as much of it as he could the way the wind had whipped tangles into into it outside. “I think I like your idea,” he said, biting his lip after the words left his mouth.

“I was hoping you would,” Eddie said, slipping the button through the eye and slowly tugging the zipper down.

“It's just -” Steve started, then cut himself off, and Eddie paused, looking up. “Well, it didn't seem to bother you a couple of weeks ago, but you haven't seen it, and um - I'm a little different? Down there.” He flushed, glancing away.

Eddie reached for his hand, pressing another kiss there. “You felt absolutely incredible, I honestly can't wait to see you in good light,” Eddie assured him. And yeah, okay, a lot of omegas were smaller in that department, the ladies only slightly larger than betas, and guys not much bigger than that, but just the thought of what Eddie had held between his fingers that afternoon on the couch made his mouth water.

“If you're sure,” Steve said, and Eddie wondered at his hesitance, if past partners had been cruel. It made his blood boil just to think about.

“Baby, believe me, as long as you're okay with me being down here, I am dying to get my mouth on you.”

“Well then,” Steve said, his smile turning a bit wicked. “What are you waiting for?”

Eddie grinned, pulling Steve's zipper down at a glacial pace to expose a hint of light, silky turquoise. Spreading apart the denim flaps, Eddie nosed at the soft material, breathing in the scent that was undeniably Steve. As Eddie tugged at the waist of his jeans, Steve wriggled his way out of them, letting the material drop to his knees.

“I like these,” Eddie said, stroking his thumbs across the lacy side pieces. “Are you always wearing something this amazing under your clothes? Because my fantasies are seeming more and more realistic at the moment.”

“You fantasize about me?” Steve asked, almost shyly.

Eddie looked up. “I mean, obviously. Look at you. You're all I can think about most of the time, and the rest of it is just lyrics and riffs I'm working out and whether or not that rule in Unearthed Arcana is too OP, or something stupid Gareth said that I'm still laughing about two days later. But it's mostly you.”

Steve laughed, the hand in Eddie's hair sliding down to stroke his cheek. “You're something else, Eddie Munson.”

“Maybe,” Eddie said, nosing at Steve's waist just above the elastic band of the panties. “But I'm yours.”

Sliding two fingers beneath the band at either side of Steve's hips where he'd been admiring the lace, Eddie gently tugged them down. Normally he'd go to work through them first, the material silky and perfect for a hot, wet slide across Steve's clit to drive him absolutely insane, but he would probably need to work the rest of the day in them. Next time, Eddie promised himself. Next time he'd spend hours between Steve’s legs, until he was a babbling, screaming mess.

Eddie could just barely register Steve turning his head away as he slid the panties farther down, revealing a slightly more trimmed up triangle of tight, curly brown hair than the previous time Eddie's hands had been blessed to explore it, but still thick. He pressed kisses to it over the soft mound, only drawing back long enough for a short sentence. “I love your hair, god, please never wax it.”

“That's an easy promise,” Steve said, the smile audible in his voice. “Waxing fucking hurts.”

Eddie let out a short laugh on an exhale and leaned back in. Stroking the labia slowly top to bottom, then back up, Eddie slid his thumb across the top of the V and felt a shudder run through him. Gently parting the velvety folds, he could see Steve's clit just barely beginning to peek out, looking more like a differently gendered omega without being fully aroused. Well, Eddie was working on that.

He slid his fingers up and down, sliding his thumb across Steve's clit and circling around it with his thumb. Steve made lovely little humming sounds above him, a few “feels good” and “yeah, like that” guiding Eddie on his way. He knew well what he was doing in general, but everyone had their own likes in that department, their favorite ways of being touched, and their own dislikes for that matter, so he listened to the ways Steve spoke, with words and with his body. Thumbing gently at his clit from below to slide up and over the head, Eddie finally earned a gasp and a bit of a swell, the scent of slick rising up around him in a heavenly cloud.

He focused in on his clit, leaning in to flick his tongue across it before swirling it around. Still stroking below, outside and in, Eddie felt the slippery wetness beginning to gather on his fingertips. Moving one index finger down, he circled Steve's entrance as gently and lightly as he could manage, the way eased by the slick dripping down.

Steve let out a soft moan, his hand returning to Eddie's hair without pulling, simply resting there. Realizing that they might actually soak Steve's pants after all, Eddie pulled back despite Steve's protests. “Only a moment, sweetheart,” he said. “Can't have you walking all the way upstairs to change in case I get you soaked.”

“In Chicago? No one would even notice,” Steve said.

“But you would,” Eddie said, urging Steve's legs out of his jeans, then those marvelous panties, which he held to his nose to take in a deep breath.

Steve broke out into giggles and Eddie shot him a curious look as he folded the underwear and set it carefully atop the crumpled jeans. “My boyfriend is a panty sniffer,” he explained, and Eddie leaned forward, bumping his forehead against Steve's hip.

“Only yours,” he said in his own defense.

“Good,” Steve said, the giggles subsiding as Eddie got back down to business.

Parting Steve's folds with his thumbs, Eddie slid back up and down a few times, teasingly light, before taking Steve's clit between his forefinger and thumb and giving it a few short strokes. Steve's ohh in response was music to Eddie’s ears, and he leaned in, sucking it between his lips as it swelled and lengthened on his tongue. Steve grabbed the island with both hands, his hips rolling gently forward.

“Eddie,” he breathed out.

“Good?” Eddie asked, pulling back to lick a broad circle around the base.

“So good,” Steve confirmed, his breaths coming quick.

Eddie continued to tease, licking and stroking, as delicious sounds fell from Steve's lips. Moving his hand down, he circled Steve's entrance with two fingers, drawing back long enough to bring them to his lips. “God, you taste amazing,” he said, letting his eyes drift shut for a brief moment.

Glancing back up, he saw Steve looking down, lips parted, a question hovering on his breath. “You taste the way orange blossoms smell. Like sweet clementines and a hint of the best honey I've ever had,” Eddie elaborated.

“I do?” Steve said wonderingly. “No one's ever put it like that.” He looked away, a blush coloring his cheeks.

Eddie responded by stroking Steve's hip with his thumb, the fingers of his other hand returning to the omega's soft, wet heat. Steve's former lovers must have had extremely unrefined palates, Eddie thought, unless the old wives tale about scents applied to taste as well. Maybe it could, Eddie thought. Maybe it did. Maybe no one else had ever drawn such perfect sweetness from Steve as Eddie was blessed to taste.

Leaning back in, Eddie put those thoughts aside and focused on the immediate task at hand - bringing his omega as much pleasure as he possibly could before their time was up. Sliding his tongue below Steve’s swollen clit, Eddie took it back in his mouth, lightly sucking as he breached Steve's entrance with one finger. The slide was easy, and Steve groaned at the sensation as Eddie drew it out, then pushed back in until he was nearly to his third knuckle.

“More, Eddie, I need more,” Steve begged, and Eddie happily obliged, pulling slowly all the way out before pushing back in with two fingers, rotating his hand to find the sweet spot with his knuckles. Steve's hips bucked when he gasped, and Eddie repeated the motion, certain he’d found it. The sounds Steve made and the motion of his hips, grinding against Eddie's face were a perfect reward.

He loved going down on his partners, no matter what they had below the waist, but Steve had the prettiest pussy Eddie had ever seen in his life. He couldn't quite believe he was actually allowed, not to mention encouraged to be down here, fingers sliding in and out, his face buried between those hot, velvety soft folds. Steve's clit felt so perfect between his lips, his blossom-sweet taste on Eddie's tongue, that he never wanted to be anywhere else.

He pulled back, sliding off Steve's clit to lick at the tip before sliding back down and sucking, repeating the pattern a few times while keeping up a rhythm with his fingers, and when he felt Steve's thighs quiver to either side of his head, when his breathing grew ragged, the thrusts of his hips short and rough, Eddie sucked hard, crooking his fingers up to drag over the perfect spot again and again. Steve came with a fierce cry, one hand gripping Eddie's hair tight, and he honestly wasn't sure when it had migrated there, only that he loved the sting. He realized just how close he came to coming when his cock twitched hard in his jeans, throbbing almost painfully against the restriction.

You can wait, he told it. He wasn't riding his bike all the way back home with wet briefs.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve said, after a long shuddering breath.

“I take it you enjoyed that?” Eddie said, leaning back just far enough to be heard and giving Steve’s pulsing clit a slow stroke with his tongue. Steve laughed and tried to squirm away to no avail. Eddie slowly withdrew his fingers, his hand dripping with Steve's slick. He wanted to lick off every drop clean. “I could live down here, you know,” Eddie added, leaning against Steve's hip. “Just stay right here for the rest of my life.”

When Steve was silent, Eddie glanced up to find him looking down, just not at him. Oh. Well, it wasn't like that had been a proposal, even if he was on his knees. When he did propose, there would be a ring, and he would be less covered in slick. Probably.

“I could, uh, use a towel or something,” Eddie said, trying to laugh it off.

“Yeah, we both could,” Steve said, looking back at him with a grin. “Which is definitely your fault.”

“I didn't hear you complaining about the mess,” Eddie said, teasing.

“Someone was thoughtful enough to make sure my pants stayed dry before we started,” Steve said with a smile, moving his hand down to stroke Eddie's cheek with the backs of his fingers. “And I can clean the floor,” he added, glancing down at the drops that were running down his legs.

He nodded toward the paper towels over the sink, and Eddie dampened several, getting them both washed up and dried. They were even in time to let Steve come back to earth a little in the break room before they had to unlock the shop and get back to business as usual. If Eddie had known how to run the register, he would have handled the front until Barb got back, but the machines had come a long way from his days at record and coffee shops, trying to make ends meet while playing anywhere that would have them.

Steve rested against him and Eddie tried to focus on how good it had felt to finally be able to be inside Steve, at least in some way, and not his foolish words. His mouth was always getting him into trouble, and while things had been going amazingly well with Steve, it seemed like the Munson curse hadn't quite been broken. At least he never seemed to go wrong with his hands.

“You picked that spot on purpose, didn't you?” Steve said after a quiet moment, leaning back against Eddie, his arms around Steve's waist.

“You mean your g-spot?” Eddie said, deliberately obtuse as he nuzzled Steve's ear. He had noticed, after all.

Steve pinched the back of Eddie's hand lightly. “At the end of the island,” he said.

“Guilty as charged,” Eddie said truthfully. “I just - I mean, I know I've said it before, and it's probably kind of insane, to be honest, but holding you there - I didn't even know you, but it felt like I did.”

“It is kind of crazy,” Steve agreed, and Eddie felt his heart drop until Steve continued. “But I felt so safe, like everything was going to be all right, once you were there with me. And you smelled so good, Eddie, like I recognized it somehow. So yeah, maybe it is insane, but I don't care.”

Eddie held him closer, pressing a kiss to his temple. No one besides Steve had ever told him he smelled like vetiver, or oak moss, or anything much besides trees. Once, humiliatingly, it had been herbal shampoo.

A banging on the door from the front of the shop interrupted his thoughts. “That would be Barb, I assume,” he said, and Steve sighed.

“I don't wanna get up,” he said.

“I'll let her in,” Eddie offered, and Steve hummed.

“Okay,” he said. “I'll make some coffee and be up there in a minute.”

Eddie made sure the prep room was in order before unlocking the door for Barb, who plugged her nose as soon as she opened the door to the back. “Oh my god, we need to invest in some febreeze if this is gonna be a thing,” she said. “Like industrial strength.”

“Oh my god, Barb,” Steve said, sticking his head out from the lounge. “It's not gonna be a thing.”

“Aww,” Eddie said, putting on a ridiculous pout.

“Not here, anyway,” Steve said, his smile absolutely suggestive.

“Okay, somebody has to run the register,” Barb said as the chimes over the door rang out. “Since you seem to have forgotten that this is an actual business.”

“Oh snap,” Eddie said, glancing at Steve with barely contained laughter. “She told you.”

“Nobody says that anymore,” Barb called back.

“Whatever,” Eddie said, waving a hand in her direction. “Can I take you out to dinner?” he asked, focusing back on Steve.

“Rain check?” he replied with genuine reluctance. “I promised Lettie we'd make little pizzas, just us. But I can see when I can get some time for us soon? Hopefully really soon?”

Eddie smiled, walking over to take Steve's hand and kiss it. “I would never interrupt sacred Mama and pup time. Just let me know about dinner sometime, or if she needs to come with, we'll do something kiddo-friendly.”

Steve's smile could have lit the entire room.

Chapter Text

💐🎸

Steve paced nervously back and forth as he waited to Robin's text to tell him that Eddie was here. He had put so much time and effort into the evening it almost felt ridiculous, almost felt like too much. Steve reminded himself that Eddie had long ago embraced the concept of Too Much, and tried to convince his mind to stop worrying. He checked over his preparations for the hundredth time, and jumped a little when the phone dinged in his pocket.

Come get your man, Robin's text read. Please.

Propping the heavy metal door open with a brick, Steve made his way down the narrow stairwell to see Eddie waiting in the entryway to the apartment, bouncing a little on his toes. He was dressed casually as Steve had advised, but still managed to look unfairly good in jeans and a soft fitted tee for what Steve assumed was a band, an odd jumble of geometric symbols on the front and a list of cities on the back. Steve wasn't sure he would ever understand metal, but he was at least trying.

Steve blushed to see the small, simple bouquet of flowers clutched in Eddie's hand, purple heliotrope with gypsophila and ferns to fill it out. Pure affection, even budding love. Taking it from Eddie's swiftly outstretched hand, Steve brought it to his nose to inhale the scent. Heliotrope always smelled almost like cookies to him, vanilla and almonds floating above the fresh, green scent of the rest.

“I love it,” Steve said, beaming. “And I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” Eddie said, eyes lighting up. “Do tell.”

“How about I show you?” Steve suggested, taking Eddie by the hand.

Tugging him along up the stairs, bouquet in hand, Steve led Eddie up to the roof where he had carefully laid out some blankets, two beanbag chairs, jar candles, a picnic basket, and a sturdy plastic vase with lilacs. It wasn't far from the portable telescope he frequently set up for Lettie, or the small greenhouse where he grew a medley of vegetables under glass to keep them safe from anything that might want to eat them before they could. A few of his favorite flowers grew in planters beside the brick wall that edged the roof, fairy lights completing the space the pack had carved out for themselves as a sanctuary amid the chaos of city life. Just for the pack. Steve worked the heliotrope in with the lilacs, the deeper shade of purple complementing it perfectly, while Eddie took in the scene with wonder.

“Stevie,” he said, curiosity in his tone. “Are we having a picnic?”

“I thought we might,” Steve said, a bit shyly.

“This is amazing,” Eddie said. “I didn't even know you could get up here, and you've got a whole garden!”

“The greenhouse was a contributing factor to renting the place,” Steve said. “I thought I might save money growing flowers for the shop, but I underestimated our sales volume. So, veggies for dinner it is.”

“I'm so jealous of this,” Eddie said. “It's like your own little hideaway.”

“That's the idea,” Steve said. “I started bringing Lettie up here to teach her the constellations, and of course that led to feeding and naming the pigeons, and then building the coop for them.” Steve gestured to the yellow wooden structure at the opposite end of the roof that had taken several of his days off to design and build with all manner of mistakes along the way. It wasn't that pretty, and definitely not perfect, but it was theirs. “It's been good for her, I think, learning to care for them a little bit. They're still wild, really, they just hang out here sometimes. Honestly, as fat as some of them have gotten, I think they have two or three other gullible families that feed them around town.”

Eddie laughed. “That is seriously cool,” he said. “I, uh, I fed this momma possum and her babies a few years in a row, until Wayne intervened. We had like eight possums that would come up to our little porch at night, and we couldn't really afford to feed them and ourselves. It was fun, though, while it lasted.”

“That's a really adorable image,” Steve said, imagining it. “You named them, didn't you?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie said. “We had Galadriel and Arwen and Eowyn, and then all the hobbits and some dwarves. I played for them sometimes, too, and they didn't even run away!”

Steve thought his eyes might have actually transformed into hearts over the course of Eddie's story. “Possums are secretly metal fans, good to know.”

“Hey, there was a lot of classic folk in there too, Cat Stevens, Jim Croce, Joni Mitchell. Stuff my mom listened to when I was little.”

“Oh my god, you and Joyce,” Steve said. “You two are going to get along frighteningly well.”

“I hope so,” Eddie said. “I know she means a lot to you.”

“The Byers clan are sort of pack-adjacent, so yeah,” Steve said. “She really does.”

It also meant a lot, an incredible amount actually, that Eddie wanted to get to know and be on good terms with Steve's little extended family. No one else ever really had before, but Eddie seemed to want to meet Steve where he lived, to share in who and what he loved. It was a rare thing, a beautiful thing, and Steve hoped at least a little of his gratitude showed through his actions in return.

They watched the sunset over the city, eating finger sandwiches and demolishing the charcuterie board Steve had prepped to go with a bottle of cabernet. Eddie moved their bean bags together, cuddling close as night draped its velvet cloak across the sky and what few stars they could see appeared one by one.

“Look!” Steve said, pointing up. Eddie missed the first one, but gave an excited gasp as the second shooting star blazed through the darkness. “The Lyrids can be pretty bright, so I thought we’d have a halfway decent chance to see them,” Steve explained.

“I haven’t seen a meteor shower since I was a kid,” Eddie said, looking up in wonder. “My mom loved the stars, she was always showing or telling me something new. We watched the Perseids the year before she passed.”

“Oh,” Steve said, hoping he hadn’t overstepped. “I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.”

“Are you kidding?” Eddie said, glancing back down. Taking Steve’s hand in his own, he kissed the knuckles gently. “This is amazing. You’re amazing. And for the record, it was a wonderful memory to bring up.”

“Okay,” Steve said, feeling relieved. “Okay, good.”

“You heard the part where you’re amazing, right?” Eddie asked, kissing his hand again. “Because that part was really important.”

“I heard it,” Steve said, ducking his head to hide the blush. “Working on believing it.”

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time, Stevie,” Eddie said with a sudden earnestness. “Maybe the best that ever has. And you are absolutely. Amazing.”

Steve nuzzled against his neck, curling up into Eddie’s side. It felt like home, like peace in the center of a storm. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he said teasingly, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. Eddie returned it, holding Steve close while errant stars blazed new paths through the sky above.

Eddie surprised them with tickets to the Garfield Park Conservatory, where they hadn't visited since Lettie was small enough to enjoy their Children's Garden. As Steve preferred the Lincoln Park's focus on local ecology, he supposed it made a nice change for them both. Lettie dragged them from building to building, telling Eddie all about the species she knew, and soaking up new information on the ones she didn't. Steve hung back a bit, just enjoying watching them together. He'd never dated anyone who really took the time to get to know his pup, though to be fair, his love life had been pretty barren in the years since she had been born. He just hadn't had time, between running the shop and trying to be a good parent, and honestly that had been fine.

Then Eddie happened, turning everything upside down, adding a layer of spice and color to his life that Steve hadn't even realized was missing. Eddie's presence brought a certain element of chaos, to be sure, but Steve was learning to roll with it. His new reality might be topsy turvy, but it looked brighter and more vivid than ever before.

Steve never wanted him to leave, and that was the problem. What Eddie had said on his knees that day in the shop, blissed out and face shining with slick, still hadn't left Steve's mind. As much as Steve might want him to, he knew Eddie couldn't promise to stay. Rock stars spent their lives on the road, on tours and at festivals and award shows. He didn't want to come second to a guitar.

“Mama, catch up!” Lettie called back. “It's your favorite!”

Steve wove his way over through the small crowd to where Lettie was pointing at the grouping of red and yellow prairie lilies. They were native to the area, and Steve had always been taken by their simple elegance and vibrant hues. Interspersed among them were purple coneflowers, faces turned up to the sunlight streaming down through the glass, and clumps of bright butterfly weed. Farther along in the Local Color beds were groups of columbine and aster with taller blazing star planted behind. Trout lilies mingled with foxglove before a line of cloud-like hydrangeas, bordered by a cluster of elderberry bushes.

“The lilies are your favorite?” Eddie asked, wrapping his arm around Steve's waist. He nodded, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“My grandmother kept a beautiful garden, and she had those. I always loved them.” Steve could remember in vivid detail the days spent helping in the garden, planting, watering, weeding. His love of flowers certainly didn't come from his parents.

“Violet's named after her, in a way,” Steve said, continuing at a sound of interest from Eddie. “My grandmother kept a huge collection of violets. She had a little screened in porch that got just the right kind of light, so they lived out there when the weather was decent, and inside when it got cold. She had an entire room for what my mother called her delicate things, just antiques and violets, where I wasn't supposed to go when I was little. But they were lovely.”

“Well, your Violet is lovely, just like her Mama,” Eddie said. “But I have to admit, I don't see the delicate part.”

“That's because my mother was wrong,” Steve said. “That antique furniture had been built to last, and violets are hardier than you'd think. I helped my grandmother take care of them, and some years, there would be plants that were perfectly healthy, they just didn't bloom. They can get stressed just like humans - too little of what they need, too much of what they don't, being forcibly uprooted and planted somewhere else - you get the idea.” Eddie was nodding when Steve glanced over, following along.

“But violets can be incredibly stubborn,” Steve continued. “Those plants dug in and persevered, even if they didn't have it in them to flower that season. It taught me a lot about patience, you know, all things in their own time. But also about how good it feels when your hard work and care pay off and you get to watch something blossom, to see something you love truly thrive.”

“Wow, that's —”

“Incredibly corny?” Steve interrupted a small laugh. “Yeah, I —”

“No, I think that's a beautiful way of looking at life,” Eddie said, surprising Steve into silence. “I do know what it's like to finally, finally see years of effort pay off, but a song stays pretty much the same over time. Our sound has grown and changed, hell we've grown and changed, but it's different. I'm not sure I've ever really nurtured anything.”

“Mama, I want to see the Desert House!” Violet exclaimed from just up ahead, looking at a map.

“Shall we go?” Eddie asked, offering his arm in gentlemanly fashion.

Steve took it with a smile, happy to enjoy the day with two of his three favorite people. Violet waved farewell to the columbine and foxglove, as they were her local favorites, and skipped toward the doors at the end of the greenhouse. Any thoughts of Eddie eventually leaving were banished for another time as they followed along in Violet's wake, arm in arm.

Another time came over dinner at a little hole-in-the-wall Italian place Eddie swore had the best deep dish in the city. Steve wasn't quite convinced, but it was definitely in his top 5. Eddie was telling tour stories again, and while Steve generally loved hearing about the places he'd seen and the general shenanigans the band got up to, tonight it wasn't hitting quite the same.

“...so when Jeff stuck his hand in the bag, it was nothing but toothpaste!” Eddie finished with a wicked grin. “But the point is that while we were in Singapore, weirdly enough, somebody told me about this lily that only grows in one place in the world, and I'd forgotten about it until we were at the gardens the other day. It's supposed to be this like, white and lavender bell shape -”

“The Shirui lily,” Steve filled in. “It grows in Manipur, they have a whole festival for it there.”

“I'd love to take you there, Stevie,” Eddie said. “You and the princess both, maybe for the festival. We played Mumbai, and Bangalore twice, but I never got to spend more than 24 hours in either. You know I've never even seen the Taj Mahal or Ellora? There are so many places we could go together, we could even do a rare flower tour if you wanted!”

Steve was listening, he really was, but he was also looking down at the green and white checkered tablecloth, tracing the edges of a square with his finger.

“What's wrong, baby?” he heard Eddie ask, and glanced back up.

“Nothing really,” Steve said. “I shouldn't even – never mind.”

“You can tell me anything, you know that,” Eddie replied, sounding concerned.

He probably thought it was something to do with Dick, which it very well could have been after the envelope Steve got in the mail a few days ago. Steve gnawed at his lip for a moment before coming to a decision. He could do this. He was a grown up, he could navigate a potentially difficult conversation.

“Things are great between us,” Steve said. “Wonderful, really. And I don't think it's wrong to say that even though it hasn't been that long, we're getting pretty serious.”

Eddie nodded, reaching out to take Steve's hand across the table.

“But you're going to leave on a tour and be gone for months,” Steve said, feeling his insides turn to jelly. “And I know people do long distance all the time, but – Eddie, the world out there is a lot more exciting than some flower shop on Hawthorn Street. Are you really going to want to come back to that when you've been in Paris or Tokyo or —”

“Yes,” Eddie said firmly, squeezing Steve's hand. “You have no idea how much.” Steve felt a rush of warmth in his cheeks at the fire in Eddie's gaze and had to glance away. “Besides, I can fly you out whenever you want,” Eddie continued, “just pick a city.”

Pick a city. As though it was that easy.

“Eddie,” Steve reminded him quietly. “I can't just take Violet out of school, and sometimes she really needs the whole track-out for down time, I can't just fly her all over the world and back on a whim.”

“C'mon, I'd make it educational!” Eddie said. “We could take her to Rome, or London, or Sydney —”

“And I would love to do all of that,” Steve interrupted, “but maybe a week or two in each.” He would need at least that, honestly, to make it actually educational and still fun, with enough quiet time built in for rest.

“Well then, I'll just fly you out for a little rendezvous,” Eddie said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Steve laughed at that despite himself. “Maybe,” he allowed. “I mean I'd love to, obviously, but I have responsibilities here. I can't just bail on everyone.”

“Then I'll come back as often as I can,” Eddie said more seriously, stroking his thumb over Steve's knuckles. “We can find a way to make it work, I know we can.”

“Okay,” Steve said with a smile, letting Eddie pull his hand close to press a kiss to the back. God, he loved it when Eddie did that. It was sweet and old fashioned and made his heart skip a beat every time.

“Okay?” Eddie asked, giving his hand another squeeze.

“Okay,” Steve repeated, willing to let it go for the time being, at least out loud.

He knew his mind would keep chewing on it, especially in the wee hours of the morning when he woke and couldn't go back to sleep, or had never been there to begin with. If it wasn't worry over the shop's finances, it was worry over Dick's threats, or that Eddie would go off with the band and forget all about him.

Steve knew that Eddie couldn't have really understood the full meaning of wisteria as a courting gift; they'd barely known each other then, and Eddie hadn't known Lettie at all. To give someone the blossoms from a wisteria vine was to say that you would readily entangle your life with theirs, all blessings and troubles shared alike. It wasn't a proposal, but the promise of a proposal, as in days past asking for an omega's hand was a far more formal (and public) affair. Teenaged omegas happily displaying pins from their alpha sweethearts in the 50s probably had no idea why the most common design was a dangling cluster of blooms, but Steve thought it spoke to the enduring nature of the idea, well beyond the need for the language itself.

Whether Eddie understood it completely or not, Steve knew he hadn't just included the vine on a whim. He couldn't have found it just anywhere, for starters. Eddie had been committed to courting Steve from the very beginning, speaking to him in the language Steve had built his life around, a language Eddie had to learn before he could even start. When you looked at it that way, maybe he really did think they could make it work. Maybe Steve just needed to have a little more faith in what they had.

“What do you think about dessert?” Eddie said, wearing a smile that said he'd happily order half the menu.

Steve's own smile was mischievous when he replied. “I think we should get it to go.”

Eddie cut a small bite of orange and almond polenta cake with his fork and held it out to Steve, curled up next to him on the couch. Steve opened his mouth, taking it from the fork with a smile. It was just the two of them at Steve's apartment, Violet and Aunt Robin having enjoyed a trip to the aquarium followed by an overnight at a kid-friendly spa to give Steve and Eddie a little well-deserved alone time. The cake was delicious, but not as delicious as the man feeding it to him, bite by bite.

“My turn,” Steve said, taking the fork from Eddie. Taking a sip from his still mostly full glass of Pinot Grigio, he marveled at Eddie's ability to choose excellent wine. Steve just picked whatever looked good and was in his price range at the grocery store.

Slicing off a small piece of cake covered in cream, Steve held it up to Eddie's lips. He took it in the most suggestive way possible, making Steve giggle, which of course had been his aim. He managed another bite before Eddie was taking the plate from him and setting it on the coffee table, reaching out to swipe at Steve's lips with his thumb. Sucking the crumbs and cream into his mouth, he grinned before leaning in for a kiss.

Eddie always tasted wonderful, but now Steve could taste extra layers of sweetness that made the kiss that much better. God, he loved kissing Eddie, the way their mouths seemed to align in a way he'd never found before. It sounded so foolish, but it felt true. Eddie's lips had been chapped when they'd first met, but had soon smoothed out, as if he'd started using some sort of balm, as if maybe he'd started caring. It was such a small thing, but it made Steve's heart flutter just a little to think he might've been the reason.

Before the kiss grew too deep, Eddie left off to work his way along Steve's jaw and then unexpectedly down his neck, urging him back against the cushions. Steve went easily, wrapping his arms around Eddie's shoulders. His hair was down, and it fell around Steve like a curtain as Eddie nibbled at his earlobe and pressed kisses to his cheek. Steve slid one hand up into it as Eddie's mouth reconnected with his and the world stopped, just for a little while, just for them.

The kiss moved from soft to purposeful to intense, and Steve couldn't have said how much time had passed when he realized he was rolling his hips slowly up against Eddie's, one ankle hooked over his calf. Eddie's erection was a hot, hard line as it ground against him, and desire flared in Steve's core like a bonfire. He didn't want to stop, but he did want a change of venue.

“Take me to bed,” he breathed, pulling back from the kiss just enough to get the words out.

“You sure?” Eddie asked, his words a bit shaky, but ever the gentleman still.

“Very sure,” Steve said with a small nod. He'd moved his nest from the bed to be reassembled later, which was no small task - he hadn't been entirely sure things would head in this direction, but he knew which way he wanted to steer them.

Eddie pushed himself up to his knees then offered Steve a hand, pulling him up far enough to work his hands under Steve's thin blue sweater. Steve laughed as Eddie pulled it over his head, the undershirt going with it, static crackling. He tossed it over the arm of the couch and Steve took the opportunity to lean in and work on the buttons of Eddie’s shirt, a dark gray and red pinstripe that looked absolutely delicious on him. Steve almost hated to take it off - almost.

Eddie obligingly worked his arms out of it when Steve tugged it down over his shoulders, getting it a bit caught at the wrists. It was funny, Steve thought, the way he'd come to appreciate Eddie's tattoos. He hadn't been sure about them at first, having only dated someone with a few words of ink before, but they were a part of Eddie, most of the vivid imagery meaningful to him.

He had confessed that a few, like the Cheshire cat and the sugar skull were just because they looked cool. But worked into his skin were constellations, references to his favorite novels, even song lyrics. The script Steve had vaguely recognized from his trip through Middle Earth with Violet last year echoed the elf's words from in the forest, about a guiding light, and Steve thought that was lovely.

Now he was seeing even more of the beautiful patterns than ever before; a sword on his sternum, a vibrant green dragon peeking out above his waistband. Some were silly, or a little bit alarming, like the zombie and the black window spider, but Steve supposed they couldn't all be works of art. In a fit of mischief, Steve flicked one of Eddie's nipples while he was distracted, and he sucked in a surprised breath. Eddie’s revenge was to tickle Steve's sides, and he dodged away, jumping up from the couch to race into the bedroom.

“There's no escape,” Eddie warned, following close behind.

Steve soon found himself tackled to the bed, albeit gently, and rolled onto his back. Eddie pressed a fierce kiss to his lips before going to work on his belt, unfastening it with ease. He struggled a bit with the clasp on Steve's dress slacks, set off to one side and hidden behind a thin panel of fabric, but managed to work that open as well. Pressing a soft kiss to Steve's navel, Eddie worked the zipper down, and paused, slowly pulling back the sides of the khaki fabric.

Steve held his breath as Eddie worked his slacks down little by little, exposing the panties he'd bought especially for tonight. The panties that Eddie was now lightly running his fingers over, mostly lace with satin panels on the side, and a large peony worked into the center. He'd chosen the color to mimic the orchids Eddie had given him, thriving on a low shelf near the east-facing window in the living room.

“Like what you see?” Steve asked, his attempt at sounding coy somewhat ruined by the laughter in his tone.

“You better believe it,” Eddie said, pressing a kiss just above the waistband. “These are beautiful. Let me see all of them.

Steve obligingly wiggled out of his slacks with Eddie's help, not even caring when he tossed them to the floor. Eddie nuzzled at the lace, leaving soft kisses as he went. Slipping one hand between Steve's legs, he stroked at the silky fabric between them, already growing damp. Steve pressed back against his fingers, encouraging him, loving the feel of it through the soft material. Eddie stroked up against his clit from below with his thumb and Steve let out a gasp that felt like it had been waiting in his throat for just the right moment. He did it again and Steve rocked his hips into the touch, seeking more.

Eddie obliged, moving his thumb in slow circles while his fingers stroked back and forth below, curling slowly forward. Licking and nipping at the skin just above the elastic band, Eddie dragged his tongue over the places where it stung and buried his nose in the soft trail of hair below Steve's navel. He breathed in deep, the fingers of his free hand toying with the lacy waistband while his other hand drove Steve steadily wild.

When he couldn't take it anymore, needing to feel Eddie's touch against his skin, those talented fingers and brilliant mouth, Steve shoved at the lace, pushing it down over his hips. Eddie helped, peeling them off and lifting Steve's knees to get them over each ankle, removing his socks as well.

“Have I mentioned that you have an absolutely gorgeous pussy?” Eddie asked, moving back in to run his thumb up the slit.

“You might've said something along those lines,” Steve replied, spots of color rising high on his cheeks.

“Well I'm saying it again,” Eddie stated, pulling an elastic band from his pocket and tying his hair back. “Steve Harrington, you have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen. It's gorgeous.”

Steve squirmed a bit at the praise until Eddie began moving his thumb in those maddeningly slow circles again just above where Steve wanted it, making him squirm for an altogether different reason. Steve loved and hated the spot; it built pleasure slowly, steadily, but right now his clit was desperate to be touched. Reading his mind, Eddie ducked his head and licked along the line where Steve's lips met, prying them gently apart. He worked his way back up and dragged his tongue over the swollen nub, lengthening from his attentions, then did it again.

Steve made a sound he almost didn't recognize as coming from his own mouth. It felt amazing, the sensations only amplified when Eddie began circling his entrance with one finger. His cunt clenched down around nothing, wanting to be filled. When Eddie swirled his tongue around his clit, then took it into his mouth and gently sucked, Steve knew he was close.

“Wait, wait,” he begged, breaths ragged and short. Eddie pulled back, taking his hand away and looking up at Steve in alarm. Steve whined a little at the loss of his touch, but got himself under control enough to speak. “Want to come with you inside me.”

Eddie's face transformed from worry to eagerness with a bit of a wicked smile. “I've got something in my wallet, let me just —”

“Top drawer,” Steve said, gesturing to the bedside dresser he couldn't quite reach. When Eddie leaned over him, Steve couldn't resist flicking his tongue over one nipple, enjoying the jolt of surprise that ran through him.

“Not fair,” Eddie complained, but he was laughing.

“It was right there!” Steve said in his own defense.

Eddie shook his head, opening the drawer. Steve heard the crinkle of the foil strip, but also a considering hum. “So this is my competition, huh?” Eddie said, and Steve instantly regretted not getting the condoms himself. In his haze of arousal, he had momentarily forgotten what else he kept in the top drawer.

Holding up his favorite rabbit, Eddie turned it on, the settings saved from the last time Steve had used it. The textured shaft rotated as it thrust, the thick rabbit ears vibrating for all they were worth. Steve felt heat rising in his face, but he refused to be embarrassed by his boyfriend finding his best alone time companion. Well, next to the silicone rose that could quietly suck his soul out through his clit.

“I'm honestly pretty intimidated,” Eddie said, cutting it off.

“Can't a girl have a little privacy?” Steve said, filling every syllable with sarcasm.

“It was right there!” Eddie threw back with a wink.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said. “Put that down and get back here.”

“As you wish,” Eddie said, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of Steve's nose.

“You're wearing too many clothes,” Steve said, fumbling with the button on Eddie's dress slacks. They fit him so well, Steve had been eyeing him all night whenever they weren't sitting down. Eddie sat back on his heels, making it easier for Steve to work them open and drag the zipper slowly, ever so slowly down. It was Eddie's turn to squirm as Steve teased, eventually reaching the bottom and stroking his fingers up his substantial erection before shoving the slacks off his hips.

Eddie took them the rest of the way off and lifted Steve's chin when he angled himself downward to mouth at his boxer briefs. “If you get your mouth on me, I swear I'll come,” he explained at Steve's confused expression. “And in the interest of honoring your request…”

He trailed off, holding up a foil square. Tugging down his briefs, Steve watched as his cock slapped back against his abdomen, flushed and hard, nearly purple at the tip. It was also fucking huge, even bigger than it seemed when they ignored a movie on the couch and Eddie would get hard in his jeans. Taking the packet, Steve opened it after a brief struggle, then rolled the rubber down, earning a soft sigh from Eddie as his eyes drifted shut, his head tilted slightly back. Stroking it from root to tip and back down a few times, Steve only stopped when Eddie interrupted him with a barely audible growl, pushing him down until Steve ended up on his back.

“Hell yeah,” Steve said as Eddie hooked one arm under Steve's knee and lifted it up. He used his free hand to guide his cock into Steve’s waiting hole, throbbing with need and dripping with slick. He thrust slowly at first, letting Steve get used to the stretch. Steve arched his neck against the pillow, feeling a slight, sharp pain as his body made a brief protest, then settled into a pleasant sort of burn. Eddie moved in and out, in and out, raising Steve's other leg beneath the knee once he was far enough inside.

“Oh,” Steve gasped at the new angle, the sound punched out of him as Eddie's cock reached deeper than before.

It ground against that spot he'd found in the back room of the shop, where they absolutely should not have been messing around, but that had honestly been part of the fun. Sensation washed over him in waves and shot through him like an electric pulse, all at the same time. Reality faded out as Eddie rubbed past it with his cockhead, over and over again and before Steve knew it, his body was seizing up, eyes squeezing shut as his hips bucked roughly twice, then three times. The best orgasm of his life crashed over and through him, head to toe, golden sparks dancing in his vision when his eyes at last fluttered open.

Eddie leaned in, nearly bending the omega's body double as he thrust harder and harder, chasing his own pleasure. Steve encouraged the aftershocks that spasmed around Eddie's cock, clenching down and releasing as the rhythm of his hips began to stutter. His tongue licked and swirled around Steve's bonding gland, sending new shockwaves of sensation straight down to his still-throbbing cunt. Sealing his lips over it and sucking hard, Eddie's hips slammed into Steve twice and stayed there as his cock jerked deep inside. Steve could feel it, and some part of him wished he could feel Eddie's hot, liquid release with nothing between them.

Steve's eyes went wide as he felt a sharp prick against his skin. Teeth, he thought, no, fangs. My alpha is claiming me, he's going to knot me and claim me tonight. Nothing else had ever felt quite so right in all of Steve’s life. He gave a pleased hum, baring his neck, only to be left wanting when Eddie pulled away.

“I'm sorry!” Eddie exclaimed, rolling off of Steve and clamping a hand firmly over his mouth after he spoke.

“You're – sorry?” Steve said in confusion, rolling onto his side to face Eddie.

“Can't get them to go down,” Eddie mumbled, moving a couple of fingers. “Didn’t mean to – god, Steve, I almost bit you!”

Almost. Didn't mean to. His alpha didn't want him.

“So all that at dinner, about making it work, about being serious, was that just bullshit?” Steve asked, feeling as though he'd been slapped.

“What?” Eddie said, sounding just as confused. “Of course not!”

“And the orchids? The fucking wisteria? Was that your idea of a joke, Eddie? Because —”

Eddie cut him off with a soft kiss, fangs pricking Steve's lower lip but not hard enough to draw blood. “You know I love you,” he said, pulling back just far enough to rest his forehead against Steve's, the room silent save for their unquiet breaths. “But I honestly don't know how you feel about me.”

Steve's lips parted, but his thoughts were all tangled in his throat and no sounds came out. When he did manage to find his voice again, he went with the obvious. “Eddie, I've accepted every courting gift you've given me. I'm wearing the necklace right now. When I felt your teeth, I bared my throat to you, how do you think I feel?”

“I'm not a mind-reader,” Eddie said, gently stroking Steve's cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I'm a songwriter, I'm pretty fond of words, actually.”

Steve searched Eddie's face for a long moment, wishing he had a dozen red roses, no, two dozen, to shove against Eddie's chest. Anyone would understand that. Words, Steve, he reminded himself. Just tell him.

“Eddie, I —”

The jingle of keys in the front door had him sitting up bolt upright mid-sentence. It could only be Robin – or Ethel, but the latter seemed unlikely. Something had to be wrong.

“Steve?” Robin called out from the entryway, her voice drawing closer as she continued to speak. “You weren't answering so we just came home, Vivi had a really bad nightmare and needs her Mama. God, I really hope you're here. And also decent.”

“Be right there, hang on,” Steve called back.

Scrambling out of bed, Steve grabbed a pair of briefs from the dresser and ducked out the door into the bathroom to hastily clean himself up. Returning to grab his softest, fluffiest robe, he found Eddie sitting on the side of the bed in a pair of his own plaid pajama pants, shoving one of Steve's undershirts over his head.

“Just so I'm decent,” Eddie explained with a shrug. “I'll give you guys some space.”

Steve nodded, grateful to Eddie for understanding instead of potentially feeling shut out. He had a feeling he knew what had caused the nightmare, and it was squarely his fault for leaving the envelope out where Lettie could find it. Heading back out into the short hallway, he saw his daughter sitting on the floor in her Eevee pajamas, backed up to the couch with Robin crouched down in front of her, holding both her hands and speaking softly.

“Hey babygirl,” Steve said quietly, emerging into the living room.

Violet's head turned in his direction, and she scrambled over to him, hugging his waist. Steve pried her loose just long enough to settle down on his knees and give her a proper hug, holding her tight. She ran her hands over the soft material of the robe, nuzzling at Steve's neck. He scented her, rubbing his wrist everywhere he could reach before gently rocking her back and forth as he stroked her hair. Violet reached an arm out blindly in Robin's direction, and she shuffled over, pressing a kiss to Violet's crown before rubbing small circles against her back.

“It's okay now,” Steve said as Lettie sniffled against his shoulder, her tears absorbed by a layer of thick blue fluff. “Whatever you were dreaming about got left behind when you woke up, okay?”

“And if it didn't, I'll fight it,” Eddie promised from the hallway. “I'm your knight, remember?”

So much for giving them space. Curiously enough, Steve honestly didn't mind. It felt right to have Eddie backing him up, right for him to be here now, for this.

“Eddie,” Violet called over to him, reaching out a hand past Steve's shoulder.

Steve watched the scene play out with a strange sense of wonder. It was one thing for him to feel that comfortable with Eddie, but for Violet? It bordered on miraculous. Glancing back, he saw Eddie's questioning gaze leveled at him, so Steve nodded his head. He thought about the flower crown, thought about hollyhocks, and wondered why he hadn't put it together before.

Eddie was at Steve's side in what felt like an instant, kneeling beside him. He took her outstretched hand, and Steve saw Lettie squeeze it hard before bringing it to her neck and rubbing his wrist there. He heard the sharp intake of breath from Eddie and Robin both, and watched Eddie's eyes grow moist. Violet rubbed his wrist on her cheek before leaning in so both of their arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

Steve exchanged a wondering glance with Robin, who then turned it on Eddie, and back to Steve, her free hand covering her mouth. He could still see the smile she wore there in the shape of her cheeks and the shine in her eyes. He knew what Robin was thinking. Their little pack of three had grown by one.

“I really wish you'd just tell me where we're going,” Steve said, running his fingers along the blindfold.

“That would ruin the surprise,” Eddie said playfully, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Besides, we're almost there.”

The car made a right turn, then a fairly quick left, before coming to a smooth stop. Steve heard Eddie's seat belt disengage, then felt his own relax as Eddie pushed the button beside him. Letting the belt retract, Eddie gave him a light, lingering kiss before loosening the blindfold.

Steve smiled as Eddie pulled away, waiting a moment to open his eyes. When he did, he wasn't sure he was reading the name on the sign properly through the drizzling rain, the lights distorted through the window. “Eddie,” he asked. “Is this —”

“Magnolia?” Eddie said with a grin. “It just might be. Let's go find out.” Eddie opened the door and stepped out, extending a hand down to Steve.

“You kids have fun, now,” Deacon said from the driver's seat, and Steve laughed.

“We'll do our best,” he promised.

The smile never left his face as he exited the Bentley, rushing hand in hand with Eddie across the sidewalk to duck under the awning. The line at coat check was short, and then Eddie was holding one of the main doors into the club proper open for him. That was his gentleman alpha.

The Magnolia was a retro-styled dance club, playing music from the twenties through the forties, and occasionally playing a song for a particular dance: waltz, foxtrot, quickstep. Steve had been wanting to go since it opened a year ago, but Robin had two left feet, and Steve's love life had been heading absolutely nowhere. Eddie hadn't seemed particularly interested either when Steve had brought it up, but as it came out over drinks, he'd apparently already been conspiring with Robin.

It wasn't much of a surprise that Eddie could dance, but it was a surprise that he could waltz without mauling Steve's feet. He said something about learning for a music video, followed by a comment about dance teachers and flexibility that earned him a dirty look from Steve before they both laughed, losing their place in the steps.

“Having a good time?” Eddie asked when they took a break for drinks at the bar.

“I'm having a wonderful time,” Steve said, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for this.”

“You'd be having a better time with me, omega,” a voice broke in from off to Steve's right. He glanced toward it reflexively, moving away at the same time. The speaker was roughly his build, if a little older, slumped over the bar next to him nursing a pint. His scent hit Steve like a brick to the face.

“I think you missed the sign,” Steve said, pointing at the plaque over the door reading PATCHES REQUIRED.

“Nah, baby,” he said. “They're just no match for top shelf alpha pheromones like mine.”

“That's really unfortunate,” Steve replied, turning back toward Eddie.

He was surprised to see Eddie glaring at the other alpha, brow wrinkled in consternation. Steve put one hand gently on his arm and shook his head, as if to say not worth it. A true wordsmith, when Eddie really got going in a good insult war it could be hilarious, as his mind was just that much faster than your average bar patron. Somehow, Steve had a feeling this alpha didn't really like big words, and he would rather just avoid a scene if they could.

Sipping his vodka tonic, Steve drew Eddie's attention back with compliments on his dance moves and even asking for details on that waltz instructor. Eddie made the story a comedy at his own expense, and Steve grinned, teasing him about the details. Every so often, the other alpha would lean a bit closer and comment, touting his own superiority with painfully minty breath. Steve ignored him until he couldn't, until he turned and snapped his teeth in the man's leering face.

Turning back around, Steve plastered his smile back on a second too late. Eddie's face was dark as he stared past Steve at the other alpha, emitting a low growl. Steve couldn't help but notice that the glass at Eddie's elbow was empty when the bartender had just brought him his second Manhattan.

“Eddie,” Steve said in a loud whisper, leaning in close and pressing a hand to his chest. “Stop it, you're going to get us kicked out.”

The noise obediently ceased and Eddie looked away, seeming sheepish. “Sorry, I – you want to just go?”

“It's late anyway,” Steve agreed.

A hand landed on his thigh from off to his right and Steve flinched, sliding off the stool to lean in over the bar. “Excuse me,” he called to one of the bartenders, a note of urgency in his tone. “We need to settle our tab.”

“Come to your senses?” the offending alpha asked, leaning in far too close. God, he stank. “Gonna ditch that loser for a real —”

“Get back,” Steve snarled, elbowing him in the side.

And that was when all hell broke loose.

Chapter Text

💐🎸

Eddie's fist collided with the asshole's jaw hard enough to hear a crack over the general din of the bar. The interloper staggered back, away from Steve, and then there was silence in the room except for the roaring of blood in Eddie's ears. Everything was tilted a bit sideways, the lights gone slightly red around the edges when the foolish creature spoke.

“The fuck?” It kept opening and closing his mouth wide, its hand covering the side of its face where Eddie's punch had connected. “I think you broke my jaw!”

“Not if you can still run your mouth,” Eddie growled. “I'll have to try harder.”

“Eddie, what the hell?” Steve's voice broke through his anger, and Eddie turned to look at him, only to see his omega recoil. He whined, confused. Surely Steve understood that a good alpha protected his —

He saw the fist in his peripheral vision and caught it before it could connect, twisting it and by extension the arm it belonged to. The cry of pain drew his attention away from Steve as he turned to face the pathetic creature fully. It had sunk to its knees, making a bleating sound as it begged for Eddie to release its arm. Knowing that part of it was no longer a threat, Eddie did, watching it fall limp to the beast’s side with satisfaction.

Then it grinned, baring a set of fangs that would have been impressive if Eddie's weren't larger, and lunged for him. Realizing it was aiming for his center of gravity to throw him off balance, Eddie waited, taking a step back once it was too committed to the move to reconsider. Swiftly raising his knee, he caught the pathetic excuse for an alpha in the chest with an audible crunch. Eddie frowned. He'd been aiming for its neck.

The blow still had the intended effect as the offending creature staggered backward, bent nearly double. Eddie followed, grabbing the alpha by the hair and yanking its neck back until it was facing him. He bared his fangs, grown longer, feeling sharper in his mouth than he'd ever noticed them before. Good.

“Eddie! Eddie, stop!” Steve's voice filtered dimly through the red haze, sounding thin and far away. He registered a light pressure on his arm, but it wasn't important, not when the beast who had so foolishly dared to lay a hand on his omega after Steve told him no was sinking to its knees and baring its throat in submission.

Good alpha, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Protected. Omega safe. But the pounding of his heart, the rush of blood and adrenaline in his veins didn't want to listen. Didn't want to stop with the beast's submission.

So he threw a punch. And then another. And then the other alpha was rising to its feet, covering its bloody face with its hands and trying to flee, the coward. Eddie tried to pursue it, only to find himself caught like an insect in a web, hands tugging at his arms to hold him back. He struggled, hissing and spitting, watching his quarry escape, but there was nothing for it.

A scent washed over him then, sweet with a dash of spice, and the throbbing, insistent red that flooded his senses began to recede. He reached out for it slowly, his limbs moving as if underwater, gently bringing it closer to his nose. Apple blossoms in full bloom. Cinnamon. The barest hint of oranges.

“Omega,” he murmured, lowering Steve's wrist to his lips and kissing the scent gland there, laving his tongue across it. “Safe now.”

“I was never in danger,” came a furious growl in response and Eddie flinched away from it, his startlement enough to allow the hands gripping his arms to propel him forward toward the doors. Yes. Yes, that was where the sorry creature had turned tail and run to save its useless hide, though now – now, Eddie found himself far less inclined to pursuit.

He allowed the monolithic alphas to either side guide him from the bar, even aided them by not resisting, moving of his own free will, one foot in front of the other. His omega's scent was beside him until suddenly it wasn't, and Eddie craned his neck, trying to locate him amid the gathered throng. Lights flashed, burning afterimages in his vision and he closed his eyes, trying to shake them off.

Then they were outside, the chill, damp air sending a shudder through his frame. The burly men to either side shoved him forward, slightly out of sync with one another, and Eddie stumbled as rain drops tangled in his hair. His heart still pounded fiercely against his ribs, but his vision was gradually returning to normal.

“You're blacklisted,” one of them said in a gruff voice. “You and your boyfriend both, so don't even think about coming back.”

Eddie shivered, the scent of apples and warm cinnamon fading. Where was his - where was Steve? All the strength left his body at once and Eddie's knees gave way beneath him, sending him crashing down to the pavement. Crawling back toward the wall, he leaned against the sturdy brick facade, bits of mortar digging into his back. It would have to be an historic building.

Brushing strands of wet hair from his face, Eddie realized it must have come loose when he – god, had he really started a bar fight when Steve was there? What had he been thinking, what was Steve going to think of him now? What would Wayne think of him, if he knew? Eddie hadn't done anything that stupid since he was twenty three and high on his first taste of success. He certainly hadn't gone feral and beaten anyone to a pulp.

This had been different. Something had come over him, brutal and ancient, something rising from his base brain to override his better sense and judgment. It had never happened before, not when Eddie was out with other dates or when someone insulted the band, not even when he was drunk or high on any number of things. Tonight he had been utterly out of control, and it scared him like nothing else in his life ever had.

Glancing down, Eddie saw the evidence of his rampage. His shirt was untucked and spattered with red, the knuckles on his right fist split clean open. His palms hurt, and turning his hands over, Eddie saw four gouges in each, as if made by claws. He had really hurt someone tonight, probably could have killed them, and for what? Hitting on his boyfriend? Sure, that wasn't cool, but —

Something smacked into him from the side and Eddie growled, fighting with what he eventually recognized as a lengthy piece of gabardine. His trench coat. Wrapping it around him from the front, Eddie looked in the direction it had come from to see Steve beneath the awning of the club, tapping out something on his phone.

“Steve?” Eddie tried, his voice sounding weak to his own ears. “Steve? I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened in there, I've never —”

“Stop.” Steve spoke without looking up, his fingers on the phone never ceasing their movement.

“Steve,” Eddie whined, the sound issuing from deep in his chest in a way he'd hadn't even known it could.

“Just stop, Eddie,” Steve said, dropping the phone to his side as he looked up. Eddie thought that rain was dripping onto his cheeks until it processed that Steve was standing beneath cover. “I knew better,” he continued, his voice hoarse. “I knew that getting involved with you was a bad idea, that it would only hurt us in the long run, but I convinced myself —”

“Never wanted to hurt you, Stevie,” Eddie said, pulling the jacket close around him to stop the shaking that had started in his limbs. “Either of you. I lo—”

“To think,” Steve interrupted, taking a step toward him, then another as he spoke. “I was worried about your fans doing something crazy and putting Violet in danger. But it was you, Eddie,” Steve continued, swallowing hard around the words. “You were the danger to us all along.”

Eddie curled in on himself, hearing the pitiful noise that issued from somewhere inside him echoing again and again with every harsh breath. “No,” he protested, shaking his head. “I only want to keep her safe, keep both of you —”

“Great fucking job you did of that tonight,” Steve said, almost taunting, his footsteps stopping several feet away. “You're lucky I kept them from calling the cops, or the story would be everywhere before morning. Hell, it may be anyway. Christ.”

Eddie lifted his head to see Steve covering his face with his hand, then running it through his hair, damp from the steadily drizzling rain. He wasn't looking at Eddie, staring out at the passing cars instead. His words might have been callous, but his expression was blank. It was his scent that betrayed him, even through the heavy fog.

Regret, sour as a lemon left to rot. Smoke rising from a banked fire as his fury built slowly, kept carefully in check.

“If my father gets wind of this,” Steve was saying, “if any of those pictures end up on the internet or in some tabloid rag, I'm done for.” He shook his head, his voice too level, the blank expression holding. “I might as well hand Lettie over to Chance and his pretty little wife and their white picket fence.”

“What are you talking about?” Eddie rose slowly to his feet, or tried to, stumbling a bit. Wrapping the coat around his shoulders, he took a hesitant step toward Steve.

“Don't,” Steve said, taking a step back. His eyes flashed a perfect sky blue around the iris, beautiful enough to make Eddie stop and stare until Steve's warning sunk in. “And just forget it.”

“No,” Eddie said, struggling to speak through the tangle of misery and confusion in his brain. His omega didn't want him. His omega was keeping secrets. “Tell me —”

“You really think you deserve to know anything after your behavior tonight?” It sounded as though Steve was disciplining a child, but Eddie supposed he deserved that.

Eddie took another step closer, almost involuntary, desperate to reach Steve and make him understand. Steve let out a growl from deep in his throat, baring his fangs with a hiss. They were small, nothing like Eddie's, but he stopped anyway, ducking his head in submission. It was as plain a signal as he had ever gotten from anyone, and it hurt more than just about anything he could remember.

They stood in silence for another few minutes as Eddie watched the rain drip down Steve's hair and onto his face. He offered his jacket, failing to notice that Steve was holding his own without even bothering to put it on. Steve kept holding one hand over his phone to check the screen, clearly waiting on someone, as Eddie knew Steve would never get in a car with him tonight.

A Toyota eventually pulled up, the rideshare logo glowing in the window, and Eddie's heart sank. He had been hoping Robin would come to pick him up so Eddie could count on Steve getting home safely. Pausing with one hand on the open car door, Steve turned back to him.

“Stay away from my family, Ed,” he said. “I don't want to ever hear from you again.”

Eddie might as well have swallowed a lead weight, or maybe several. He stared down at the pavement as the car pulled away from the curb with a puff of steam from the exhaust pipe, watching drops of rain splash onto the asphalt. It didn't make sense, Steve getting into a stranger's car without him. It didn't make sense that Eddie had shamed them both with his behavior in the club. Nothing about this night made any sense at all.

Shrugging on his trench coat, Eddie stepped out into the street, heedless of the screeching tires or horns blared in his direction. They were only so much white noise in the fabric of the night, distractions woven into the landscape. He moved through the city without purpose, directionless, uncaring of the consequences he invited.

Tonight should have been special. He had been so close to telling Steve everything he had been working on behind the scenes, everything that was finally starting to come together and work in his favor. Their favor. Eddie hadn't bought a ring yet, was thinking maybe he and Steve could go looking together for a matched set of woven mating bands, once he had declared his intentions. If everything had gone well tonight, he might have —

Eddie supposed it didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered now, not after what he had done.

Eddie pulled open a battered wooden door beneath a neon sign simply advertising BAR. Settling in at the counter, he ordered beer after beer until closing time, until the owner ushered him outside and called him a cab, locking up behind him. It was raining in earnest now, great peals of thunder rolling across the sky on the tail of each crack of lightning, and he was soaked by the time the cab arrived.

He didn't remember getting home, or taking off his coat and shoes before falling fully clothed into bed. It was Sunday morning when Eddie woke, according to his phone, and it had been Friday when he took the love of his life out dancing. His notifications showed fourteen missed calls, twenty-nine texts, and way too high a number to bother with from the group chat. Scrolling through, Eddie saw that not a single one was from Steve.

Five of them were from Robin, however, and that seemed like a reasonable place to start. Eddie had never regretted a decision so quickly in his life as he did tapping on that conversation.

How dare you. How fucking dare you.

Do you have any idea what you've done?

Those pictures are everywhere, you look like an animal, Eddie. What would Violet think of you if she saw those?

Not that it matters, there's no way Steve will ever let you near her again.

For however long he has her, anyway. Those pictures of you going apeshit on some guy pretty much guaranteed he's going to lose her.

what do you mean by that, Eddie typed, finally managing to send six whole words without typos after several tries. Steve said something but he wouldn't explain, Eddie added after several minutes went by without a response.

Checking the timestamp, he realized her last text had been from early Saturday. Great. Eddie must have drifted lightly in and out of sleep after that, because the eventual chirp from the phone on his chest actually woke him up this time when she replied.

Not that you deserve to know, but this isn't just about money anymore. Turns out Chance has a wife who can't have pups, and she wants Vivi. They have a nice little white picket fence life and Steve has a disaster like you. Guess which way a court is going to decide?

Eddie dropped the phone beside him on the bed, covering his face with both hands. It didn't take a genius like Robin to answer that question. Everything since dancing with Steve at the club was a blur, and Eddie struggled to sort through it, trying to understand how any of it could have happened at all.

He knew he could never make it up to Steve, that they were done. No matter how many apologetic bouquets of flowers he sent, no matter how many grand gestures or romantic overtures he made, nothing was going to wipe the violence Steve had witnessed from his mind. Nothing would ever make him feel safe around Eddie again, and that begged the question – was anyone truly safe around him?

The thought of having to isolate himself from everyone he knew and loved, from the guys in the band to their fans, having to give up on his dream, all because of a newly discovered feral streak was both painful and terrifying. Then again, it had never happened before he met Steve, and as he wasn't likely to feel that soul-deep connection with anyone else in this lifetime, it might be a moot point.

The tiniest spark of an idea flared to life in the recesses of his mind and Eddie fed it, poking at it until it grew bright enough to see. He couldn't win Steve back, wasn't foolish enough or selfish enough to try, but there might be something Eddie could do to help before he retired to a hermit cave for the rest of his life. Nodding to himself, he threw back the covers and dragged himself out of bed, staggering into the shower. He needed a clear head if he was going to make this work.

Eddie's meeting that morning was the last time he could say he had a clear head for the next week at least. Jeff kept getting pissed at him during practice sessions for the upcoming Terminus Mayhem charity show, coming in late or too early, missing half of his cues and fucking up his riffs. Frankie kept questioning if he'd eaten, was he drinking enough water, but Gareth straight up asked Eddie if he was on something.

He was glad the guys were mostly unphased by what happened at the club, though of course they hadn't been there to witness it. They seemed to write it off as a bar scuffle, blown out of proportion by scandal-hungry tabloids and low-tier influencers, chomping at the bit to see a beloved icon fall from grace. Eddie was grateful the band didn't treat him any differently, or else he might have just walked into traffic. Again.

Eddie tried harder to deserve their unthinking trust, drank more coffee, set alarms to remind himself to eat and carried around a water bottle. None of it helped. He either wasn't sleeping for days at a time, or sleeping for an entire day straight and missing things the label considered “important,” like some stupid magazine interview he would have just half-assed his way through anyway.

He was exhausted and looked the part, dark puffy bags beneath his eyes, his skin gone sallow. He wove a crooked path when he walked, and laughed at things that weren't funny, including his own bad jokes. There were shadows at the edges of his vision that seemed to grow daily. He tried to pay attention when people were talking, tried to listen, but sometimes it was like their words were in a language he couldn't recognize. His hands shook, his vision slipped in and out of focus, and sometimes the world just faded into so much static

At least his meeting with the music label's legal team had eventually borne fruit, shriveled and black as it was for Eddie. It would be freshly ripe for Steve and Violet, and that was what mattered, in the end. He wished he could have helped them fight off the dragon at their gate in any other way, but Eddie had only one good weapon left in the armory and he would be damned if he wasn't going to use it on their behalf.

The day of the benefit show arrived and Eddie was of course late for sound check, having nearly wrecked his bike on the way over. He was thankful their instruments were all brought together on a separate truck, packed up safe and sound, or he might have lost his sweetheart with her strapped to his back like the early days. Jeff laid into him in front of God and every sound tech, and Eddie knew he deserved it, so he just stood there with his head bowed and took it.

That was, until he mentioned Steve. Eddie's head snapped up, a low growl held back as a sort of warning rumble in his chest. He could feel his eyes flashing a warning shade of gold as Jeff continued, heedless of what he was drawing out in Eddie by bringing up his biggest failure, the absolute greatest fuckup of his life. Steve had been Eddie's best shot at happiness, the accidental meeting that was somehow meant to be, and he ruined it. He was as angry at himself, as disappointed in his own behavior as Jeff was in him, but that didn't mean he had to take it from a friend.

“...we all get dumped, man. It's time to move the fuck on and get it together. You're embarrassing yourself, and you're going to embarrass us.”

“Jeff, c'mon man, give him a break,” Frankie said, one hand on Jeff's shoulder. “It was a rough one, we've all been there. Remember Kali? You lived on Cap'n Crunch for like two weeks, and slept for twelve hours at a time. We had to beg you to shower.”

Jeff had the decency to look embarrassed, especially when Gareth came over with a cup of coffee. “Stupid amount of sugar, no cream,” he said, handing it over.

“Thanks, man,” Eddie said, his throat tight. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry,” he said, turning back to Jeff. “I know I'm a mess. I keep trying to fix it and it just gets worse.”

“Maybe you should talk to someone,” Frankie suggested. “Like, with a degree in that, I mean.”

Eddie blanched at the thought. Therapy was great, he was sure, it was just for other people.

“Or go see a doctor,” Jeff suggested. “We're worried about you, man.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I uh – I might do that,” he lied.

“Check one, two,” came voice over the loudspeaker, turned low so it only reached the stage. “Can we get your drums?”

Gareth jogged over to his set, and from there it was a flurry of activity until the first band took the stage that afternoon. They hung out in a trailer most of the time - well, all of the time for Eddie, who took a raincheck on listening to the other bands, much to the guys’ disbelief.

“Eddie, man, Ectophasm is on next, you fucking love them,” Jeff said.

“‘M tired,” Eddie said, drinking iced coffee from his water bottle. Frankie gave him a worried frown, but left him to it, at least for another hour.

They retrieved him when Cicada Scream were halfway through their set to get prepped and ready to make the switch as quick and painless as possible. It was already late, and there was still one band after them, much to Gareth's annoyance.

“I'm just saying we should have been headlining,” he complained. “I know Nox Assembly had a breakthrough year or whatever, but -”

“Let it go, Gare-bear. It's a fundraiser for Saint fucking Jude's, you really want to be a cunt about the lineup?” Frankie ruffled his hair, and Gareth swatted at him.

“Whatever man. Shit, that's us. Go time!”

Eddie shook off the black cloud that clung to him as he raced up the back stairs to the stage, grinning and waving to the crowd as though he was a real live person before they went through their set up protocols. Before he knew it they were ready, the lights went down, and they waited through several seconds of cheering from the crowd before Frankie struck a reverberating note on his bass and Gareth kicked in with the drums. The lights swung up across the sea of fans in their signature red and orange, sweeping across the crowd as Eddie made his cue and came in with the melody line right on time.

He made it through three songs like that, feeling the rhythm of Gareth's drumming, Frankie's bass lines, and losing himself in the lyrics he wrote, executed masterfully in Jeff's amazing vocal talent. He relied on muscle memory for his own parts, floating on the roaring of the crowd until suddenly, in the break between Fireball and Leviathan Sleeps, the world slipped sideways. The stage lighting turned a deep, wavering blue as planned, but began to go gray at the edges for Eddie as his muscles all gave out at once. The stage rushed up to meet him, rattling his bones all the way to his teeth with the shock of impact. The last thing he remembered was the harsh squeal of feedback and the crunch of his guitar as everything went black.

Chapter Text

💐🎸

The morning before Eddie Munson collapsed on stage in front of thousands of people, Steve and Violet's breakfast was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Steve rose from the table and answered it, signing for the envelope the courier held out with a sick feeling of dread. What new hell was he about to set loose?

He hoped it wasn't pressed flowers. After finding the dried bundle of forget-me-nots hanging from the doorknob several days ago, something inside Steve had shriveled up right along with them. He'd thrown them away before Lettie could see.

Tearing open the cardboard strip at the top of the envelope, Steve pulled out several official looking court documents and wilted, knowing he would need Robin to read them over later. Steve didn't know what the hell else the county could be sending him; he’d received the court summons and formal complaint a week ago. The custody hearing wasn't for another month yet, days Steve knew would be counted in skipped meals, sleepless nights, and nails bitten down to the quick.

Flipping through the packet as if he had any hope of understanding its contents, one sheet in particular stood out from the rest. Bold letters near the top read Affidavit of Voluntary Relinquishment of Parental Rights, signed and dated by one Chance Westerfield. Steve's knees gave out as the full scope of the document sank in and he slid all the way down to the hardwood paneling, his back pressed up against the door.

There was only one explanation, only one person Steve actually knew with the kind of money to throw around that could have made this possible. But why would Eddie bother? Steve had made it clear that they were finished, that he couldn't trust Eddie around Violet anymore. He had been so shocked and scared and hurt that night, Steve had turned that pain outward and said some pretty terrible things.

Then again, Eddie had flown into a rage and beaten a man to a pulp in front of him, all because the man got a little too flirty. That had been pretty terrible to witness.

“Mama?” Violet called out at the noise, wandering into the front hall to investigate. “Why are you crying?”

Steve beckoned her over and pulled her into his lap, setting the papers off to one side. “Because I just got some really good news,” he replied, letting her wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“You're not sad?” she asked.

“Maybe a little,” Steve admitted. “But that's weird grown-up stuff. I'm happy because these papers right here mean no one is ever gonna try to take you away from me again.”

Violet's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Really?” she asked.

“Really,” Steve confirmed.

Violet threw her arms around his neck and clung there tightly. “I'm glad,” she said, a tear dropping down onto Steve's skin.

“Me too, sweetie,” Steve said, stroking a hand through her hair. “Me too.”

She was quiet for a moment before adding, “I wish Eddie was here.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, wishing he could say me too. “I know you do.”

Steve wasn't sleeping well. In fact, most nights he wasn't sleeping at all. He was trying to work through the exhaustion without letting it show, but Robin had noticed, as he knew she would. She had started sleeping over when she could, hoping the sense of calm she naturally exuded as a beta, not to mention the comfort provided by her sheer Robin-ness would help him get some rest. It worked for the most part, but Steve still found himself distracted, zoning out at work, inputting orders wrong, and making some of the worst bouquets of his career. His scent was off, even through his patches, and he found himself relegated to the back of the shop. Steve's head hurt, he had dizzy spells, and after he sliced his finger nearly down to the bone, Joyce made an executive decision that he was going to the doctor.

It proved pointless, as he wasn't running a fever, his white cell count was normal, and the rest of his blood work was fine. His sugar was a bit low and the doctor chastised him for not eating. Steve tried to act as normal as possible around Violet, but of course, she sensed that something was off. After making her own dinner out of leftover mac and cheese rolled up in bologna “so Mama could relax,” eaten cold because she couldn't reach the microwave, Steve knew he had to face up to what it really was.

Robin had known from the very beginning, though Steve had refused to accept it. Even now, when it was staring him in the face, he didn't want to believe it was possible. It was ridiculous, just an old wives’ tale. It didn't actually happen to anyone. Did it?

“You are an expert in Victorian floral cryptography,” Robin said, arguing her case. “If anyone's going to come down with an ailment from a gothic romance novel, it might as well be you.”

Steve had aimed a throw pillow at her head and missed, proof positive that something was very, very off. Separation sickness, he thought irritably. What a joke.

Steve's phone blew up with notifications the night of the concert, despite telling it repeatedly that he wasn't interested in Eddie or Munson or Hellfire. It didn't help that Barb and Vickie both texted, thinking he “just might want to know.” He didn't.

Except that he did.

Except for the part where he paced the living room floor, sat on the couch, paced some more, tried sitting in the arm chair, doomscrolled, which was quite possibly the worst idea he had ever had in his life, paced, tugged at his hair, and finally managed to wake Violet up in his disquiet.

“You're thinking too loud,” she said, hopping up to where he lay sprawled out on the couch with a fuzzy throw blanket. “And you smell funny.”

“Sorry about that, babygirl,” Steve replied. “I'm just all out of sorts tonight. Can't sleep.”

“Why?” she asked, crawling up to wiggle between him and the couch, resting her head on his chest.

Because I've seen seven videos from multiple angles of someone I've been trying to tell myself I don't still love collapsing on stage in a heap and I don't know what’s wrong and I have no way of finding out and —

“It's nothing you need to worry about,” Steve said, smoothing one hand over her sleep-mussed hair.

“Eddie told me once that if you're really worried about something, and you tell someone else, it's like you cut it in half with a sword so it's less heavy. I'll take half of it for you, Mama.”

Leave it to Eddie to make him cry in front of his pup not once, but twice when he wasn't even there. Goddammit. “That's one of the sweetest things you've ever said to me,” Steve told her. “But it's a grown-up problem.”

“You say that all the time,” she complained.

“Well, unfortunately I've had a lot of them lately,” Steve said in his own defense.

“It'll be okay, Mama,” Violet said, nuzzling against him. “Whatever it is, we're still together.”

“You know what?” Steve said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “You're right.”

He didn't mean to fall asleep on the couch, but at least Steve did sleep, even if he woke up with a crick in his neck. The backup alarm on his phone was loud enough to wake Violet, sleeping soundly on his chest as though she was still an infant. She grumbled, burying her head between Steve’s arm and the couch back.

“C'mon, babygirl,” he said. “Mama's gotta get up, so you do too. It's a school day.”

“Don't wanna,” she said.

“Well me either, frankly, but that's just how the world works,” Steve said, resisting the urge to tickle her side, as always.

She heaved a sigh and climbed off the couch, heading into her room to get dressed while Steve grabbed a lightning fast shower and threw on a decent enough outfit. Glancing at his watch, he decided it was a frozen waffle morning and before long they were meeting the bus and he was meeting the delivery truck, Vickie shuffling in for the morning shift with her 40 oz. coffee tumbler.

Steve stuck his phone in a shelf below the register and made up his mind to forget tabloid journalism and the online vultures accusing Eddie of everything from having an eating disorder to a deadly disease to being a drug addict, at least for the rest of the day.

With the volume of business they were doing, Steve almost managed to forget until the shop phone rang around noon and Joyce answered, having arrived for a midshift. Her face paled and she immediately took over a transaction for Steve, telling him he had an extremely important phone call in the back, and when he insisted on finishing the sale, she added “it's about Violet.”

Panicking, Steve apologized to the customer and raced back to pick up the phone. It was the principal of her school, informing him in a disappointed tone that Violet had not only been involved in a fight, she had started it.

“I'm sorry, could you repeat that please?” Steve asked, thinking he must have misheard.

“Sir, your daughter started a fight at recess and the other child will most likely have a black eye.”

“Is she okay?” Steve asked frantically, wondering why in the hell the lady hadn't just led with that.

“She's fine, but you'll need to come pick her up. I'm suspending her for three days.”

“Three days,” Steve exclaimed. “What was the fight even about? That doesn't sound like Violet at all!”

“Does it matter?” she said, her voice rising sharply. “We do not tolerate that sort of behavior at Saint Agnes, nor should you!”

“No ma'am, I absolutely do not, and we will be having a very long discussion I assure you, because I also want to hear her side of the story!”

“Well,” she said, feathers thoroughly ruffled. “Just be sure to collect her as soon as you can.” Steve held the receiver out from his ear as she all but slammed hers down on the other end.

Pulling off his apron, he pushed through the swinging door and retrieved his phone, ignoring the many notifications. “I'm gonna call someone to back you up,” he told Joyce, thankfully finished with the customer. “But I've got to go get her from school. She started a fight.” He whispered the last, as two people were browsing near the pre-made bouquets.

“She what?” Joyce asked, far too loudly. Steve winced.

“They won't tell me why, but I've gotta get there as soon as possible, she must be a wreck. I'll call people from the bus.”

“Okay,” Joyce said, giving him a tight hug. “Give her my love.”

“I will,” Steve promised.

He was finally able to get Patrick to come in on short notice, which eased Steve's mind a bit as he headed for the school. Heading straight for the principal's office, he was extremely annoyed to be told she was in the nurse's office because she had been making ‘too much of a fuss.’ Walking all the way across the campus, he found Violet hunched over in a plastic waiting room chair, her cheeks stained with tears, clutching a small stuffed fox in her hands. It stayed in her backpack for comfort emergencies, and Steve would say this definitely qualified.

The backpack itself was covered in dirt, as were her mary janes. Her hair resembled a rat's nest, having obviously been yanked free from her braid in various places. There was a red mark across her cheekbone, one Steve was certain would swell up into a bruise, and one knee was badly scraped. The nurse sat primly at her desk meanwhile, entirely ignoring his daughter.

Tamping down on his fury, Steve knelt before the chair to draw Violet’s attention. “Lettie,” he said softly. “I'm here.”

Her head snapped up and she slid down from the seat, dropping the fox as she let Steve fold her into his arms. “They were saying awful things about Eddie,” she managed through a fresh bout of tears.

“They were?” Steve said, genuinely surprised.

Why the hell were elementary schoolers concerned with some metal band? Then again, he thought, he remembered kids passing around fake phone numbers for some dude in the Backlane Guys or whatever, and that omega from the Lincoln Park band when he was in elementary school, so maybe it wasn't too different. Half of Violet's classmates had smartphones already, and they'd had that argument far too many times.

“Tell me he's not dead, Mama,” Violet begged, crying against his shoulder. “Please tell me —”

“He's in the hospital, baby,” Steve said, feeling his heart sink into his stomach to know the cause of her worry, and that he couldn’t set it right. “That's the last thing I read.”

“That's why you couldn't sleep, isn't it?” she asked, sniffling.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a sigh. “I should have told you, I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be talking about it in your class.”

“It made me really upset,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “More than when they were making fun of me after he – oops.”

Steve's blood ran cold. “What did you just say?”

“That it made me upset,” Violet hedged.

“Let's go sit somewhere quiet and let me fix your hair, would you like that?” Steve asked, staying as calm as possible for her benefit. Violet nodded, and Steve rose to his feet, taking her hand. Backtracking to grab her bag and her fox from the floor, he marched them both past the nurse, head held high, and headed for an outside exit nearest Violet's favorite place on the campus.

Two high cedars mostly concealed the entrance to a small, nearly circular garden from passersby, and they slipped easily inside. At the far end stood a statue of Saint Therese, book in one hand and a rose in the other. Various sorts of rose bushes from wild climbers to the ubiquitous rose shrub grew in untamed abundance around it and along the walls, making the space nearly ethereal in certain lights. Violet had adopted it, burying banana peels from her lunches in the soil to keep them happy and sticking beetle bags in unobtrusive places during the summer months. She had even gotten away with planting two Damask rose bushes over spring break last year, and cared for them as though they were her children.

No one ever seemed to come out here, and there were few windows into the school itself, making it an ideal location for a retreat when the temperature cooperated. Straddling one of the weathered stone benches, Steve motioned for Violet to sit in front of him, which she did with some reluctance. He retrieved a hairbrush and pick from her bag, slowly beginning to dismantle the thoroughly ruined braid.

Steve was silent while he worked, letting them both enjoy the ritual they had developed between them over the years. The ends of Violet's hair were looking a bit untamed again, and Steve hoped she might allow him to trim the split ends at the kitchen table as long as he promised not to cut more than an inch. He wasn't sure why Violet's hair was such a source of comfort to her, but it was, so he learned to work with it. Once the tangles were out, he brushed through it in long, steady strokes, until she hummed quietly to herself, finally more at peace.

“Are you ready to tell me what you didn't want to when we were inside?” Steve asked.

“About what?” Violet asked, kicking her feet back and forth.

“Lettie,” Steve warned gently. “About how the other kids made fun of you, because of me.”

“No, Mama, it's okay —” Violet started, but Steve interrupted.

“It's not okay,” he said. “I genuinely didn't realize the kids in your class would know who Eddie was.”

Violet turned halfway around. “Just because you didn't?”

“Wait,” Steve said, leaning back slightly. “Did you know who he was?”

“No,” Violet admitted. “But they kind of – made fun of me for that, too.”

“Oh, baby, I'm so sorry,” Steve said, leaning in to wrap his arms around her. “We just live in our own little world, don't we?”

“I like our world,” Violet said fiercely, turning around just far enough to wrap her arms about Steve's shoulders. “And I liked Sir Eddie in it, too.”

“I know you did, babygirl,” Steve said, holding her close. “It's no secret how much I loved having him with us. But if my being involved with him was causing trouble for you at school, you should have told me!”

“No!” Violet said fiercely, pulling back enough to look up at him. “They’re like…a pack of hyenas. Too loud. They all do whatever the leader does. Besides, you were happy, Mama. I didn't want to mess that up, and —” She glanced back down, pressing her forehead to Steve’s chest. Her next words came out muffled, but Steve was pretty sure he understood. “I thought maybe Eddie could be my dad.”

“Oh, my heart,” Steve said, rubbing circles into her back. I thought maybe he could, too. “You wouldn't have messed anything up, I promise. I don't ever want you to try to deal with something like that all on your own, okay? I forget just how grown up you are, sometimes.”

He held her until she started to squirm, then nudged her around so he could work on rebraiding her hair. “So, about those hyenas,” he said after a while had passed in comfortable silence. “What made today different?”

“They just wouldn’t stop,” Violet said. “Usually if I don’t react, they get bored, but today they kept shoving these videos in my face of Eddie falling, over and over, and people on the internet making fun of him and saying he was a druggie and I said no he wasn't,” Violet asserted, stopping to take a breath as she got worked up. Maybe this line of questioning hadn’t been the best choice, Steve thought, trying to keep the pressure even across her scalp as he held the various lines of her hair.

“I said Eddie was smart and funny and kind,” Violet continued. “And he was really normal and not like that at all, and they called me a liar, and that made me mad.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and Steve could almost see the storm clouds gathering in her expression.

“That would have made me angry too,” Steve offered in solidarity, because it would have.

“And then Angela started saying he was dead, so I called her a liar – sorry Mama – and she grabbed my braid so I kicked her in the shin. I'm not sorry for that part,” she added, the words all rushed together.

“Yeah, I wouldn't be sorry for it either,” Steve said. Violet ducked her head a bit and Steve thought he heard the tiniest laugh. “That's not the whole story though, is it?”

“Well,” Violet said, twirling a leaf around in her fingers that she had plucked off the stone. “Someone grabbed my bag when Stacy pulled my hair from the side, and I turned around to go after it, but I smacked into Jessica and her nose hit my cheek really hard. I felt a little bad because her nose was bleeding, but she was really playing it up.” Violet glanced back over her shoulder, rolling her eyes.

Steve couldn't help the snort he tried to hold in, but turned into a small laugh despite his best efforts. “I am not surprised,” he said, reaching out to gently brush the red mark on her cheek. “Need to get some ice on that,” he said. “I'm gonna call Aunt Robin when I’m done with your hair and see if she can pick us up instead of taking the bus, how's that?”

Violet nodded, looking down. “I'd like that.”

By the time Robin pulled up in her Forester, Violet's hair was neatly braided back and first aid applied to her knee from the kit in her bag, the dirt from which had been mostly brushed away. Steve's phone started buzzing while he made an early mac and cheese dinner for the three of them, but as the texts weren't from Joyce downstairs or anyone calling out for a shift, he ignored them. He didn't know the number at all, in fact.

When the phone started to ring incessantly during dinner from its perch on the counter, Robin looked at it pointedly and gave him official dispensation to answer the phone during their oh-so-formal meal, making Violet laugh.

“Do you never check your phone?” The voice in his ear was unfamiliar, and Steve almost hung up.

“Who is this?” he asked, walking into the living room.

“It's Gareth, I sent you like fifteen texts explaining but apparently you never —”

“Check my phone, yeah,” Steve said irritably. The last person he wanted to hear from right now was one of Eddie's bandmates. “I've been a little busy, picking my pup up from school after she got in a fight over what happened with Eddie.”

“A fight? Seriously?”

“Yes, unfortunately, because children are cruel. Now if you don't mind —”

“I need to talk to you —”

“It's going to have to wait,” Steve explained. “We're in the middle of dinner.”

“Dude, Eddie cannot wait —”

“Eddie is not my problem anymore,” Steve interrupted. He heard a fork clatter to the floor in the kitchen. Shit.

“He needs your help, asshole!”

“Is Eddie okay?” Violet demanded from the kitchen doorway.

“Go finish your dinner,” Steve told her. “Please.”

“I wanna know!” Violet stamped her bare foot hard on the floor, then bit her lip as if regretting the action.

“When I know, I will tell you, all right?” Steve knew he would regret saying the words, because she would absolutely hold him to it.

She marched back to the kitchen with a put upon sigh. Turning around, Steve's gaze landed on the courier's envelope, still on the coffee table from where he'd been reading and rereading that one incredibly simple, incredibly powerful piece of paper the day before. Shaking his head, Steve let out a sigh of his own and put the phone back to his ear.

“All right, fine. Why does Eddie need my help?”

It was nearly two hours later when Steve made it to Northwestern Memorial, duffel bag in hand, and rode the elevator to the twentieth floor - where he was immediately stared down by two rather menacing alpha security personnel. Steve had to dig out his drivers license before they were satisfied that he was in fact on The List, and could therefore pass. The floor was all but deserted, a few nurses at one station and several doors closed with names on their whiteboards, but overall it was incredibly quiet. Reaching the room number Gareth had given him, Steve knocked softly on the door, only to have it flung open immediately.

Gareth stepped aside for Steve to enter the fairly large room, orange light from the setting sun streaming in through a bank of windows on the opposite wall. Asleep in a hospital bed that seemed slightly larger than normal, Eddie looked pale and far too thin. There were clothes and blankets piled up around him almost like a makeshift nest, and Steve wondered if there was even going to be room for what he had brought.

“You said you'd explain when I got here,” Steve said, dropping the bag on a small table. “So explain.”

“Put the stuff you brought —”

“No,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now talk.”

“He's in drop,” Gareth said simply.

“He's an alpha,” Steve said slowly. “Alpha's don't —”

“Yeah, well apparently they can,” Gareth said, arms out to his sides. “It's different than it is for us, it took them a while to even figure it out here. The label sent one of their lawyers over with all these confidential documents from your freaking custody battle —”

“Wait, what?” Steve asked, his head already spinning.

“In case this was some sort of relapse from the drug they gave him,” Gareth explained. “It's not exactly in his regular medical record, and Eddie didn't tell us anything.”

“The drug who gave him? When was Eddie taking drugs?” Steve asked, feeling concerned and betrayed all at once.

“He wasn't on drugs, you asshole!” Gareth crossed his arms over his chest. “The fuck did he see in you, anyway?”

“Answer my question,” Steve pushed.

“The drug your fucking baby daddy put in his drink,” Gareth spat out.

Steve closed his eyes, begging the world to just make sense for five freaking minutes. “Are you saying,” he started, trying to put Gareth's words together. “That night at the club, someone drugged him?”

“How do you not know any of this?” Gareth exclaimed. “It's your own damn case!”

“All I know,” Steve said defensively. “Is that I got a document in the mail yesterday saying that Chance had given up his parental rights. The court date wasn't for another month, so I figured Eddie just paid him off.”

“You have no idea what Eddie did for you, do you?” Gareth asked flatly.

“Apparently not!” Steve said, throwing up his hands.

“Short version?” Gareth said. “Eddie was suing the label to get out of his contract early.”

“What?” Steve interrupted, his eyes darting to the man asleep on the bed. That Eddie would do that – give all that up —

“He brought it up a while back, we’d been tossing it around, y’know, whatever. Anyway. His lawyers were good, had the label backed into a corner. Then after his little dust up at the club and that whole media kerfuffle, he apparently called off the dogs. Told the label if they put a full court press on your case, with all their resources, he'd drop his.”

Steve's heart sank. I might as well hand Lettie over to Chance and his pretty little wife and their white picket fence. He remembered the words. He remembered refusing to explain, but it didn't take a genius to infer. Eddie was afraid his actions had cost Steve his case, so he had given up on his own in order to win Steve's for him.

“They did a little investigating into the other side's “evidence,” Gareth said, making air quotes. “Pretty sure they paid off a judge to get a warrant for the club’s surveillance, because the owner didn’t want to give it to them. I don’t know what the fuck that guy’s into, but there’s pages in the folder the lawyer left that are more redacted than readable.” Gareth shook his head. “Anyway, they pulled the cameras from the bar, and caught your baby daddy —”

“Do not fucking say those words again,” Steve begged.

“Caught him dropping a pill into Eddie's drink from three different angles. About ten minutes later per the time stamps, Eddie went apeshit on that guy.”

“What the hell was it?” Steve asked. “And can he actually relapse from it, could it happen again —”

“Alphamphetamine,” Gareth replied. “And no, they were just concerned about long term side effects. It's not exactly healthy stuff. Floods the brain with alpha hormones, kicks up your adrenaline, shuts down your inhibitions and self-control. They used to use it in underground fighting rings and shit.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve said, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the ends. “They couldn't find anything to make me look unfit, so they had to – they just – fuck.”

Sitting down hard in one of the chairs at the small table, Steve put his head in his hands. He wasn't sure how it was possible for one person to have been so completely wrong, but he had managed it. He kept seeing Eddie in the cold late night rain, coat askew, looking confused and scared. Now Steve knew why, and it was like a railroad spike straight through his heart.

“I thought you knew,” Gareth said uncomfortably.

Steve just shook his head. “I wish to god I had.”

“Last night was the first time any of us heard about the new legal stuff, or the drug,” Gareth continued, handing the folder out to Steve. “Says they settled out of court, Chase Whatshisbutt giving up his rights in exchange for Eddie not pursuing charges of aggravated assault and battery.”

“Wait, he's just going to get away with it?” Steve said sharply. That couldn't be. It didn't make any sense.

“Eddie agreed to it, Steve,” Gareth said. “The legal team consulted with him before pursuing that strategy. It's all in there.”

Steve looked down at the folder, wishing Robin was here. He could spend a year going over its contents and not glean half of what she could from it in ten minutes.

“So,” he said, setting the folder aside. “Just to be clear, do they think he's in drop because of the alph - the alepham – the drug,” he fumbled, “or is it because of – because of —”

“What do you think?” Gareth said, shooting Steve a dirty look. “I'm gonna go get some really shitty hospital coffee. Probably take me at least fifteen minutes, y’know, in case you have anything you'd like to say to him while I'm gone.”

Steve stared at the floor for a few minutes after Gareth left, closing the door gently behind him. Picking up the duffel as he rose to his feet, Steve approached the bed, setting the bag atop several piled up pieces of clothing. Removing a soft white undershirt, then a black tee with Sue the T-Rex from the museum, Steve tucked them in at Eddie's right side. A pillowcase was next, then the furry throw blanket from the couch. Eddie's hand felt colder to the touch than it should when Steve brushed it, so he spread the blanket out over him.

The last item from the bag was Violet's insistent contribution - a lavender stuffed bunny she had been given as a toddler, long limbs in need of restuffing, the small rose flower crown Steve had meticulously sewn in place in need of replacing again. Steve tucked it into the crook of Eddie’s arm and brushed a few strands of hair out of his face before pressing a soft kiss to his brow.

“I don't deserve you,” he said. “I never have. You're too good for me, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie stirred the slightest bit at Steve's words, and he backed away, grabbing the duffel and making it as far as the doorway before something tightened painfully in his chest. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that Eddie looked restless, clutching at the blanket, his breathing uneven.

Stepping out into the hallway to make a quick phone call, Steve headed back inside. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was where he was supposed to be right now, so – here was where he would stay. Walking back toward the bed, feeling as though he was in slow motion, Steve dropped the bag in a chair and worked his sneakers off without bothering to untie them.

He realized now, why the bed in this room, specifically, was larger than most hospital beds. After a few wrong attempts, Steve found the button that lowered the railings on the side with the most room and slowly climbed up, replacing the rail to shove some of the nest against it. Slipping beneath the throw blanket, Steve curled up against Eddie, feeling something deep within him loosen for the first time since that awful night at Magnolia. Something that whispered everything would be all right, now he was here.

Chapter Text

💐🎸

Sunlight. The first, hazy rays of the morning sun had begun to filter into the room when Eddie Munson opened his eyes for the first time since his body collided with the stage in Grant Park. The mist enfolding the city like a blanket had yet to clear, but from the twentieth floor, Eddie was mostly above it. The darkness that had been his constant passenger, always waiting at the corners of his vision to pounce and feed seemed to have cleared, and for the first time in a long time, Eddie could truly see.

Even before vision, there had come scent, the individual notes of his closest friends and bandmates all blurring together as they so often did with the amount of time spent together. They were sandalwood spice–vanilla pear–basil mint and Eddie's vetiver oak, which he previously would have just called woodsy herbs. He could smell hints of antiseptic and citrus cleaner lingering in and around, but the most important scents, the ones that gave him the strength and courage to open his eyes were apple blossom, cinnamon and the fresh, clean cotton of childhood mixed with a hint of who she would become, the lightest scent of a Moroccan damask rose.

Ironically, he never would have known that different roses even had different scents if it wasn't for one of Violet's tangents. Steve had tried to very gently steer her onto another topic that evening, figuring that Eddie was by then very tired of flowers, but he wasn't. That was their world, and he wanted to understand it. So he asked questions, and tried to learn, even if he knew he might not retain it all. Violet had done the same with him, asking about guitars, the process of songwriting, what touring and performing were like. Steve confessed one night that she didn't really like his music, but just the fact that she had listened meant more to Eddie than he could say.

Then he remembered that nearly all of their albums came with parental advisory labels and apologized, but Steve had laughed it off. “She said ‘fuck’ for the first time when she was three,” he admitted. “I'm just glad she likes other words better.”

Apple blossoms and cinnamon. Cotton and warm Damask rose. Eddie opened his eyes to early morning sunlight - and an empty room.

Tucked in and around him in a hospital bed were tokens from his pack - a flannel and a Dr. Who shirt from Gareth, Sith Order and Diablo t-shirts from Frankie, and three concert tees for other bands from Jeff. He knew he shouldn't still consider Steve pack, but if he wasn't, why was the gray throw blanket from his couch spread out over Eddie's lap? Eddie looked down, running one hand through the soft faux fur. He could understand why it was such a comfort to Violet, incredibly soft and just a bit heavier than average. If they weren't pack, why was there a pillowcase that smelled so strongly of Steve tucked right beside Eddie's head alongside a shirt from the Field Museum? Why was there a clearly well-loved stuffed bunny pressed against his other side, if not to let Eddie know that they both still cared?

Hugging the plush toy to his chest, Eddie lifted the pillowcase to his nose and drew in a deep breath, wanting to drown in Steve's unfiltered scent. He could remember lying there next to him, just looking at one another, as he reached out to tuck some of Steve's hair behind his ear, or feel Steve lying on his chest as they drifted off to sleep or woke up together. It had only happened a handful of times, two of those mostly chaste sleepovers because Violet was asleep just across the apartment and they knew they couldn't be quiet.

The soft click of the door opening interrupted his reverie, and Eddie glanced over, hastily dropping the pillowcase. Steve nearly dropped the cup of coffee in his hand, his mouth widening into a huge smile.

“Eddie!” he exclaimed, sitting the coffee on the table as he all but raced to the bedside. “You're awake!”

“Steve,” he said, voice wobbly as he was swiftly engulfed in a tight embrace. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, Eddie. God, so much,” Steve admitted. “I was so stupid, I didn't know what happened to you, Eddie, what they did.”

Eddie froze. “And – now you do?”

“Gareth told me everything,” Steve said. “Was he not supposed to?” he asked uncertainly, pulling back.

“I don't know,” Eddie said. “I didn't even know until a few days ago. It's stupid, right, to feel less vindicated and more like – like —”

“Like a victim?” Steve said, sounding miserable. “It's all my fault, Eddie, I'm so sorry. If you'd never gotten involved with me —”

“Hey,” Eddie said, reaching out to take Steve's hand. “None of that, now. I loved every single minute I spent with you and Lettie, okay? Wouldn't trade it for the world.”

Steve favored him with a watery smile, a tear falling to land on his cheek. “Me either.”

Eddie reached out to wipe it away, cupping Steve's cheek in his hand. Steve leaned into it, covering it with his own hand. Eddie didn't want to risk ruining the moment with stupid questions like “so does this mean we can pick up where we left off?” so he didn't, instead just enjoying the warmth of Steve's skin against his own.

That was, until the door opened again, admitting Jeff and Frankie, all but tiptoeing until they saw Eddie was awake.

“Eddie, my man!” Jeff exclaimed, moving farther into the room.

“Edster! Oh – er – sorry, bad time?” Frankie stopped, iced coffee halfway to his lips.

Steve pulled away gently, holding onto Eddie's hand. “Not at all, I think the more of his pack Eddie has with him right now, the better.”

“Gare went to pick up Wayne, he was here with you yesterday afternoon.

“Wayne knows?” Eddie said, feeling sick.

“You did kinda pass out at a pretty major show, my man,” Jeff said. “Media coverage was heavy. Might want to avoid socials for a while. We, uh,” he continued, scratching the back of his neck. “We were gonna take him to your place, figured that would be the easiest, but um, it was a wreck. Seriously. And there was no food, Eddie, like none, what the hell —”

Frankie smacked his arm, noting the way Steve was looking back and forth between Eddie and Jeff in clear alarm. “We put him up at The Peninsula ‘cause it was close,” Frankie explained.

“Hooh boy, am I ever gonna hear about it,” Eddie said with a nervous laugh, shaking his head and instantly regretting it as the movement made him dizzy. Steve looked at him oddly, so he explained. “My uncle is the only person in the world who would treat staying at a five star hotel like a jail sentence. Put him in a Holiday Inn, he'd thank you.”

Steve laughed. “I can't wait to meet this guy. I mean, um,” he stammered. “If that's still okay.”

“Of course it's okay,” Eddie said, squeezing his hand. “I want you to.”

Steve smiled. “Okay.”

“Sucks that I bothered Wayne, though,” Eddie said, more seriously. He hated that more than anything about the entire incident so far. “Kind of embarrassing.”

“What?” Steve said. “How is this embarrassing?”

“Stevie,” Eddie said, his face coloring. “I kind of, um, after things, I – maybe I didn't really take care of myself, you know? You heard Jeff, I didn't have any food in my place, I don't remember the last time I ate, and sure some of it was that – y'know, what was in my drink, but I just – didn't handle things well.”

“Eddie,” Steve said softly. “The doctors said you were in drop. And that's my fault, not yours.”

“Drop?” Eddie said, wrinkling his brow in confusion. “But that can't happen to —”

“Alphas? I didn't know it could, either,” Steve filled in when Eddie left off. Eddie had meant to say happen to me, but realized how stupid that would sound, coming from the guy in the hospital gown.

“Yeah, they don't exactly tell us that in school, do they?” Jeff chimed in. “It's different, which is partly why I think you were able to just soldier on straight through it for what, a week solid?”

“The other part being pure Munson obstinacy,” came Wayne's voice from the doorway.

“Good to see you too, Wayne,” Eddie said, grinning from ear to ear. Steve tried to step back to give Wayne his place, but Eddie held him fast, shooting him a pleading expression. Steve nodded, thankfully staying put.

Gareth followed behind as Wayne stepped into the room, shooting Steve an oddly knowing look. Steve's cheeks colored, and he looked down at his feet. Huh. Eddie didn't have much time to wonder what that was all about before Wayne wrapped him up in a tight hug, rocking him back and forth.

“Don't worry me like that, son,” he said gruffly.

“Don't plan on that happening again,” Eddie said truthfully. No matter what curve balls life threw his way, at least he would be aware of what was happening if he ever went down that road again.

“Good,” Wayne said, finally releasing him. “Now, I know all of these other jokers,” Wayne said, pointing his thumb back at the guys. “So you must be this Steve I've heard so much about.”

“Yes sir,” Steve answered, looking truly petrified.

“Pssh,” Wayne said, taking his extended hand, as Eddie had left his right one free. “Don't you sir me. I'm just Wayne.”

Steve gave him a small smile, still clearly nervous on an unexpected ‘Meet the Parents' night. “All right, Wayne it is.”

“Good,” Wayne said, the matter settled. “Your pup not here today?” he said, glancing around.

“Oh no, ah, her Aunt Robin's getting her ready for school this morning,” Steve said, nodding as if trying to convince himself. Steve seemed a bit cagey, and Eddie made a note to grill him about it later. Nicely.

Wayne just nodded sagely. Behind him, Gareth sported a smirk that puzzled Eddie even more. What the unholy fuck had passed between Steve and Gareth while he was still unconscious?

“Want to thank you for taking care of my boy,” Wayne addressed to Steve, who looked stricken.

“No, I – that's not —” Eddie squeezed his hand as he fumbled.

“I know you had a rough patch,” Wayne said kindly. “But you’re here now, and that's what matters.”

Steve looked at him gratefully, then turned his gaze toward Eddie. “I hope so,” he said.

“Trust me,” Eddie said. “It is.”

The door opened again, smacking Gareth in the ass, and making him jump a mile. The interloper this time was a cheerful nurse in brightly pink scrubs, pushing a telemetry cart ahead of her. “I passed by earlier and saw you were awake,” she said cheerfully. “But I wanted to give you some time with your visitors. Mind if I take your vitals and do a quick work up?”

“That's our cue,” Jeff said, ushering the guys out. “We'll just be down the hall,” he assured Eddie, who smiled in return.

Wayne nodded, and headed out to follow. “I assume they've found the waiting room with the snack machines and the biggest television,” he added.

“Undoubtedly,” Eddie said. “Gareth can sniff out Cheetos from a mile away.”

“Do you think they'll discharge him today?” Steve asked the nurse.

“I honestly don't know at this point,” she said. “They'll want to run some more blood work first, maybe get some more potassium in him.” She pointed to the nearly empty bag attached to one of Eddie's IV ports.

Steve nodded. “I really should go check on Lettie,” he said. “It's been a – well, she really wanted an update, and —”

“I thought she was in school today?” Eddie asked, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, ah – not exactly,” Steve said, looking cagey again.

“Not exactly,” Eddie repeated. “And you need to check on her because you've been here – a whole hour? Two?”

“Not exactly?” Steve made it a question this time, less cagey and more like a child not wanting to fess up.

“He looked so sweet, all curled up beside you last night,” the nurse said, slipping the blood pressure cuff up Eddie's left arm. Steve cringed. “You two must be mates.”

“What makes you say that,” Eddie said with a self-satisfied little smile, stroking his thumb across the back of Steve's hand, which he still hadn't let go.

The nurse looked surprised. “I've never seen anyone come out of a drop episode so quickly and completely,” she said, clamping the pulse oximeter over his left index finger. Letting the cuff fill and the machines whirr, she looked satisfied with the results. “So much better today.”

“Now,” she said briskly. “If you think you can make it to the restroom on your own, I can remove the catheter entirely, otherwise I should probably change it. You might be a little wobbly on your feet for a while.”

Steve turned a bit green, and Eddie couldn't hold back a small laugh. “Nothing embarrasses me anymore, but if you want to go check on the princess, give Auntie Robin a break, now might be a good time.”

“Okay,” Steve said, squeezing his hand. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to Eddie's temple. “I'll see you later on, okay?”

“Please be sure to tell Princess Violet how instrumental her dear friend Bunny —”

“Pansy,” Steve interrupted with a smile, pointing to the name written in faded sharpie marker on her cloth tag.

“Of course her name is Pansy,” Eddie said. “How instrumental her dear friend Pansy was in my recovery.”

“I will,” Steve promised.

Lifting Steve's hand to his lips, Eddie planted a kiss on his knuckles, and then another for good measure. “Thank you,” Eddie said, his tone serious. “For staying with me. Hell, for coming in the first place.”

“I couldn't sleep that first night,” Steve said. “I kept Violet awake, just pacing. When Gareth asked me to come over with some things last night, I had every intention of leaving, but. I couldn't. So I said fuck it, if they throw me out, well – they can try.”

“It's why the beds on this floor are bigger,” the nurse said quietly. “We have nest frameworks for omegas, too, and encourage their pack to spend time in it with them. We've found it can be very healing.”

“Well,” Eddie said, giving Steve's hand one more kiss before letting it go. “It certainly was for me. Later on, okay? You promised.” Eddie knew he sounded needy as hell, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was also sitting in a hospital bed with a nurse ready to pull a tube out of his dick and help him shuffle to the bathroom like an octogenarian. If ever he was allowed to sound pathetic, it was now.

“I did promise,” Steve said with a curious sort of smile that Eddie hoped he would eventually understand.

As it turned out, the doctors were happy enough with his progress to discharge him home by the evening. Wayne had been with him for most of the day, usually one of the guys hanging out at any one time, but Steve hadn't come back. Eddie had eventually, reluctantly been given access to his phone with the caveat that social media was a cesspool and the so-called music media honestly weren't much better at the moment. Eddie only wanted it for one thing, really.

Steve

     Eddie

They're gonna spring me from this joint around 6 tonight!

     That's fantastic! I'm sorry I haven't been back, we had a bit of a crisis at the shop and Joyce had to deal with a family thing and Lettie wasn't feeling well so I'm up to my eyeballs.

😢🥺😢🥺 that's okayyy, I understand

     Can I come by for a little while tonight?

🥹🥹🥹
I mean obviously

     Okay, I'll call you later :)

😘

Declan came to pick Eddie and Wayne up, Jeff having brought over some clothes from Eddie's place for him to wear out of the hospital, and graciously stopped by the grocery nearest Eddie's apartment so Wayne could run in and grab a few of his favorites. He was still trying to lay low for the time being, but Jeff was probably right about there not being any food in the place. Eddie could restock for real tomorrow via the miracle of delivery, but in the meantime, some waffles, orange juice, naan, and frozen curry would do wonders. And a pint of ice cream, because he deserved it.

Turning the key in the lock after blessedly making it to his own door at last, Eddie opened it a crack – and paused. The lights were on.

“Wayne, were you in here earlier?” he asked, turning behind.

Wayne wore an oddly smug expression, and Eddie knew he was in for trouble. “Nope,” he said. “Better go check it out.”

“What do you know, old man?” Eddie asked with a slowly growing smile. “What's going on?”

Wayne just shrugged. “How should I know? I've been with you all day.”

Eddie shook his head, turning back toward the door. “If silly string is involved,” he said a bit louder than was necessary, “the perpetrators will be cleaning it up,” he warned.

Pushing the door open slowly, he crossed the threshold without anyone jumping out at him or any surprises falling on his head. Glancing around the short entryway, he saw a small vase surrounded by three flickering, flameless candles, despite the sun having not entirely set. Rising up from the pale green glass on a long stalk was a vibrant red prairie lily, just like the ones at the Arboretum.

Reaching out, he stroked its spotted petals, soft and sleek. “Steve?” he called out, taking a few more steps into the apartment. The kitchen branched off to his right, lit entirely by more of the candles in different shapes and sizes. On the counter, surrounded by several tealights, was a slightly larger vase with three lilies. Turning around, the bar that opened out into the living room was dotted with more candles, two small vases of lilies, and a larger planter with three side by side. “Steve?” Eddie called out. “Are you here?”

Looking past the flowers on the counter, the wide windows that opened out to the northwest were just catching the setting sun, reflecting its rays onto picture frames and small mirrors back and forth across the empty room. Heading around the corner, Eddie emerged fully into the living space, in which every flat surface was covered in yet more red lilies and small twinkling lights. He bit his lower lip to stop it from quivering as he turned in a slow circle, coming to an abrupt halt as something caused a board to squeak from behind him.

“Oops.” The small voice brought a huge smile to his face as he turned to see Violet hanging slightly back in the darkened hallway leading to the guest and music rooms. She wore a new tiara, fresh pink lily of the valley woven into it, and carried a few stalks of yellow flowers that looked almost like bells.

Eddie knelt before her. “Princess Violet,” he began. “I beg your pardon for my lengthy absence from your court.” As she stepped out into the room, her smile widening to match Eddie’s, he noticed the swollen, purpling mark across her cheekbone and reached out before he could think better of it. “What happened, sweetheart?”

Her face did something complicated for a moment, before settling into a resolute expression. “Sometimes a princess has to defend her sworn knight’s honor in return,” she said with a small nod. “Oh no, don’t cry,” she added, reaching out to wipe away the traitorous tear that dared to fall at her words.

“I missed you, Lettie,” he said, wrapping her up in a fierce hug, mindful of the sprigs of flowers in her hand.

“I missed you too, Eddie,” she said, a little sniffly herself. “Mama really missed you. Like a lot. I don’t know if he’s gonna tell you how much, but —”

“Are you spilling my secrets over there, babygirl?” Steve’s voice drifted out from back toward Eddie’s bedroom. Eddie glanced over his shoulder and smiled to see him.

“So many,” Eddie confirmed. “All of them, in fact. Every secret.” Violet giggled.

Drawing back, Eddie pressed his finger gently to the end of Violet’s nose before standing up. She held out her flowers to him, and he took them, smelling their sweet scent. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ve never seen these before.”

“Bellflowers,” she said. “They grow around here, you just have to know where to look.”

“You’re going to have to show me all of your secret flower hunting spots, okay?”

“Okay!” Violet readily agreed.

Turning around, Eddie took in once again the incredible array of lilies, some in vases of all different colors and shapes, some potted, and all of them beautiful. Between the pinks and oranges of the sunset and the glimmering lights from the candles, his apartment looked like a fairy palace in a story. Playing the part of the fairy prince, Steve leaned against the doorway to Eddie’s bedroom, looking dapper in a well-fitted button down. It made Eddie feel self-conscious in the soft t-shirt and jeans that had been waiting for him when he was ready to ditch the hospital gown. Steve's eyes raked up and down the length of him anyway, stepping forward as Eddie headed his direction.

“Steve, this is amazing,” Eddie said, reaching out for his hand and giving it a squeeze before letting it go to stroke the backs of his fingers down Steve’s cheek. “These are your lilies, right? The ones that grow here?”

Steve nodded, his face brightening as if he wasn’t sure Eddie would remember. “We just wanted you to know that no matter where you are in the world, on tour, or – or anything else, you’ve still got a home with us, if you want it.”

“If I want it,” Eddie said, disbelieving. “Steve Harrington, in what universe could I ever even possibly not want that?”

Steve ducked his head, hand in the back of his hair. Eddie heard quiet voices coming from behind him and reflexively turned to look. Violet was speaking shyly with Wayne just inside the arched entryway to the living room, Aunt Robin holding her hand. He smiled.

“Besides, Stevie,” Eddie said, turning back and taking a small step forward to close the gap between them. Taking both of Steve's hands loosely in his own, he leaned in close, bumping his forehead gently against Steve's. “You are my home.”

Steve drew in a sharp breath. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” Eddie said, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Now, let's go be sociable for a few minutes before we send everyone on their way.”

Steve gave a small, almost suggestive laugh. “If we must,” he said with mock disappointment.

“All good kings and knights must put in appearances at court, after all,” Eddie reminded him.

“You're quite right,” Steve agreed, holding onto one of Eddie's hands as they joined the group.

“Sir Eddie, I met your papa,” Violet said, toying with the hem of her shirt.

“Well,” Wayne said, clearly about to issue a correction, and Eddie couldn't have that.

“I'm glad you did,” Eddie said. “I think you two would get along pretty well. He's read a lot of books, and plays a mean game of checkers.”

Wayne looked slightly embarrassed, but still pleased. “Mainly mysteries and westerns,” he said. “But I love a good history series.”

“I like mysteries too,” Violet said. “I haven't read any westerns, though. Maybe you could teach me checkers?” she asked, turning a bit side to side.

“I would love to,” Wayne said, a proud smile growing on his face.

Steve rested his head on Eddie's shoulder, a slight purr rising from his throat as he took in the scene. Eddie understood; seeing them all together warmed something inside him that Eddie had never intended to grow cold. He had simply neglected it, and the embers had died when he wasn't looking.

“Hey Vivi, what would you say to having breakfast for dinner?” Robin asked, shooting Steve and Eddie a sly look.

“Really?” Violet asked, looking up excitedly. “Can I have blueberry pancakes?”

“Absolutely,” Robin said. “How about it, Wayne?”

Wayne looked surprised, then delighted. “I do love a good stack of pancakes,” he said. “And I would bet this one knows the best place to go,” he said, nodding at Violet.

She grinned. Turning back around, Violet threw her arms first around Steve, mumbling a hasty good night, then around Eddie. “Will I see you tomorrow?” she asked, looking uncertain.

“That's up to your Mama —” Eddie started hesitantly, only to be interrupted by Steve's firm answer. “Yes.”

“Good,” Violet said, squeezing him tightly before turning back to Robin and taking her hand.

“Enjoy your evening,” Robin said with a wink as the unusual trio headed down the hallway and out the door.

Then they were alone among the lilies, candlelight flickering as the vivid pinks and oranges of sunset began to fade into the first hints of dusky blue.

“You were busy today,” Eddie said, turning to take Steve in his arms, a pleased rumble rising up in his chest as Steve rested his head on his shoulder. “Crisis in the shop, indeed. And Lettie seemed to be feeling just fine.”

“She was a good helper,” Steve said, his purr rising a bit in volume.

“I did notice the bruise,” Eddie said, hating to mention it, but knowing that he should. “Is that why she wasn't in school on a Tuesday?”

Steve sighed. “She got into a little scuffle, but honestly if some little – I shouldn't call a first grader a cunt, should I?”

Eddie choked out a laugh. “Probably not, but I get the idea.”

“If that little brat had said to me what she said to Lettie yesterday, I would have done more than kick her in the shin. The bruise was accidental though, no one hit her or anything. Still pretty sure I don't want her going back to that place.”

“I don't blame you,” Eddie said. “She's not even my pup, and I don't really want her going back to that school.”

“You know she thinks of you as pack, though, right?” Steve said, nuzzling at Eddie's neck.

“When she made me the crown, I – I hoped I wasn't reading too much into the flowers she used, but I kind of got that idea,” Eddie said quietly. “I might have sniffled a bit. You know, in a manly, alpha sort of way.”

Steve laughed, burying his head against him. “I'm so glad you are who you are,” he said, half murmured against Eddie's skin.

“Speaking of, or in, the language of flowers,” Eddie said, carding his finger through Steve's hair. “I did quite a bit of reading in order to court you the way you deserved —”

“I know,” Steve said, pressing a kiss to his neck. “And I can't tell you how much that means to me.”

Eddie hummed, nuzzling at Steve's temple. “I'm glad the effort was appreciated. But where I was going with that was that lilies can mean any number of things depending on the context. And I understand the prairie lily specifically, but…” He trailed off, leaving the question open for Steve to answer.

“Eddie, you know what red flowers mean,” Steve said, dodging a question Eddie hadn't even asked. “You gave me those beautiful orchids —”

“Maybe I need to hear it,” Eddie said, deciding to roll with the switch.

“Love,” Steve said. “They’re red because I love you, Eddie Munson. Red is for ardor and desire and the kind of deep emotional connection I’ve never felt before, and also the courage to get all of that out before I completely lost my nerve.” Steve finished with his eyes squeezed shut, and Eddie caressed his cheek with his thumb before pressing a soft kiss to his brow.

“And a lily?”

“Devotion,” Steve whispered, his eyes still closed. “Every one in the city I could find and it still isn't enough to show you —”

Eddie gently lifted up his chin with two fingers below it and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then another, backing Steve slowly across the room until he could press Steve back against the frame of the bedroom doorway and kiss him soundly. Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie's neck, and Eddie wished he thought he could get his hands beneath Steve's ass, lift him up, and carry him over to the bed. Unfortunately, it would be a while before his strength returned to him after what he'd put his body through.

“I've always thought devotion was one of the most beautiful words English has to offer,” Eddie said, pulling back a bit for air. “I just never thought I'd inspire it in anyone.”

“Eddie, your fans —”

“Are not who I meant at all,” Eddie interrupted, placing one finger to Steve's lips. “They're a fan of the guy on stage, okay? And yeah, I'm still a guy with a guitar, and always will be, but you, Steve Harrington, you know the real me. And for some reason you like that guy.”

“Love him, Eddie,” Steve corrected. “I love you. I haven't said it enough out loud but I promise you I will.”

“I'm gonna hold you to that,” Eddie said, nuzzling against Steve's nose. He kissed him again, urging him back in the direction of the bed. There were candles in here as well, a lily on the dresser, another on Eddie's chest of drawers, but wisely nothing on either bedside table. There was something woven up and over the bedframe though, something that dangled down part way over the dark wooden panel —

A wisteria vine laden with white blooms dipped and danced their way across the headboard. It looked almost like a painting, the white petals hanging down toward his gray pinstripe sheets and deep crimson duvet. White for new beginnings, for trying again; the blossom itself for a lasting bond, for two souls bound together the way Eddie had known they were from the moment their lips first met.

“Steve,” he whispered. “Do you really still feel that way, after everything?”

“I never stopped,” Steve said, tracing the shell of Eddie's ear with one finger, making him shiver. “I did what I thought I had to do at the time, and I'm so, so sorry for what it did to you, but I ended up – well, Robin thinks I had separation sickness.” He ducked his head a bit, as if embarrassed. “All I know is how terrified I was when I heard about what happened on stage, and when I saw the videos – which I watched, because I'm actually an idiot —”

“Nothing even close,” Eddie protested.

“I felt cold, like there was this creeping darkness all around me and I would never be warm again. But the moment I saw you it started to lift, and when I kissed your forehead before I tried to leave, it felt like sunshine after days of rain.”

“Then you stayed with me all night,” Eddie said, cupping Steve's cheek in one hand. “Thank you. I know you're the reason I woke up this morning.”

“You really think so?” Steve asked, leaning into Eddie's touch.

“Know,” Eddie reiterated. “I know it. I feel it right here,” he said, guiding Steve's hand to his heart. “Right where those vines are growing,” he said, nodding toward the wisteria.

Steve took their joined hands and drew them to his own chest. “Here, too,” he said. “And I know it's going to have to grow across the whole world sometimes, when you're on the road and I'm back here, but I think it's strong enough.”

“I'm gonna tell you a secret,” Eddie said, leaning in close. “I've got a legal team reviewing my contract with the label, just waiting to pounce. Our vine may not have to grow very far at all.”

“I thought,” Steve started, brow wrinkling. “Gareth said you backed off in exchange for – for the label using their leverage to —” He broke off, looking away.

Eddie gently turned Steve's face back to center with a hand beneath his chin. “That was the deal, and I accepted it,” he said, hating the sadness and resignation he saw in Steve's eyes at his words. “But if the voicemails I haven't returned yet are to be believed, my lawyers are pretty great at finding – or creating loopholes.” He gave Steve a mischievous smile, which sparked a hesitant one in return. “I may have dropped one suit, but we seem to have left a door open for a new one, and I assure you I'll be filing it.”

Eddie lifted Steve's hand to his lips, pressing kiss after kiss to his fingers. “I don't want to make you a promise I can't keep. But even if I can't get out of the contract, it's one more album. One more tour, at most. Then, if you'll still have me —”

“Of course I will,” Steve said, his lips turning up in a hopeful smile. “That's a promise I can make. You're pack now, Eddie, whether you like it or not.”

“Oh, I like it,” Eddie said. “I haven't been able to stand it, not smelling like you. May I?” He turned their joined hands over so Steve's was palm up, rubbing at the scent patch over his wrist.

Steve's smile grew, warm and genuine. “You may,” he said, watching as Eddie peeled back the peach-colored strip.

Lifting Steve's wrist to his nose, Eddie drank in the richness of his scent, the orchard in full bloom as it rose up to surround him. Tilting his head to the side, Eddie brushed Steve's wrist along the curve of his neck, then mirrored the gesture on the other side. Steve's eyes on him grew hazy, and he pulled back ever so gently in Eddie's hold. Eddie loosed his grip, and Steve's fingers found the edges of the patch at his neck, clinical grade and uncomfortably thick. It was a relief to feel it slowly come away from his skin, Steve lifting it carefully away so as not to pull and sting, sending a shiver through him.

Steve slid his hands down along Eddie's arms, fingers traveling across the patterns that told the story of his life so far as he leaned in, nosing at the crook of Eddie's neck. Lingering at his scent gland, Steve seemed caught up in it, breathing Eddie in. He carded his fingers through Steve’s hair, holding him close as Steve's tongue flicked out across his skin. It felt like fire and ice all at once, and Eddie knew he made a sound, but he couldn't quite process what it was.

Kissing his way up Eddie's neck, Steve lingered at the hollow below Eddie's ear, letting his tongue glide up along the shell. It tickled, clinking the small metal rings together and turning the corners of Eddie's mouth up in a smile. Then his lips were at Eddie's jaw, his cheek, and finally, finally, brushing their plush softness against his own.

Eddie's hands found his hips, pulling him flush as their mouths met in a slow caress that spoke less of hesitance than of savoring the moment between them. Steve’s arms looped around his neck and a pleased sigh escaped on an exhale as their lips parted before moving back in. He couldn't say how long they stood there, enraptured with one another, before Eddie backed them up to the bed, perching on the end of the mattress. He urged Steve down with him, pulling the omega into his lap. Running his hands up Steve's back, Eddie held him close, their foreheads pressed together as Steve nuzzled at his nose.

Then Steve was sliding his hips forward, rocking slowly against Eddie in an irresistible rhythm. Eddie squeezed Steve’s thighs, pushing up to meet him as he nipped and nibbled at his lips. Steve captured his mouth in a slow, lingering kiss as he slipped his hands beneath Eddie's shirt. Eddie raised his arms obligingly when Steve lifted the material, pulling it up and over his head. Steve's was next, Eddie's fingers struggling only slightly with the small buttons in his eagerness to have it gone.

Parting the fabric, Eddie realized Steve was wearing something beneath it, and eased the shirt down over his shoulders. It was a chemise, a few layers of incredibly thin, silky sheer fabric in a beautiful shade of peach, the shoulder straps made from lace. Trailing his fingers down Steve's sides, Eddie enjoyed the slight shiver his touch provoked. Tufts and curls of his chest hair poked out over the top, more visible through the material, and Eddie let his eyes rove over it all in pure appreciation.

“This is gorgeous,” Eddie marveled. “As are you,” he added, dropping a quick kiss to the end of Steve's nose. “But you in this —”

“I'm glad you like it,” Steve said, letting out a soft gasp as Eddie brushed his thumb across one nipple. “I wasn't sure you would, because I'm – y'know, I'm not all shapely, or – or —”

“Built like a twink?” Eddie supplied teasingly. “I love the way you look, top to bottom, you know that. And you look absolutely perfect in this.”

Steve hummed, clearly pleased by Eddie's assessment. Eddie couldn't keep his hands off the negligée, sliding along it and under it, dragging his fingers across Steve's skin. He toyed with Steve's nipples through it, brushing it across before lightly pinching the stiffening nubs. Steve clearly approved, rocking his hips forward and leaning in for a kiss.

It was brief but intense, his lips sealing over Eddie's own, his tongue licking at the seam. He opened to Steve easily, letting him inside to taste and explore, a moan rising up in his throat. It was all consuming, and Eddie lost himself in it, letting Steve direct him as he wanted. All too soon he drew back, kissing the corner of Eddie's mouth and traveling along his jaw, tasting the skin there, too.

Steve kept up a slow rhythm with his hips, leaving a trail of hot wet kisses down Eddie's neck and across his shoulder. It felt amazing to have Steve's mouth on him again, but Eddie decided it would feel a hell of a lot better without his jeans in the way – or Steve's. Unbuttoning his own, Eddie tugged down the zipper and tried to wiggle out of them a little. Steve laughed, squeezing his thighs around Eddie's hips to hold him still. Working his fly open, Steve slowly unzipped, revealing panties that were almost entirely sheer in a gorgeous matching shade of peach-pink, bits of lace peeking out around the sides. Eddie stopped trying to ditch his own and focused in entirely on Steve's instead, which might have been his plan all along.

Steve lifted up on his knees, letting Eddie guide his jeans over his hips and down his thighs. He couldn't keep from running his hands over the silky, nearly see-through mesh revealed inch by inch, especially as Steve leaned into the touch. The sides of the panties were stitched together with blossoms from a flowering tree, apple or orange or cherry, and Eddie's mouth was already watering.

The effect of the matching set of lingerie on Eddie's cock was obvious as it strained against his briefs, a growing spot of wetness over the tip, and Steve reached down to circle it with his thumb. Eddie let out a groan as it twitched, begging to be free from the confines of the material, begging to be touched. Running his fingers teasingly down its length, Steve gave the slit another stroke for good measure before taking his hand away to work his jeans the rest of the way off.

Eddie helped him wriggle free, taking in the sight of him as Steve stood briefly at the end of the bed, Eddie's hands on his hips. “So beautiful,” he murmured, leaning in to plant a kiss just above the waistband of Steve's panties. “I can't believe you're mine.”

“All yours,” Steve confirmed, running a hand through Eddie's hair.

Lowering his head, Eddie kissed his way down the front of the panties, earning a breathy sigh from above. Taking advantage of a momentary distraction, Eddie held Steve firmly by the hips as he switched their places, leaving Steve sitting on the end of the bed and Eddie standing before him, swiftly dropping to his knees. He urged Steve's thighs apart with gentle pressure to the inside of his knees, planting kisses there as he worked his way forward.

Reaching Steve's panties, Eddie licked a broad stripe up the center, tasting the slick already soaking through the fabric. Fumbling in his right pocket, Eddie found an elastic and tied his hair back before diving back in, moving his tongue in a zigzag pattern as he worked his way down and then back up. Steve's clit already tented out the fabric at the top, and Eddie stroked the material to either side with his tongue, feeling it throb against his cheek as he barely brushed against it.

“Eddie,” Steve breathed out. “Please.”

How could he not oblige? Nosing along its length, Eddie licked at the tip, then gently suckled it through the silky fabric. It twitched against his lips, beautiful sounds dropping from Steve's lips as he propped himself up on his hands. Eddie kept going until his face was covered in slick, even through the material, and Steve had dropped back on his elbows, whimpering and begging. Rising to his feet, Eddie finally shucked off his jeans, briefs and socks going along with them as Steve inched back across the mattress, looking up at him invitingly from beneath lowered lids.

Eddie crawled onto the bed, holding himself above Steve to thrust against the wet silk once, then again, until he knew he had to stop. Balancing back on his knees, he worked his thumbs beneath the waistband and gently tugged the panties down over Steve's hips, letting Steve work them the rest of the way off of his legs. Leaning in, he licked at Steve's nipples through the chemise, swirling his tongue around before nibbling lightly at the swollen nubs. When Steve cried out, bucking his hips up against Eddie's, he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric and lifted it up toward Steve's head. It was off in an instant, tossed away to land somewhere in the room.

Eddie leaned down on his elbows, resting against Steve's brow as he rolled his hips forward, dragging his cock through Steve's hot, wet folds to brush up beneath his clit. He'd had about all the teasing he could stand, desperate to be inside his omega, and from the way Steve whimpered and squirmed beneath him, Eddie was pretty sure he agreed.

“Need you, alpha,” Steve murmured against his lips, rolling his hips up to slide along Eddie's cock. “Need you inside me, need your knot, please —”

A rumble started up in Eddie's chest at his words. He'd held back on knotting inside Steve, too wary of being interrupted and unable to make themselves presentable after their first – and only – time. Life with a pup was unpredictable, and Eddie accepted that, but tonight – tonight he was fairly certain they could expect to be left entirely to themselves.

“Want to give it to you,” Eddie replied, the hint of a possessive growl beneath the words. “Gonna knot you so good, omega. Gonna make you forget any other alpha who tried.”

“They're not worth remembering,” Steve agreed, angling his hips up at just the right angle, and Eddie nearly slipped inside.

“Wait,” he said, breathing hard. Reaching out for the bedside drawer, he felt Steve’s hand on his arm.

“I'm not in heat,” he said. “You don't need it.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked, his alpha brain all but thumping its tail with glee. “I don't mind being careful.”

“I'm tired of careful,” Steve said, something wild in his expression that Eddie thrilled to, and he let the contents of the drawer be.

Steve tugged him back, hooking one ankle around Eddie's calf and thrust up against him. Eddie answered in kind, sliding up and back through his swollen folds until his cockhead caught on Steve's entrance and he slid easily inside. It was ecstasy, feeling Steve this way as he moved, withdrawing halfway to thrust deeper still. Steve’s fingers dug into his back as he met Eddie thrust for thrust, his spine arching up from the mattress.

Trying not to break the rhythm as he sat up, looping his arms beneath Steve’s knees to pull him forward, Eddie didn't quite succeed. Steve didnt seem to mind, adjusting easily to the new angle with a groan of pleasure.

“Fuck yeah,” he managed, his breath catching on the words.

“Feel good?” Eddie asked, somewhat unnecessarily, but wanting the reassurance anyway.

“Yeah,” Steve let out with a moan as Eddie aimed for his g-spot. “So good, Eddie – oh – oh yeah, just like that.”

Eddie kept his thrusts slow and deep, the angle just right as he watched Steve's clit pulse and throb. It took a bit of effort, but he worked his right hand around to take it between his fingers and stroke, from the thick hood to its swollen tip, twitching at the attention. Steve's lips were parted, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he rocked up to meet Eddie's movements.

“Don't stop,” Steve begged. “‘M close Eddie, don't stop.”

“I wouldn't dare,” Eddie said, his voice thick. He wasn't sure how long he could keep it up, in truth, but he knew he could get Steve where he needed to be. Moving a bit faster, thrusting just that much harder, Eddie worked Steve's clit between knuckles wet with slick, the sound of skin against skin loud in the quiet room.

Steve's breath hitched as his hips stuttered, and Eddie felt his walls flutter and contract around him like a vice. Nonsense spilled from his lips as Eddie worked Steve through it, stroking and thrusting, trying to hold back as long as he could. The arrythmic contractions around his cock, as Steve's pleasure came in waves, were nearly too much, and Eddie heard the whine that left his throat.

Relocating his hands to Steve's hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, Eddie thrust hard and fast, chasing his own high. He could feel his knot beginning to swell at the base, and tried to hold it back just a little longer. Steve covered Eddie's hands with his own, squeezing down around his cock and easing up, over and over again until Eddie lost the rhythm, spilling deep inside.

Steve made a pleased sound, clenching down hard as the aftershocks rolled through Eddie like the last gasp of a summer thunderstorm. His knees threatened to give way as his knot swelled, and Eddie gently lowered Steve back down to the bed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Steve looked delirious, eyelids fluttering as his walls still pulsed around Eddie's knot. Leaning in close, Eddie brushed his lips against Steve's cheek, then the tip of his nose, then his mouth, moving slowly against him.

Steve's arms wrapped loosely around his neck as he returned the kiss with interest, their lips slotting together perfectly. Eddie rocked his hips ever so slightly forward and back, his knot brushing past the spot Eddie knew could drive Steve absolutely wild. Steve whimpered beneath him, matching Eddie's motions to keep perfect time.

“Alpha,” Steve breathed out, the word barely more than a whisper against Eddie's lips. “My alpha, mine.”

“Yours,” Eddie agreed, feeling Steve clench down around him as he spoke. His eyes rolled back, the pressure on his knot just shy of painful.

Steve raised his knees, hooking one ankle around Eddie's thigh to change the angle ever so slightly. He let out a delighted sound, and Eddie grinned before peppering Steve's jaw with kisses, working his way down to his ear. He sucked the lobe into his mouth, drawing his tongue across the back before flicking it into the hollow below the ear. Sliding his mouth down Steve's neck, he left a hot, wet trail as his thrusts grew that much harder, that must faster. Steve encouraged him, squeezing his hips with his knees.

Eddie felt delirious, golden sparks dancing in his vision when his mouth reached Steve's bonding gland as if he'd been searching for it all along, and maybe he had. Swirling his tongue around it, he felt more than heard Steve's moan, his cheek pressed against Eddie's ear. He met Eddie's thrusts with a fierce desire, his need matching Eddie's in its intensity. Eddie sucked at the raised patch of skin, feeling the swollen lump beneath it, hot against his tongue. He wasn't sure when his fangs had descended, only that they ached to find their purpose.

“Mark me, Eddie,” Steve begged, one hand sliding up to lightly hold Eddie at his neck. “Please, you know I'm yours, you know I mean always, make me yours so everyone can see.”

His answering groan was half lost against Steve’s skin. Through the golden haze of bite, claim, and his alpha's persistent, insistent knowing that this was his mate beneath him, taking his knot so well, who had begged for it and now was begging for his bite, he still managed to find the words.

“You mean that? You're sure?” Eddie only hoped the questions were intelligible around his mouthful of teeth.

“Completely,” Steve answered. “Entirely.”

Eddie dragged his fangs lightly across the skin, feeling the shudder that wracked Steve's frame at the sensation before biting down hard. He tasted the saltiron tang of blood and something oily, a heady and viscous mixture sliding thick across his tongue as Steve's body jerked beneath him, his fingers tightening painfully in Eddie's hair. His hips snapped forward again and again, and he felt Steve's orgasm, racing across his skin and pulsing through his bloodstream as though it was his own.

Steve contracted around him, squeezing tight. Eddie was aflame, every part of him a live wire as his cock kicked deep inside and flooded his nerves with sweet release. His jaw at last unclenched, disengaging from Steve's neck with a pop and he pulled back a scant few inches with a singular purpose in mind.

“Bite me,” he said, baring his neck to his mate. Eddie couldn't say what specifically prompted the request from within the tidal wave of endorphins he was riding. Just because he'd never seen an alpha with a bondmark didn't mean it wasn't possible, and if it was, well, he wanted to wear Steve's.

Steve didn't hesitate, baring fangs grown longer than his usual kittenish points to sink deep into Eddie's skin. He felt them pierce the scent gland and smelled blood before the pain hit, secondary to the sensation of lightning crackling along his skin. If Eddie thought he had experienced pain before, it was nothing compared to this, and yet still it flowed beneath the immediate electric rush of connection. He could feel the aftershocks from Steve's orgasm, a fierce counterpoint to his own as they echoed through him, a dual pulse pounding in his chest.

Hot liquid ran down across his collarbone, dripping onto his chest, and the scent he now knew as vetiver rose around them. Steve collapsed back against the pillow, still clutching Eddie as if for dear life, and he nuzzled at Steve's neck, licking across the punctured gland. It was slowly leaking fluid, the bleeding having subsided, and four clear indents stood out along the surface. They would remain when it healed, marking Steve as mated, claimed, his fate enjoined with another.

Eddie could only hope his stayed, and if they didn't, well, that was one patch of skin still free of ink. It might not be for long. He wanted everyone who saw him on stage, every fan who followed his accounts, every photographer that stalked him, hell, the entire world to know that he too was claimed. The bite throbbed and ached, and he wondered if Steve's felt the same, or if he was feeling it now.

“Eddie,” Steve whispered softly against his ear. “Love you, Eddie.”

Drawing back just far enough to see in the flickering candlelight, Eddie brushed the hair from Steve's eyes. Unable to keep a soft smile from his face, Eddie leaned in, pressing his lips to Steve's in a gentle kiss. It was slow, blissful, and Eddie never wanted it to end. When he eventually did pull back to take in a solid breath, Steve spoke.

“I'd say I can't believe you wanted me to bite you too, but I very much can.”

Eddie grinned at that. “Of course I did.”

“Of course you did.” Steve said with a smile and a slight shake of his head.

“I love you,” Eddie said, leaning in to nuzzle at Steve's nose before pressing a kiss to his lips. Steve gave a pleased hum and lifted up just slightly to kiss him back, which Eddie returned until he knew he would get lost in it if he didn't pull away. “I don't want to move, possibly ever, but I think I should at least clean out your bite, maybe put some gauze on it, a bandaid -”

“Okay, okay,” Steve said with a laugh. “I'll give you a few minutes reprieve.”

“A few minutes, huh?” Eddie said.

“Yep,” Steve confirmed. “After that you're due back for cuddling.”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” Eddie said truthfully, slowly beginning to push himself up. Steve whined a bit when he pulled out, then looked embarrassed. Eddie leaned down, planting a kiss on his forehead. “Give me like, thirty minutes,” he said. “Unless my dick decides we're twenty five again instead of thirty five, which would be totally fine with me.”

Steve laughed, shooing Eddie off into the en suite, where he fumbled around for the first aid kit he would swear was in a drawer somewhere. Probably. Finding it in with the fresh towels for no clear reason, Eddie quickly washed himself up, checking out the bite on his neck in the mirror. He looked a bit like he had made a nice snack for a passing vampire, but overall, he had to say he liked the look. Remembering why he was in the bathroom in the first place, Eddie hastily grabbed the kit and brought it back out with a warm washcloth for Steve. After gently cleaning him (and an accidental bout of tickling), Eddie set to work on Steve's bonding gland.

“Look at you,” Steve said with a smile as Eddie cleaned and bandaged, only wincing once or twice. “You're going to make a great dad, you know that?”

“God, I hope so,” Eddie said, knowing his nerves showed beneath the words.

“I know so,” Steve said. “And Lettie said she was cool with it, so there's that.”

“I'm profoundly glad she was consulted,” Eddie said. “Though I figured she would be.”

“All part of the lengthy audition process,” Steve said with a wink.

“Oh, is that what I’ve been doing all this time?” Eddie questioned.

“Just be glad you got a call back,” Steve said, waiting until Eddie had sealed the bandage tightly before going in for another round of tickles. Thoroughly exhausted in ways Eddie hadn’t even known he could exhaust himself, he settled the matter by pulling Steve down mostly on top of him and wrapping his arms tightly around his mate.

His mate.

God, Eddie could barely believe it was true, but the proof was right there in the form of the most beautiful man he had ever seen, giggling like a mischievous pup as he lay curled up atop Eddie’s chest. “I love the way you laugh,” he said, stroking Steve's hair. “And I love the way you make me laugh.”

It was sunflowers, Eddie thought. Plumes of red larkspur, shooting up toward the sky like fireworks. In his arms, his mate was apple blossoms and sweet, fragrant orange; an orchard in bloom. The bond between them already felt radiant - early morning light on a spill of geraniums overflowing their windowbox, stretching out vibrant yellow petals to welcome him home.

With every breath, I plant the seeds of devotion;
I am a farmer of the heart. - Rumi, In the Arms of the Beloved

artwork by martianfox