Sydney

It’s been one week since you’ve seen Eddie. The phone is silent on the hook, regardless of how strongly you will it to ring. 

A wave of nausea ripples through you and has you lunging for the Saltines box on the coffee table. It isn’t unusual for you to feel sick when you’re anxious, and this entire situation definitely has you on-edge. The Jerry Springer audience chants his name from the TV set, though you can barely pay attention to the brawl that’s about to occur. 

One week ago, you and Eddie broke up. One week ago, you realized you might be carrying his baby. One week ago, you began what you’d dubbed Self-Pity Spring Break, which was essentially a week of you wallowing in misery and ignoring the nagging question that constantly infiltrates your thoughts. 

The movement for the crackers allows you to get a whiff of the pajamas you’d been living in. You’d convinced yourself there was no need to shower since you were barely leaving your apartment, but the odor emanating from your clothes—and your skin—says otherwise. You resignedly stand up and grab a towel from the hall closet, scowling at the box of tampons that’s seemingly taunting you.

Fine, you silently relent, I’ll get a test today.

There’s a forceful knock on the door, and your heart leaps. Eddie. Eddie’s here, we can talk and figure this out–

“Hey, Hermit, you alive in there?” It’s Jess, speaking even as she knocks.

“Coming, coming,” you grumble, not even trying to feign excitement. Maybe it’s better that it’s not Eddie; you’re not sure what you’d even say.

“Jeez, you look awful,” Robin comments, clamping her lips together when Jess shoots her a glare. “Sorry.”

“You’re not wrong,” you mutter. You haven’t looked in the mirror in days, not wanting to confront the reflection staring back at you. Fingertips greasy with old potato chip residue, you wipe them on your pajama pants and sigh. “I feel like shit, too.”

Jess grabs your hand and gives it a little squeeze. “C’mon, let’s get you some wine,” she says kindly, already padding towards the kitchen in search of an open bottle. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

You shake your head, throat dry. “I, um, I shouldn’t.” An unspoken plea floats from your lips, begging her not to ask further questions, but you know better than to get your hopes up. 

She stops in her tracks, swiveling back in your direction. Her eyebrows pinch together, creasing in the middle. “No.” She waits for the punchline, and when there isn’t one, she envelops you in a hug. “Oh, honey.” 

You feel another gentle hand on your back as Robin’s palm rubs comforting circles between your shoulder blades. You can’t pinpoint the moment she became one of your close friends, too; it happened naturally as the relationship between her and Jess became more serious and they spent more time together. Yet it feels as though she’s always been an integral part of your life, and you couldn’t be more thankful, especially in moments like this one.

“I don’t…I haven’t taken a test yet,” you admit bashfully, blinking away rogue tears, “but I’m super late. Like, almost two weeks late.”

Robin scrunches her face, unsure of her response but plunging ahead anyway. “Does Eddie…”

You shake your head. “No, and I’m not telling him either way.” The vitriol in your voice is biting, and both of your friends are taken aback by your anger. “He said that taking care of Harris was too much for me to handle; you think he wants to raise a whole other kid with me?”

“Okay, okay,” Jess softly interrupts your tirade, not needing to hear your break-up story for the fourth time. “First things first: you gotta take a test. Do you have one here?” 

“Mm-mm.”

“Then Robs and I will go with you to the pharmacy.”

“I don’t wanna go,” you whine, sounding more like Harris than ever. 

Jess sighs. “You’re leaving this apartment whether you like it or not.” She motions towards her girlfriend. “She’s stronger than she looks, so we will use force if we have to.”

“Fine.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Can I at least shower first?”

“Please,” Jess mutters, grateful that she didn’t have to make the suggestion herself.

The shower water is scalding hot, but you don’t have the energy to fiddle with the knob until it’s a decent temperature. Instead, you stand underneath the stream and idly sway back-and-forth. You grab the Dial bar from the soap tray, lathering your body and taking good care to scrub under your arms. The suds slide down and swirl around the drain before disappearing entirely. You can only wish they took your problems with them.

You dry off as quickly as you can, throwing on the first pair of sweatpants you can find and a faded concert t-shirt from when you saw Joan Jett perform in ‘89. Dragging your tired body back out to where your friends are waiting, you grab a jacket out of the closet, stomach turning as soon as you put your arms through the sleeves. You haven’t worn this since last weekend, and the smell of Eddie’s cologne still faintly lingers. It’s like he’s there wrapping himself around you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. 

Except he’s not here, his scent only serving as a painful reminder of what you used to have. 

If he was here right now, what would he be doing? Cursing the broken condom that led to this chaos? Berating himself for getting another woman pregnant? And not just any woman; this would be the second woman he’d knocked up who’d failed to be a decent mother. This time; however, he’d know about your shortcomings before the baby could even arrive, before it could develop fingers and toes and have its own little heartbeat…

With a heavy sigh, you drag your feet out the door and into Jess’s car. Nausea creeps up on you the closer you get to your destination, and for the first time in your life, you pray it’s only carsickness.

Murphy’s Law states that “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong,” and that’s exactly what happened to Eddie this week.

First, he’d all but gotten confirmation that you were overwhelmed at the prospect of being a family, of being his partner, and eventually being a parent to Harris. Your silence when he’d asked if it was “too much” was deafening. He’d thought about calling you, even picked up the phone and dialed the first few digits on more than one occasion, but ultimately hung up. There’s no sense in trying to force you into a life you have no interest in, no matter how badly it hurts him to be without you.

Then, this morning, Harris had woken up at 6:30 AM, howling in pain. Eddie had nearly fallen out of bed at the sudden burst of sound, rushing to his son’s side to figure out the issue.

“My ear!” Harris wailed, pressing a tiny palm to the side of his head. “It hurts so bad!”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie murmured. He tried to pull Harris’s hand from his ear to get a better look, but quickly stopped when the boy cried out in agony, rivaling a Wilhelm Scream.

He called the pediatrician and got the earliest appointment available, arriving at the office before they’d even opened. The receptionist had given him a strange look as he barreled through the doors, Harris hoisted in his arms.

Forty-five arduous minutes later, the doctor took one look inside Harris’s ear canal and diagnosed him with an ear infection, scribbled out a barely-legible prescription for antibiotics, and sent the Munsons on their way.

Now, Eddie slams the sedan door shut as he walks into the pharmacy for the second time today, mumbling about his shit luck. He’d brought Harris to Wayne’s trailer after dropping off the prescription once they informed him that it would be a two-hour wait. There was no sense in forcing the poor kid to sit around the drugstore when he desperately needed a nap, Eddie reasoned, ignoring his own exhaustion. He makes up his mind right then and there that, in addition to whatever bubblegum-flavored concoction he’s picking up for Harris, he’s getting a pack of Camels. The stress is just too damn much for Nicorette to handle.

He makes a beeline for the pharmacist, nodding along as she explains that the medicine should be taken twice daily with food.

“Do you have any questions?” she asks patiently, a kind smile on her lips. 

“N-No,” Eddie stammers, the paper bag crinkling in his grasp. “Thanks,” he throws out haphazardly, already hyper-focused on securing the cigarettes. He can practically taste the tobacco on his tongue, smoke filling his lungs. He’ll quit again tomorrow, once all of this is–

“Is this it? EPT?” A familiar voice briefly grabs Eddie’s attention, but he quickly brushes it off. It’s a small town; everyone’s bound to recognize each other after a while. 

It’s the response that truly draws him in, a timid, “y-yeah, I think so.” 

Eddie swivels around, cigarettes long forgotten, peering down each aisle until he finds you. You’re standing with Robin Buckley—the voice he’d recognized earlier—and Jeff’s sister-in-law, Jess. 

“Hi,” he blurts out, shoving his free hand in his pants pocket. His heart breaks at the defeated look in your eyes, swollen from days of crying. He wants to pull you in for a hug and feel your arms wrap around him, relishing in your safety. 

It only takes a half-second for his gaze to drop to the pink box clenched in your death grip, a pathetic attempt to hide it from him. “Wh-What’s that?” He’s suddenly all-too aware that you’re all standing in the Family Planning section, and unless science has made some extraordinary progress lately, it’s unlikely that Jess and Robin need anything here. “Are you—”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” You regain as much composure as you can. “But whatever I am, I can handle it by myself.” You’re unsure of the truth behind that statement, but you refuse to let him see you waver. 

Eddie takes another step forward, removing his hand from his pocket and taking the test from you. You’re hesitant to relinquish it, but you ultimately concede. 

“Let me pay for this, at least,” he says softly, not waiting for your reply before tucking it under his arm and heading to the cashier. 

“Eddie—”

“You’ll take it at my place,” he continues as though you hadn’t just spoken his name, “and if you’re…if it’s…we’ll, uh, we’ll figure out where to go from there.” 

You shake your head. “I don’t need your help,” you protest, firmly but not unkindly. “Seriously, I’ve got this.” Be done with me. Just let me go, Eddie. Find someone who deserves your—and Harris’s—time. 

Eddie places the test on the counter, digging into his wallet for the dingy MasterCard he keeps tucked away for emergencies. You cringe at the cost; if you’d known Eddie would insist on footing the bill, you would have chosen a cheaper option. 

“I can take this at home. Robin and Jess will be with me,” you push on as the four of you leave the store. You turn to them for back-up, frowning when Robin gives you a tight smile and Jess shrugs. 

“I…think you should take it at Eddie’s,” she offers, trying to ignore the death glare you’re sending her way. 

“If you need us, just call, and we’ll pick you up,” Robin hurriedly adds, quickly squeezing your upper arm before the two of them leave you and Eddie alone. 

Without thinking, Eddie’s hand slips into yours. Maybe it’s because you’re more scared than you’ve ever been in your life, maybe it’s because his gentle demeanor has breathed new life into your love for him, but you let him keep it there. 

The hum of the sedan’s engine is the only sound until Eddie speaks again. 

“How long have you known? Or, thought, I guess,” he asks, drumming his ringed fingers on the steering wheel. 

You don’t want to answer truthfully, but you’re too tired to lie. “Since last week.”

“Last week?” He slams on the break, instinctively putting an arm in front of you to protect you from injury. No matter that your seatbelt had been clicked in place since you’d sat down. “Shit, sorry.” He clears his throat. “Like, before the trip? Or…”

“On the bus ride home,” you clarify, shame seeping through every pore. It had seemed so natural to keep this information to yourself, but now you just feel stupid for not letting him in earlier. The baby–if there even is a baby–is his, too.

Eddie breathes out a long sigh, followed by silence until he poses yet another question. “Does anyone else know?”

“Yeah, I rented out a billboard in Times Square,” you quip before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, that was bitchy.” Maybe you’re just trying to fool yourself, but you swear you see a faint smile on his lips. “Um, no. Just you, Jess, and Robin.”

He nods. “Harris’s at Wayne’s, so it’ll only be us.” Eight days ago, that statement would be associated with passion; punctuated with a grab of your ass, a kiss to your neck, fingers gliding over your breast. Your heart lurches with longing, but you shove it deep down. That’s what got us into this whole mess, you remind yourself. 

Still, his grip on the gearshift as he throws the car in park has you internally shouting for him to grasp your knee in the same manner. You’re moving in slow motion, providing him with ample time to get out and open your door for you.

“Thanks,” you whisper, but when he extends his hand to help you up, you fight the urge to accept it. Whatever the results of this test are, it doesn’t erase the fact that he’d said that parenthood was too much for you to handle. And you refuse to selfishly burden their family with your inadequacy.

Eddie rakes his fingers through his hair, casually playing off the rejection, but you don’t miss the brief pained expression in the scrunch of his nose.

Neither of you utter a word as you walk up to his apartment, your footsteps echoing throughout the stairwell. His hands are trembling so violently that he drops the key in front of his door; it lands on the floor with a tiny ping. 

“Y’okay?” It’s an absurd question, but you’re unsure what else you can possibly say.

“Um, no,” he admits with a terse laugh. “I went into Rite Aid to get medicine and came out with a possibly pregnant…” He almost says girlfriend, but stops himself just in time. “So, yeah, I’m far from okay.”

He finally manages to open the door, pushing it open so you can go in first. You stand in the living room, feet glued to the floor. Your legs are weak beneath you, threatening to give out at any moment. 

“I can’t do this,” you mumble, words catching in your throat. Your vision goes blurry with tears. “I just…” you trail off, shaking your head incredulously. “We were so careful, and the condom went and broke that one time…”

Eddie’s palm cups your chin delicately, calloused skin grazing smooth. “Listen to me.” His voice is calm despite his body brimming with nerves, “what’s done is done, okay? You’re either having my baby, or you’re not.” My baby, my baby, my baby. As he says it, his gaze flits down to your stomach. “But we have to know.”

You nod, unable to fully accept the weight of his words. “Do you have, like, a paper cup or something for me to pee in?”

“Yeah.” He shuffles over to the small linen closet next to the bathroom and grabs a Dixie cup from a stack. “Did you want me to go in with you, or wait out here…I, um, don’t really know the protocol.”

You manage a tiny laugh at his candor, despite the unfavorable circumstances that brought you back to his home. “You can just wait out here,” you tell him. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Your heart skips a beat as you close the bathroom door, and lock it behind you. Eddie’s voice is muffled outside the door as he talks on the phone, ending the conversation with, “thanks, Old Man,” before you hear the soft click of the receiver being replaced on the hook.

You lay everything out on the countertop in front of you, scanning each object in disbelief. The words on the instruction sheet swim away, leaving only tidbits in their wake. 

If two lines appear, this indicates a positive result. Call your doctor for further evaluation. 

You read that line over and over. If two lines appear, you’re pregnant with your ex-boyfriend’s child. It’s going to take a lot more than an obstetrician to evaluate that chaos. 

You pull down your pants, then your underwear, nestling the paper cup between your thighs. Eddie’s reminder replays in your head: what’s done is done. 

It’s easier for him to say; it’s not his body, but the sentiment remains true. All you have to do now is find out exactly what you’ve done. 

You gingerly drop the paper strip into the cup, watching as the control line begins to darken. The instructions advised you to wait twenty minutes for the results; according to the digital watch adorning your wrist, that will put you at 12:18 PM. 

You don’t have to wait that long. 

The familiar reddish tinge that stains the toilet paper is the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. It almost seems too good to be true, so you take a fresh square and wipe again. This time, it’s even more pronounced. 

An involuntary laugh that bubbles up from your throat, scaring even yourself. You can hear Eddie outside the door, stumbling over his feet to stand. 

“Wh-What’s going on? What happened?” His hands twist the knob with no success. “Can I come in?”

“Y-Yeah,” you manage, smiling so wide you can barely speak, “I just got my period.”

There’s a long pause, then, “like…now?”

“Right now. At this very second,” you confirm, sending you into a fresh fit of giggles. You grab a tampon from your bag with far too much enthusiasm, unlocking the door once you’ve washed your hands and put yourself back together. 

“We can still wait for the result, if you want,” you tell him. A strand of hair falls in front of his eyes when he nods in agreement; without thinking, you brush it away. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble. You feel yourself shrink inwards, palpably embarrassed of the intimacy of your slip-up. 

“Do it again.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

“Do it again,” he repeats, and when your fingertips make contact with his hair, gently tucking it behind his ear, his own hand slides into place against your cheek. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

You say nothing, letting your body language speak for you in the slight upward tilt of your head as your lips find his, noses almost colliding in haste. Your hand slips down to his bicep as you accept his touch, parting your lips to allow his tongue to enter while your own breathy moan exits. 

The sound has him tugging you closer, grabbing the hem of your shirt and inadvertently pinching a bit of skin in his hurry. The sudden twinge of pain snaps you out of the moment, and you take a step back. 

“We can’t…” You take a deep breath, gathering the thoughts that have been jumbled by his touch. “We’re not together anymore,” you finish dumbly, cracks splintering through your heart as you hear it aloud. Not together.

Eddie’s voice is hardly above a whisper. “I know.” But his thumb traces over the plush of your lips in memorization. “Can I ask you something before you go?”

You contemplate it, rolling it over your tongue and finally relenting when you remember you’re still waiting for the official test result. “Sure.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s hurt in his voice, and more than a hint of anger, though you certainly can’t blame him.

“I didn’t want to worry you in case it was nothing…which it was,” you hastily add, needing to hold on to the lightness of the false alarm. 

“No, I’m not talking about that,” he rebuts, continuing when you cock your head in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me that taking care of Harris was too much for you?” Realization floods his body, carefully curated thoughts giving way to a horrified stream of consciousness. “Or was I too much?”

Bewilderment raises your eyebrows. “I never said that taking care of Harris was too much for me. You did.”

“Me?” He scoffs, pushing his body back with a slight bend at the hips, hands shoved into his pants pockets, rings peeking out over their seams. “No, I didn’t. I asked you, and you never gave a straight answer. Any answer, really.”

You think back to that confrontation, trying to remember the inflection in his voice: ‘s too much for you, isn’t it? In your insecurity-laden state, you’d assumed that it was a declaration of your shortcomings; now, you’re able to see what he’d actually meant.

He was trying to reach out, his own self-doubts bleeding through, but you were so consumed with all of the ways you’d failed him and Harris that you couldn’t see it.

“I…” Your brain is scrambled, unable to catch a single thought. You inhale for three, lungs expanding under your ribcage. The exhale is slower; you need all the time you can to collect yourself. “I messed up so badly…the donut…the elevator…the market…”

Spots dance across your vision as your breathing becomes more rapid and shallow. All you can picture is Eddie’s fear when Harris ran off; your chest is heavy with the same sinking feeling that as when you’d turned around and he was missing. 

Your legs wobble beneath you, no longer attached to your body, but a separate entity. 

Eddie’s voice is an echo in a tunnel, loud but far away. “I got you,” you hear him say as he leads you to the couch. Your feet move robotically, left right left right until you’re sitting on the lumpy cushion, the same one you’d gotten well acquainted with on that fateful August night. 

Donut—elevator—market. Donut—elevator—market. An internal chant that served as a reminder of your failures. “I’m right here, okay? ‘M not going anywhere.” The couch dips a bit as he sits next to you. He hesitates for a split second before his hand is making small, concentric circles on your upper back. 

Safety’s warmth crawls in as your physical and psychological worlds slowly merge. You’re in Eddie’s apartment, on his couch, next to him. 

“Eddie…” you croak out, but he silences you with a shake of his head. 

“Let me talk for a second. Please.” He sighs, not out of impatience, but as a means of gathering his thoughts. “You…you’re everything I ever wanted for myself and for my son. And, I’m gonna be real honest with you here, that scares the shit outta me.” A peal of disbelieving laughter accompanies his confession. “I shouldn’t have had you take him to the playground by yourself or leave you alone with him at the market. Not,” he hurriedly adds, ‘because of you, but because, sometimes, he needs the supervision of two people.” His hand drops from your back and lands on your own fingers, splayed on the couch next to him. “I think I just got so excited that I finally wasn’t parenting solo, y’know? And I relied on you too much.”

You wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand. “You’re supposed to rely on me,” you counter. “That’s what partners do.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if I wasn’t acting like such a dick, you could’ve told me you felt overwhelmed. Partners tell each other those kinds of things, too.”

“You’re not a dick because you got upset that I lost Harris.” You roll your eyes, not wanting him to downplay his own emotions just to protect yours.

Eddie clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Maybe not,” he acquiesces, ‘but I was a dick when you bought him a donut in the morning, like it was the worst thing that kid’s ever eaten for breakfast.” You both smile at that, knowing full well that Eddie’s had to bribe his son with a Pop-Tart on more than one occasion. “And then you took him to the playground without me even having to ask, just so I could get some rest. And don’t even start in with me about the Great Elevator Meltdown of 1997, because we both know he just would’ve flipped out about something else.” He scoots a millimeter closer to you, wanting to bridge the gap between your bodies without barging past any boundaries. “He was tired and in a new place away from home. A tantrum was damn near inevitable.”

As much as you’d like to wallow in self-pity, you know that it’s true.

“Speaking of the playground,” he continues, “all I heard about for the rest of the weekend was how much fun he had with you.” He throws his voice up an octave to mimic Harris’s tone. “I had the BEST TIME with Ms. Sweetheart! She pushed me on the swing SO HIGH!” 

The corners of your mouth tug upwards at the memory. “He said that?”

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, contemplating the next piece of information to divulge. “He, uh, also told me that you love me. Not a little, but a lot.” You watch as the tips of his ears turn scarlet, visible even underneath his layers of curls. “Not sure if that still stands.”

You let your knee gently knock into his, a sliver of an olive branch. “Do you want it to?”

“So fucking much.” It’s a plea, breathy and desperate. “I love you, too.”  

You crack a small smile before teasing, “A little, or a lot?”

A ridiculous amount, he thinks. I wake up thinking about you, go to sleep thinking about you, and most of my day in-between is spent thinking about you, too. “A lot, baby. More than I ever thought I could.” His gaze doesn’t leave your lips, chocolate brown eyes drawing you in closer. “Before we…I just need to know. For Harris and for me.” He rubs his palms on his denim-clad thighs, hoping to push away his nerves. “Being in it for the long haul…is that what you want? Because if it’s not, I can’t…y’know…” 

You know. You know he can’t muddle through a relationship that has a certain expiration date. You know he can’t bring you into his son’s life any more than he already has if you don’t plan to stick around. 

“I’m in it for the long haul,” you tell him, relaxing as a smile overrides the anxiety previously etched into his features. “I’m just scared that I’ll fuck it all up. That I can’t be a good mom to Harris.” You realize too late what you just implied, but judging by Eddie’s unwavering expression, it’s unlikely that this is the first time he’s thought about you filling that position. “At the playground, um,” you fidget with your fingers, suddenly entranced by the ridges of your knuckles, “Harris said that he wants me to be his mommy, but you and Wayne told him not to ask me yet.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fist before flexing his fingers, rings gleaming in the lamplight. “And that freaked you out?” he supplies, noticeably shocked when you refute his assumption with a shake of your head.

“Not in the way you think,” you say, gnawing on your inner cheek. “He was just so excited, and I started thinking–”

“That was your first mistake,” he jokes, wincing overdramatically when you swat at his chest.

“I started thinking,” you continue, throwing him a playful glare, “that he’d eventually be let down by me, that you’d eventually be let down by me, and that both of you would regret ever meeting me.”

His face falls at your admission, eyes losing their sparkle as he recognizes your fear. He’s been there: anxious about not living up to Harris’s expectations; the inevitable fall from grace when he realizes his dad is flying by the seat of his pants when it comes to parenting. Yes, he knows the feeling all too well, and it shatters his heart that it weighs on you, too. And the fact that you hadn’t told him–hadn’t felt like you could tell him–forms a knot in his gut.

“Baby,” he murmurs. The warmth of his palms envelops your face as he rests them on your cheeks. “Oh, my sweet girl. Don’t you know that that will never happen?” He sighs at your downcast eyes. “I need to tell you a secret, but you have to promise you won’t get weird about it.”

That captures your attention. What does he mean by ‘weird’? Angry? Annoyed? Scared? “What?” you ask, extending the word with an abundance of caution.

“When you told me you might be pregnant…the thought of being responsible for another kid fuckin’ terrified me. But not,” he swallows, a huff of air sufficing for an incredulous laugh, “not the thought of having one with you.”

Your eyes widen, eyebrows practically reaching the edge of your hairline. His unspoken words reverberate in your head: I’m not scared of parenting with you. I’m not scared of whatever journey lies ahead, as long as you’re beside me. I’m not scared of loving you. 

Without warning, you press your lips to his. Tangled, messy curls find their way into your fists as you draw nearer to each other in a blur of hands and mouths. Though he’d kissed you only moments earlier, Eddie treats this one like a novelty; a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 

To your chagrin, he abruptly breaks the kiss. “Wait right here.” You scrunch your nose as he dashes into his room. You can hear him rummaging through drawers, swearing loudly before slamming it shut and jogging back to the sofa. 

“This,” he announces, holding out a small paper bag, “is the reason I asked you to watch Harris at the market.” 

You take it, curiosity sufficiently piqued by the air of mystery. Tipping it slightly, you feel a delicate chain snake into your palm. Dangling from the center is a tiny heart pendant. 

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” Eddie explains, trying to gauge your expression. “I know it’s not, like, the fanciest jewelry. There’s no diamond or any—”

“I love it.” And you do. God, you do. You quickly bring it to your neck, fumbling with the clasp for a half-second before you feel his strong fingers atop your own. 

“I got it,” he murmurs, and you shift slightly to give him a better vantage point. 

He adjusts the heart so it’s centered just below your collarbone, lingering a beat longer than necessary before pulling away. “Perfect.” He clears his throat and offers an apologetic smile as he ruefully adds, “I have to get to Wayne’s and give Harris his medicine,” he explains, nodding towards the paper bag on his countertop. 

“Eddie!”

“What?”

You laugh, fingers dancing across the prickled stubble along his angular jaw. “You should’ve told me that Harris was sick!” This whole time, you’d just assumed he’d been on a playdate, but now you have an explanation as to why Eddie was in the pharmacy and who the medication is for. 

“It’s an ear infection,” Eddie says nonchalantly, standing up and stretching his back. “Besides, when I told Wayne that you were here—I didn’t tell him why, don’t worry,” he throws in for good measure, “he said, and I quote, ‘don’t come back here until you make things right with your girl.’”

Your girl. You’re still Eddie’s girl. “We probably should check on the test before we go.” It’s been soaking in the cup of urine for twenty-three minutes. Padding to the bathroom, you double, triple, and quadruple check the singular pink line. Not a second one in sight, and you breathe out a sigh of relief before cheerfully announcing. “Officially negative!”

Eddie’s still fixated on one word. “You, um, wanna come with me?” 

“If that’s okay.” Feeling out boundaries, a toe timidly dipped into the water. 

“‘Course it’s okay. Fuck, ‘m just so happy you’re mine again. Missed my girl so much.” He plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “Harris is gonna be so happy to see you.”

Happy might be too strong a word to describe Harris’s reaction when you walk through the door of Wayne’s trailer, squeaking hinges waking him from a restless sleep. 

“Ms. Sweetheart?” His voice is thick with grogginess and disbelief. “What’re you doing here?” He clumsily wipes his eyes with his little fists, sweaty from fevered sleep. 

You sit next to him on the couch, pushing his sweat-logged curls from his face. “Just came to check on you. I heard my favorite Munson wasn’t feeling well.”

Harris giggles, delighted to be so highly ranked. “Yeah, I got an ear ‘fection. But I just gotta take medicine for it and it’ll go away.”

“Got it right here.” Eddie holds up the bag. “Did you eat anything?”

Harris looks over at his grandfather, not yet awake enough to answer the question. 

“Had some toast and jelly right before his nap. ‘Bout…half an hour ago?” Wayne confirms. 

Eddie nods, taking the bottle of amoxicillin out of the paper bag and giving it a good shake. You watch as he unscrews the cap and meticulously pours the medicine just to the dosage line. “Here ya go, Har Bear,” he says, walking over to the sofa where his son is half-sitting, half laying. “This’ll make you feel better, okay?”

That’s not a strong enough sell for Harris, who promptly crosses his arms over his chest, wrinkles his nose, and shakes his head in protest. “Yuck.”

“C’mon, please?” Eddie’s face falls in desperation and exhaustion at his son’s refusal. “It’s bubblegum fl–”

“No!” The ferocity in Harris’s objection could rattle the entire trailer.

You take Eddie’s hand and squeeze it reassuringly. “Can he have a cookie?” you whisper in his ear, hopefully low enough that Harris can’t overhear.

“What?” There’s no way you’re going to reward his behavior with a treat, right? 

“Just trust me.” 

He can do that. “I think Wayne keeps some in the pantry.” 

Sure enough, you find an open package of Oreos, the same off-brand kind that Eddie had brought over on Thanksgiving, right on the top shelf. You slide the plastic shell from the case and pull out a cookie, carefully breaking it in half over the sink to avoid spraying crumbs all over the floor.

“Hey, Har, can I tell you my secret trick?” Harris perks up a bit at this, though he doesn’t give an outright answer. “Okay, so you take the medicine, and then you pop the cookie in your mouth super fast so you barely taste it.”

He considers this, mulling it over silently before warily agreeing and holding out his hand. Eddie gives him the medicine-filled cap and holds his breath that your trick will work.

Harris takes the medicine in one grimacing gulp, and as soon as he swallows it down, you give him half of the cookie. “Go, go, go!” you chant excitedly, grinning as he shoves the treat in his mouth, assessing whether it successfully masked the chalky aftertaste.

“Well?” you ask earnestly, heart beating in your chest as you await the outcome.

Harris purses his lips in contemplation, fueling your anxiety. After what seems like decades, he returns your smile tenfold, cookie crumbs wedged between his teeth.

“I did it!” he chirps with a level of enthusiasm that has you and Eddie doubting he’s even sick. “I like that trick.”

You feel Eddie’s arm snake around your waist as he grabs your side in appreciation. “You can have the other half when you take the next dose,” you tell the little boy, lovingly ruffling his curls. “C’mon, let’s get you home so Grampa can get some rest before work.”

The laugh lines around Wayne’s eyes crease in gratitude as Eddie scoops his son into his arms and thanks his uncle for the childcare. You grab the medicine bottle with the hand not holding the Oreo half, echo Eddie’s statement, and close the door behind you. 

Eddie buckles Harris in and starts the car, peering through his rearview mirror while the engine grumbles to life. “Y’good back there, Har?”

“Mhm.” There’s a solid ten seconds of silence before he speaks again. “Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you tell me a story? Like a made-up one from your head?”

“Sure.” You lean back into the seat, thinking of a plot that will last until you get dropped off at your place. 

“Once upon a time,” you begin, donning your best narrator voice, “in a tiny little village, there lived three princes who were fighting to be the village’s next king. The villagers didn’t know how to choose between them; after all, they loved all three princes dearly—”

“Daddy’s turn!” Harris interrupts, pointing at Eddie, hands clapping together in gleeful anticipation for the game he’s created. 

“Uh, okay,” Eddie stammers, clearly caught off-guard by the request. “So instead of doing a normal vote, the villagers decided to have them battle the evil, ugly troll that lived up on the hill.”

“Now, Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Each prince would try and defeat the troll, and whoever won would be king,” you continue the story, improvising as you go. “The princes packed up their shields and swords—” 

“Daddy!”

“And rode their horses up the hill until they reached the troll’s house.” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with a mischievous glimmer as he adds, “but when they got there, the troll refused the typical duel. Instead, he insisted on battling the only way he knew how: a competition of throwing balls into laundry baskets.”

Harris cackles at this but doesn’t ask you to take over, so Eddie keeps talking. “The princes were like, ‘um, this isn’t what we prepared for,’ but the hideous, grotesque troll didn’t care.”

“Ms. Sweetheart!”

You have no idea where this story is headed, but Harris is having the time of his life, so you plunge along. “The troll bared his teeth and hissed to try and frighten the princes, but it didn’t work. They each picked up the ball and tossed it into the laundry baskets, easy-peasy lemon squeezy.” You pause there to see if Harris calls on Eddie, but he doesn’t make a peep. “The troll was so surprised at their skills that—”

This time, Eddie doesn’t wait for his son’s instruction and takes the story over. “—that he stumbled backwards off of the edge of the hill, plummeting into the piranha-infested waters below. The end,” he finishes proudly. 

Your jaw drops in disbelief. “Eddie!” you hiss, clapping a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. “You’re gonna traumatize the poor kid!”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, not even bothering to mask his laughter. “He’s out like a light.”

Sure enough, you twist around in your seat to see Harris sound asleep, head tilted against the headrest and mouth agape. A speck of drool collects in the corner of his lips, but he remains undisturbed.

“Medicine must’ve kicked in,” you agree, shifting back to look out your window. The trees flourish with leaves in various shades of green, a colorful promise replacing winter’s barrenness. Hawkins may not be the picturesque postcard town, but there is still some beauty in it.

“Yeah, about that.” Eddie’s brown eyes dance as he steals a glimpse of you before returning his attention to the road. “Do me a favor, ‘kay? Never worry about your parenting skills again.”

Your brows furrow in confusion for a brief moment. “Oh, you mean the trick?”

Eddie nods, tongue unconsciously swiping over his suddenly dry lips. 

“That’s just something Grandma did to get me to take medicine as a kid,” you shrug. “She usually gave us Nilla Wafers, but it looks like Oreos make a worthy substitute.”

He doesn’t respond to that directly, simply rests a hand on your lower thigh just above your knee, the hangnail on his thumb scratches against your cotton sweatpants as he tenderly rubs the spot. “It’s okay if you’re not ready to officially take on the ‘mom’ role in his life,” he starts, even and reassuring, “but whenever you are? God, you’re gonna be the fuckin’ best.” He pauses for a beat before adding, “Y’already are.”

With Harris still snoozing in his booster seat, you press a kiss to Eddie’s jawline, just below his earlobe. Your nose smushes into his cheek, tickled by the stubble of a few days of missed shaving. It will take more than a compliment to quell your anxiety, but you refuse to ignore the way it ignites a small fire within you. Self-assurance is a flame, soft and flickering, burning from the inside out. Insecurity is a rigid block of ice, one that has been poking at you for years, but it begins melting against the blooming bundle of warmth.  

Wednesday’s post-tutoring pizza party had an extra guest this week. Wayne helps himself to a pepperoni slice, humming some Bob Dylan to himself as he brings his plate to the table. Harris eagerly climbs into his lap, heaving a dramatic sigh as he plops down and steals his grandfather’s pizza slice. His ear infection has cleared up, thanks to the amoxicillin and your cooke trick.

“Hey!” Wayne barks out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “What’re you doing?”

Ever unfazed, Harris works on a mouthful of mozzarella cheese. “Eating,” he replies nonchalantly, a dot of sauce staining his nose. He barely swallows his giant bite before starting on another.

You giggle, handing Wayne a new slice before sliding into the chair next to Eddie’s. “I’m really glad you could have dinner with us tonight,” you tell the older man before tucking into your meal. Wayne had decided to cut back to part-time at the plant, citing older age and the desire to spend more time with his grandson, leaving his Wednesday evenings wide open.

Eddie’s the only one who hasn’t started eating yet, too busy soaking in the sight in front of him. He’s sitting around a table with his son, his father figure, and his girlfriend. The three people he loves more than anything in the world. He watches as Wayne presses a kiss to Harris’s messy curls, the little boy giggling into his piece of pizza. He watches as you lean over to wipe the sauce off of Harris’s nose with a napkin, shrieking happily when he sticks out his tongue and licks the side of your hand. “Gotcha, Ms. Sweetheart!” the little boy cackles, but while he’s distracted in his victory, you manage to clean his face.

This is happiness in its purest, most unfettered form. Maybe it won’t always be this easy, but he realizes now that he’s willing to fight like hell to get through the hard times if it means having more of these moments.

“Eds?” your soft, inquiring voice tugs him from his thoughts. “You feeling okay?” Your fingertips find his under the table, concerned by his preoccupation. 

“‘M good,” he reassures you, holding your hand and using the other to fold his slice. Once again, the room is filled with silly banter and kind conversation. 

Yeah, he’s good. 

You expect the three Munsons to leave altogether, so when Wayne tells Eddie that he can take care of Harris for the evening, you’re caught off-guard. 

This apparently deviates from Eddie’s plan, too, because he cocks his brow at his uncle. “Y’sure, Old Man?”

“Sure as sh—sugar,” Wayne says, catching himself at the last second. He scratches at the whiskers on his chin, an itchy reminder to pick up some new disposable razors at Melvald’s. “What good’s all this free time if I don’t spend it with my grandson?” He holds out his hand and Harris takes it eagerly.

“Bye, Daddy! Bye, Ms. Sweetheart!” he chirps, already pulling Wayne towards the door.

“Hold on,” Eddie pipes up, forehead creased in feigned agitation. “Let me give you a kiss goodbye.” His jaw drops when Harris shakes his head in defiance; this time, he’s genuinely shocked. 

“I want a squish kiss. From you an’ Ms. Sweetheart.” Harris tells him, eyes darting between the two of you.

You turn to Eddie, feeling like you’re missing a crucial piece of this puzzle. “What’s a squish kiss?” you ask quietly, but Harris still manages to overhear. 

“‘S when Daddy kisses one cheek, an’ you kiss the other!” he informs you, clapping his hands together giddily. “An’ it squishes my face, like thith.” The last word is obscured with a lips when he pushes his cheeks together to emphasize his point.

You walk over to him and crouching down to his level. “I can definitely do a squish kiss,” you say, wincing slightly when he excitedly squeals in your ear. 

Eddie counts down from his other side. “Squish kiss incoming in three…two…one!” Leaning in simultaneously, you both feel the apples of Harris’s cheeks as he smiles, giggling again when you and Eddie pull back with an exaggerated, mwah!

“Now we gotta give Ms. Sweetheart a squish kiss!” the little boy announces. Heat creeps up your neck, and you silently place the ball in Eddie’s court. Before this, he’d always been cognizant to avoid displays of affection in front of his son. And while you’re not opposed to getting a squish kiss from them, you don’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on him.

“You heard the man.” Eddie’s response is near-immediate, wasting no time directing Harris to your left side and shuffling in closer to you. “Count us down, Har.”

“Three…two…one!” Harris smushes his whole face into yours, little nose pressing into your cheek before his lips can. Eddie’s contribution is much less aggressive, but there’s ample love in both kisses. 

Satisfied with his handiwork, Harris skips back to his grandpa. Wayne just throws Eddie a wink as he grabs his car keys from the hook and closes the door behind him.

Eddie puts his hands up in surrender when you turn to him, the sounds of his uncle’s and son’s respective footsteps gradually diminishing as they walk down the hall. 

“I swear, I didn’t ask Wayne to take care of Harris tonight,” he says with a laugh, looping his pointer finger across his chest to make an X over his heart. Lithe fingertips broach your waist, drawing you closer into him. “Not that I’m complaining, though…” 

“Me either,” you murmur, lips finding their way to his collarbone, sucking so harshly that they threaten to leave a bruise. Your own fingers fumble to unbuckle his belt; a difficult feat considering your eyes are watching the vein that runs along his neck, beckoning you to mark it next. You crave the thrill of make-up sex, to allow hunger and desire to fuel your every move. 

You grimace at the cool sensation of his rings against the bare skin of your stomach, a painful reminder of one frustrating barrier. “Fuck, my period,” you grumble, taking a small step back. He doesn’t let you go far; instead, he grabs your ass and pulls you towards him. “Eds,” you whine, trying to focus on your words rather than the way he’s beginning to strain against his pants zipper, “did you hear what I said?”

Eddie nods, tongue prodding at your mouth so he can kiss you deeply. “We can put down a towel,” he mumbles into you. 

You sigh, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you, quelling the fierce ache settling between your legs, but it seems like Mother Nature is making up for the two weeks she’d lagged behind. Still, you don’t want to leave your boyfriend turned on without any reprieve; he’s practically quivering with anticipation to explore you already. 

“C’mere,” you whisper in his ear, though it’s wholly unnecessary given his absurdly close proximity. You hook your forefinger into his waistband and lead him to your bedroom. “Pants off,” you order, and he obeys without hesitation, exposing plaid boxers that fail to constrain his hardening length. 

You give him a little shove onto the bed, sensing his heart beat faster underneath your palms. Locking onto his widened eyes, you straddle his waist as he sets himself up against the pillows. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You nibble on his earlobe, grinning when a shiver courses through his body. 

“A-Anything,” Eddie manages, hissing when your clothed core drags over his tented shorts, the newfound pressure only weakening his resolve. 

You hum your approval. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

His breath hitches, hands clamping down on your hips so possessively that his fingerprints might be etched into your skin. “You,” he whispers. “Always you.”

“What about me?” You wrap a curly lock of hair around your finger and give it a playful tug. “What do you picture me doing? Or what are you doing to me?”

“Fuck.” He starts to palm himself over the fabric but you swat his hand away. 

“You tell me, and I’ll make you feel so good.” Your fingers tug at the elastic band until his cock springs free. He’s mouthwateringly hard, but you don’t allow yourself to taste him. Instead, you wrap your hand around the base, lean over, and spit directly onto the tip. “‘M ready when you are, baby.”

He needs a moment to collect himself, to allow his mind to create coherent thoughts. It takes too long, apparently, because he hears you softly snicker. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

And, fuck, all of the blood in his body rushes south at that. He’s reminded of the dream he’d had all those months ago; the one that catapulted his feelings from schoolboy crush to full-blown lovesickness. Dream You had said the same thing. 

“At work,” he croaks, twisting his fists into your bedsheets, desperate for your hand to glide up and down his shaft, “you surprise me a-and suck me off behind the counter, and a c-customer walks in.”

“And then I stop, right?” you tease, thumb swiping at the pre-cum pooling at his slit. “I let you attend to the customer because I’m a good girl?”

“N-No.” Eddie furiously shakes his head. “You k-keep going; such a bad f-fuckin’ girl. Keep your pretty little lips wrapped a-around me.”

You finally relent, giving him what he wants, and he bucks into your hand with a groan. His fantasies flow freely now with each stroke. “Once he leaves, I grab you, spin you around, and–f-fuck–flip your little skirt up.”

“Am I wearing anything under this little skirt?” you coo, tightening your grip on his cock.

He shakes his head, curls already beginning to stick to his temples with light perspiration. “Not a thing. J-Just on display f’me.” He sucks in a harsh breath as he moves you so you’re sitting next to him, knees grazing one another. He quickly shifts to unbutton your jeans, meticulously working the button like he’s opening the gift of his dreams. “And only me.”

“Eddie, I–”

“Gotta touch you,” he mumbles. The way your panties cling to your cunt makes it easy for him to find your clit through the fabric. “Gonna lose my fuckin’ mind if I don’t touch you.” 

And, God, you might lose your mind if he does. His nimble fingers rub your sweet spot, a delicious friction created by your underwear. Desire oozes from his pores, only heightening when you whimper at his touch. 

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” Eddie’s voice is low in his chest, “‘m gonna make you feel good, too.” He pushes your panties to the side; the cool air hitting your pussy makes you shiver. 

“Wish you were inside me right now,” you moan, almost drooling just thinking about being stretched open as he pushes into you. “You always fill me up perfectly.”

His cock twitches at your words, and you take the initiative to quicken your pace. “Is that what you think about?” he asks, groaning in pleasure when you lean in to spit on his dick again, saliva messily snaking down his shaft and nestling in the thatch of curls on his pelvis. “Y’think about me filling you up?”

“Mhm.”

“M-Me too, Princess. Want to fuck you full of my cum.” Eddie leans back onto the headboard. “You’d look s’good filled with my cum.”

Your widened eyes and the way your stroking motions end abruptly inform him that that was not the response you’d been expecting. 

“Shit, I—”

You recover from the shock remarkably fast. “Yeah? You’d like that?” You resume your pace, fist sliding up and down his length, paying special attention to the overstimulated head. Your breath tickles his ear as you whisper, “tell me about it.”

He’s suddenly shy, softening slightly in your hand. “You sure?” His gaze shifts to your lower stomach; only a few short days ago, there was the possibility of you carrying his child there. “‘S not weird?”

You shake your head, trailing kisses down the side of his throat. “Tell me about it,” you repeat with a bit more charge, inciting him to let go. “I want to know all of your fantasies, Eddie.”

His name is so pretty coming from your lips, accompanied by a gentle smile. “Never thought about it until you,” he admits, the weight of anxiety lifted at your insistence, and you feel his length begin stiffening once more. “Keeping you bent over, coming inside your perfect little pussy, and fucking it all back into you so it…” he trails off, still too sheepish to compete the sentence.

But you have no problem with finishing it. “So it sticks?” you ask innocently, as though you have no idea what the mere utterance of that phrase will do to him. He nods, unable to speak. “Do you think about everyone knowing what you do to me? Hmm?”

There’s so much that he wants to say, but he swears there’s no blood flowing anywhere but his cock. “You’d look fuckin’ gorgeous havin’ my baby,” he manages, mind filled with images of you in maternity dresses, bump pressed against his stomach as you kiss him deeply.

There’s further implications; namely, that he wants you and only you to bear his children, which you quickly make a mental note to unpack at a less sensual time. For now, you focus on taking his words at face value. “Bet you’d show me off everywhere we went. Wouldn’t keep your hands off of me.”

“Can barely keep them off of you now,” he says, finger circling your aching clit to prove his point, “but seeing you pregnant with our kid…” He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years, enveloping your busy hand with his free one, wrapping it around his erection and moving it faster. “Jus’ like that, fuck, sweet girl. Tell me what gets you goin’ now, yeah?” When you bite your lip apprehensively, he sighs. “Don’t be shy; I know you’ve been holding back on me.”

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce with a knowing smile, “I think about you taking control. Just…using me however you want.”

Your toes curl as he rubs faster, clearly just as turned on as you are. “Y’need me to boss you around? Treat you like my little toy?”

“Mmm,” you agree, settling into the mattress. “Want you to choke me, too.”

His eyebrows raise at this, and his lips soon curl into a mischievous smirk. “Come ride my thigh an’ tell me more.” He pats his leg, his gaze never leaving your body as you reposition yourself to straddle it. You keep your hand on his member, spitting on it once again while moving your hips back and forth. “Take what you need, baby.”

“Need you,” you moan, the cotton fabric of your panties dragging along him. “Need you to decide if I come…” It’s a delectable thought: Eddie pounding you into the mattress, reminding you that good girls take what they’re given, and nothing more. Quieting all of the noise in your head. Day after day, you’re supposed to make choices for others; some major, some minor. All you want is for someone to tell you what to do.

Eddie’s rings are cold on your neck, giving it a hesitant squeeze. “That good?” His eyes are kind but fiery, willing you to beg for it.

“More; more, please.” And give you more he does, only stopping when you cough. “‘S good now.” Words barely audible between his tight grip and your own descent into submission. 

But Eddie hears you loud and clear, voice firm when he orders: “Come with me. Don’t wanna come without you.” He’s pulsing in your grasp. “An’ if you don’t come now, don’t even think about trying to get yourself off later.”

Relief floods you as the coil snaps, his dominance scratching an itch too often left untouched. You come with a cry of his name, feeling his own hot release coating your hand. You’re both giggling and gasping for breaths as you float down from your respective highs, lips crashing together in sloppy, needing kisses. 

“I love you so much,” Eddie mumbles into you, blindly reaching for the Kleenex box atop your nightstand. “I’ve never trusted anyone like this before.” He wipes your hand clean before brushing his thumb across your lower lip.

“Me either.” You kiss him again, tongues mingling before you confess, “for the record, the thought of having a baby is a little less scary when it’s yours. Someday,” you add for good measure.

Eddie smiles, cocking his head and looking up at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. “I can live with ‘someday.’”

The school week draws to a close on Friday. Coming back from a break is never easy; the kids act like they’ve never been to school before. Just nine days out of the classroom and you’re fairly certain they’ve lost the ability to stay seated for more than ten seconds at a time. 

Will is cleaning the tables with Clorox wipes, washing away crayon residue and softly whistling to himself. You’re filing away some paperwork, scrawling For Monday on a Post-It note and sticking it on top of a stack of handwriting practice worksheets. 

There’s a light tap on your classroom door followed by an enthused voice. 

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

You look up to see Harris and Eddie standing in the doorway. Harris excitedly waves you over, holding a piece of construction paper tight to his chest.

Eddie clears his throat, hands tucked into his back pocket. “Harris has something for you,” he says softly. His eyes light up when he notices the heart necklace that drapes over your collarbone. “Go ‘head, Har Bear,” he encourages his son with a tiny nudge.

“Um, well,” Harris starts, uncharacteristically nervous, “I know you’re still just my almost-mommy, but Ms. Marion had us make cards for Mother’s Day. An’ we learned that mommies love their babies, an’ take care of them when they’re sick, an’ cheer them up when they’re sad, an’ read to them, an’ play with them–”

“Har,” Eddie prods gently, not wanting him to lose himself in a tangent.

“Oh, yeah. An’ I don’t have a mommy-mommy yet, but you do all those things for me, so I wanted to give you this.” He hands you the paper. Two handprints, one pink and one purple, serve as flowers in a pot. 

One of the teachers–Marion or Paula–has neatly written at the top, Thanks for helping me grow! and Mother’s Day 1997 on the bottom. In the pot, Harris has printed his name.

“I love it,” you manage, blinking away the tears that spring to your eyes. “It’s the best card I’ve ever gotten.”

Harris wraps his arms around you in a hug, and you embrace him with everything you have. When you look up at Eddie, he grins and mouths, thank you.

You just smile back, feeling as though you should be thanking him. Thank him for allowing you into his little family, for letting you make mistakes, for being there to help you fix them. Thank him for that fire inside you, burning a bit brighter each day, reminding you that this is where you belong.

--

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his leaning, causes his leg to push right up against your heat, and you can’t take it anymore. “eds, stop moving!” you pout, slapping him on the chest lightly.

he pulls right back, brows knitted with deep confusion and a hint of worry. big dewy eyes staring at you, “why? what’s wrong?”

“nothing. you just keep moving and it’s…” your words trail off when your eyes pan down to where his thigh was being held hostage by your legs. he follows your gaze, quick to understand what was really going on.

“oh,” there’s a glimmer in his eyes, a knowing look, as he sees what he’s doing now, and a smirk begins to pull at his lips. “you don’t really want me to stop though, do you?”

he could see right through you. drawing your bottom lip in, you shake your head and a soft chuckle releases from him as he purposely moves his thigh again.

“eds,” you whimper his name, meeting his gaze once more.

through his lashes, and dishevelled bangs, he peers at you, pupils dilating under the dim light of his room. eddie’s favourite thing in the world was bringing you pleasure, helping you embrace your sexual side, but mostly just you — he loved you — and how trusting you were with him. it made him feel special. important. and to you, he was.

“you want me to keep going?” his voice is low now, watching as your chest rises when he moves his leg closer to your centre. you nod rapidly, panting when he pulls it away again. “move for me.”

you do as he says and slowly start to roll your hips against him. a moan escaping you as the texture of his jeans through nothing but the thin material of your panties rubs across your nub. the feeling sets your region alight and you thank yourself for deciding to wear a skirt that day.

as you continue to move, your sweetness begins to build, a slick developing between you and eddie. it makes it easier for you to move against him. a ball of pleasure grows in your stomach as eddie pulls your flimsy little skirt up, revealing your ass and giving it a tight squeeze. the cool touch of his rings causing you to hiss.

“fuck, eddie,” you moan his name, trying to keep your eyes on him, but they flutter closed from time to time. "feels s'good."

you cling onto him now, hands gripping at the thin material of his hellfire shirt, as the other reaches behind his head, getting tangled between his curls. it's then that he starts to help you move, his hand firmly grasping your ass as he does so.

"you like that, huh? you like moving your pretty little clit against me like that?" your eyes blow wide with desire, the wetness in your panties now transferring to his pants, but you knew that he didn't care. he loved getting your juices on him.

setting yourself into a steady rhythm, the sensation almost becomes too much as you jut your hips faster now, and eddie removes his hand from your ass to tilt your chin towards him. "i want you to look at me when you cum, okay? i want to see how good i'm making you feel."

you nod rapidly, brows upturning from the pleasure, and earning yourself a 'good girl'. eddie slides his thumb across your bottom lip, before pressing down to open it up.

“such a pretty hole.”

“fuck, eds.” you moan, his thumb rolling back and forth across your lips still.

"cum for me, baby. let it out." he says, making sure that your eyes remain locked with his, your mouth bursting open and body convulsing around him as the pressure that had been building finally comes tumbling down. "there it is." he lets out a breathy chuckle, forever in awe of how beautiful you looked when you reached your high.

you fall into him, trying to catch your breath, and after a moment you move to lay on your back spent, chest rising and falling dramatically as you stare up at his ceiling. "fucking hell." you sigh.

"you know i'm never gonna sit still ever again, right?" he leans towards you, snaking his hands around your neck, his rings no longer cool to the touch, and pulling you in for a heated kiss as you giggle. "that was so fucking hot."

"oh, i bet you liked it." you raise an eyebrow at him, hand reaching down to feel the stiffness in his pants.

"you could definitely say that."

He’d also, by some stroke of luck, had kickstarted a string of shows on the outskirts of Indians, away from Hawkins population and their prying eyes, their notoriety being spread by word of mouth until he was spending almost every weekend playing his heart out with his band—it’s what he always wanted initially, but life had other plans. 

He had to grow up, graduate, get a job and force himself through college; make something of himself—and maybe he had, but it was never what he wanted. He enjoys his life now, the stability and the ability to help others, even if momentarily. It’s why he chose the course of study he did—it wasn’t throwing darts at a board and picking the one it landed on, it was always intentional. But at this point, he felt stuck. 

No one knew he’d enrolled himself into being a professor, surprising even himself that he’d enjoyed it as much as he did, even if the entire concept and uniform drove him nuts—it helped keep him afloat, and more recently, led him to you. 

It’s like, after a lifetime of horrible outcomes, things were finally starting to turn around for him—even if it was all only temporary. 

You also watch all of us shows, never missing a single one, not in the two months string that follows your initial agreement—school, Eddie, more school, and more Eddie—it was a cycle that you fell into easily. 

He was highly insatiable on the nights after a show, more handsy and needy than usual, propping you up in the passenger side seat, legs hung over his shoulders as went down on you—it was almost too much. 

“Eddie,” You pant, one hand forced behind you to keep yourself upright, the other cradling the back of his head as he licked into your cunt, the shlick sound of your wetness so loud against the dim rumble of the music coming from the bar, “—fuck, what if we get caught?”

“They’re busy,” His bandmates—his friends, buried in copious rounds of shots courtesy of some eager women who latched onto them the moment they stepped off the stage, Eddie could care less, though—he had more important things to worry about, “yeah—use my face, baby.”

Baby. It was new, too new—but it had your stomach twisting in knots, a gentle throb in your cunt as the words left his lips. It sounded so sweet falling from his lips, almost like he meant it. 

You whine softly, gripping his hair gently to arch yourself further into his mouth, letting him suck at you greedily, the tip of his tongue sliding against your clit, pushing you further into the pleasure high you were drowning in, your underwear wadded into his hand as he gripped your thigh with the other, pulling you wider and wider, massaging at the soft flesh.

“Louder,” He comments, mouth molding around your clit to suck gently, a jolt of electricity running through you as you gasped loudly, pulling harshly at his hair, “that’s it, good girl.”

You nod idly, arm giving out on you as you fell back, grinding absently against his face, allowing him to do most of the work—Eddie knew just how to work you up until you were breathless and exhausted, willing to let him take over, and you were, so he did. 

“Don’t have time to fuck you like I want,” He tells you, mumbling against your cunt in a way that has you clenching around nothing—the heat of his breath was enough to nearly send you over the edge, “so I guess this will have to work.” 

You didn’t care—it couldn’t get better than this. 

You moan outwardly as his pace quickens, bringing you over the edge quickly, cunt spawning against his mouth as you come, the faint, teasing laugh he lets out as you fall over the edge was enough to drive you mad. 

“You’re too good at that.” You comment idly, chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” He points out, allowing you to slip your underwear back on, hands intertwining in yours to sit you upright.

“Oh?” You push, knowing who he was referring to, but only wanting to mess with him further. 

“Yeah—“ His hands slide against the outside of your thighs, pulling your core flush against him, the hard line of his cock that showed through his jeans pressed perfectly up against your cunt, “she’s loud, the fucking mouth on her, and she tastes like honey—that pussy is so sweet, can’t get enough of it.” 

“I think you’re drunk,” You laugh softly, letting Eddie pull you in for a light kiss that quickly turns into more, your thighs widening to let him grind up against you, his tongue diving into your open mouth, feeling you out, “or tipsy, at least.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, “Just wanna fuck you,” He pleads, nudging at you neck with his nose, leaving short, biting kisses against your skin, “gonna let me?”

You make a small noise of amusement, pulling him away to look at you, his head heavy in your hands as he bares the weight of it against you, “Not tonight, you remember the deal.”

“I know,” He pouts cutely, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you, “not before semester finals, I remember.”

It was the one thing you both decided on—after the incident in his van, you knew it was better to hold off and keep things less complicated—not that this was much better, but it kept you focused, and Eddie would hang himself over you all day if you let him.

“Time to go?” You suggest softly, catching the faint smile that graced his face. 

Part of you wishes he’d take you back to his place, but he never offered—you didn’t try to pry either, it didn’t seem like a good idea. 

“Yeah, get in.” He suggests quietly, waiting until you’re seated inside the van fully to close the door, jogging quickly to the driver’s side. 

Eddie knew exactly what was in store for him, it was the best part about his weekend drives with you, off the adrenaline of performing and wanting nothing more to sink himself inside of you—he settled for your mouth, which was just as good. 

“You focused?” You ask, watching as his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, leaving enough room between his body and the front dash for you to fit—you know, if you wanted to. 

You absolutely did. 

He nods, rewarded with the gentle glide of your hand over the crotch of his jeans, fingers finding the zipper easily, and unbuttoning his pants just as quickly, a great relief from the pressure that was constraining his hard cock, sighing openly when you take him in your hand.

“Easy,” He warns, knowing that if he got worked up to fast he would have to pull over and you were on a tight schedule—because despite how badly you wanted to stay out all night, you both had responsibilities, “go slow.”

You nod dutifully, leaning over the length of the console to rest comfortably, his right hand pulling from the steering wheel to cover the expanse of ass, squeezing lightly until you were mouthing lightly at the base of his shaft—finally, exactly where he wanted you. 

He hums softly, the quiet hum of the radio drowning out the rough sounds of rubber against pavement, but not enough to overpower the sounds that you made as you worked him over, your tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his dick, mouth closing gently over the tip to suck, earning a small grunt of approval, his fist clenching tightly against your ass, the cold sting of his rings biting at your skin.

“Uh—oh, fuck—more, baby. You can fit more, can’t you?” He asks encouragingly. He knows you can, looking down at you briefly with dark eyes, glazed over with pleasure and a familiar sense of dominance. He didn’t let it out often, or by much, but you knew it was there. It was thrilling, but still secretly terrifying—you wanted to know all about him. 

You nod obediently, your plush lips sliding against his ruddy tip, tongue poking out to swipe at the slit, tasting the small bead of precome, his heady scent from the earlier performance only urging you on, wanting to make a mess of him. 

His hand grasps the back of your head gently, settling into your soft strands, pushing and guiding until he’s nearly settled at the back of your throat, you eyes closing in an attempt to focus, breathing deeply through your nose—it’s the soft nudge of his cock that has you gagging slightly, pulling back to take a breath, before diving back in, taking him into your mouth fully, a small whine tearing from his throat as your hand moves to his balls, cupping them lightly. He’s never been one to care much for the attention, but you treated him like royalty, making sure he was just as satiated as you were after your weekly hookups—it was only fair.

“God, I wanna fuck that mouth so bad,” He sighs, his hand coming around to pull at the edge of your mouth gently where your cock is stuffed inside, “hold your hair back and make you take it, that sound good?”

You nod weakly, willing to agree with just about anything he says. But, the idea isn’t lost on you—you wouldn’t mind at all.

“Shit, sweetheart—“ He says, hand flying up to grip the steering wheel as you swallow involuntarily, you pull back for a short breath, tongue trailing up the length of his dick until he’s cursing again, hips bucking up into your mouth.

You hear the engine rev slightly, car jolting forward unexpectedly, Eddie’s quick to grab you, though—his hand soothing at the back of your neck in reassurance, “I said slow, remember?”

“Sorry,” You mumble against his skin, the words only half true, “couldn’t help myself.”

The van pulls to a stop at some point, interior illuminated by red light, Eddie shifts the car in park unexpectedly, giving him full range and motion to grab at you, fingers twisting in your hair wildly, groaning out at the overwhelming sensation of your mouth as you swallowed him down steadily, thoughts too cloudy to focus on the road—he’s thankful that the streets are so empty at this time of night, dick twitching as you moaned, letting him guide your head down his shaft willingly. 

“Fuck—gonna come, sweetheart.” He warns tensely, jaw clenched. He’s pulling gently at your hair, hoping you’ll get the message, but you ignore it, bringing him right to the edge and letting him spill into your mouth, the guttural groan he lets out shooting straight to your core, “shit—you didn’t have to do all that.” 

You pull back with a satisfied grin, swallowing what remained of him in your mouth, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth innocently, his eyes melting at the sight. You were a goddamn prize, the rarest of the bunch. 

His thumb pulls gently at your lip, rubbing the pad of his finger against the skin, your own eyes lighting up, “You can never hold out, can you?” 

“It’s just too good,” He admits shamelessly, “I’m sorry.” 

You laugh softly, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against his lips—it shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, tasting himself in your mouth, but the thought sends a tinge straight to his dick. 

It takes another half hour to finally arrive at campus; Max is fuming when she has to open the door for you, key forgotten on the floorboard of Eddie’s van, unbeknownst to you.

☆.｡.:*

So, naturally, you wake up in a panic—thinking it’s probably lost on the dingy floor of some crappy bar out of town, never to be seen again. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Max complains, rubbing at her tired eyes as she forces herself out of bed, “next time you show up after midnight with no key I’m ignoring you.”

“Max,” You plead, hoping she wasn’t as upset as she sounded, “I’m sorry.”

“No—next time: no key, no entry, you sleep on the floor outside.”

“You wouldn’t,” You counter, perched up in your bed as your eyes follow her around the room, her figure disappearing behind the bathroom door, “Max?!”

“I absolutely would,” She shouts back, “try me!”

And you know she’s capable, so it’s crucial that you find the key—rather than accepting your fate and begging her to make another copy. You just hoped that, by some miracle, Eddie might have it. 

When you arrive at class, your usual seat is taken—it’s been nearly four months and not a single time has this happened, until now. You approach the individual hastily; despite the lack of assigned seating, it still felt like it was rightfully yours and you weren’t going down without a fight.

Eddie hasn’t even arrived yet, the classroom filled with the hushed conversations of other students. You clear your throat, tapping the boy on the shoulder, his thick letterman feeling sticky against your finger.

“Excuse me,” You chide, voice sounding a little harsh, “that’s my seat.”

He rounds on you, pale blue eyes staring back intensely, a small strand of his blonde hair falling over his forehead. He’s got the type of smile that would scare away who was shy, not willing to confront their problems, but that wasn’t you. 

“I don’t see your name on it.” He smirks, leaning back in the seat, legs spread wide for good measure. 

“Good one,” You say, forcing a smile, “move.”

“No.” He replies confidently, a smile turning into a tooth-filled grin, clearly enjoying how much it was bothering you.

“You’re new to class, right?” You ask, ignoring his scrutinizing gaze. “This is your first day?”

He nodded silently, eyes taking a noticeable glance along your body—he wasn’t unattractive or creepy, he was just infuriating and not at all the good kind.

“Then you don’t know that I sit there everyday,” You explain, voice calm despite that annoyance that flooded through you, “so I’d really appreciate it if you’d move.”

He laughs, head tilting up to make another snide remark, “Look, I—“

Eddie calls out to him, setting his bag on his desk, “Jason, right?” He asks curiously, staring down at the paper on his desk, “Up here.” He orders, fingers motion for him to move toward the front of the classroom. 

You smile snidely, watching him remove himself from your desk, taking your rightful seat back. 

Eddie only talks to him for a few minutes, handing him a small stack of papers, before Jason is returning to your row, claiming the seat beside you, much to your dismay. 

“Actually,” He takes a moment, examining the desk, his eyes trailing over to your exposed legs before landing on your face, “I think I like this one better.”

“Sure, whatever.” You say nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze and you stared at the board, chin resting in your palm—at least there was your professor to look at, keeping your mind off of the constant gaze of your classmate, who despite being obnoxiously rude and condescending, still participated in the class. 

He answered questions correctly, engaged in discussion, it was almost like he actually cared for the subject and wasn’t just forced here—still, you wanted to shove him flat on his perfect face, tired of the way he stared right through you; he was up to something, but you weren’t sure what. When class nears its end, he turns to you.

“Hey,” He calls out, your name lingering on his tongue weirdly—you hadn’t even told him, “hold on.”

His face contorts up in a look of confusion, almost like he’s battling with himself, confused on what he wants to say.

“Look—I wasn’t trying to be an asshole,” He admits, which falls on deaf ears, “I’m sorry.” 

“Apology not accepted.” You snark back, arms crossed over your chest. 

“I’ve seen you, around,” He states, “that’s how I know your name.”

Still weird, but you take the bait. Your eyebrow quirks up in question, urging him to continue. 

“Your friend Max—I’m friends with Lucas, the guy she’s been hanging out with,” It makes more sense, but not much, “I just—I thought you were cute, so I was teasing, I didn’t think you’d take it so harshly.”

“You call that teasing?” You ask, amused at his horrible attempt to correct his behavior. “Gross.”

“I’m not used to, you know,” He does a back and forth motion between the two of you with his hand, “—girls usually just smile and laugh, they don’t really argue back.”

“What point are you trying to prove?” You ask desperately, tired of this pointless circle of conversation, “That you’re terrible at flirting? Is that why you took this class? For desperation, hoping that I would take one look at you and fall in love?”

“I mean—not fall in love, necessarily,” He says dismissively, “I am interested in the class, I just…thought it would be cool to get to know you.”

You were going to kill Max the moment you laid eyes on her. 

You force a tight smile. “I don’t make friends easily, and I’m not nice—so it’s better if you just stay away from me.”

He doesn’t even get a word in before you’re scampering away, avoiding Eddie’s unknowingly heated gaze, averting right to Jason the moment you’re gone. 

Unfortunately for you, Jason liked the challenge. 

☆.｡.:*

“You did what?” You question tensely, eyes narrowing at your red headed friend. 

“He asked if you were single,” Max explains, “I said yeah.”

“Why?”

Max throws her hands out in defeat, “I mean, you are? Aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then?” Max snarks back suddenly. “What’s the big deal?”

“Are we ignoring my complicated situation with Eddie?”

“You two are just screwing around,” Max points out, “who cares?”

You rub your hands over your face in frustration, allowing yourself a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. It was no better if you took any of this out on Max, who was just trying to help you out—her intentions were never meant with harm, but it had created a difficult and dangerous domino effect. 

“He’s not that bad,” Max points out, “Lucas says he’s really cool.”

“He’s the captain of the basketball team—of course Lucas thinks he’s cool.” You point out obviously. “I’m screwed, Max—screwed.”

“Just go on a date with him,” She suggests, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head at the idea, “hey, don’t look at me like that—you might change your mind. Besides, you don’t owe Eddie anything. Didn’t he say that he wanted to keep things casual?”

You nod regretfully. 

“So?” Max shrugs, “Fucking live a little, go on a date or two, you don’t have to sneak around at night with him, at least.”

“You are the one who pushed me toward getting closer to Eddie, don’t you remember?” 

“I just want you to be happy, babe.” Max replies honestly. “Keep your options open, that’s all I’m saying.” 

And you hated yourself for even considering it, but you definitely were.

☆.｡.:*

Jason propositions you the next morning.

“A movie,” He suggest, “just one, and if you hate it, I’ll never bother you again.”

It didn’t seem convincing, but you tilted your head, considering your options. You can’t remember the last time you’ve ever been treated to a proper date; doted on or showed off, engaging in genuine conversation or just being able to hold someone’s hand in public. Eddie always made you feel butterflies, but it wasn't because of gentle touches or sweet words of acknowledgment—it was the rough texture of his fingers as he pressed them inside of you, your cunt clenching around them like they were meant for you. 

Eddie didn’t look at you out of love, it was all lust. 

You’re startled out of your own thoughts by someone bumping the back of your chair—it was Eddie, unfortunately, forcing himself behind you to reach another student who was concerned about their assignment. His eyes didn’t linger on you, immediately tracking to Jason, who’s smile was beaming, inherently charming in a way that made you want to vomit. 

“So,” Jason urges, voice covered in a saccharine sweet tone that made you sick, but you couldn’t help wanting to try it out—even if it went horribly, you could still rub it in Max’s face, “one date?”

Eddie’s head pivots immediately, eyes burning holes into the back of Jason’s head. You catch his scrutinizing line of sight, shooting him a confused look. He’s never reacted so openly in front of students, it’s almost startling. 

Eddie catches himself though, reeling it back in like it never happened—but you knew it was going to emit something, you just weren’t sure what. 

“I don’t know,” You say unsurely, watching Eddie’s shoulders shift uncomfortably, “let me think on it?”

“Can you let me know by tomorrow?” Jason asks, a small glint of hope in his eyes.

“Uh—I’ll try.” You tell him, turning in your chair to suffer through the rest of the period.

Eddie doesn’t glance at you once—but he doesn’t let you leave as easily, hand clasping around you arm after everyone has already departed. 

Truthfully, you just wanted to leave—you weren’t even in the mood to be around him right now, not with his sudden, silent outburst at Jason’s question. You didn’t owe Eddie anything.

“Are you going to?” He asks, removing his hand after a moment, shuffling through a pile of papers on his desk to seem busy—watchful for prodding eyes. 

“Going to what?” You ask dumbly, it wasn’t that hard to guess. 

You feel the tension radiating off of him, a small tinge of jealousy in the way he laughs as a response, eyes flicking up to catch sight of your own. 

“You know what,” Eddie decided, “you should.”

“Go on a date with Jason?” You ask.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to—you weren’t even sure if you did, either. It wasn’t a concern, but to Eddie, it clearly bothered him. 

“Yeah, go,” He tells you, almost like he’s attempting to order you, which doesn’t sit well, “enjoy it.”

“Why are you acting like that?” You ask suddenly, slamming your hand against the stack of papers, the sound of it driving you insane, “Do you have a problem with it?”

You weren’t a thing. He shouldn’t have one.

“No,” He lies, “—but go, seriously.”

“You know what? No.” You decide, frustration flooding your body for the millionth time that day. “You don’t get to order me around, not like this.”

Eddie takes a step closer, face nearly inches from your own—it was dangerous, but he needed to get the message across. 

“I’m telling you,” He orders, “go on the date.”

“And if I don’t?” You ask snidely, head cocking to the side.

“You will,” He says confidently, “you want to.”

It was pure curiosity really, a small bit of self indulgence—you didn’t even like Jason that much, but it still seemed harmless. And if that was what Eddie wanted, you’d give it to him.

“I’ll pick you up after,” He tells you, a reminder of your weekly weekend activities, “and you can tell me all about it.”

He’s got a smirk on his face, riddled with something you can’t quite put your finger on—it’s intriguing, sure; but his gaze is hot, like he wants to destroy you. 

And honestly, you’d let him. 

You rushed after Jason only a few minutes after leaving Eddie, still reeling from how intensely he’d approached you. 

“I’ll go,” You pant out, grabbing at his crisp letterman jacket, “just once, that’s it.”

“Cool,” Jason nods, “Okay.”

“And I have to be back by nine,” Jason looks at you quizzically, “Max will lock me out of our dorm otherwise.”

And it dawns on you then, you’ve been so caught up between Jason and Eddie that you didn’t even think to ask Eddie about the key; but the day prior or today. It felt like you were losing your mind.

You didn’t need to be home by nine, either—Jason didn’t need to know that, but, like Eddie said—he still planned on seeing you afterwards, so it could wait until then. The chances were slim to none, anyways, so you tried not to focus on it too much. 

“I can do that,” Jason agrees, his entire demeanor changing before you. He looked appreciative, happy—you didn’t know what to make of it, “I’ll pick you up at six?”

You nod, lips pulled into a tight smile. 

It was worth a shot—what’s the worst that could happen?

☆.｡.:*

The date couldn’t have been worse if you tried—Jason, despite his valiant effort, didn’t have much to talk about, other than his feeble attempts at trying to make a move on you. You should have expected it, really—all those boys on the basketball team were always the same, with the exception of Lucas. There was one goal in mind—sex. Jason was no different.

“If you wanted to have sex, you couldn’t just asked.” You snark rudely, forcing yourself away from where he’d pulled you against him in the front seat of his car, “It makes you look less desperate for it.”

“Would it have worked?” Jason asks curiously, clearly annoyed by his failed advances. 

“No—not a fucking chance.” 

“You’re all the same,” Jason remarks, “just get the fuck out of my car.”

You didn’t even have a ride home, but you had no other options. You leave him without a word, slamming the door for good measure, desperately trying to think up how you were going to find a way back to your dorm—no one was going to drive you home at this time of night, it was pointless even thinking that someone would be willing to do so. 

But it dawns on you soon after, digging in the pocket of your wallet that was stuffed in your back pocket—you’d kept his number tucked away, just in case you ever needed it. You didn’t think you ever would, truthfully, but there was no better time like the present. 

And even if he was upset with you, you knew he’d drop everything to help you out—it was just the type of person Eddie was. 

There’s a pay phone a half a mile down the road, barely in working order as you stuff the coins in the slot, dialing his number desperately—praying, hoping that Eddie picks up.

“Who is this?” He answers initially, his normal and calm timbre of voice gone. He sounds upset, almost—bothered or annoyed, you couldn’t place which one. 

“It’s me,” You answer quietly, “Can you pick me up? I’m kind of stranded.”

Left behind, pushed to the side, it was all the same.

“Where are you?” He asks, voice still caring that intensity behind it. You tell him the address, rambling off some other noticeable landmarks in hopes that he’ll piece it together. 

“I’ll be there in ten, don’t move.”

You weren’t even thinking about it, perching yourself against the curb of the street, knees pulled to your chest as you sat, waiting—Jason a distant, fleeing memory; that was too good to be true and you should’ve seen it from a mile away. 

Your naivety always got the better of you—constantly giving people the benefit of the doubt.

Eddie rolls up slowly—he doesn’t get out or roll his window down, thankful for the dark tint of his car, for once. You knew it wasn’t safe, even in this area, littered with several students—even if they didn’t take his class directly, they would easily be able to spot him. 

“Thank you.” You mumble softly, a simple acknowledgment of appreciation. Eddie doesn’t respond, his fingers white knuckling the steering wheel.

He was upset, that was fine—though, could it really be justified?

He drives for what feels like eternity, missing his exit, passing it up without a thought. “Where—where are you going, Eddie?” You ask softly, glancing over at him wearily. You didn’t feel unsafe with him, that wasn’t possible, but he’s never gone this way.

“My place,” He answers softly, glancing over at your fidgeting hands, pulling at the sleeves of your shirt nervously, “you can stay there tonight.”

“Oh—okay.” You try not to let him see how your eyes light up the prospect, seeing the inside of his place or just the very idea of being allowed that privilege—seeing a small glimpse into his life.

“Besides, your key is there,” He adds, making the choice not to touch you, knowing that it would likely calm you and he wanted to keep you on edge, squirming, making you feel as anxious as he did about you date with Jason—even if it was for vastly different reasons, “I forgot to give it back.”

You nod gently, “I thought I left it at the bar last weekend.”

“It fell on the floorboard,” He admits, “—you okay?”

It’s a sudden inclination that he was still worried, even if he wasn’t trying to show it. And you were okay, in a sense, but you still felt off—Jason had managed to ruin a good night, something you had a lot of hope for, and now you were forced to sit in the car with Eddie, who seemed just as upset as you. 

“I’m fine.” You settle on, wanting to melt into the seat and disappear, letting the silence overcome the both of you, riding the rest of the way without speaking a word. 

Eddie doesn’t live far from campus, surprisingly—nestled into a small apartment complex on the edge of the busy, bustling college area. It kept him close, but not close enough that he’d run into students—plus, he’s never had a place to himself before, it was a weird experience for him. 

You follow silently, up a couple flights of stairs, watching as he turned the key in the lock and slipped the door open, motioning you inside before him, the soft glide of his hand against your back as you brushed past—it burned like fire, but you tried to ignore it. 

Eddie couldn’t not touch you, it was an inherent part of his nature now, but he can’t help the flood of jealousy that runs through his body at the thought of you being out with Jason tonight—entertaining the idea in general. You didn’t owe him anything, he knew that, but it drove him insane—you being with anyone else but him, regardless of how; it made no sense to you, but all the sense to him. 

He needed to take his frustrations out the best way he knew how.

Eddie’s apartment is spacey but packed to the brim with tons of items he’s collected over the years and no doubt, probably brought with him from home—it fit with him perfectly; all over the place, but still managed to make perfect sense. You wanted to look around, familiarize yourself with the place in case you never saw it again, but Eddie doesn’t really give you a chance, his fingers coming to wrap around your wrist and pull you to him. 

His hands roam the slope of your ass, gripping at your thighs until you wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to lift you to the top of his countertop, in the kitchen that’s squeezed just beside the entrance of his apartment. You squeal slightly, the squeeze of his hands on your soft flesh as he pulls you to him is enough to make you lean forward to kiss him in earnest, but you don’t make it.

Eddie leans away slightly, just out of reach. “What are you doing?” His time is accusatory, harsh. You frown slightly, confused at his words.

“Kissing you?” You say, “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“You’re supposed to tell me about your date.” Eddie tells you, his hands traveling up to grip your face gently, thumbs rubbing tenderly at the sides of your jaw, his touch gentle despite his mood. 

“It was—boring, I guess.” You shrug, “That’s why I called you. I wanted to leave.”

“So—why didn’t you ask him to drive you back?” He asks curiously, eyes narrowing on you, a small tilt of your head as he adjusts his hands back.

“He—“ You hesitate, wondering how Eddie might react, “He kicked me out of his car.”

“That's all?”

You shake your head gently, lips pulling together in a tight line, contemplating your next words. “Uh—he wanted to have sex with me.”

“And what did you say?” Eddie asks, fingers tentative and careful against your skin—your legs squirm at his sides. 

“I—I said no.” You tell him honestly, “Why would I want to?”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know—you went on the date with him, didn’t you?”

You pull back suddenly, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, thinking back to his earlier words. “You told me to—you didn’t really give me much of a choice, Eddie.”

Eddie laughs softly, a soft chuf through his nose. “Wasn’t what you hoped for it to be, was it?”

“Is that why you pushed me to go?” You asked, voice ticking up an octave, Eddie leans back with a faint smirk, enjoying himself too much. “You wanted me to feel like this?”

“You’re the one that entertained the idea, you know.” Eddie points out, pushing back into your space as you pull away. “I just had to make sure you knew it was a terrible one.”

“You’re an asshole.” Your words laced with venom, Eddie nearly laughs in your face.

“Yet—,” Eddie shrugs, tilting his head slightly to stare intensely, “you still called me.”

Your face scrunches up in frustration. “Fuck you.”

Eddie squeezes your face between his hands suddenly, cheeks squished until your lips are pushed out, the skin underneath his grip turning red. “Yeah, you should.” 

Your cunt pulses at thought, despite your anger—it seemed like a horrible, running theme with Eddie. He was determined to fuck the hate right out of you, but you weren’t letting go that easy—if he wanted intense, you’d return it back tenfold. 

“I thought we had an agreement,” You say tensely, voice muffled by the grip he had on your face, “are you giving in that easy?”

“We never agreed on sleeping with other people,” Eddie points out, but it seemed pointless; this wasn’t a relationship, “I guess you just couldn’t handle yourself, could you?”

“Are you trying to call me a slut?” You ask accusatory, shoving his hand away from your face. “Because one guy was flirting with me in front of you?”

Eddie stalks back slightly, hand curling at his side in a slow, rising flood of temptation and hate, wanting to put you both out of your misery—he just doesn’t expect to be called out. 

“I thought you said this was casual, Eddie.” You remark, adding emphasis on his name as you step forward, shoving a single finger into his chest—he isn’t fazed, unfortunately. “I thought—well, I could fuck whoever I want.”

Your head tilts down, eyes narrowing in his direction. 

“Does that bother you?”

Yes, he wants to say. But instead, he shakes his head.

“Prove it,” You challenge, slipping the jacket off your shoulders, throwing it directly at his chest, “fuck me like it doesn’t bother you at all.”

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could—he shoved that thought deep down. 

Eddie wastes no time in picking you up, throwing you lazily over his shoulder, squirming against the tight grip he had on you, yelling from him to put you down—but he’s dropping you against the bed in his large studio apartment and it feels too intimate.

Maybe you should forget all of this happened—leave, close the door behind you and never look back, but Eddie’s pulling at your shoes, the edge of your jeans, panties disappearing with it until you're naked from the waist down, and his mouth is on you instantly. 

You cry out at the contact, overwhelmed by the suddenness as he falls to the bed with you, spreading your legs as wide as they could go. “This what you want?” Eddie asks accusingly, voice a low rumble against your cunt. You shake your head profusely, mouth hung open on a silent gasp, hand fisting into the hair at the back of his head, using the leverage to grind against his mouth, his nose bumping against your clit in surprise. 

“Want you,” You moan out, his mouth disconnecting from your cunt to bite at the inside of your thigh, sucking a deep, purple mark into the skin—he does it again, and again, until the inside of your thighs are nothing but a sea of reminders that he had you right where he wanted you, “—need you.”

Need you, he feels the internal tug at the words—how desperate you sound, how willing you were to let him destroy you, corrupt you; he could have his way with you and you’d let him. 

He pulls away, eyes dark and intimidating—you almost can’t stand looking at him like this, his bangs flowing down over his forehead, slightly obscuring his view, mouth parted slightly but his lips flushed a beautiful pink from how intensely he was attempting to torture you, bring you to orgasm before he even had the chance to slip inside you—that wasn’t going to happen though, not if you had a say in it.

“What happened to your rule?” He teases, arms climbing up your body until he’s settled over you, the front of his jeans pressing against your bare cunt, grinding slowly, providing just enough friction to drive you mad. 

“Fuck the rule, Eddie.” You retort, voice steady as you stare at him, tired of everything he’d put you through today, the past few weeks—and god forbid, making you start to like him, beyond the point of a meaningless hook up. “You wanted me to go on that date so I’d be miserable—you wanted me to come back here and grovel, tell you how much I hated it. You don’t get that—either fuck me or take me home, you choose.”

“Turn over.” He demands, leaning down to press his lips against the shell of your ear—he wasn’t sure if he could stand to look at you, right now. It wasn’t because he was mad or upset, but the idea of being able to look at you, willingly let him connect with you in such an intimate way, it was almost too much to handle. 

He shouldn’t have brought you back to his apartment—he shouldn’t have, and even so, he didn’t want to accidentally cross another line—despite how badly he wanted to watch you fall apart underneath him; that was the part of him that wanted, so deeply, to keep from falling for you. 

You flip onto your stomach, feeling his hands squeeze your legs, ass, settling on the dip in your lower back as he pulls you up, using one hand to wrestle with his belt, yanking at the front of his jeans until he could free himself, a small sigh of of relief as he slips his boxers down enough that he can palm his aching cock—you were getting impatient, rightfully so.

“Eddie,” You press, coming up on your hands to lock back at him—he presses you back down in an instant, face shoved against the pillow as his fingers slip inside of you, two fingers curling against your walls, an intense sensation that has you clenching around his fingers, desperate for him to be inside you, “—oh, fuck.”

“Be quiet,” He chides, “don’t say anything unless I speak to you, got it?”

It was all too familiar. You weren’t as good at following the rules though, unfortunately—if the situation you were in wasn’t already a testament to that. 

Eddie doesn’t appreciate the silence, his hand fisting into the back of your hair to angle your head upwards—you grunt at the harshness of it, but it was far from uncomfortable, “I asked a question. Answer it.”

“Yes—yes, okay.” You stutter out, the mix of his fingers and his intense demeanor giving you whiplash, it was impossible to focus on one thing. He pulls again—he just wants to hear, even if it’s the last time. “Fuck—yes, yes sir.”

At this point, it seems like he’s doing it to demean you, humiliate you—but you weren’t even sure you cared anymore. 

Eddie laughs softly, releasing your hair gently until your head hits the pillow, pulling his fingers away from you slowly, reaching over you toward his bedside, pulling at a long strip of condoms shoved into the drawer there—it made you wonder; how much sex was he really having? 

Was it just you? Maybe it shouldn’t matter, Eddie could sleep with whoever he wanted—the thought crosses your mind, invades it, and you’re not sure why. 

He tears the foil with his teeth, discarding the trash haphazardly on the bed, slipping the condom down his cock with ease, before pressing himself up against you suddenly, allowing himself to press against your aching center.

You want to beg, plead with him—but he can sense it, finally putting you out of your suffering and pushing inside of you, right to the base, your body remembering him perfectly, cunt molding to him like he was meant for you. 

You muffle your moan into the fabric, the slight change of angle as he pulls your hips up, slamming into you in one quick, harsh movement—it was exactly what you needed in that moment. Quick, mindless, intense—you wanted to lose yourself in it. 

Eddie’s groaning loudly above you, no effort to stifle how badly this was affecting him too, his hand traveling up to pressing against the back of your head again. He didn’t try to fist his hand into your hair again, the edge of anger he had in that moment had dissipated, replaced with need for release. 

“And you wanted me to wait,” He laughs bitterly, “—that’s torture, sweetheart.”

You whine softly, his right hand gripping your hip roughly, aiding your hips in the desperate slap of skin and against skin, feeling useless against the hold he had on you.

“No one deserves this pussy like me.” He says confidently, “No one can take care of you like I do, right?”

You shake your head furiously, the small telling grip as he winds his hand into your hair is a warning. Answer, think.

“No, no—no one can.” You say brokenly, gasping at a sharp thrust of his hips. 

“And definitely not some trust fund college kid,” Eddie spits back, “—you—you want to go out and find someone else to fuck, go ahead and try, but I guarantee you won’t find anything better.”

“Don’t want to.” You mumble quietly, low enough that you don’t even think he can hear it, but he does—it almost halts him completely, but he shoves the thought away.

He’s relentless in his thrust, attempting to fuck his frustration out through you—it’s almost too much, your hands griping at the sheets in desperation, begging for any type of relief, even a break, just a moment to collect yourself. 

“Please, Eddie,” Your voice is soft, “slow—slow down, please.”

Eddie almost forgets what he’s doing, so lost in his own release of emotion that he doesn’t realize that you’re almost in tears, a hand flying back to grasp for his wrist, begging him to loosen his hold, slow down, or at least take a moment—and he feels horrible. 

He hates how nothing you two ever do is out of pure enjoyment, always riding off of some estranged since of anxiousness or anger toward each other—and Eddie just wants to look at you, the softness in your face as you fall apart, even if he couldn’t admit to himself how badly it affected him. 

He slows, almost to a dead stop, but that seems even worse.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks timidly, whatever emotion he was feeling earlier now gone, replaced with the Eddie you knew best, “I’m sorry—I just,”

“No, no—can I—maybe turn over?” You ask quietly, turning back to look at him. His eyes are soft, still dark, but less rough around the edges.

He nods, pulling away enough to help you roll over to your back—it’s almost a relief to see his face, void of everything but worry, his eyebrows furrowed into a tight line. “Better?” He asks, his hand pulling at your thigh until it’s settled high on his hip. You nod fervently, his head tilting down to aid himself as he guides back into you, the angle even more satisfying than before.

“Oh,” You sigh, feeling a sudden tinge of fear as you speak, remembering his earlier words, “shit—sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Eddie huffs a small laugh through his nose, his eyes scanning over your face, “I didn’t mean any of that,” He shakes his head, “I was just—upset, I guess.”

Your hand reaches up to touch his face, finger tracing over the curve of his lips, he frowns slightly, causing you to frown back. He can’t take the intensity of your stare, leaning down to tuck his face into your neck, forcing himself deeper inside of you, hitting a spot that can only be defined as euphoric, gut wrenching—you whined out into the quiet room, feeling him thrust into you once more, your arm coming to curve around the back of his neck, blunt nails scratching at his shoulders.

“I just—I just wanted to be shown off, you know,” You say with an immense amount of vulnerability, barely able to get the words out, “I know that isn’t what this is—I don’t expect that,” Eddie’s lips latch onto your neck, more careful about leaving marks, just admiring your skin and the sweet mewling noises you made in return, “it doesn’t matter, anyways.”

Eddie hates how you disregard it all, knowing it’s mostly his fault—filling you with unreal expectations, forcing you into a position, a situation; one that would ultimately end in flames. It was his own selfish indulgence that got you into this mess and he was fully responsible—but he’s stuck now, past the point of not caring, he’s fallen for you.

And maybe he had from the start, but none of that mattered.

“I didn’t know—that you wanted that,” He confesses, his voice even more wrecked than your own, building in the precipice of his own orgasm, “I should have—should’ve noticed.”

“It’s not your fault,” You assure him, forcing him to pull away to look at you, “this is all for fun, anyways. I don’t expect anything from you.”

It’s a painful reminder. 

Eddie nods gently, moving his hand between you both to press against your clit, rubbing slow, heavy circles against the nub, “Oh, fuck—“ You sigh, mouth hung open in desperation. Eddie smiles, watching you fall apart by his own hand, the steady pace against your pulsing clit was overwhelming, but his gaze was even worse; nodding, almost egging you on as you keened against him, rutting yourself into his hand. “Please,” You beg for no apparent reason, “shit, I’m gonna come—Eddie.”

“You got it,” He encourages, slowing his own pace to focus on you fully, the slow grind of his hips and his fingers against your clit as you fall over the edge, “—that’s it, fuck—“ Eddie stalls at the feeling of you clench around him, orgasm hitting you unexpectedly.

His hand soothes you through, the soft praises of his voice as he watches you fall apart, mouth hung open, begging to be kissed. He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a deep, messy kiss that doesn’t feel casual; it reeks of love and wanting, but you can't find it in yourself to care right now.

“Good girl,” He coos softly, fingers brushing your hair away from my face, “So fucking pretty when you come, you know that?”

You laugh at the absurdity, a drunken giggle as your eyes fall shut, barely enough energy to keep them open. Eddie leans forward to kiss you once more, quick and chaste, trailing kisses down your neck as he speeds up again, hips snapping into your roughly, his desperate hands pulling and gripping your thighs as he rides through his own orgasm, groaning against the warm skin of your chest, lips dragging against the dip between your breasts, the shirt Eddie couldn’t be bothered to remove was shoved up under your neck.

“That was—“ You say after a moment, a faint smile spreading across your face, “intense.”

Eddie snorts softly, pulling himself out of you to discard the used condom, tossing it in the trash can near his bed.

“I don’t want you fucking other people,” Eddie says suddenly, your eyes lifting up to meet his own, hands slowly working your shirt back down your chest. 

“I thought you wanted this to be casual?” You asked, remembering his words from the beginning of all of it. 

“I do,” He lies, it’s entirely too unconvincing and you can hear it in his voice—you don’t try to question him on it, “I just—I don’t like the idea of you messing around with anyone else, not while I’m with you.” 

“And if I meet someone?” You ask curiously, “What then?”

“Then we end this,” He settles on, even though the words pain him to say, “—you don’t owe me anything, okay?”

You nod gently, “Do you ever think—I don’t know, what would’ve happened if I wasn’t your student?” 

Eddie pulls at the hem of his jeans until they’re settled at his waist, unbuttoned as he climbs on the bed beside you, mattress dipping as he sat, “I would’ve asked you out—probably.”

You smile at the thought, still aware of your lack of clothing, though—Eddie tosses you a blanket to cover yourself, his hands resting on either side of your curled legs, knees pulled to your chest. 

“It’s unfortunate,” Eddie says softly, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face, “maybe if we’d met under different circumstances this would be easier.”

“We’re still here somehow, aren’t we?” You challenge, watching his face scrunch up in amusement. 

“I’m sorry if that was too much,” Eddie apologized, hurt glazing over his eyes, “—part of me enjoys it—I just couldn't get the thought of you and him out of my head.”

Your eyes narrow slightly, face pulled up into a cheeky smile, “Eddie—I think that’s jealousy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, pulling away from you. 

“It’s fine!” You console him, “I don’t mind—but you could’ve just told me you didn’t want me messing around with other people while we were doing this—it would’ve saved me a lot of trouble and humiliation.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He says softly, leaning forward to press a quick peck to your forehead, “I should have just told you.”

He should have told you he was in love with you, but it never came. You hated yourself for feeling that way too, knowing that nothing would ever come of it—it was impossible.

You yawn, stifling the noise into the blanket as you raised it to your mouth—Eddie laughs, forcing you gently against his mattress. “You can sleep here,” He offers, “I’ll drive you back in the morning.”

You smile tiredly, eyes gleaming with adoration for the man sitting in front of you. “Good—Max isn’t too happy with me and I don’t feel like making it worse.”

Eddie tilts his head slightly, staring down at you in question. 

“She’s annoyed—all of our sneaking around. I mean, she knows—of course she knows.” You couldn’t keep this from her even if you tried. “But, she’s also the one who told Jason to ask me out—I don’t want to make her feel worse knowing that it was a disaster.”

“Red’s tough—and really fucking persistent, actually.” Eddie comments, laughing at a far, distant memory, “I’m sure she meant well.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You shrug, hand wrapping lazily around his forearm. “Will you sleep here? With me?”

“If that’s what you want.

“I do want,” You laugh, pulling him toward you, “I want it a lot.”

It doesn’t help when you wake up to his sleeping face the next morning, void of any stress, inclination of his bad days or worse night, he was calm. And as much as you wanted him to, he didn’t touch you the entire night—despite your lack of clothing, almost like he couldn’t bring himself to do it—like he was scared.

You scoot closer, wedging your arm against his side and under his own, feeling the soft soothing warmth of his skin as he nuzzled against your neck, leaving a short peck against the column, mumbling, “Morning, baby.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s said it.

And it makes you breath catch, wishing that you could wake up to it every morning; the groggy morning voice, the tired and post-sex bliss in his eyes, it was everything. 

“Careful,” You tease, “I might think you’re falling love with me.”

Too late, he wants to say. Instead, he changes the subject. 

“Breakfast?”

It’s a wonderful way to kill the moment, but that’s what Eddie needed—and it gets both of you out of the bed without much complaint.

“You read my mind.” 

Eddie turns out to be an amazing cook, a nice step up from the usual scrambled eggs and instant meals you indulge in on a weekly basis.

☆.｡.:*

He slips up again Monday, much to your own surprise and bewilderment, turning to point at you from where he’s leaned against his desk—Jason is a few rows back, thankfully.

Out of sight, out of mind. 

Anyways, Eddie makes a small comment toward a student, turning to your raised hand, “Yes, sweetuh—ma’am?“

You choke on the dead air, scrambling to recover from his vital slip up, thankfully no one noticed—but, you definitely did. 

And again a few days later—you almost think it’s on purpose, at this point. 

It’s more intimate this time, Eddie huddled over your desk as you talked over the assignment—which truly was the entire reason he was here, but he just couldn’t help himself when he was this close to you.

You answer the question correctly, earning a soft smile from Eddie and a hushed, “Good girl.”

The sound you make disrupts the entire classroom, heads swiveling toward your direction—thankfully, Eddie is an expert at diversion, and you could live out the rest of the class reeling over Eddie’s slip up—though, that one was really just for his own amusement 

You decide there’s only one way to seek revenge on him, punishing him for his endless teasing and antics—you corner him near the end of the school week, a Friday night. Eddie usually stays late to grade work in his office, which lends to a little too much downtime, and since your schedule was completely free, you ended up in his office that night—it was a first. 

“We’re going to get caught,” Eddie says lazily, scribbling something down, “is that what you want?”

“Well,” You shrug, “guess I’ll have to hide, right?”

Eddie’s eyes pull up to yours, watching as you knelt and crawl underneath his desk, settling yourself in the space between his legs, feet curled underneath you. The rough, dingy carpet dug into your skin, but it was manageable.

“Are you serious?” Eddie asks, leaning back in his chair to stare at you from where you sat, looking entirely too mischievous. 

In all fairness, Eddie is rarely interrupted during after school hours and spends most of his time in silence, getting his work done, and then leaving without much of a problem—unfortunately for him though, it wasn’t one of those nights. 

A short, hard knock on his door has him scrambling forward, doing his best to seem casual—despite his student being tucked between his legs underneath his desk and—oh, that was definitely a hand pressing against his thigh. He slips his own hand underneath the desk, shoving yours away.

You let out a quiet laugh, ignoring his protests. Instead of going for his thigh, you go straight for the growing tent of fabric at his groin, squeezing gently. Eddie’s leg is bouncing nervously, his eyes trained on the Dean as he walks through the threshold.

“Edward,” He says curtly, attempting to remain a certain sort of professionalism, “hard at work?”

You smile at the double entendre, silently undoing the zipper and button of his pants, reaching into his underwear to pull his cock free, half hard and heavy in your hands. 

“Just trying to get through these papers,” He replies calmly, “then I’ll be out of here for the weekend.”

A weekend spent with you, laid up in his bed.

“I just wanted to drop this off personally,” The Dean says, the sound of a paper hitting the surface of the desk. You lean forward to lick along the line of his shaft, the shaking in Eddie’s leg suddenly calming. It’s a small inclination to take things further, slowly fitting as much of him in your mouth as you could before pulling back slowly—you can feel the muscles of his thighs tense, rubbing against your shoulders as struggles to keep his computer, “it’s for my son.”

Eddie grabs the paper from his desk, looking it over, “Oh—Carver, yeah. He’s transferring out?”

You can’t see Eddie’s face, but his voice is all too telling. He was elated, relieved, excited—Eddie’s never hated a kid so much in his life, and he’s been around plenty of them. 

“Yeah, he seemed pretty insistent about—that’s why I came here. I just need you to sign on the line to complete the paperwork.”

You lean down to mouth at Eddie’s balls, his cock still firmly in your hand as you stroked him—he clears his throat unexpectedly, gently kicking the side of your thigh. 

He’s never been more thankful for the large radio shoved in the corner of the room, playing at a low volume—but still managing to muffle the ungodly noises you were making below him, silent to everyone but you and him.

Eddie doesn’t argue, signing the paper with ease, handing it back over. 

“Thanks,” The Dean says, “Enjoy your weekend, Edward.”

There’s a few moments of silent footsteps, a closed door, before Eddie is pulling away abruptly, locking both of the looks on his door and pulling harshly at the string connected to the blinds on the window—you crawl out from underneath the desk slowly, coming face to face with Eddie’s shoes as they stop in front of you. 

“Get up,” His voice is tight, his face even tighter as you finally look at him, “Are you fucking insane?”

You smile devilishly, “Oh, Edward,” Eddie hates it, hates how it falls from your tongue, “Yes—I am.”

Eddie crowds into your space, shoved up against the edge of his desk, ass hitting the edge as he moves up against you. He grabs at your face gently, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says seriously, “I mean it.”

You pout, eyes soft, “Fine,” You settle on, Eddie didn’t seem to be lenient on the idea and if it made him uncomfortable, you weren’t going to push it any further, “Can I leave, then?”

“Leave?” Eddie laughs, “You’re not leaving yet.”

You move to push away from the desk, but Eddie holds you there. You didn’t have anywhere to be—you wanted nothing more than to be here right now, but it was all a part of the game, riling Eddie up the best way you knew how. 

“Oh?” You ask, voice lilting up, “So, you make a big fuss about me being in here and when I want to leave, I’m not allowed?”

Eddie’s face pulls up into a smirk, his thumb trailing along the line of your, squeezing at the base of your neck. He yanks roughly at his tie, losing it in one swift movement until it’s grasped in his hands.

“That’s exactly it,” Eddie answers, “—give me your hands.”

Your eyebrow raises in question, but you don’t make much of a fuss, offering your hands to him willingly. He smiles like he’s got a secret to tell, but he doesn’t want you to know—he moves your hands behind your back, leaning over to bind your wrist with the silk material of his tie.

“What’s this for?” You ask curiously.

“This if for,” There’s a soft tug, making sure your wrist are secured, “thinking it would be a good idea to come into my office, during work hours,” He leans back slightly, his lips a mere inch or two away from your own, “and put that filthy fucking mouth around my dick.”

You laugh in his face softly, tugging against the restraints—they weren’t for show, that’s for sure. 

“I guess I really worked you up,” You tease, watching as he palm himself openly, he hadn’t even bothered to tuck himself back into his pants, still open for your earlier activities, “didn’t I?”

“Oh, baby,” Your heart jumps at the word, “you have no idea.” 

Eddie leans into you, grinding himself against your core, his fingers slipping over the hem of your underwear to pull them down, pulling away long enough that he can toss them to the floor, his hands gripping underneath your thighs to pull you toward him, as close as humanly possible.

“Fucking me in your office?” You question with a sweet tone to your voice, “Sir, that’s against the rules.”

“Oh well,” He says offhandedly, taking no time to sink into you in one steady thrust of his hips, your hands settled behind you are the only thing managing to keep you upright, gasping at the sudden but welcoming intrusion, “I’m already breaking enough of them.”

eddie was your best friend — he was also the best friend you could ever ask for — protective, compassionate, understanding. he saw the world in you, much like you did him, and it had been that way ever since you were kids. 

giggling to yourself, you straighten out the shirt you were wearing, an old one of eddie's that he no longer wore, and opened the door to see him leaning against the frame. a smirk is splayed across his lips, his unruly hair slightly damp and covered in tiny raindrops as it fell over his dewy brown eyes, and he pulls something from his back pocket. 

"wanna go for a drive?" he wriggles his brows, holding a joint between his pale fingers. 

"and by 'drive'... you mean?"

"getting high in the back of my van." he answers almost immediately. you don't respond, instead, you narrow your eyes at him for a second. the hint of a smile makes an appearance, and he takes the little roll of your eyes as a 'yes'.

you give him a light shove, though he adds to the theatrics and plays along as if it had actually hurt before inviting himself in and closing the door. "i would've come by earlier but hellfire ran a little later than i thought it would, and then i got carried away planning out next weeks part of the campaign." he plants himself on the sofa, kicking his feet up on the coffee table as you search through your basket of discarded laundry to find some pants. 

"have they worked out you're bringing vecna back, yet?" you ask, sifting to the bottom of the pile and plucking out a pair to slip on. 

"no, but dustin made a huge move tonight and i think they could be close to finding out." 

as eddie continues to relay the events that had unfolded at hellfire, you head to your room to grab a jacket, though upon your return, you notice he had suddenly gone quiet. there wasn't but a murmur or an utterance that fell from his lips. 

he remains on the sofa, his head lulled back against the cushions as he stares at the roof. something had shifted in his demeanour. his eyes no longer sparkled with passion like they had only moments ago, and his ever-so-lovable smirk had disappeared.

"you okay, eds?" you ask, adorning a now worrisome frown, and you sit on your side to face him. your knee hits his thigh, and the chain on his pants clangs together, but he doesn't answer, his mind a million miles away. "eds?" you poke him gently. 

"hmm, what?" he clicks back to reality, eyes wide when he sees you're beside him now. he blinks back whatever had been plaguing his mind, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, and looks to you once more. "what were you saying?"

"i wasn't saying anything, you were, and then you went quiet." you give a lopsided smile, leaning your arm against the back of the sofa to rest your head on. "what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours?"

he blushes, relishing in the way you call him pretty, and his head sinks with a sigh, "m’just thinking."

"you? eddie munson? thinking?" there's another tug at his lips, the ghost of a smile appearing before it's gone once again. he lets out another sigh, eyes avoiding you now, and that's when you know something is truly bothering him. "okay, sit. tell me what's wrong." you pat your thigh. 

obliging, eddie moves to rest his head on you, your fingers immediately finding his hair and entangling among the curly locks. ever since you were little eddie had always been an open book to you, constantly telling you what was on his mind, never keeping anything hidden. more times than not, you knew what was wrong with him before he did, but this... this seemed different. 

it takes him a moment, but eventually, he opens his mouth to speak, the gears turning in his head, "do you ever think about getting out of here?"

"out of hawkins?"

"yeah. like just packing a bag and leaving?" 

"like.. every day."

"where would you go?" he looks up at you through the shaggy mess of his bangs, a quirk in his smile as his dimples peak through now. 

you shrug, "anywhere is better than here. what about you?"

"oh, i'd pack up my van in a heartbeat. take my guitars, my tapes, my dnd stuff and just take off. don't know where, but as long as i'm on the road, i don't care." it was hard not to notice the way his eyes lit up as he spoke about hitting the road, though the pang in your chest that followed after him mentioning leaving, set a wave of fear over you. 

for so long eddie had been a part of your life, the one constant you had as you grew. it was hard to ever imagine a life without him because... you didn't want to. after spending so many years by each other's sides, running to one another in your times of need, being the only person the other fully trusted — a life without eddie would be an empty one. 

there's a flicker of fear in your eyes that eddie catches sight of before it's quickly gone. a tug between your brows as worry etches across your forehead because while the thought of leaving hawkins had crossed your mind many times, you never intended to leave eddie behind, nor would you want to. but with the roles reversed, you weren't entirely sure if you held the same amount of importance. 

this hurts even more when you take into consideration the flourishing feelings you had for him. it was bound to happen — practically inevitable — but you couldn't bare the thought of him ever finding out. 

a blanket of silence falls over the two of you, eddie's ringed fingers dancing across the material of the sofa until he reaches yours and pulls your hand towards his chest. he doesn't say anything, just fiddles with the ends of your fingers, before abruptly sitting up and turning to you. 

there was a shift in the way he was looking at you now, almost like he had something to tell you - something that was on the tip of his tongue. he prods at the sofa nervously, before planting his hands in his lap and shuffling closer to you. 

"there is one thing that i know i wouldn't be able to leave without though." he says in a way, that both confused and intrigues you. "well, i should say 'someone' rather."

"rick." you joke. 

a soft chuckle leaves him, "no. though, now that you mention it-" he stops short when you playfully hit his shoulder, an array of laughter falling from you both. "i'm kidding. i'm kidding. obviously… it’s you."

"you mean that?" there’s a coy smile on your lips, unsure if his words were sincere or if he was simply saying it to make you feel better.

his brows pinch together, "of course, i do." 

"what if… you get sick of me?"

"i could never get sick of you, you muppet." he ruffles your hair.

"what if i get sick of you?"

"I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that."

another silence falls over you both, smiling at one another, thinking of scenarios in your heads of the two of you on the road. iron maiden playing at an alarmingly loud volume as eddie sings along with the wind blowing through his hair, and he wears the biggest smile you had ever seen as you drive through the prettiest of landscapes.

"do you... do you ever think about... us?" he hums the question though there's a shakiness to it that you don't think he meant to let off.

"what? like hanging out? we already do that."

"no,” he exhales. "i mean... people say that you're likely to fall in love with your best friend. do you ever think like that about us?" the question takes you by surprise. did he somehow know of your feelings for him? your sudden silence seems to stir something in him. "uh, y'know what? just forget i said anything."

"no, eds," you reach for his hand but he moves it before you can. "do you think about us... like that?"

he peels himself off the sofa now, pacing a little on the other side of the coffee table, "no — i mean, sometimes. i just — mike said something that got me thinking and, i know that i shouldn't let that little shit get inside my head. but, i don't know, lately, i just can't seem to keep you… out of it."

you were unsure as to what eddie was implying — saying he couldn’t get you out of his head — did he mean it the same way you did? or did he just mean he had been thinking about you like he always did? "what did mike say?" your voice is low, almost too afraid to ask. 

"oh, he was just being a smartass as per usual,” his brows raise as he rolls his eyes. “when i said i had to check-in with you first about whether or not we could fit in an extra hellfire session this week because we had already made plans, he said ‘why is she your girlfriend now?’ of course, i denied it, but then jeff started saying that i act like we’re a married couple, or that we’re domesticated, or some shit. and then, of course, dustin just had to chime in saying that he sees the way we look at each other — what does that even mean? — and then gareth and jeff started saying all this bullshit and-“

“-eds,” the sound of his name falling off your tongue hits him like sweet honey, stopping him mid-ramble as his head whips back to you. you stand to join him around the other side of the table, his eyes watching you with wonderment as you slowly approach him. “… i do too.”

“you do too, what?” he asks, bemused, and it’s not until you tilt your head and raise a brow that he catches on. “wait… you do?” you nod, tracing his features as he does the same to you. his eyes illuminated by the moonlight as his bangs fall in disarray, and you reach up to gently brush them back into place. “what are you doing?”

"i wanted to see your face." you say, lowly, your hands now falling to land on his shoulders. 

"why?" he asks. 

"i wanted to see your face..." you pause briefly, a shiver of anticipation rolling down your spine. "... when i do this." you lean forward now, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. he's quick to catch on to what you meant, and he meets you halfway, pressing your lips together with pent-up urgency. 

"y/n," he mumbles your name against your lips before slightly pulling away, leaving you breathless as your chest rises and falls dramatically. "are you sure? i don't — i don't want this to ruin anything between us." he smiles through his eyes, though there's a sadness deep within him begging for reassurance. 

"what did you say to me before? about the someone you wouldn't be able to leave without?" you ask, leaving him with more questions than the ones he already had. 

he exhales, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip as his hands rest on your hips. "i said... it's you." 

"exactly."