eddie munson, extra fluff on the side

Lizzie Munson just might be the one true love of your life.  

Not in a romantic sense, no, but still in that deep down, in your bones, you can’t shake it, you will protect her from anything you can kind of way.  The pride that swells within you as you look up at her on the stage, wearing her orange cap and gown, brings tears to your eyes.  

She might not be yours biologically, but she’s yours in every way that counts.  You were there when Eddie brought her home from the hospital, when she took her first steps, on her first day of kindergarten, when she got her driver’s license, and now as she graduates high school.  And it only took her one try.

You’re sitting in the front row next to Eddie and Uncle Wayne, your poster that reads, “Congrats Lizard!” waving in your hands.  Cameras are flashing, everyone is waving themselves with programs, and people are trying to pay attention to Principal Higgins, but it's hot as balls outside. 

It can't dampen your mood, though.  Your girl is about to take the podium and give her valedictorian speech.

Beside you, Eddie bounces his knee so hard it knocks against yours.  You grab his hand and give it a squeeze.

“Calm down, Munson, you’re making the whole row shake,” you whisper.

“I can’t help it, Sweets,” he mutters, eyes fixed on the stage, “My kid’s about to give a speech in front of like, a thousand people.”

You look around exaggeratedly, “There are maybe two hundred people here.”

“Feels like a thousand.”

You grin softly and smooth an invisible wrinkle from the sleeve of his black button-down. He’d complained about wearing it the entire drive over, tugging at the collar like it was strangling him.  He looked so handsome as you adjusted his tie before the two of you left your house, but now he looks terrified in it.  Not for himself.  For her.  The poor man.  And he’s not the only one you have to worry about.

On the other side of Eddie, Uncle Wayne sits stiff-backed in a suit jacket he only ever wears to funerals and weddings.  He’s sweating profusely in the May heat.  His rough hands are folded tightly in his lap, eyes glassy already.  The second the perfunctory announcements started, he’d gone suspiciously quiet.  

It’s a good thing you’re well trained in emotionally regulating the Munson men because you have a feeling you’re about to have to pat a couple of backs and wipe away a few tears.

Eddie goes stiff when Higgins steps back from the podium with a smile.

“And now, Hawkins High School Class of 2005’s valedictorian, Elizabeth Munson.”

The applause is thunderous.  You scream as loud as you can and wave your sign wildly.  Eddie sucks in a sharp breath beside you.  Wayne is stiff as a board.

Lizzie crosses the stage in gold cords with black combat boots peeking out beneath her gown. Eddie had already cried when she walked downstairs earlier that morning dressed for graduation.  Now, he’s crying because of the boots.

“Kid inherited my fashion sense,” he says proudly through tears.

You hand him a tissue and give his knee a squeeze.

Lizzie reaches the podium and adjusts the microphone.  For one horrible second, she looks nervous.  Then, her eyes find the three of you.

You.  Uncle Wayne.  Her dad.  And she smiles.

“Okay,” she says, voice echoing through the crowd and Eddie sniffles, “So statistically speaking, most valedictorian speeches are supposed to include inspirational quotes, metaphors about journeys, and at least one overused reference to the spreading of wings.”

A ripple of laughter moves through the crowd.  

“I didn’t really do any of that.”

Eddie huffs quietly beside you, “That’s my girl.”

“So instead,” Lizzie continues, “I figured I’d talk about the people who got me here.”

You can see her fingers tighten slightly around the edges of the podium.

“When people hear that I was raised by a single dad in a trailer park on the edge of Hawkins, they usually make assumptions about my life.”

The gym quiets, Eddie grabs your hand and interlaces your fingers.

“They think I grew up with less,” she says and makes sure her gaze roams over the entire crowd.

You see Eddie’s shoulders tense beside you.

“But I didn’t.”

Lizzie looks toward Eddie who is gripping you tightly.

“I grew up with a dad who worked himself to the bone every single day and still came home to help me study for spelling tests.”

Eddie ducks his head immediately, the tips of his ears going red.

“Who had someone teach him how to braid hair.”

There are some chuckles.  You think you can hear Dustin’s laugh in particular.

“Who sat through every choir concert, every science fair, every nightmare, every heartbreak.”

Your chest aches and Eddie leans his head against your shoulder. You can feel the tears soak through the sleeve of your shirt.

“And when he didn’t know how to fix something,” her voice softens and your vision goes misty, “he made sure I never had to face it alone.”

Eddie presses his fist against his mouth as if he can staunch his emotions.

Lizzie glances toward Wayne next.

“My Uncle Wayne taught me that love doesn’t have to be loud to be life-changing.”

Wayne’s eyes squeeze shut.  You reach across Eddie’s shoulders to give Wayne a pat.

“He taught me how to fish.  He taught me how to drive, after I almost gave my dad a heart attack.  He threatened a boy once for making me cry sophomore year.”

“That little asshole deserved it,” Wayne mutters under his breath, making you choke back a laugh.  Wayne’s right, the little asshole deserved it.

“And then there’s…” Lizzie pauses, looking directly at you now.

The entire room seems to disappear.  She says your name with an aching fondness.

“There’s the person who taught me what kindness looks like.”

Your breath catches and this time Eddie squeezes your hand.

“She’s been there for every important thing I can remember.  School pickups, birthday cakes, movie nights, panic attacks before exams, taking me prom dress shopping for the third time because I kept changing my mind.”

Eddie sneaks a peek at you quietly, a look akin to reverence on his face.

“When people asked if I missed having a mom growing up,” Lizzie smiles shakily and shrugs her shoulders, “the truth is, I never really felt like I did.”

Your eyes burn instantly.

Lizzie’s biological mother Rachel was never around.  She and Eddie were never even really in a relationship.  They were only casual hookups until one night the condom broke.   You can still remember how frantic Eddie was when he called you the night it happened.  You tried to reassure him that nothing was going to come of it and everything would be fine.  But you were wrong.

A few weeks later, Rachel called, told Eddie that she was pregnant, and that her parents were making her keep it.  Rachel’s parents were uber religious and there would be no talk of abortion.  Adoption was their preferred route.

In the beginning, Eddie agreed.  He didn’t think that as the resident freak of Hawkins, Indiana, who still had yet to graduate high school, he was fit to raise a child.  You remembered tearful conversations where you told him that you would support him no matter what he chose.  In the end, after much back and forth with Rachel’s parents and with the backing of you and Wayne, he chose Lizzie.  Rachel signed over her rights and she and her parents moved far from Hawkins, never to be seen again.

You were the only constant female influence in her life.  Eddie’s eternal best friend.  The girl who grew up in the trailer next door.  Sure, Claudia, Karen, and Joyce were around, and they helped out wherever they could.  There were also a few girlfriends who thought they had the wherewithal to handle a single father until they couldn’t.

But you were the one in the trenches with him.

When he made the final decision that he was going to keep Lizzie, the two of you made a plan.  He had to graduate, get a better job (AKA stop dealing), and he needed his own place.

The last one was a no-brainer.  You’d graduated the year before, and you lived in an apartment complex just down the way from Forest Hills.  Your current lease was up, and you told him you had no problem moving into a two bedroom with him.  The plus side was that the two of you would be close to Wayne.  After that, the other two things on the list eventually fell into place.

In the beginning, neither of you knew what you were getting yourselves into.  You didn’t know jack shit about babies, and neither did Eddie.  Together, the two of you learned how to make bottles, change diapers, burp, administer children’s Tylenol, go to work on 3 hours of sleep, and how to make a rinky dink apartment a home for an infant.

You and Eddie lived together until Lizzie was three, when he finally saved up enough money for a down payment on a house.  And even after you were no longer living together, you were still on Lizzie’s school pick up list, in her emergency contacts, and you went to her field trips and parent-teacher conferences when Eddie couldn’t.  

Thinking back on those rough first years and how Lizzie has become such a huge part of your life, tears well up along your waterline.  On stage, Lizzie’s own eyes glisten, but she keeps going.

“I got really lucky. I was raised by three people who chose me every single day.”

It’s completely silent now except for the soft fan of graduation programs and the occasional cough.

“And I think that’s what I want everyone graduating today to remember.”

She steadies herself with a breath.  Next to you, Eddie copies her.

“Family isn’t always the thing you’re born into.  Sometimes it’s the people who stay.  The people who show up.  The people who choose you every day.  The people who love you so loudly that eventually you learn how to love yourself the same way too.”

Beside you, Eddie is openly crying, shoulders shaking slightly as he laughs under his breath in embarrassment.  He wipes clumsily at his tears.

“Oh, this kiddo’s trying to kill me,” he whispers hoarsely.

Lizzie smiles one last time out at the crowd.

“So yeah, maybe I don’t have a quote about wings.”

A small grin spreads across her face.  It’s so much like her father’s.

“But thanks to my family, I never really needed them to fly.”

The gym erupts.  Everyone is on their feet instantly, applause crashing across the football field.

Wayne stands slowly, wiping aggressively at his eyes.  Eddie doesn’t even try to wipe at his tears anymore.  He’s crying and laughing helplessly as he claps.

“That’s my daughter,” he says, voice cracking completely, “Holy shit.”

You let go of his hand to wrap him in a hug, “You did good, Daddio.”

As the audience begins to settle, Lizzie gives one last shy smile and makes her way back to her seat as Vice Principal Clarke moves to the podium.

“Thank you so much for those touching words, Miss Munson,” he pauses like he can’t quite reconcile the fact that a Munson just gave a valedictorian speech, “Now, we will call each student up to receive their diplomas.”

Higgins goes to stand next to the table that holds the rolled certificates, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, and you watch as student after student crosses the stage and takes their diploma.  Fortunately, Hawkins was a small school, so you didn’t have to wait long for Lizzie’s turn to come.

She stands and her head turns to you sharply, she wants you to notice.  You lock eyes and she gives you a half smirk and a wink.  And you know.  You know exactly what she’s going to do.

You shake your head at her, but you know she won’t be deterred.

“Oh no,” you whisper under your breath, but Eddie still hears you. 

“What?”

“She gave me the wink.” 

Lizzie saw the video of her father’s graduation at Eddie’s last birthday party when you’d gotten nostalgic and started pulling out every old picture and video you had.  She knew all about her father’s three tries at graduating, she knew that he used to be the local freak, but she didn’t think he’d actually done what everyone chuckled about when they mentioned that faraway May day in 1986.  Of course, after she was shown that clip of Eddie running up to Higgins, grabbing his diploma, and flipping him the bird, you had to show her the one of her Uncle Dustin doing the same thing in 1989.  After she saw them, she told you she was going to do it, too.  

If you were honest, you didn’t really believe her.  Like her dad, Lizzie had her own wild streak, but it was mostly relegated to dying her hair different colors with Kool Aid and having her best friend Cassie Eatherly pierce her nose with a needle and an ice cube.  Looks like Lizzie is proving you wrong.

Eddie turns to you fully, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Eddie, your child is on a stage with Principal Higgins on her graduation day.  What do you think I mean?”

“She wouldn’t.  Not my little Lizard.”

“Like I said, she’s your child.”

“Oh shit,” he mutters and Uncle Wayne turns to him sharply. 

“Eddie, please.  This is a serious occasion.”

“Then I seriously think you’re gonna want to close your eyes for this one, Wayne.”

It takes a second for the words to hit, but when they do, Uncle Wayne shakes his head.  He’d long ago given up on the notion that nothing could surprise him after basically raising Eddie by himself.  Now, he just tried to take everything in stride. 

“She wouldn’t.”

Right on cue, you hear the crowd try and fail to contain themselves as the curly-haired girl stops dead in front of Higgins, snatches the rolled up paper from his hands, flips him the most elegant middle finger you’ve ever seen, and sprints off stage into the crowd of her classmates.  

Eddie hangs his head, not because he’s embarrassed, but because he doesn’t want Wayne to see how proud he is.  Wayne almost had a coronary when Eddie did it at his own graduation.  Today, Wayne just shakes his head fondly.

You start laughing hysterically, “You, Dustin, and now Lizzie.  They’re never gonna let us come to another one of these.”

“You’ve got to stop encouraging them, Sweets,” Wayne says with another shake of his head.

“Oh no, sir.  All I did was show her a video.  There was no encouragement needed.  This was all Lizzie.”

With a barely contained smile, Vice Principal Clarke manages to get through the rest of the names, while Higgins stands on the stage with a mottled face, looking like a bull staring at a red flag.  You’d think that since it’s happened to him three times now, he’d be used to being flipped off.  He should probably start planning retirement..

After the ceremony ends, everything feels a little unreal.  You’re still on the emotional high of Lizzie’s accomplishment.  Even though you’ve always had every confidence in her, you still can’t quite believe it.  She did it.  Your girl did it.  And she was valedictorian.

The bleachers empty in noisy waves.  There are families shouting congratulations, balloons flying off into the air, teachers trying to organize photos as no one follows directions.  In the background, “Eye of the Tiger” crackles through terrible speakers.  You, Eddie, and Wayne go down to the grass to wait for your girl.

Lizzie disappeared almost immediately with her best friend Cassie into a swarm of classmates, and now the three of you are just waiting somewhat impatiently for her to appear.  You want to say a proper goodbye before you go back home to put the finishing touches on her graduation party.

Eddie keeps staring into the crowd after her like he can’t quite process that the tiny little girl who used to fall asleep on his chest during late-night horror movies is suddenly a graduate.  It’s a little bit adorable.

You touch his arm gently, “You okay?”

“No,” he says immediately, eyes still shiny, “I’m having a full existential crisis.”

“That seems a bit dramatic, even for you, Eds.”

“My daughter just gave the most emotionally devastating speech of all time in front of the entire town.”

You laugh softly and loop your arm through his, pulling him closer.

Then Eddie turns to you, and something shifts.  Not dramatically, and not all at once.  There’s just a stillness.

Because Lizzie’s words are still hanging there between you.

When people asked if I missed having a mom growing up…the truth is, I never really felt like I did.  You hadn’t expected her to say that.  Those words speak so much to the relationship you have with the two youngest Munsons.

You and Eddie have been best friends almost your entire life.  You lived next door to each other growing up, and you’d been inseparable ever since Lizzie’s namesake, Eddie’s mother, forced him to say hi to the girl playing by herself on the rusty playground in the middle of the trailer park.  You’d always only been just friends, even if you’d always known that you wanted more.  That you wanted him to be more than just your best friend.

But you have also been doing the growing-up-Lizzie thing together for eighteen years.  School lunches and scraped knees and parent-teacher conferences where teachers, who’d even taught the pair of you in high school, always looked at both of you like they were trying to figure out what was really going on in your relationship.  It was one of the reasons you never tried for more.  There was a kid, one you loved so, so much.  You weren’t going to risk her stability or your relationship with her father for something that might only be one-sided.

You nod, “She did.”

Wayne wanders off to find Claudia, Dustin, and Jane, leaving you and Eddie standing alone even in the middle of the crowded field.

Eddie rubs the back of his neck.

“She really meant that, you know.”

You look down, “I know.”

You don’t really know why you’re suddenly so shy with your best friend.  

“No, I mean it,” his voice softens, “You basically raised her with me.”

Emotion catches unexpectedly in your throat.  You joke to cover it., “Well somebody had to make sure she didn’t end up eating gas station food every night.”

“Airing out my dirty laundry after all these years?” Eddie says with a laugh, but his smile fades after a second, “She loves you a lot.”

Your chest tightens because you love her, too.  And her father.  More than you ever let yourself say out loud.

Before you can respond, there’s suddenly a blur of orange graduation gown flying toward you.  Lizzie crashes into you first.  You barely catch her and your sign before she wraps both arms around your neck.

“You cried,” she accuses immediately.

“You cried!” you say into her hair as you draw her in closer, “I’m so proud of you, kiddo,” 

“Even after that stunt I just pulled?” 

You pull back to look into her eyes that are so much like her dad’s and laugh loud enough that some of the others gathered around turn to look at the two of you, “Especially after that.  You’re just carrying on a sacred family tradition.”

“Give me back my child,” Eddie grumbles as he disentangles the two of you so he can pull Lizzie into a hug.

“Dad, I can’t breathe,” Lizzie giggles as Eddie picks her up and swings her around, their twin heads of dark curly hair flying carelessly.

He puts her down, but takes her by the shoulders, “I am so proud of you, Elizabeth Munson.”

She tilts her head down and she gets shy under her father’s praise, “Dad…”

“No, you’ve gotta listen.  That was the most  beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.  Had all of us crying like little babies.”

“I know,” she says, “I could see you all blubbering.  You almost cracked my unwavering composure.”

Eddie wraps an arm around your shoulders to tuck you in next to him and lean a cheek against the top of your head, “Sweets, was the only one blubbering.”

She looks between the two of you with an expression that instantly makes you suspicious, “Speaking of my speech…”  

With that smirk on her face, it’s uncanny how sometimes she looks exactly like Eddie.

“What is that face?” you ask slowly.

“Nothing.”

“Lizzie…”

She grins.

“You know everybody thinks you’re together, right?”

Eddie chokes and you nearly drop your sign.  You both unconsciously take a step away from each other.

“Excuse me?” you barely manage to eke out.

“I’m serious,” she says, “Like, literally everyone.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie mutters, covering his face, which is becoming an odd shade of red.

“I think some of my classmates found out for the first time today that you’re not actually my mother,” she looks at you pointedly, “At parent-teacher conferences and field trips and everything, they always assumed – ”

“We know,” you and Eddie say at the exact same time.

Lizzie beams, looking between the two of you.

“That was very ‘couple' of you.”

Eddie points at her threateningly, “Do not start.”

But she’s already backing away laughing, spotting Cassie across the field.

“I’m just saying!” she calls, “You’re fooling absolutely nobody!”

Then she disappears back into the crowd.

“Bye, I guess,” you say after her sarcastically once she’s gone.

Then, there’s silence.  Long, dangerous silence.

Eddie stares at the grass.  You stare at the stage.

Somewhere in the distance, Wayne is loudly arguing with another parent about the correct way to smoke brisket.

Finally Eddie laughs quietly under his breath, “You know the worst part?”

You glance at him carefully, “What?”

He looks at you then.  Really looks at you.  His gaze is soft, terrified, honest.

“For a second up there…” he swallows, “when she was giving that speech…”

Your heart starts pounding.

“I kinda wished we were.”

The world narrows instantly.

All the noise around you fades into dull static.

Eddie looks horrified with himself the second the words leave his mouth, like he wants to shove them back in.  And you can’t breathe because the truth is, you wished it too.  You have for a very long time.

And now that Lizzie has graduated high school, you think you’ve finally gathered the courage to tell him.  It’s probably just the emotional gravity of the day pulling you into its orbit, but you want to shout it from the rooftops and let everyone know that you’re in love with Eddie Munson.  It’s on the tip of your tongue, and he’s looking at you like he knows what you’re gearing up to say and he wants you to say it as badly as he wants to hear it.

“Eddie,” you begin.

You’re going to tell him and not chicken out this time.  Your lips are forming the words when…

“Eddie!  Sweets!  We’ve been looking all over for you!”

Dustin Henderson emerges from the dwindling crowd hand in hand with his wife Jane, walking toward you and Eddie like he’s on a mission.

“I think you have the coolest kid ever,” Dustin says as he drops Jane’s hand and pulls Eddie into a hug, completely oblivious to the situation he just walked into.  Eddie gives him a stiff pat on the back, but doesn’t break eye contact with you.

Jane, however, is not oblivious.  She clocks that the air is different as soon as she sees the two of you looking at each other.  Bless her, she tries to intervene.

“Dustin, we should go.  We need to pick up some things before the party,” she says as she takes his hand again and tries to gently lead him away.

“No we don’t.  We already have Lizzie’s card and gift.  All we have to do is change.”

“Dustin…”

“Eddie!  Sweets!”

You turn and see Steve Harrington and his wife Emma coming up behind Dustin with the two Buckley-Wheelers trailing behind.

Whatever courage you might’ve found is now gone.  You are not doing this with an audience.  Another one bites the dust.  You probably shouldn’t confess your love for your best friend right after his daughter’s graduation anyway.  Seems like the least great idea you’ve ever had when you think about it.  But at least now you have your friends around you as buffers to keep the conversation from getting too deep or too stilted.

Steve goes to join Dustin, Jane, and Eddie as the girls move to you.

“Our girl did so well!” Robin says as she holds out her arms.

Robin, Nancy, and Emma gather around and pull you into a hug that you return gratefully.  Eddie is your best friend, but those three women, plus Jane and Max, are your tribe.  In them, you had a wealth of knowledge to draw from when it came to almost any situation.  They’d been invaluable over the years in helping you with anything life could throw at you, be it a situation with Lizzie, a stupid fight with Eddie, your pitiful love life.

And speak of the devil.  It seems everyone in Hawkins wants to join your little post-graduation huddle.

You hear that specific voice call your name and you turn to see Mark Eatherly, Cassie’s dad, and the man who just so happens to be your former fiancé.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eddie frown.  You know he hates Mark.  He has from the start, although you’ve never been able to get a good reason, other than “I just don’t like him” out of him.

With an instinct bred from being friends with Eddie for years, Steve and Dustin shore up beside him.  It’s doubtful that Eddie is going to make a scene at his daughter’s graduation, especially with his daughter’s best friend’s dad, but emotions have been running high, and even almost two years post breakup, Eddie was still pretty pissed with how everything between you and Mark ended.

You’d met Mark at an eighth grade field trip to the zoo that you’d gone on in Eddie’s stead.  Eddie was busy at the mechanic shop, and he’d just taken over ownership, so there was no way he could get away.  Since Lizzie and Cassie were best friends, you spent the whole day with Mark being dragged around by two little teen dictators from exhibit to exhibit.  During your conversation, you learned that he was two years divorced from Cassie’s mother, and when he learned you were neither Eddie’s wife nor Lizzie’s mother, he asked you on a date.

One date became two, which became ten, and before you even really knew what was going on, Mark proposed.  In total, you were together almost two years before Mark broke it off.  

It was partly because of your inability to set a wedding date, and partly because he wasn’t super fond of how close you were with your best friend.  He was always going on and on about how Eddie was undermining his place in your life.  Mark wasn’t exactly wrong, but you’d told him several times that you were never giving up your relationship with Eddie.  

When he’d started making comments about you not needing to be so involved in Lizzie’s life because you weren’t her actual mother, and how you didn’t need to be a buffer against the real world for Eddie – that was the beginning of the end.  There were a few more months of hurtful words neither of you could take back, and then he gave you an ultimatum and you gave him your ring.   

You never did and never were going to love him like you love Eddie, and it wasn’t fair to either of you.  It took you a while to come to terms with the simple fact that you never should’ve said yes to Mark in the first place.  Despite the demise of your relationship, Lizzie and Cassie remained best friends.

Your girls line up beside you like tiny bodyguards, ready to protect you should Mark go off script.  They were also a line of second defense against Eddie should he be inclined to step in.

Mark holds his hands up as if in surrender, your friends looking like a firing squad, “I come in peace.”

“Eatherly,” Eddie mumbles from his group.

“Munson,”  Mark returns, then looks only at you, “I just came over to say hi and that Lizzie did an incredible job.  I know you must be extremely proud of her.”

“We are,” Eddie says for the both of you.

Mark nods, and you appreciate that at least he’s not egging Eddie on.

“I guess I’ll see you later when I drop Cassie off at the party?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

Mark nods at everyone and turns to walk away.  Thankfully, your group is smart enough to wait until he’s out of earshot to begin shit talking.

Eddie gives you a look asking if you’re okay, to which you reply with a nod.  Then, not missing a beat, your two clusters turn back to each other to dissect the exchange.

“Please don’t tell me that man is going to try and get you back,” are the first words out of Robin’s mouth.

“What about that five second interaction gave you the indication that he wants me back?”

“Are you serious?” her voice drops down to as much of a whisper as it can, “He never for one minute thought you were going to give him his ring back.  He was all swinging dick when he told you that you had to take a step back from Eddie, and I guess he thought you were gagging for it.  He took a pretty big hit to the ego when you didn’t even hesitate to rescind your yes.”

“That’s because I never should’ve given it to him to begin with.”

“I never liked him,” Emma states as the four of you shore up your group into a small circle.

“Never liked who?” Jane appears suddenly at your right, weasling her way in once she managed to get away from the boys.

“Mark,” Emma tells her.

Jane sticks out her tongue, “He is a stupid man.”

“I agree with you on that, Henderson,” Robin begins, “And as I was saying, I hope he’s not under the delusion that you’re going to take him back.”

“That’s never going to happen.  I don’t take kindly to ultimatums, nor am I ever going to not have the Munsons in my life.”

“It’d be even cooler if you were a Munson, too,” Nancy says under her breath, but everyone hears her and snickers.

“What are we giggling about over here?” comes a question to your left, and you all startle a bit.

The girls part a little to make room for Eddie.

“Girl stuff.  Periods and all that,” Emma says with a perfectly innocent grin.

“Sure,” Eddie tells her with a smile then looks to you, “I’m gonna head out.”  He pulls you into a hug and presses a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll be over at five to help finish setting up.  We’ll talk then, yeah?”

Nancy throws a smirk your way as if to say “see what I mean?”

You decide you’re not going to analyze his words until you’re in the safety of your car.

“I’ll see you then.”

“Ladies,” Eddie bows with a flourish and goes to find Wayne.

“We need to get going too, babe,” Steve says to Emma as he and Dustin saunter up to the group, “I’ve got to give the kids the big bad dad speech about not burning the house down while we’re out tonight.”

Steve never got the six little nuggets he’d talked about when you were all younger, but he and Emma had three, and that was plenty for them.  The couple were just getting to the point where they were letting their oldest, Lucy, babysit for extra money when they were going out or having a date night.

“Nance and I should head out as well, we’ve got to stop and pick up the cake at the bakery,” Robin tells them.

“Have you talked to Mike and Will?” you turn to Nancy and ask.

“Yes,” Nancy nods as the group starts walking toward the parking lot, “I saw them before they left.  My mom had been begging them to stop and see her while they’re in town, so they had to bail right after Lizzie’s speech, but they’ll be at her party tonight.  Jonathan, too.  He rode with the guys, so he had to leave with them.  He wanted me to tell you he wouldn’t forget his camera.”

Of the couple, Will was your favorite, not that you didn’t like Mike, but he was a little rough around the edges, and not in the Eddie-shaped way that you like.  Will was the sun to Mike’s thunder.  Will used to draw you detailed drawings of your bard back in the Hellfire days.  You still had all of them in a scrapbook.  

When you first met Mike, he wasn’t a fan, mainly because he didn’t understand your relationship with Eddie.  He didn’t comprehend that while you harbored a crush for the teenage rebel boy that he spotted from a mile away, you also genuinely liked Dungeons and Dragons, and you weren’t just joining them after school to make Eddie like you.  Eddie already liked you.  The poor metalhead had been trapped in your orbit, and you his, since the day you met.  Over the years, you and Mike bonded over your shared love of sarcasm, cleverly worded takedowns, and Will Byers.

Hardly any of you ever saw Jonathan anymore, other than Will, Mike, Jane, and Dustin.  He was living in New York having the time of his life making movies and being thoroughly happy to leave Hawkins in his rearview.  You, Eddie, and Lizzie had gone to see him a couple of times on vacation, but he loved to play the part of fun, somewhat mysterious uncle you only see on holidays.

When the group reaches the parking lot, you all take your turns saying your goodbyes.  Even though you’re going to see these people again in only a couple of hours, it’s so rare now that you all get to see each other together, in the same space.

Lucas and Max hadn’t even been able to attend the graduation because Max was seven months pregnant and while she loved Lizzie almost as much as you did, there was no way she was sitting in the blaring sun during the mid-May heatwave Hawkins was currently experiencing.  She’d called you that morning in tears because of the hormones, apologizing profusely.  Of course you’d told her not to worry about it.  Lizzie knew that the Sinclairs loved her, and there would be plenty of time for them to tell her that at the party.

The last hugs and handshakes are traded off and you get in your vehicles to venture toward your next destinations.  You should be using the drive time to make an attack plan for setting everything up, but you don’t.  Instead, your thoughts are tangled up in Eddie like they almost always are.

We’ll talk then, yeah?

Something almost happened in that moment right after Lizzie left.  You almost had both legs in your big girl panties.  You almost told him.  And he seemed to be waiting for it.  But yet again, something stopped you.  You didn’t want to claim that it was fate or anything like that, but you were going to have to get your fucking self together.

There were going to be roughly ninety uninterrupted minutes where you would have Eddie alone at your house where the two of you would be setting up for the party.  You needed to get that other leg in those panties and pull them up. 

Because the two of you were supposed to talk.

You get home, showered, and changed in record time.  You have the bigger backyard, so you told Eddie you’d have Lizzie’s graduation party at your house.  And even with other things on your mind, everything has to be perfect.  

So unfortunately, you’ve whipped yourself into a frenzy.  Eddie dropped the ‘I kinda wished we were’ line on you and there you were poised to bare your heart on a football field where the two of you used to sneak off to get high under the bleachers.  Now, you’re waiting for him to show up so you could decorate your backyard for his kid’s graduation party.  And quite possibly tell him you love him.

You’re staring at the clock on your microwave as it inches toward five o’clock.  At 5:01 you hear your front door open and the tell tale sound of boots on the wooden floor of your living room.  Your chest seizes for a second, because it’s showtime, then you hear the sound of a second pair of boots.

“Honey, we’re home!” Eddie exclaims as he and Lizzie come through the entryway from the living room into the kitchen.

The dual feelings of both relief and disappointment flood you simultaneously.  The thought crosses your mind that maybe Eddie brought Lizzie on purpose to be a buffer   Had you read his looks wrong?  Did he have a chance to think about what he said and realize that he didn’t mean it?

“When I got home, this weird little girl was there, and she started following me around saying she knew you.  She insisted she come help set up,” Eddie says when he sees your face and he looks at you pointedly, “I told her she didn’t need to set up her own party, but she refused to see reason.”

You let out an internal sigh of relief knowing at least that Eddie wasn’t trying to renege on the talk.  His daughter is just as bullheaded as he is, and if she decided she was coming over, there really was no stopping her.

Wrapping an arm around Lizzie’s shoulders, you pull her to you, “Well, weird little girl, I guess I’m putting you to work.  You can help your dad hang lights while I start on the food.”

Everyone quickly gets to work, Eddie throwing you a shoulder shrug as he grabs the lights you’ve left on the kitchen table.  Everyone and their brother seem to be intent on keeping you from talking to this man today.

Not that it matters anyway, because Wayne shows up only fifteen minutes later and you set up a station for him to inflate balloons.  Then, surprise of all surprises, Jonathan shows up a half hour early to get his camera ready.

“Jonathan Byers, you’re an angel,” you tell him and get a shy smile in return, “Who would’ve thought eighteen years ago, that I’d have a famous movie director as a friend and I’d be able to twist his arm into filming a graduation party?”

“Only semi-famous, Sweets, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.  As the only two members of the Class of ‘84 and ‘85 Photography Club, I feel we are obligated to stick together.”

You’re no photographer, but you’d joined the Photography Club your junior year mainly because you thought it would look good on your college transcripts.  You never would’ve imagined that it would spawn a lifelong friendship with the shy and solemn older brother of Will Byers.  You’d spent countless nights sharing a joint with Jonathan while both commiserating about the two people (Nancy and Eddie) that you longed for with all your maudlin teenage hearts.

Robin and Nancy always voiced their suspicions that your feelings for Eddie ran deeper than just friendship, but Jonathan was the only person who knew.

Of course, Jonathan got over Nancy rather quickly after he moved to New York for film school.  You, on the other hand, still carried a torch as bright as ever for your dear metalhead. 

“I’m going to go around and get some establishing shots.  Let me know if there’s anything in particular you want me to get.”

“Will do.”

The rest of the set up goes smoothly, and soon people are filtering in.  Dustin and Jane are first, Dustin joining Eddie over where he’s trying to light the grill, leaving you and Jane idly chatting, waiting for the others.  

Some neighbors and co-workers of both you and Eddie join, most of them only stopping by to drop off a gift or card.  Claudia comes briefly to drop off a gift.  Robin and Nancy set up the cake when they arrive, then join you and Jane.  Max waddles in, followed closely by Lucas, Steve, and Emma.  Everyone coos over Max while she loudly exclaims that if anyone touches her belly they’re going to die.  Mike and Will are accompanied by Karen.  They’re followed in by Joyce and Hopper. Eddie and Dustin join the group after they’ve filled a picnic table with nothing but meat.

Karen, Joyce, and Hopper reminisce over all of the graduations they’ve been to.  Mike and Will share news about California.  Robin and Nancy tell you that you simply have to see them in Massachusetts.  Emma and Max talk about all things baby.  Steve finally succeeds in getting Eddie to play cornhole with him against Dustin and Jane.

All the while, your girl is in the center of all of it, flitting between groups of people and conversations.  Her personality shines brightest when she’s around her people. Jonathan takes the opportunity to get some good footage of Lizzie in her natural habitat and of the guests telling stories about Lizzie growing up.

You’re at the dessert table, grabbing one of the cupcakes Karen brought, watching Lizzie make fun of her dad and Steve’s horrible cornhole technique when you hear her squeal and turn to see Cassie and Mark coming around the side of the house.  The girls embrace and jump up and down like they didn’t just see each other a few hours ago.

“Sorry we’re late,” Mark begins once he’s made his way to you and he grabs a cupcake, “Cassie’s mom and I took her out for dinner and it ran a little long,” 

“How the girls managed to survive is beyond me,” you tell him with a laugh as Lizzie drags Cassie over to watch the now heated cornhole match.

This is the point where you hope Mark will simply say goodbye, and make his merry way home, but as he fidgets with the wrapper, your hopes are dashed.

“What have you been up to lately?” 

Unfortunately, your squad is occupied and there’s no one to rescue you just yet.

“Same old, same old.  The bookstore keeps me pretty busy.  I’m probably going to have to hire two people to take over for Lizzie when she finally moves away for college.”

“I saw a new car in the driveway,” he says as he gestures toward the front of your house with his head, “I guess you finally had to replace the Camry?”

You don’t really like that Mark wants to bring up old relationship talk with you.  He’d been trying to get you to buy a new car since you’d started dating.  But you didn’t need a new freaking car, Eddie kept your old Camry running just fine.  The only reason you have a new car is because you gave your old one to Lizzie as a graduation present.

“The Camry is still kicking,” you inform him, “It’s actually Lizzie’s now.”

“Oh.”

The conversation between the two of you is mostly Mark trying to engage you in any way he can think of, but every laugh is forced and all you want to do is scurry away to anywhere else.  You keep trying to catch the eyes of any of your friends, but everyone is occupied.

All you can think is that it’s going to be a long night.

You’ve been talking to Mark for almost thirty minutes, Eddie knows because he clocked it as soon as Mark walked into your backyard.  He can’t even concentrate on the stupid cornhole game because all he really wants to do is go over there and bodily move Mark away from you.  Lizzie dragged Cassie off to god knows where saying that she couldn’t watch her dad lose so pathetically anymore.

He thought he’d seen the last of the man when you gave him back your ring, but Mark was like fucking herpes, always popping up when you least expected.  

Eddie is concentrating so hard on trying to read your lips, he doesn’t even hear Steve coming and he jumps when Steve slaps him on the back.

“I always thought you and Sweets would end up together,” Steve says as he follows Eddie’s line of sight and looks over at where Mark is still standing next to you.

“What makes you say that?” Eddie asks as if he’s fooling anyone.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“What way, praytell, do I look at her?”

“Like she hung the fucking moon.  It’s the same way I look at Emma.”

Eddie wants to have a snappy comeback, but he doesn't.  Steve’s right.  He does look at you like you hung the fucking moon, because to him, you did.  You are his best friend, his partner in crime, you helped him raise his goddamn daughter.  Everything good in his life exists because of you.  Other than the birthing part, even Lizzie.

You were the one who told him he could do it, be a real father, when he told you that he didn’t want to give his baby up for adoption.  You were honest with him.  You didn’t mince words, you told him it was going to be hard as hell, but that if he stuck with it, it would all be worth it.  And it fucking was.

There were no two people he loved in this world more than you and his daughter.  But he definitely loved you differently than he loved Lizzie.

Eddie had been in love with you most of his goddamn life.  

When the two of you were seven, you got “married” out near the creek that runs behind the trailer park – he had streaks of mud across his face and holes in the knees of his jeans, you had a crown of daisies atop your head.  You’d proposed to him with a Ring Pop and told him you wanted to be his best friend forever.  He’d said yes immediately.  The two of you promised each other you’d be together for eternity, and then you celebrated by passing the candy back and forth until it disappeared.  He didn’t tell you he loved you then.

The two of you shared your first and only kiss playing spin the bottle at Erin Carmichael’s thirteenth birthday party.  When the empty soda bottle he spun landed directly on you, he’d been so nervous he thought he was going to puke and you’d blushed so prettily he also thought he was going to die.  In front of the entire seventh grade class of Hawkins Middle School, he kissed you square on the lips and while everyone else “oohed” and “ahhed,” you’d stared at him with a look in your eye that was so much older than thirteen.  He felt like he’d died and gone to heaven.  He didn’t tell you he loved you then.

You were his date to all of his senior proms, and on the third one, when he was once again wearing one of Wayne’s old suits and you were wearing a sparkly dress, dancing under a disco ball to “Heaven” by Bryan Adams, he almost told you he loved you.  You had your arms around his shoulders with your head tucked under his chin.  You were wearing some fruity-smelling perfume that made him lightheaded in the best way.  His mind had been clouded with thoughts of Rachel and the baby and what he was going to do, but in that moment, you were the only thing he could think of.  He didn’t tell you he loved you then.

There was that moment just hours ago, right after Lizzie’s graduation, he felt that familiar tension between the two of you.  You had that soft look on your face you only ever had with him.  He’d been so sure you were going to say something.  He could see the emotion swirling in your eyes, although he could’ve been fooling himself and it was only the leftover sentimentality of Lizzie’s speech.  He told himself that he was giving you thirty seconds, and if you didn’t say anything, he was going to.  It was right there in the back of his throat, ready for any acknowledgment on your part, then Dustin came rushing over and killed the mood.  He didn’t tell you he loved you then.

He could never understand why he just couldn’t fucking tell you that he loved you.

Eddie’s reminiscing is cut short when Dustin, again, walks over and pats him on the back, “What are we talking about gentlemen?”

“About how Eddie loves Sweets,” Steve supplies with no preamble.

“Yeah, that’s not news.”

The casual way that Dustin says it gives Eddie pause, “What do you mean?”

“Eddie, a blind man could see that you love her.  And she’s crazy about you, too.  You both need to get your heads out of your goddamn asses already.  I’m frankly a little sick of watching you two pine after each other.”

Eddie scoffs, even as heat crawls up the back of his neck, “Jesus Christ Henderson, subtle as always.”

Steve chuckles.

“I’m serious,” Dustin begins, “you look at her like the lead actor in a rom-com.  I might start calling you Matthew McConaughey.”

Steve snorts into his beer, “That’s weirdly specific.”

“Jane’s been on a McConaughey kick,” he says to Steve before he turns back to Eddie, “You know what I mean.”  Dustin points between Eddie and where you stand, still talking to fucking Mark, “Look at you right now.”

You’re laughing at something Mark says, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, and still Eddie feels a little queasy.  You have your head tipped back and the lights he and Lizzie put up only a couple of hours ago cast you in a soft multi-colored glow.  Mark drops his head toward you and says something else to which you lightly shove his shoulder.

Jealousy twists sharp in his stomach.  Partly because Mark is touching you.  Mostly because Mark almost had you.  And it looks like he’s trying all over again.

There was a point where Eddie thought you were really going to do it – leave him and really be with Mark.  It was the night Mark proposed.  You’d come over after, and you were sitting on Eddie’s couch.  Your eyes were shining, you were twisting that god awful ring around your finger.  Lizzie was upstairs asleep, and the two of you were alone when you told him.  

And Eddie just smiled.  He smiled so hard his face hurt.  Then he congratulated you with a bitter taste on his tongue.  After you left, he got drunk alone in the kitchen and stared at the wall wondering if that heavy feeling in his gut was what missing his chance felt like.

“You’re doing it again,” Steve says with a nudge to Eddie’s arm.

“I’m not staring,” he mutters.

“You’re not,” Dustin corrects, “You’re yearning.”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously man,” Steve says quieter, not teasing like before, “What exactly are you waiting for?  Lizzie’s graduated, and she’s going off to college.  You have a house, a business, you’re not the freak of Hawkins anymore.  You never really were.”

Eddie opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.  Because the truth is a little pathetic.  He’s waiting for a sign.  Some kind of permission.  Some sort of undeniable proof that telling you how he feels won’t ruin everything the two of you have built.  That he won’t ruin it.

You are woven into every part of his life.  Your threads make up most of the beautiful tapestry that is his world.

And it’s not just about Lizzie.  

You know how he likes his coffee.  You know where he keeps the extra sheets.  You know when his shoulder hurts because he slept wrong because he’s getting fucking old.  You know Wayne’s medication schedule because Eddie hates to admit that Wayne’s getting old, too.

If he says something, and it goes bad, if he finally tells you and you look at him with pity instead of love, he’d lose one of the most important people in his life.

His eyes drift to you again.  This time you’re not looking at Mark.  You’re looking at him.  Even from across the yard, he knows that expression instantly.  There’s softness, fondness, maybe longing.  It hits him square in the chest.

Dustin notices it too, because he groans dramatically, “Oh my god, just kiss her already.  Put us all out of our misery.”

Steve laughs so hard he nearly chokes on his drink.  Eddie flips Dustin off without looking away from you.

‘You’re a little asshole, you know that?”

“At least I’m married to the woman I’m hopelessly in love with.”

“He’s got you there, Munson,” Steve agrees.

Before Eddie can rattle off another excuse as to why he needs to keep his mouth shut for all eternity, your back screen door slams open.

“Daddio!” Lizzie screeches and comes jogging out of your kitchen with Cassie trailing behind her, but veering off to the dessert table where you’re still standing with Mark.

“Leaving so soon?” Eddie asks his daughter.

“I’m heading out with Cassie.  I’m gonna spend the night with her.”

Eddie nods and throws an arm around her shoulders, “I know you’re all grown up now, but could you call me and let me know when you two get home.”

Lizzie gives him an indulgent smile, “Of course.  And don’t worry Daddio, we’re not going to do anything stupid.  There’s a bonfire out at Lover's Lake, then me and Cassie are going to her mom’s house.”

“Do you have everything?  Clothes?  Toothbrush?  Bail money?”

“Dad…”

“If I call Cassie’s house later tonight, are you going to be able to answer the phone?”  Eddie trusts his daughter, she’s a good kid, but he also wants to know that she’s made it safely home.

“If I call Sweets' house later tonight, are you going to be able to answer the phone?” she counters, and both Steve and Dustin snicker.

Eddie narrows his eyes and decides to ignore her comment.  He doesn’t have the brain power to verbally spar with his daughter right now, “Ok, just be careful, and call me if you need anything, and I mean anything.”

“You know I will,” she tells him with a wink and then looks over to you, “I’m gonna go say bye to Sweets.”

For the second time that day, Lizzie Munson comes barreling toward you out of nowhere, but you’re especially thankful for it right now.  Mark won’t stop talking to you, and not even Cassie trying to say goodbye has been able to distract him.

“Sweets!”

“Lizard!”

She grabs your hand, “Can I steal you for a second?”

“Sure thing,” you say, grateful to have a second alone with Lizzie, away from Mark’s banal conversation.

She pulls you far enough away so the two of you can talk without anyone listening.

“There she is,” you tease softly, fixing the mess of necklaces hanging around her throat.  Rings are her father’s thing.  Necklaces are hers.

Lizzie smiles, but it seems a little nervous around the edges.

“What’s wrong?” you ask immediately.

“Nothing’s wrong.  I just wanted to say goodbye before Cassie kidnaps me for the rest of the night.”

“You’ll call me if you need bail, right?”

She snorts, “Do you and my dad share a brain cell?”

“I think one is a generous number.”

Lizzie laughs and goes quiet again.

“What is it, honey?”

For a second, she just looks at you.  It’s not casual, it’s not distracted.  She really looks.  She’s so much like Eddie it almost knocks the breath out of you.

“I need you to know something,” she says softly.

“Okay.”

“You are family to me.”

Emotion climbs up your throat so fast it almost burns.

“Lizard…”

“No, let me finish before I chicken out,” she points at you the way you point at her when you tell her something she really needs to listen to, “I mean it.  You’re not like my family.  You are my family.”

For probably the hundredth time that day, your eyes begin to sting.

Lizzie swallows hard before continuing, “And I know you worry about changing things with my dad.”

Your stomach drops, “Lizzie…”

“I’m serious,” she says with a gentle voice, “I know you both think you’re hiding it, but you’re really, really not.”

Heat floods your face.  You’ve been called out by a teenager.  Again.

“Oh my god.”

She grabs both of your hands, “My dad has been in love with you literally my entire life.”

All you can do is stare at her, speechless.

“And you love him, too.”

You open your mouth to deny it, but nothing comes out.  What’s the point?  Lizzie knows.  Everyone probably knows.

Your eyes drift over to where Eddie is standing with Steve and Dustin.  His hair is falling into his face from laughing at something.  Your heart does that stupid little thing it always does when you catch him like that, so lighthearted and carefree.  Lizzie squeezes your hands tighter.

“I know that you had Mark, and he was okay, I guess.  But the best thing about him is Cassie.  And I’ve never seen him look at you the way my dad looks at you.  You don’t have to be scared anymore,” she tells you quietly.

And that nearly undoes you.  Because you are scared.  Scared of losing him.  Scared of ruining the best thing in your life.

“I just…” your voice cracks, “you and your dad mean everything to me.”

Lizzie smiles, and she looks so much like Eddie you could cry.

“Sweets,” she begins gently, “you’ve been in love with each other for years.  I knew it as soon as I had cognitive reasoning skills.  You two are just the last to formally acknowledge it.”

A watery laugh escapes you.  Lizzie steps forward and wraps her arms around you.

“You deserve each other,” she whispers into your hair.

You hold her tight and press a kiss to her forehead, “That sounds ominous.”

She laughs, but it’s edged with tears, “You’re going to make me cry off all of my makeup.”

“Too late for that, kiddo.”

She pulls back, grinning playfully.  Then, because she is Eddie Munson’s daughter, she tilts her head toward where her father is still standing with Steve and Dustin and says, “For the record, if you don’t kiss my dad soon, I think Steve and Dustin might actually explode from frustration.”

You burst out laughing, “Noted.”

“Good,” Lizzie says as you release each other, “Alright, I’m leaving before you get all weird and emotional on me again.”

“You started it!”

“Yeah, well someone had to,” she says with a shrug.

Lizzie skips away to grab Cassie and the two of them round the front of the house, off to adventures unknown.

Now, there’s a weight sitting in your gut that you can’t do anything with just yet.  All it can do is grow heavier until you can finally get Eddie alone.

You look over to the dessert table where Mark is still standing, but you’re sure as hell not going back over there.  Your patience with his particular line of conversation has run too thin.  You spot Wayne out of the corner of your eye, throwing away empty plates left lying around and decide to join him.

“Don’t worry about the trash, Uncle Wayne.  That’s what I have Eddie for,” you tell him as you slide a hand along his shoulder.

“Just doing my part, darling.”

“You did your part a long time ago.  That was raising my best friend.”

He gives you a smile and leans into your grip.

“What would that boy do without you?”

“Live off of Chef Boyardee and forget when his light bill is due,” you tell him with a chuckle.

“Did Lizzie set you straight?” he asks as he ambles toward the back porch door.

Everyone really does fucking know, you think to yourself as the two of you walk into the kitchen where Wayne has left his jacket hanging on one of your chairs.

You nod as he slides into the well-worn piece of clothing, “Yes sir, she did.”

“Then I guess I don’t have to say anything else.”

“No sir.”

Wayne pulls you into a bear hug and when he steps back, he studies you a bit.

“Well, I guess I do have a little bit to say.”

You don’t know what it is about those words that makes you a little nervous.

“Go on.”

“Al Munson was a dumb motherfucker,” Wayne begins, and you would laugh at Wayne’s language if he wasn’t so right and so serious, “He had everything a man could want.  He had Elizabeth, then he had Eddie.  But he fucked it all up.”

You take a deep breath.  You never really met the man, but you know that Wayne hates Eddie’s father with a passion.  And by extension, so do you.  He was a horrible husband and a horrible father.  He didn’t deserve Elizabeth or Eddie.

“Unfortunately, Al had that boy long enough to put a lot of nonsense in his head.  A lot of stuff that Al hated about himself that he pushed off on Eddie.  Told him he was no good, that he would never amount to anything, that he was trash.”

Wayne takes your hands in his own.  They are warm and his palms are calloused from years of work at the plant.  They are working man’s hands.  Hands that worked hard to give Eddie a home and a family.  Wayne is just as much Eddie’s father as you are Lizzie’s mother.  

You sometimes think it’s that truth that binds you and Wayne so closely.  You both know what it’s like to love a child so fiercely even when you had no hand in their making.

“Eddie is going to try and convince himself that he’s not good enough for you.  He’s going to tell himself that you can do better.”

“But I can’t,” you shake your head vigorously.

“I know that, darling, but that sonofabitch that was his father put those thoughts in his head, and it doesn’t matter what Eddie accomplishes, or how good he’s got it going, he always thinks he doesn’t deserve it.  He feels like an impostor in his own life.”

Wayne squeezes your hand tightly, not to the point of pain, but enough that you know he’s serious, “Don’t let Al win.  No matter what my boy does, no matter what he says.  Don’t let that man hurt my boy more than he already has.”

You give him a nod, not sure if you can speak yet.

“I know you can do it, Sweets.  I’ve been witness to the love you have for both of those knuckleheads.  Just please tell me that you won’t give up.”

You swallow, your throat thick with love for this man who loves Eddie and Lizzie so much, “I won’t give up, Wayne.”

He lets your hands go and pats you affectionately on the cheek, “I know you won’t.  Don’t let him give up either.”

You smile and together the two of you walk out to Wayne’s truck, your arms loaded down with leftovers for him to take home.  After you have everything stowed away, Wayne gets in and gives you a single wave goodbye.  He tells you to say goodbye to Eddie for him, and he’ll call him in the morning.  Wayne has said he piece, and he’s a man who says what he means to say and lets it lie.

You wave right back as he drives off, leaving you both lighter and heavier.

Between Lizzie and Wayne, your mind is spiraling a little.  There are so many expectations, including your own.  And you can’t even seem to get your best friend alone for more than a couple of minutes so you can tell him that you fucking love him.

When you make your way to your back yard, you see that everyone has taken Wayne’s exit as a sign to start putting everything away.  You can see Jane and Max through the kitchen window and decide to see if they need any help.  Unfortunately, you don’t notice until it’s too late that Mark is in there, too.

His presence would be less annoying if he hadn’t spent the last hour hovering around you and if you weren’t so desperate to have Eddie and your house to yourself.

You go to grab some discarded napkins when Mark leans on the counter beside you.

“You really did all this by yourself?” he asks, gesturing with his hand.

“With help,” is your vague reply.

You’d planned most of it, but as always, the whole gang pitched in.

“You always were good at this kinda thing.”

Before you can respond, you see your saving grace from the corner of your eye in the form of a heavily pregnant redhead.

“Hey,” she begins talking to you, completely ignoring Mark, “do you still have ice cream?”

It’s a random ass question, but you decide to go with it.  Plus she is pregnant and probably really wants ice cream, “Yeah, but if you eat all of the chocolate we’re going to have a Battle Royale at the fire pit.  Pregnant or not.”

“Fair enough,” she goes toward the fridge, but stops and turns to Mark, “You’re still here?”

“Max,” you fake warn.

“What?” she asks innocently.

“It’s nice to see you too, Mayfield.”

She holds up her left hand, shiny with a diamond ring, “It’s Sinclair.  I’m married.”

That’s when Jane takes it upon herself to interject as well, dragging over her trash bag to stand next to Max, “I think she means the party is ending.”

Mark blinks at her, and as she is wont to do, Jane just stares back, completely expressionless.  Max coughs to hide a smile.  Unfortunately, Mark notices.

“Have you two always been this hostile?”

“Yes,” is Max’s instant reply.

“Especially when people overstay,” Jane adds.  She starts putting more trash in the bags.

You pinch the bridge of your nose to hide your grin, “Come on everyone…”

Mark straightens and tells the girls, “I’m just talking to her.”

He never got along with Max and Jane.  They always made him bristly.  He thought they were too headstrong.  And they are too headstrong.  That’s why you like them.

“And you’ve been ‘just talking to her’ for like an hour,” Max tells him.

“And she keeps trying to walk away,” Jane points out.

Mark scoffs quietly, “Okay, I guess I can take a hint.”

“Please take it far away,” Max replies.

She goes to the fridge and pretends to start looking for ice cream.  Jane continues to stuff things in the garbage bags.

“See you later,” he tells you as he pulls his keys from his jacket pocket.

“Hopefully not,” Max says under her breath.

Mark still hears, but chooses not to reply.

“Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally.

Mark nods his head and makes a hasty retreat.  You sigh in relief at seeing him go.  The girls immediately drop their pretense.

“Finally!” Max exclaims.

“I agree,” starts Jane, “I never really liked that man.”

“Thanks for the assist,” you tell them as you go to take the bag from Jane, “Why don’t you two go outside.  I’m going to start the dishwasher, and I’ll be right out.”

They both nod and Max quickly grabs a pint and a spoon, she always knew where the fucking ice cream was.

You take a second to center yourself as you load the final utensils in the dishwasher and get it running.  As much as you’re dying to talk to Eddie, you also want to be present for your friends.  It’s few and far between when you’re all together like this and you want to be able to actually enjoy them.

When you finally head outside, they’re all gathered around the fire pit.  The people who stayed.  Your family.

Steve is in the adirondack chair he always claims as his own, Emma tucked securely between his legs, a hand dragging lazily through her hair.  Robin and Nancy share a blanket, their knees  pressed together as Nancy is absentmindedly tracing patterns on Robin’s wrist.  Jonathan sits a little apart from them on his own blanket.  He’s quite content with his camera still attached to his face and a beer nearby.  Will and Mike are shoulder to shoulder in their own two-person chair, speaking in low voices to one another.  Lucas and Max are stretched out next to them, Max’s head in Lucas’s lap as he recounts a story to Dustin and gently rubs her belly.  Dustin and Jane are crosslegged next to Eddie, Dustin listening intently to Lucas as Jane leans her head against Dustin’s shoulder.

Eddie looks up as you get nearer, “Wayne leave?”

“Yeah, he said he would call you in the morning.”

Eddie pats the spot next to him, “Been saving it for you, Sweets.”

You sit down right where you belong.  Right now, it’s easy to just be present with Eddie, surrounded by your friends.  There are no butterflies, just the warmth of the fire and easy conversation.

“Remember when Henderson tried to convince us that he found a new species of lizard?” Steve asks with a smirk as you sit down.

Dustin scoffs immediately, “Okay, first of all – “

“You did,” Max cuts in so sharply Lucas startles.

“I had a theory.”

“A nonsense theory, “ Nancy adds.

Everyone laughs, even Jonathan, who takes a sip of his beer then lets his camera trace over all your faces.

“It was almost groundbreaking,” Dustin insists, “If any of you had even the most basic grasp on science – “

“You wanted to call it a demogorgon,” Steve interrupts, “How did you even come up with a name like that?”

“The origins of the word begin circa 350 A.D. – “

“Let me cut you off there.”

“You’ve been cutting me off all night,” Dustin argues.

The laughter and conversation roll around the fire.  There are years of stories and inside jokes.  There’s never a dull moment amongst your people.  It’s easy and familiar and much needed.

You glance over at Eddie without meaning to.  He’s already looking at you, and now you can’t seem to look away.  Your gaze is probably lingering too long, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

You’re knocked out of your trance by Robin’s voice, “Hey Sweets.”

She gets up like she’s going to get something.

“How can I help you?”

“May I interest you in a stroll to the cooler?”

You know, and so does everyone else, because Robin is the antithesis of subtle, that she has something she wants to talk to you about.  Nancy smirks at you because she already knows what Robin is about to spill.

Despite how obvious the two of you are being, you get up and follow her the three steps to the cooler.

“So,” she begins and lowers her voice just slightly, “what was this I saw at the dessert table earlier?”

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes at her, “Was it me eating my fourth cupcake?”

She simply tilts her head at you, “Mark.”

Your stomach drops a little and you see Eddie’s back go straight.  He’s definitely trying to listen.  So is everyone else.  The volume of their conversation has dropped dramatically.

“What about Mark?”

“I saw the two of you getting cozy by the dessert table.”

“Oh my god, Robin, no we were not.  He was just making conversation, asking how I was and all that jazz.”

“That’s not what I saw,” she sing-songs.

“I don’t know what you think you saw,” you say as you rub your forehead, “but there was nothing untoward going on.  We’re at Lizzie’s graduation party for chrissakes.”

“Well, you may think nothing is going on, but I saw the way he looked at you.  He wants you back.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eddie’s jaw clench, and even though you hate everything about the conversation you are currently having, you have a fleeting thought about how hot it is.

“First of all, you’re wrong,” you tell your friend, “Second, even if he did want me back, I’m not interested.  Third, why do you even care?  You hate Mark.”

Eddie seems to relax a little, and you see Steve glance over at him.  Steve gives him a look that you can’t decipher, and Eddie seems to ignore him.  Then, Dustin notices Steve giving a look to Eddie which makes Dustin give a look to them both, and you’re thoroughly lost.

“You’re not interested in the hot, single dad who practically worships the ground that you walk on?” Robin asks.

“Lower your voice, and I’m not interested in Mark.”

She does what you ask, but it doesn’t make her next statement any less devastating, “So it’s just not that hot, single dad you’re interested in?”

“Robin, honey, I love you, but could we please stop talking about fucking Mark?  Grab a drink so we can at least pretend we were having a normal conversation, and let’s go sit down with our friends.”

She reaches down and in the most exaggerated way possible, grabs a water from the cooler, making sure to flick you with the condensation from the bottle, “Aye, aye, captain.”

Robin sits back down with Nancy, a big smile on her face like she accomplished something, and you plop yourself down next to Eddie.

“So what were you and Buckley talking about?”

Usually, you appreciate when Eddie gets right to the point.  You’re not quite sure if you feel that way in this particular moment, but you still decide to just tell him, “She’s being a menace as always.  Bringing up ancient history.”

“Such as?”

“She asked about Mark.”  Might as well get it out in the open.

Eddie clears his throat, “What about him?”

“She seems to think he’s interested.”

“Oh.”

“I told her the same thing I’m gonna tell you – even if he is, I’m not.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course not,” you tell him with finality.  

He smiles with all of his teeth and leans his head on your shoulder, and he stays like that as you both rejoin the conversations going around the fire pit.  The thirteen of you reminisce for probably another hour before people start yawning and nodding, prompting the dad of the group to announce he’s taking his baby mama home.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m old and I’m tired.  I need to get my wife home and we need to make sure our kids haven’t killed each other,” Steve says as he and Emma stand.

Dustin stands and reaches a hand out to Jane to pull her up, “We’re going, too.  We promised my mom we’d go to breakfast in the morning.”

Thus begins the mass exodus of your back yard.

There are more hugs and handshakes.  Everyone says goodbye.  You promise the girls you’re going to meet for lunch tomorrow before Robin and Nancy go back to Massachusetts.

Then, it’s just you and Eddie.  But before you let your mind get too far ahead of you, you ask him to put out the fire while you grab the trash.  You need a little more time to hype yourself up for what you hope will be a defining moment in your relationship, and he seems to agree

You survey what’s left of your hard work as you drag the trash out to the back.

The fairy lights twinkle softly over your backyard, casting everything in warm orange and faded green. Half-deflated balloons that read “2005” drag across the deck in the breeze, and somewhere down the block, someone’s setting off fireworks, probably celebrating a graduation of their own.

You’re exhausted.  Good exhausted.  It’s the kind that settles deep in your bones after a night full of laughter, too much food,  and watching a girl you helped raise beam brighter than the stars overhead.

Now it’s just you and Eddie.

Finally.

He’s sitting on the back steps with his knees spread, forearms braced against them, a beer dangling loosely from his fingers.  His curls are damp and frizzy from the late May heat, cheeks flushed from alcohol and emotion alike.

You leave the trash by the door and go to sit beside him.

“Well,” you sigh dramatically as you drop down, “we survived.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh and chucks his bottle at the trash can, “Barely.  Henderson almost lit the grill on fire.”

“Technically, he did light the grill on fire.”

“You and your technicalities,” he scoffs.

You grin, leaning your shoulder against his.  For a moment, neither of you says anything.  The silence isn’t awkward, despite what happened earlier after graduation.  It never has been with Eddie.

Crickets hum in the trees.  Music still plays faintly from inside the house.  You instantly recognize the song.  Fucking “Heaven” by Bryan Adams.  Eddie stares out into the yard.

“She graduated,” he says quietly, like he still can’t believe it.

Your chest tightens, “I know.”

“I keep thinking she’s still that tiny kid hiding behind my legs after her first day of tee ball practice.”

You smile softly, “She cried for like twenty minutes.”

“She bit Steve.”

“She was defending your honor.”

“She was five!”

You both laugh at that.  Then the laughter fades.  And something changes.

Maybe it’s the alcohol.  Maybe it’s the quiet.  Maybe it’s the fact that there are no distractions. No timing issues.  No almosts.

Just you.  And Eddie.

He looks at you then.  Really looks at you.  There’s something dangerously open in his expression.

“You know,” he says softly, voice rough around the edges, “couldn’t’ve done any of this without you.”

It seems like that talk is starting now.  You shake your head immediately, “You’ve already told me that, Munson.”

“No, I mean it,” he says and his eyes don’t leave yours, “I’ll tell you every day if I have to.  Every science project, every fever, every nightmare, every parent-teacher conference where they thought I was gonna show up high out of my mind…”

You can’t help but snort.

“...you were there.”  

His smile turns smaller and a bit softer.  

“You stayed,” he all but whispers.

Your throat tightens painfully, “Of course I stayed.  Never even thought about leaving.”

The words come out quieter than you mean them to.

Eddie’s gaze drops briefly to your mouth.  Your pulse stutters.

There it is.  That thing that’s always lived between you.  Buried under years of bad timing and fear and almost-confessions.

His fingers brush yours accidentally, but neither of you pulls away.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“What?”

He shakes his head once, like he’s trying to clear it, but his hand turns, curling around yours fully now.  It’s warm and calloused and familiar.

“Do you have any idea,” he says quietly, “how hard it’s been not to kiss you?”

Your breath catches.  Eddie’s eyes light up.

“Then maybe,” you whisper, “you should stop trying not to.”

He squeezes your hand as he stares into your eyes like he’s looking for an answer to some kind of question he hasn’t asked yet.  He pulls you closer, so close you can feel his breath against your face.  It smells faintly of beer and mint gum.  You wonder what his mouth tastes like.

“Fuck it.”

Eddie grabs you by the waist and pulls you the scant inch closer and kisses you like a man starving, his lips an almost bruising force on your own.  His hand releases yours to slide up to the back of your neck so he can position your head in the way he wants.  You barely manage a startled sound before you press your lips to his just as desperately.

Years, you think. years of this feeling.  All of it crashes together at once.

His other hand slides around you farther to press against the small of your back, nudging you even closer to him as his tongue glides along the seam of your lips.  You let him in and he licks into your mouth.  His tongue is an insistent pressure on yours as they swirl together.    

He presses gently against the underside of your jaw with his thumb, and you give in to the gentle pressure, letting your head fall back, disengaging your lips only so you can fucking breathe.  His lips and trail across your jaw, down to your neck where he sucks lightly on your skin before tracing upward with his tongue.  You feel the hiss of his exhale as he gently nips at your ear.  It makes heat flare through your entire body and your nipples pucker.  You can feel yourself getting wet and you squirm.

In your daydreams, you’d always thought your first real kiss with Eddie would be one of those slow, romantic things.  A soft brush of lips, warm breath and gentle hands.

This is not soft or warm or gentle.  This is hard and hot and rough.  You’re undone and you want his tongue down your fucking throat.

But sitting side by side, the angle is awkward and you can’t touch him or feel him like you want.  You let out a frustrated whine and he chuckles as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth.  

It’s not enough.

Without even thinking, you throw a leg over both of his and climb into his lap, hands tangling in the front of his shirt to balance yourself, knees on either side of his thighs.  He doesn’t complain.  His hands move to your hips, gripping you tightly like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his hold for even a second.

Once you execute that move, the kiss turns messy fast.  It’s hot.  It’s breathless.

His teeth scrape lightly against your bottom lip as he tugs on it, and you feel him groan against your mouth when your fingers disappear into his curls and you tug gently at the hair at his nape.  You experimentally rock your hips to get some relief from the ache building in your core, and when you do, you can feel the hard length of him pressing against you through two layers of clothing.  He presses openmouthed kisses down the length of your neck as you arch against him.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, forehead falling against yours, breaths mingling, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted…”

You cut him off with another kiss, “Believe me Eddie, I know.”

One hand travels from your hip, under your shirt and up along the side of your waist to your ribs.  It stops just below your breasts.  You can feel the cool bite of his rings against your heated skin as his thumb gently brushes the lace he finds there.  

“Shirt off?” he asks with an almost wild look in his eyes, and he waits until you give him an enthusiastic nod.  

He grips the bottom hem like he’s gripping the last of his sanity before he lifts it off you with ease.  It drops somewhere on the grass.  Goosebumps spread across your body as you’re exposed to the cooling night air, and your nipples get impossibly harder.

He pulls back slightly to take you in, wearing what you’re glad is one of your good bras, straddling his lap, lips swollen and spit slicked from his kisses.

“Goddammit, you’re beautiful.”

The hand that isn’t holding you moves upward that tiny bit more to fully engulf one of your breasts over the black lace.  He kneads the flesh, testing the weight and feel of it in his palm.  His thumb and forefinger meet to tweak your hardened nipple and you moan at the sensation as his cock twitches against your thigh.  

Your hips buck involuntarily at the contact and Eddie groans as he nips at your chin.

“You like that, baby?”

Baby.  Fuck.

You can’t do much but nod silently as he takes the cup of your bra and drags it down, exposing you to his hungry view.  His eyes have gone almost fully black, the pupil dilated by desire.  You can feel your juices soaking through your jeans.  It’s one of the hottest things you've ever seen, the wild look in his eyes as stares at you. 

His tongue comes out to wet his lips as he pants, “Fuck!  I want it in my mouth.  Can I?”

“Please, Eddie…” you practically beg.  You want nothing more than this man’s mouth all over you.

He wastes no time engulfing the bud between his lips, capturing it with his teeth, tongue flicking back and forth in a way that makes you clench your thighs around his waist.

“Jesus Christ, I love these fucking nipples,” he says as he draws down the other cup so he can tease the neglected one, “Tastes so sweet.”

You reach up to brace yourself on his shoulders and grind down again, seeking some sort of relief for your aching cunt.  You think you could come just like that, moving yourself on Eddie’s lap as he licks and sucks you into a frenzy.

“Fuck, Eddie…”

He releases your nipple with a pop so he can look up at you, “Yeah, baby, tell me what you want.  Do you want to ride me?” he grips your waist and thrusts upward with his hips, “Just like this?  Like we’re in fucking high school?”

“P-please.”

“Goddamit you feel so good,” he says as he licks at your jaw, down the side of your neck, to your collarbone where he places his lips and sucks deep.  Before, you’ve always hated when boyfriends left hickeys, you always thought they looked a little trashy, but right now you want nothing more than to be marked by him.

He runs his nose along the delicate skin, inhaling deeply. 

“I can smell you,” he breathes out harshly against you, “Are you fucking wet for me, Sweets?”

“Why don’t you find out?” you tease.  Where you gathered the boldness to ask that question, you don’t know.  But sitting in his lap and seeing him look at you the way he is makes you feel wanton and wanted.

You lean back, offering yourself to him, and brace your hands behind you on his knees.  His hands trail down over your breasts and your stomach to land at the waistband of your jeans.  He looks up at you again, asking for permission.

“Touch me.”

He snaps open the fly and pulls the zipper down to reveal the lacy, black panties that match your bra.  There’s a dainty, little bow on the front of them, and he gives you a wolfish grin.  He can feel your heat where he lets his hands rest right above where you want him most, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin of your stomach.

“Jesus Christ.  A fucking bow.”

You almost giggle, but stop abruptly on a gasp as one hand delves between your thighs to cup your mound over your underwear.  You throw up your hands to brace yourself on his shoulders.

Eddie sucks in a breath and he feels the drenched fabric beneath his fingertips. 

“Fucking soaked for me.”

He glides his middle finger over the wet lace, barely tracing the seam of your lips and you shiver when he reaches your swollen clit.  He only gives you the barest touch and you whine, seeking out his lips for another bruising kiss.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs against the tops of your breasts as his tongue delves between them to lick the sweat gathering on your skin, “So needy.”

You try to grind down on him, but he stops you with a firm grip with his other hand.

“Uh uh.  Be a good girl and I’ll give you what you want.  Just let me play.”

He rubs teasing circles over your clothed clit, and your hips jump, but you do your best to obey and not shamelessly rut yourself against him like you want to.  Only a few brushes of his fingers and you already feel like you’re on the edge.

“That’s a good girl.  I’m gonna finger fuck this pretty pussy until you cum all over my hand,” he says roughly as he slides the gusset of your panties aside with his knuckles.  He runs one finger teasingly through your slick and you don’t even recognize the sound of your own voice as you moan.

“God, Eddie.  Yes…”

You barely make out the words before he’s adding another finger to slide inside your fluttering hole.

“So fucking tight,” Eddie murmurs as his forehead rests against yours, his eyes aimed downward where his fingers disappear inside of you, “So fuckin’ pretty on my fingers.”

He presses his thumb down hard on your clit and your cunt clenches around him.  You can feel every callous against your slick walls as he curls his digits just right, hitting that spot deep inside you that you can never reach on your own.  You squeeze your eyes shut against the sensation.

Eddie tsks, “Open your eyes baby.  I wanna see you.”

He twists his hand, bullying against your G-spot as he stares directly into your eyes, like a mystery he’s trying to solve, watching every emotion play across your face with rapt attention.  

“Fuck, Eddie, right there,” you tell him on a ragged breath.  You’re practically flooding him with your wetness.

“Yeah?  Getting so worked up with just my fingers?”

He teases each nipple with his tongue as his hips start to rock.  He feels impossibly hard and long beneath you, and all you can think about is how badly you want him inside you, stretching you to your limit.

He pulls his fingers out slowly, gathering your juices, and bringing them to your lips. 

“Open,” he commands, “Taste yourself.”

You take his fingers into your mouth, licking and sucking on them greedily, the taste of Eddie’s skin just underneath yours.  The mixture is heady.  Once he’s satisfied, he removes the fingers from your mouth and replaces them with his tongue, shoving it down your throat to taste your essence.

His hands take up real estate on your ass, squeezing and molding the flesh as he moves you against him.  You ride him shamelessly.

“Can you feel how hard I am for you?  Got me leaking in my jeans.” 

“I want to touch you,” you tell him as you trail your hands from his shoulders, down the front of his shirt to palm him over his jeans, “Please, Eddie.”

He bucks into you one last time before he nods, “Fucking take me out.”

You don’t waste any time popping the button of the black denim and lowering his zipper.  You slide your hand into his boxers and gasp as you take him in your hand.  His skin is soft and warm, and he’s hard as fucking steel.   When you release him from the confines of his underwear, he swears under his breath.  

“Goddammit.” 

He’s beautiful everywhere – thick and long enough that you can feel a little flip in your stomach at the thought of him breaching your entrance and filling you up.  The tip of his cock is a dusky red, leaking pre-cum that you desperately want to taste.  There’s a bulging vein running along the underside that you want nothing more than to trace with your tongue.  

“Ain’t that a fucking sight,” he breathes, “Your tiny little hand wrapped around my cock.  Squeeze it, baby.”

You do just as he tells you and he growls as he presses his head into your neck, biting down softly where it meets your shoulder.  

“Jesus Christ, I can’t even look at it or I’m gonna cum,” he grunts.

He lifts his head to look up at you between his lashes.  Your hair is wild, your eyes are glassy with lust.  He wants to ruin you.

“Spit on it,” he commands softly, “Can you do that for me?”

You nod and obey, spitting directly on his cock, right on the head.  Your hands glide up and down, stroking the velvet hardness now slick with the mixture of your spit and his pre-cum.  His hips jerk with your movements..

“That’s it baby.  A little harder.”

You tighten your grip and stroke him a little faster.  A little whine escapes your mouth.

“What is it pretty baby?  Tell me what you need.”

“Need you to touch me.”

He tightens his grip on your ass, “I am touching you baby.  You’re gonna have to be more specific.  Use your words.”

“I need your fingers,” you practically beg.

“Where?”

He holds your gaze.  He wants you to tell him.  He needs you to tell him.  

“In my cunt,” you keen, not breaking eye contact as your hand travels up and down the length of his cock.

He gives you no warning before he shoves two fingers in your pussy and you cry out.

“Holy shit!”

“Is this where you want me, baby?  In this tight little cunt.  Goddamn, she’s swallowing me up.”

He curls his fingers right against the spot inside you he’s already memorized and your vision whites out.  You’re practically gushing on his hand, walls clamping around his digits as you grind down on him.  

“I want you to cum like this,” he tells you, “Clothes still fucking on, letting me fuck you with my fingers, your hand wrapped around my cock.  Both of us just desperate to get off.”

You twist your hand on the glide up and brush his tip with your thumb.  He gasps as you tease the slit.  Your lips meet again in a sloppy, open mouthed kiss, tongues tangling together recklessly.  You tighten your grip and set a rhythmic pace, hardly allowing him to breathe.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants against your cheek and begins to rub tight circles around your clit with his thumb.  

“Are you gonna cum?  Just like this, with nothing but my fingers?  Squeezing my cock so good.”

You give a jerky nod as he pumps harder, wanting nothing more than to feel your silky walls clamp down on him.  He fucks you with his fingers like he has something to prove.

“Yes, Eddie, I’m gonna cum,” you cry out as you feel the pressure build low in your stomach.  It increases with every thrust.  You’re right on the edge, on the verge of tipping over when he curls his fingers, hitting your G-spot at just the right angle and your pace on his cock falters.  

You can feel the pleasure rippling over your skin in waves.  He doesn’t stop, working you through your aftershocks with a slow, come hither motion.

“That’s it baby, ride it out,” he says, eyes locked on where you’re still stroking his cock, “Did so good for me.”

He slowly pulls his fingers from you and takes your hand.  He guides your fingers from his aching dick to your gushing cunt and smears your juices on your palm.  It’s fucking filthy and you fucking love it.

You give him a grin and you once again wrap your hands around his cock and stroke.  You grip him firmly.  You need to see him come undone.

“Yeah baby, faster,” he gasps, rutting into your hand like a wild animal.

You pick up the pace and look down at your lap where you’ve got him in your hands.

“Cum for me baby.  Wanna see it on my skin,” you tell him.

You can see the muscles of Eddie’s abdomen contracting beneath his shirt as you twist your hand one more time.  His spine arches, pleasure arcing over him like lightning, flowing from the base of his cock as he spurts pearly cum all over your hand.

“Jesus.  Fuck,” he curses as you slow your pace, slowly milking him as his cock continues to throb.

His forehead falls to your collarbone and you kiss the top of his head and you both try and even out your breathing.

“It’s about time,” you say against his hair.

Suddenly Eddie goes still beneath you and you feel his hands loosen against your hips.

“Eddie?”

He pulls back abruptly, like he’s been hit.  He’s breathing hard again.

“No,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, “No, no, this is…”

Your stomach drops.

“What?”

He stands too fast, and you basically fall off his lap in the process. You awkwardly pull your bra back into place as Eddie tucks himself back into his jeans.  He paces a few steps away like he can physically outrun whatever’s happening in his head.

“This was a bad idea.”

The words hit like a slap and you simply stare at him as you wipe your hands on your pants.

“A bad idea?”

“I didn’t mean – shit!” 

“Didn’t mean what?”

He won’t look at you, “I just – this changes everything.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly as you duck your head slightly to try to get into his line of sight, “It does.”

“I can’t screw this up,” he says it more to himself than to you.

“You think what just happened is screwing up?” you ask anyway.

“No!” he snaps immediately, finally looking at you.  Panic shows openly on his face now, “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying, Eddie?”

He opens his mouth then promptly closes it.  He doesn’t even have words for what he’s feeling.  That’s always been the problem with the two of you, having feelings bigger than fucking language.

“I can’t lose you,” he says finally, voice cracking around the words.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” you tell him as you step closer to him.

“But I could,” His eyes shine under the patio lights, terrified and wrecked and painfully sincere, “And if this goes bad…”

“Why would it go bad?”

“Look what I just did to you.”

“What you did to me?”

He’s talking about making you come harder than you ever have in your life.  Something you’d only dreamed about doing with Eddie.  But the way he says it makes your stomach churn.  Like it was a mistake.  Like he regrets it.

Seemingly without thinking, he reaches for your jeans, which are still undone, like he’s going to zip them back up.  You slap his hands away to do it yourself, feeling suddenly very vulnerable.

The silence stretches.  Then, Eddie steps backward toward the front of the house, already retreating.

“I should go.”

Your chest aches and you feel a little dirty, and very exposed.  You search the ground for your shirt, but Eddie beats you to it.  You snatch it from him and throw it back on.

“Eddie, what the fuck?”

“I just – I need a minute.”

And before you can stop him, he’s gone.  He’s left you standing alone in the glow of party lights, lips swollen from kissing him, the feel of him still between your legs.  And now with your heart beating painfully against your ribs.

You don’t even know what to do.  Eddie just gave you an orgasm and then fucking left basically saying that what the two of you had done was a big mistake.  Usually when something greatly, horribly, monstrously awful happened to you, Eddie was the one you’d call.  Except now, unless he’s on his knees, begging for forgiveness, Eddie is the last person you want to see.

Working on autopilot, you close down the backyard, basically ripping the string lights from the plug and throwing the garbage bags vaguely toward the trash can.  All you can think about is taking a scalding hot shower and crawling into bed.

Not only are you pissed, you’re fucking hurt.  What the fuck was going on in Eddie’s head?  Why did he run away like he was being chased?  Why wouldn’t he just stay and talk to you?

You don’t have the brain power to think about it anymore.  It is going to have to wait for tomorrow.  Right now, you have a checklist of two, shower and bed.

And you doubt sleep is going to come easy.

Eddie is the type of husband to ask you for a “little sneak peak” so you flash him one titty, and he pouts because the other one is going to get jealous. So you flash him the other one and he goes “No, no do the titty drop thing,” just testing his luck trying to see how much of a show he can get. You relent, making it all slow motion while his mouth is agape and he reaches out his hands like he’s going to touch them and you smack him away and laugh and say “No, you said a sneak peak, not a touch! Now leave me alone so I can cook supper!” And he walks away with a smile and his bottom lip in his mouth and his hands behind his back like a little kid who just got in trouble.

Eddie is the type of husband to walk up to you and say “Hey, you wanna see my cock?” And you’re like “Eddie, I’m trying to work on our taxes.” and he puts his hands up in resignation and responds “Okay, I was just checking! …you sure?” And you groan while looking at the ceiling and say “Oh, my god!” and he’s like “Okay, okay, okay! I was just making sure, I know how you get.” And all you can do is roll your eyes at him and giggle while he mumbles, “Just let me know if you change your mind.” You ask to see his cock later that night.

Eddie is the type of husband to always need to use the restroom when you’re in the shower. Even if you asked him beforehand. Even if he went beforehand. And he always pulls the shower curtain back and either asks “Whatcha doin’ in there?” Or he just goes “Mmm!” And then leaves. Sometimes he’ll poke your ass. Sometimes he’ll ask, “Wanna see my cock? It’s already out.” Sometimes you even say yes! He will always follow up with “Wanna touch it?” He just wants to make sure he’s not leaving you hangin’ 🤷🏻‍♀️🤭 You touch it later that night.

Eddie is the type of husband to “accidentally” drop something in front of you so he can bend over and tease you with his ass in the air like he sees the women on the TV shows do while saying “Oops, silly me always dropping stuff!” While he makes a show of bending over and shaking his ass and looking back at you coyly until you smack it. He stands back up straight with nothing in his hands to show for it.

Eddie is the type of husband to walk past and smack your ass and say “No, that one didn’t feel right,” and smack it again until it makes a satisfactory *crack* sound. Sometimes he’ll even instruct you like, “Stick it out a little more, I can’t get it good like that.”

Steve called for a check-in just to call you right after, said he'd offer to drive. You peek into the darkened trailer, hearing the scratch of the record player in the living room. Too tired and achey to make it to his bed last night and too defeated to leave the couch all day today -- not even to flip The Animals record to the B-side. Rain patters on the tin roof, curtains drawn but not thick enough to keep out the gray light from spilling in through the bare threads of years of use. He faces the back cushions, hugging a pillow, knees tucked under the bottom. A kid in his adult disguise, he always gets like this around the anniversary of his mom's passing. You ease in, lightly closing the storm door behind you. The soft gray glow in the kitchen leaves you a little sullen. Half done dishes on a rag on the counter -- two smashed glasses scattered across the tile. Evidence of his frustration part way through the task, you can practically hear his desperate 'I don't wanna do this,' while he threw them. You let out a breath through your nose silently, noting the piles of laundry on the table by the washing machine across from the living room. He hadn't let you come over in a couple weeks, it's clear why now. When you tip toe onto the brown shag carpeting by the record player you ease the needle off the disc. The steady rise and fall of his back and shoulders aids your next move. You clear off the McDonald's bags from nights of fast food off the coffee table like a mouse, making sure not to crinkle anything too much. You don't want to stir him. Once clear, you walk around it, taking a seat on the edge of the couch by his feet -- hand reaching out to run comfortingly over his back. "Hi baby," you say softly, "It's me." He stirs, looking down to see you there, confused. He looks down at himself, same pajamas he's had on for three days, unshowered, unshaven. He's embarrassed, he never let's you see him when he's like this. Eddie's face crumples when the realization sets in -- it's not a dream and you're there, seeing his filthy trailer, seeing what happens when he's not okay. You're not supposed to see this, even when you're so sweet on him every time you do.

"What's goin' on, bub?" you ask in just above a whisper, "What're you thinkin' about?" His brows pull in, jaw getting tight when his nose starts to tingle with the start of a cry. His eyes water, shining in the light of the overcast through the threadbare curtains. One hiccup turns to two, and then he starts. "S'just been hard," he sniffles, "I'm just havin' a h-hard time." "I know," you soothe, still rubbing his back, "It's that time of year." "You sh-shouldn't be here," he shakes his head, shoulders shaking while the sobs start to over take him, "You kn-know I'm not like th-this." "Shh, I know, I know," you coo, climbing into the space between him and the back of the couch, squishing over him slightly, "I can help. I wanna help." He welcomes your body along his, you manuever so he's partly atop you, replacing the pillow with your torso. His face finds home in the crook of your neck, while you scratch at the top of his scalp the way he likes it.

"You smell good," he says wetly into your skin. "Thank you," you whisper. You both lay there for a little bit, letting him cry, letting him listen to the rain while it picks up outside. The living room gets a darker while the storm rolls further through the park and evening sets in. He settles after some time, your neck and shouler damp with his tears.

"I'm sorry," he says when he sits up part way, "I'm sorry you're seeing me like this...again." "I will always rather see you like this than any worse alternative," you smile at him, "I get like this too, you never make me apologize." "I know but I -- " "No buts," you shake your head, sitting up right to lean down and kiss him on the forehead, "Why don't you put a movie on and I'll take care of that laundry?" "No, no, you're not -- you're not doing my laundry," he says with an annoyed huff, "I can do it -- it's fine." "I want to," you assure, wiping at his cheek with your thumb when frustrated desperate tears start to spill from the pool in his eyes again. "It's not -- fuck babe, it's not your job. You don't have to take care of me," he complains, "I'm okay. I'm fine." "I don't think you're fine," you shrug, tilting your head to looking at him. His cheeks redden, you can tell he's stressed -- embarrassed to be crying in front of you, embarrassed by the mess. The rise and fall of his shoulders quicken while he takes stock of what needs to be done around him. "Hey, hey, look at me," you encourage, your palm skating over his stubbled cheek, "How about I do some laundry and if it makes you feel better you can take out the trash. Does that work?" "Angel, I don't want you doin' my --" "Would you like it better if I did your laundry...naked?" you smirk. He huffs a soft breathy laugh, a smile pulling on his while he wipes his eyes. "There he is," you murmur, "There's that smile I like so much." He sniffles, collecting himself for a minute before looking back up at you with sleepy, puffy eyes, "You don't have to do my laundry naked." "I can if you want," you offer with a joking grin, "If it'll make you happy." "You being here makes me happy," he whispers, "But I know you're just as stubborn as me so I'll let you start the laundry, but you're not doing all of it." "Okay," you nod, "And after I start the laundry I'll get the kitchen together f--" "Don't push it," he warns, leaning forward to leave a loving kiss on your cheek. You ease up off the couch, offering your hand to help him up. He creaks the way old men do, men who have seen too much before they were supposed to. He's unsteady when he stands, stiff with dehydration and lack of movement beyond the shuffle to the bathroom from the couch. Eddie pulls you into him, your face nuzzling his uncle's army tee softened from so many years of washing. Your arms wrap tight around him, thinking if you squeeze him enough it'll remind him that he's here with you and not wherever his mind keeps taking him. "Let's take a shower," you mumble against him, "We'll go slow."

"Am I gross?" he asks with a frown, you can hear his heart beat quicken from under his ribcage.

You tried to mitigate the effects. First, it was the travel size bottle of tums that you kept in the glovebox of your car. Next it was the bottle of pepto that you kept in the kitchen, in addition to the one in the medicine cabinet, just in case.

Then, one day, came the end. And, oh boy, did you think it was Capital-The, Capital-End.

Heartburn, the likes of which you'd never experienced before, took you by surprise. You were innocently sitting at your desk at work when it started. A hot sensation in your chest that slowly overtook your abdomen. Just a constant, searing feeling that practically took your breath away after enough time passed. You thought it would just go away; you figured a handful of tums and you'd be fine. Until you weren't. Until you were sitting through a meeting wondering if you were actually having a heart attack. Until you excused yourself and belched obnoxiously as soon as you crossed the threshold into the bathroom.

You could taste the taco pasta bake Eddie insisted on making the night before. Layers of cheese, meat, beans, sour cream and extra, extra pickled jalapeños on top. It was rich and decadent. Delicious.

And it was going to be the thing that killed you.

Your boss, thankfully, saw how miserable you were and sent you home. But home offered no respite.

You dropped your work bag haphazardly by the door, and you stripped down to your underwear; the tight waistband of your pants was doing you no favors. You had the foresight to grab a glass of ice water and place it within arms reach on the edge of the coffee table, before you fell into the squishy cushions of the couch. As you settled into the most comfortable position you could find, the heartburn subsided and the mother of all stomach aches began.

Time passed with only three certain facts: You were gonna puke. You were gonna poop your pants. And then you were going to die.

"Honey, I'm home!" Eddie's voice cut through your agony, and you slowly cracked your eyes open to stare at the ceiling. "I saw your car outside. And your clothes on the floor? You home early as a surprise? Are you naked in bed?"

No, you obviously forgot one certain fact; you were going to kill him.

But as you opened your mouth to yell, your stomach cramped painfully and you let out the most pitiful groan.

"Babe?" The playfulness in his voice was gone, replaced by concern. "You ok?"

"I'm dying," you muttered weakly.

He scoffed immediately, concern vanishing. You both had an understanding: if you were feeling good enough to be dramatic, you were feeling good enough. Typically, it applied to Eddie more than it did to you—he was the biggest baby when he was sick—but you had your moments. Regardless, he took pity on you as he dropped to his knees in front of the couch.

“Alright, the doctor is in,” he joked. “What’s the preliminary diagnosis? Terminal illness? A parasite? Do we need to amputate?”

His fingers reached your bare side and he tickled you gently, wincing as your instinctive laughter turned into another groan.

"Ah, I see." He stroked his invisible beard with one hand and flattened the other so he could rub over your sore belly with the utmost care. "Any other pain? Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, and dare I ask, diarrhea?"

"I took some pepto earlier," you explained. "Didn't help."

"Well of course it didn't." He now put on an invisible stethoscope. "You didn't have a proper examination."

"It's just a stomach ache," you deadpanned as he started to lean down and inspect you. "You put too much sour cream in the taco bake."

“Nonsense, there’s no such thing as too much sour cream!” He curled his fingers into his palm, and then kneaded your belly in a way not unlike a cat. Of course, a little too much pressure caused a very gentle toot to inadvertently escape you. He wrinkled his nose and you covered your face in embarrassment. “Ok, maybe in this case I was a little heavy-handed.”

He went back to gentle rubbing and then adjusted his invisible stethoscope.

“Let’a give it a listen shall we?”

He leaned his head down and gently placed his ear against your abdomen, readjusting his head a few times before he hummed.

“Ah, well well well.” He lifted his head for a moment. “Seems I found an extra terrestrial creature.” You rolled your eyes as he went back down. “Chest burster? Giant worm of some sort? We’ll get you the bottom of this. You’re lucky I’m a xenoglot. I’ll translate.”

Your stomach, clearly working with Eddie on this comedy act, suddenly made the most embarrassing sound. It was wet and bubbly, and you felt it rumble right below his ear. What did he do in return?

“Gur-gur-gur, blblblbl.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he mumbled stomach noises and resumed kneading and rubbing. He looked up at you, utterly serious, and shushed you. “I’ve made contact. I need concentration if I’m gonna make a proper diagnosis.”

Despite your condition, and the fact that said condition was his fault, you couldn’t help but look at him and be overwhelmed by all the love you felt. From the way he dropped everything to check on you as soon as he got home, to now when he couldn’t help but make you smile as you felt miserable. This idiot—your idiot—had charmed you beyond your wildest imagination, and you didn’t want him to stop.

“Alright Dr. McCoy,” you joked and rested a hand atop his head, giving him an appreciative little scratch. “Or are you Uhura? Communications officer?”

“My legs would look good in that dress.” Your stomach grumbled again. “It agrees. Now shut up. I need to do an advanced procedure. Very delicate.”

You thought his kneading was as far as he was gonna take it. But leave it to Eddie to commit to the bit. He straightened up, shook out his arms, cracked his neck. Then he leaned down and blew the biggest raspberry on your stomach, and in turn you couldn’t help but laugh. You also couldn’t help but pass gas through your poor, unsuspecting ass.

Oh, so you were gonna have the hot poops later. Take back everything you thought about loving him, this was not gonna be fun.

"See, gastrilitis superioris." Eddie nodded sagely, still touting some fake-doctor bullshit. "Also known as a stomach ache. Or, as I like to call it, a case of the Gurgles.”

Of course he had a cute little name for it.

“What’s the treatment doc?” You questioned. “Aside from never letting you cook again?”

“The treatment is 50cc’s of ginger ale,” he ignored your comment, “and letting me feed you saltines as I continue rubbing your tummy for the rest of the night. How does that sound?”

It sounded perfect.

“I think you’re missing something,” you lied. Well, it wasn’t really a lie.

“I am?” Eddie frowned, and straightened his spine. He looked around the apartment as though he expected to find the answer lying about. He saw the telltale pink bottle on the counter in the kitchen and his brows jumped. "Pepto? Because babe, I will pour that pink crap down your throat all night if you need it."

You rolled your eyes and forced yourself upright, just so you could gently cup his face in your hands.

"I hate to ask, doc, but I think the usual treatment also includes 10ccs of smooches."

It was a lightbulb moment, and you were sure that you saw hears in his eyes. His arms snaked around you.

"You already have a prescription for that, sweetheart. Endless refills," he muttered and leaned forward to press his lips to yours.

And you melted into him.

Until you felt your esophagus quiver with an impending burp. You pulled away to try and spare him, only to belch loudly right in Eddie's face.

"Ok," he winced. "Now that was pretty gross."

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